by Conrad Jones
The driver nodded and gave him a gummy smile in the mirror.
“This way, only five minute! Five minute!” He grinned as he repeated himself.
“Turn here, it`s quicker, you bloody idiot,” David leaned forward and pointed to the barbershop. “Here by the barbershop.”
“Barbershop?” the driver grinned again. “You want shave?”
“No, I don’t want a shave turn this way!”
“I know best barbershop, good price for you, Asda price for you!” The driver carried on pushing his way through the crowd and David gave up giving directions. They would be there soon enough. The crowd began to thin out as they turned off the main street to their respective places of worship, and the hotel was in sight.
“I turn, I turn.” The driver drove by the hotel entrance and he eyed David in the mirror. David was immediately suspicious.
“Stop the car!” He leaned forward and grabbed the driver`s seat.
“I turn around, okay boss man!” he grinned like an idiot again, but he looked nervous and his eyes darted all over. He slowed and turned the wheel full lock. The turning circle was too tight for the taxi to make it in one movement, and the gears crunched painfully as he engaged reverse. “I turn around.”
David relaxed a little as he attempted a three-point turn in the narrow street. A haggard face appeared at his window, and a wooden board filled with melon slices was thrust toward him. He jumped. “Fuck off!” he shouted at the old woman.
“I`m starving,” Richard turned around. “How much are they?” He shouted to the woman but she was gone, only to be replaced by another blue clad figure.
David Bernstein was about to tell her to go forth and multiply when the taxi driver pulled on the handbrake, opened his door and bolted. The blue robes parted for a second and he caught sight briefly of an Israeli manufactured suppressed Uzi nine-millimetre machinegun. The first rounds ripped David`s jugular and larynx out of his throat, and arterial blood spatter soaked the interior of the taxi. Nick didn’t get time to wake up as four rounds smashed his thickened brow bone and sprayed his brains all over the back window. Richard Bernstein opened the passenger door and tried to get out but he was too fat and awkward to do it quickly. Not for the first time in his life, he wet his pants in fear as the assassin reloaded. His troubled life flashed before him as they emptied the second clip into his bloated body, and he lay twitching half in and half out of the taxi. His blood soaked into the Moroccan dust. A Nissan truck pulled up and the assassin jumped into the back of it, while two men emptied the boot of the taxi. A gallon of four-star petrol was splashed around the Bernstein brothers and the taxi became a raging inferno as the Mossad team sped away. The last remaining evidence of the embarrassing events in the United Kingdom was erased from memory, and the Israeli government were off the hook. The Bernstein family were officially extinct.
CHAPTER 62
Major investigation team
Alec Ramsey folded his newspaper in half so that he could read it without it falling into his breakfast. He was enjoying a Sunday morning off work for a change, as they were rare. His organic sausages tasted like cardboard, and apparently, there was no such thing as organic black pudding.
“Are you sure black-pudding is bad for me?” he moaned as he slotted another piece of tasteless banger into his mouth. He slurped his tea to wash it down.
“Positive, Alec, it`s disgusting, don’t you dare ask for that,” Gail raised her eyebrows and gave him that look, the look that could turn the milk to cheese in an instant.
“What about free range black pudding, now that can`t be bad for me can it?”
“Shut up and eat your sausage.”
“I`m not sure this can be called a sausage, it doesn’t taste of meat and it`s a little bland.”
“There is no meat in it.”
“What?”
“It`s vegetable and soya, organic vegetables of course.”
“Of course,” Alec stared at the sausage on his fork and decided not to bother. He dunked a piece of wholemeal toast into his free-range fried egg instead.
He was about to moan again when a piece in the paper caught his eye. It was a paragraph long and very brief. It described the murder of three western tourists in the Moroccan city of Touradant. They were robbed and burned to death in a taxi, and local bandits were being blamed. According to the reporter, their belongings were stolen, and they had no identification on them. Alec felt the hair on the back of his neck tingle. He didn’t know why, but he knew it was the Bernstein brothers and their friend. Flights to Morocco from Liverpool were scheduled every day. He took another mouthful of toast and reached for the phone.
“I thought you were having a day off?”
“It`s these sausages, I`m going to have to call it in.” Alec joked as he dialled. “I am charging them with attempting to impersonate a sausage, and for assaulting my taste buds.”
“Silly man.”
“Silly sausage,” he stuck his fork into one and held it up.
“DI Naylor,” Will answered the phone.
“I thought you were having a day off?” Alec scolded him.
“Morning, Guv, I thought you were.”
“I am,” Alec looked at the article again. “Get Interpol on the blower and see what you can find out about a triple murder in Touradant last week.”
“Where?”
“Touradant,” Alec spelled it out for him.
“Any particular reason, Guv, or are you being nosey?”
“Just my spider senses tingling again.”
“Leave it with me, I`ll make a few calls.”
Alec hung up and went back to his newspaper for ten minutes. He played with his breakfast, but his appetite had gone. He kissed Gail on top of the head and put his plate on the side.
“Thanks for that, it was very interesting,” he joked. “I`m going for a shower, Darling.”
“You`ll thank me for looking after your cholesterol one day.”
The telephone rang.
“That`ll be for you,” she frowned and picked up the breakfast plates. Alec grabbed the phone and connected the call.
“Hello.”
“You were right, Guv.” Will smiled at the other end of the phone. Alec could tell he was smiling.
“What am I right about?”
“Three western tourists robbed and murdered in the street. Their belongings were stolen and they had no identification on them. The police don`t know what country they were from. They identified their ethnicity by DNA.”
“Is that it?” Alec was disappointed.
“The only thing not damaged beyond use was a wrist watch. The strap was destroyed but the body protected the back of it.”
“Go on, go on, don’t wind me up, and excuse the pun.”
“There was an engraving on the back of it. Happy birthday Einstein.”
Table of Contents
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter33
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
CHAPTER 39
Chapter Forty Five
