Casanova (38 page)

Outside, it was almost dark. The city appeared dull in the twilight like a half remembered dream. I started to walk. The air was cold and it chilled my face. My pockets were warm.

I felt downcast. The mood remained with me all the way back to Pimlico. It only changed when I saw who was waiting for me but I’m not sure whether it improved or worsened.

‘Hello,’ he said. ‘I’ve been waiting for you to get back.’

‘Back to England or back to the apartment?’ I asked.

‘Um, both, I suppose,’ he said.

It was Stephen Bradshaw. His face, in the half-light was ugly like a gargoyle. He raised a cigarette to his mouth and the tip glowed orange. His features didn’t improve. He threw the cigarette down and it rolled away.

‘When can you complete the ST?’ he asked.

‘You better come inside.’ I said.

The central heating was on and my apartment felt less unloved than it did earlier although I felt the opposite. The sandstone lamps were twins, a gift from Charlotte and they reflected in the glass that overlooked the Thames. Like most people when they first visit, Stephen Bradshaw walked over to the view and stared out. The lights danced on the cold river like fire demons at play.

‘When can you do it?’ he asked.

‘I can’t do it,’ I told him.

‘...why not?’ he asked.

I joined him beside the view. Its soothing charm hadn’t softened his looks.

‘You know why not,’ I said.

‘No, I don’t.’

‘The ST is unofficial.’

‘No, no it isn’t,’ he said. His voice had lifted.

I didn’t want this conversation. Would I have to tie off all Meriwether’s loose ends?

‘William Chester remains under suspicion of murder with the police, his job at the bank is under review and his wife and daughters are no longer living in the family home. Don’t you think blowing him up too seems a little unreasonable.’

Stephen Bradshaw was silent. He stared through the glass and frowned.

I waited.

‘You know, don’t you?’ he said.

I didn’t answer.

‘William Chester is having an affair with my wife,’ he said. His voice was thick with pain and despair.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

‘How did you know?’ he asked.

‘Charlotte Miller worked it out,’ I said.

‘I asked you not to tell her about the ST,’ he said. ‘Does Meriwether know?’

‘Yes.’

‘Oh dear,’ he said.

‘Let’s hope he doesn’t categorise it as a betrayal,’ I said.

‘What?’

‘Meriwether attaches great importance to the attribute of loyalty.’

‘This will probably cost me my job,’ Bradshaw said.

‘Speak to your wife,’ I said. It was the only advice I could think of.

He nodded solemnly.

‘Forget about killing William Chester,’ I said. ‘It’s a bad idea and it won’t solve your problem.’

Stephen Bradshaw left. At the door, he thanked me. Very few people ever thanked me. I didn’t know what to say. He filled the gap.

‘Happy New Year,’ he said.

Of course, it was New Year’s Day. I’d forgotten.

It was only a minute or two later that my door buzzer sounded. After the way things had gone so far that day, I didn’t hold out much hope for this new visitor. She came in with her hands full. The brown paper bags seemed out of place against her stylish outfit.

‘Are you hungry?’ she asked. ‘I’ve brought curry from that restaurant you like on Brick Lane.’

Charlotte Miller’s attractiveness increased greatly when accompanied by the waft of Indian take-out from Brick Lane.

‘You just missed Stephen Bradshaw,’ I said.

‘Yes, I know, I saw him leave. Did you tell him that you couldn’t do it?’

‘Yes.’

‘What did he say?’

‘He said he thought he might lose his job.’

‘Um, yes, possibly—most likely a move to another position,’ she said.

I emptied the brown paper bags and covered the low table by the balcony doors. There was barely enough space left for Charlotte’s wine glass.

The first silver foil lid came free and released an aroma-filled steam that warmed my face. I thought again about what had happened earlier and it took away my hunger. I dropped the serving spoon and sat back. Charlotte lifted her wine glass and sat back too.

‘Did you mean what you said?’ she asked.

‘What?’

‘That you’re leaving.’

‘Yes, I think so,’ I said.

‘Will you think about it like Meriwether asked?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said.

‘I wonder where he’ll send you on holiday,’ Charlotte said.

‘...Afghanistan,’ I replied.

Charlotte laughed.

‘I’ve missed you,’ she said. There was a pause. ‘Can I stay tonight?’

I didn’t answer. She didn’t need one.

Also by Mark Arundel

Codename: Santiago

[File No.3]

The third book in the
Codename File
series

For many people Rio de Janeiro is the "party town" of South America so when the elite soldier from
Codename Files no.1 & no.2
visits on holiday he's anticipating sightseeing, chilled drinks by the pool and bikini-appreciation on Ipanema beach.

Unfortunately, his employer, Bartholomew Meriwether, has other ideas.

With action, intrigue and suspense soon at a pace to worry Ferrari the "holiday" becomes a deadly race that only stops when someone passes the chequered flag or waves a white one.

Buckle up tight.

Codename: Moneyman

[File No.1]

The first book in the
Codename File
series

Book no.1 in the
Codename File
series is the action-packed, thrilling story of one elite super-soldier who must uncover international espionage or die trying… Can he find the spy planted in the very heart of London?

British SIS [secret intelligence service] selects him to carry out a sanctioned termination in Tenerife.

He leaves on the mission unaware of his true purpose.

He's really one part of a secret plot to uncover a spy deep within the London establishment.

The mission rapidly turns deadly.

He soon discovers the world of international espionage has placed him in a desperate situation and presented him with an impossible task.

Can his combat skills as an elite soldier keep him alive long enough to complete his mission and discover the truth or will time run out?