

Legitimate

Issues
Legitimate Issues

By

Cassandra DeBrown.

Copyright Cassandra DeBrown 2012

At

Smashwords.

Republished 2015.

The right of Cassandra DeBrown to be acknowledged as the author of this work has been established in accordance with the UK copyright laws. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without the express and written permission of the author and publisher prior to use. All rights reserved.

Smashwords License Statement

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. All characters and places depicted here are a figment of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Other books by this author

Our Urban Utopia

A little bit of Black Magic

First do no harm

Available at most eBook stores globally.

Dedication

This book is for all my wonderful nieces and nephews. You guys make me feel like the coolest aunt that ever lived.

Lots of Love.

Cassandra.

# Three weeks ago

#  CARL

HE RAN. HE'D been running flat out for five minutes, or maybe even less. Five minutes during which his world had been turned to bloody chaos and life as he knew it had been irrevocably changed. His heart was pounding in his chest, his breath was choppy and he was losing blood from the gunshot wound on his thigh. Still he ran.

Move your legs, move your legs, his head shouted at him while at the back of his mind, cheerleaders were going, "Oh yeah we are going to die. Can you spell die, D-I-E? We are going to die." No, he thought, girls, this time you are wrong, we're already D-E-A-D.

He scuttled around the corner, keeping his head low. Miraculously, there were no more shots from behind him. He looked back at the monster that had been chasing him, the wicked monster with a human face that had killed all those people back there and then focused on him like a raptor fixed on his prey. Surprisingly, the man was just standing there, looking at him, his gun lowered at his side. His merciless black eyes looked amused as he watched Peter try to get away.

That's it? Has he given up? I got away? How is that possible?

He turned round to keep running, just in case the man changed his mind about letting him go and rammed face first into six feet of solid muscle. He stumbled and fell to the floor, his hand going to his injured thigh, panting with fear and exhaustion.

"Don't hurt me, please don't hurt me", he cried out brokenly as he scuttled backwards, away from the guys. He came to an abrupt stop as his back hit the wall.

"Hello, Peter", the man he'd crashed into said laconically, leaning over him. He brushed his light blond hair off his face in a careless movement before continuing. "Leaving so soon? That's not really nice now is it?"

Peter flinched as sweat dripped off his brow. More terrifying than the fact that he'd been caught by the monster's accomplice, was the fact that the men chasing him, these murderers, knew his name. And he was afraid they were not here to kill him.

But he was wrong. They were there to kill him. The only problem was they weren't there to kill only him

Two hours later, both men exited the bed and breakfast without looking back. Behind them they left five bodies and one gun, in the hands of the man they had so conveniently framed as being the maniac who had carried out a killing spree at his girlfriend's work place, shooting 2 of her co-workers and one guest before turning the semi–automatic on himself.

They got into the car and drove off, the younger one lighting up a Benson and Hedges as he wound down the window so the smoke wouldn't bother his partner too much.

"Poor Peter", his partner, Hank said, his hair flying in all directions in the breeze from the open window.

"Why do you always do that?"

"Do what?"

"Call them by their names, talk to them like they are your friends and all that shit."

Hank thought about it. "I don't know, I guess it's because in our line of work, we don't really get to socialise much. I like meeting new people."

"Meeting new people? You are joking right?" Carl asked sarcastically, looking over at him.

"Not really."

"Killing new people you mean."

"Yeah, but that is just the job. Take Peter, for example. Under normal circumstances, we could have let him go, I mean, the guy really put some effort into getting out of there, unlike those other bozos that just stood around screaming." Hank nodded. "He seemed like a decent guy."

Yep, poor Peter. He should never have dated that girl in the first place. If he hadn't, he'd still be breathing God's free air right about now. Women. Every man since Adam knew that they only brought a guy bad luck. He sighed.

The bad bit about it having to be a murder-suicide situation was that of course, the guy had to be killed near the bodies and look like he was the one who offed himself. Yeah, he bet that just sucked for Peter. Then again, one never knew what these lunatics would do. Like shoot themselves in the thigh.

"Oy. Genius", Hank demanded crossly as he remembered, "What was with shooting the guy in the thigh, huh?"

"I was just trying to wing him, you know, slow him down a little."

"Yeah well, a bullet wound in his thigh, it raises unnecessary questions. And unnecessary questions mean the cops who are bored and underpaid......."

"Bored and underpaid", Carl mouthed along with him. He'd heard this rant or a variation of it several times over the few months, ever since he and Mr Temperamental here had become partners in crime.

".....will start having wet dreams about solving what is obviously an open and shut murder-suicide deal." He noticed the bored look on Carl's face. "I'm serious about this, Carl. Do you not see the issue here?"

"Errm, no, not really, seeing as, duh, the bloke is dead so he can't complain about his thigh now, can he? And the girl is dead like we needed her to be, under circumstances that do not link her to our clients, in the manner that they specified, I might add, so what the fuck is the problem?"

"If you don't know by now, I simply cannot, just cannot be bothered to waste a valuable part of my lifespan trying to explain it to you. Just be more careful next time. You don't want to draw unnecessary attention is all I'm saying."

"Yes mother." Carl smirked. "Just one question though."

"Yeah, and what's that, Sunshine?"

"You always say we should watch out for collateral damage, yet we didn't just get the girl, we got the boyfriend and a few bystanders as well"

"Yeah and your point is?"

"Well, don't they count as collateral damage?"

Hank scowled, he just couldn't help it. Sometimes dealing with Carl was like handling with a two year old. "Yeah but the case in question needed it. Not all collateral damage is bad. You seem to be missing a few key facts. Let me make it simple for you- focus on the word unnecessary and you'll see what I mean."

"Ok Hank, whatever you say."

"Meanwhile, I gotta call Phil; let him know the job's been done."

"Oooh, that sounds good. One sweet payday coming up." Carl was quiet for a moment, thinking back over the past two hours. "You know, for what it's worth, you did a real nice job back there."

"Thanks, I think."

"No, really."

"Yeah whatever, ok. Keep your sick little man crush to yourself, Slick. I'm hungry. What are you in the mood for?"

Carl thought about it for a minute. "Ribs, spare ribs. Could murder some fries as well. Ha-ha murder some fries, get it?"

"Yeah, you're so fucking hilarious, you slay me, you know that? Har–fucking-har", Hank threw back.

Carl just shook his head.

"Alright then, ring 'em up at the usual place and have them deliver. If we time it right they should be getting there just around the time we get to Camden."

"You got it boss."

# RAPHAEL

RAPHAEL ADAMS WAS not a poor man by anyone's standards. He wasn't ashamed to admit that he'd come from a decidedly poor background quite all right, but the days of living hand-to –mouth were thankfully long behind him. He was a third generation French-Canadian citizen who was based in the UK but liked to think of himself as more of a global citizen. As someone who travelled all over the world and had a corporate base in most major capital cities in Asia, Europe, North America and South Africa, he felt the title 'World Traveller' was definitely coined for him.

No matter where he was in the world, though he stayed true to his roots. His apartments and furnishings were never gaudy or over the stop, just full of items chosen more for their elegance and quality rather than their cost.

He came across as a well-educated and cultured man with a mellow disposition. This was the appearance he had carefully cultivated over the years and it had definitely paid off. There were few doors that did not open to his name and fewer people still who did not know who he was or fall over themselves to satisfy his every need. They did this because apart from obscene wealth, he had the other thing that most people crave and very few ever obtain. Raphael Adams had power.

Unfortunately, right now his legendary mellow disposition was being threatened by a major pain in the neck that was refusing to go away and all his wealth and power simply did not seem to convince this imbecile that dealing with him was not a task for people who were still wet behind the ears. It was an unusual feeling and he found he didn't much like it.

He had spent the last week trying to get a crummy computer programmer to change his mind about signing over a programme he had written to Raphael's company Zetatech Corporation. The programme had potential for use in weapons defence development and he was damned if he was going to let it slip out of his hands.

The fellow had spouted some patriotic nonsense about making it freely available and handing it over to the UK military defence committee to protect the country and help the British Army. Screw that. Raphael had plans to sell it on the international arms market – for a limited time only, and then make it available to individual world leaders at an appropriately high price of course. In the meantime he would get someone else to design the bugs that could crash the software as well - for future use, naturally.

Raphael was not used to being told no, and besides, the ingrate had developed the basics of the programme while he was working at Zetatech, so proprietary issues be dammed. He had paid the slimy worm overtime and therefore all the work he came up with in that timeframe were legally his, or so Adams believed. Not to mention he'd been using his utilities and premises at the time.

Oh well. If the young fool could not see that Raphael was trying to help him out, he would simply have to be taken out of the equation. Life was too short for all this nonsense.

He looked round his office and decided it was time for a change of environment but first he would put in a call to Phillip, his go-to guy for tricky issues like this one that needed a gentle and professional touch outside the auspices of the company home. It was time to put an end to this rubbish.

He thought for a moment. He had recently gotten rid of the stodgy old lawyer that handled his corporate affairs and was in the market for some new legal eagles.

He crossed over to his cabinet and pressed a button concealed behind an antique inkwell. A painting on the wall slid to the side to reveal the safe embedded on his wall. He entered the combination for the lock swiftly and picked out the files he needed.

These two issues needed sorting quickly and efficiently if his plans for Zetatech and the other company Barrington and Co that he had floated as a dummy firm specifically for this EU manufacturing deal were to go ahead as planned.

He shut the safe. The picture slid back into place as he returned to his desk. It was time to make those phone calls.

# FRANCES.

HE STOOD THERE, leaning against the door frame with a smirk on his face. His green eyes twinkled as he looked down on his wife. With his impressive height and solid build, he was a treat for any eyes, not just sore ones. The evening shadow on his chin and his stylishly cut brown hair just added to the package.

"Babe, I did some shopping for you yesterday, I mean, shopping for us"

"For us huh?" she asked smiling up at him from where she sat.

"Yes, for us cos I know I'll get to enjoy the stuff as well."

"What did you get?"

"It's all in the pink bag in the bathroom", he laughed as he turned away, walking towards their in-built bar to pour himself a drink.

"You know about the pink bag", she exclaimed with a laugh, "Why, you master snoopy doo, you."

The pink bag was the reservoir for all her self-help toys and lotions, for when Larry was not at home. Her husband of three years travelled a lot but the brief separations only added spice to their time together when he got back.

Larry smiled mischievously.

"Of course I know about the pink bag", he chuckled. "What kind of husband would I be if I didn't know that's where you keep all the 'good stuff'?"

"Well", Frances said, sliding off the couch in a slinky fashion, "since you said you bought me , I mean us something, I think I had better investigate further and see if I need to charge you VAT for importing contraband into our living area."

"Contraband, is that what they call it these days?"

She walked off towards the bedroom and en-suite, swaying just a little extra to give him a sneak preview of what her behind would be getting up to later. Her long black hair swished like a satin curtain behind her. At just under six feet tall, she knew that she packed a visual punch when she was working it. And in her figure hugging red short shorts and white tee-shirt she was definitely working it.

It was all for Larry's benefit anyway. He'd been away on one of his trips overnight and they had missed each other. She had no doubt that he had picked up something naughty on his way back and she also had no doubt that she would thoroughly enjoy it too. Larry was fun like that. The last time he had brought her a pair of pink lacy and edible panties that he had proceeded to eat off her before he ate her. She got goose pimples just thinking about it.

They had been friends for a long time before they had started dating and because they knew each other so well the sex was simply amazing. Things were great in other departments as well. She giggled to herself. She was never afraid to be herself with him and he was never scared to try new things with her, both in and out of the boudoir.

In the bathroom, she couldn't help but gasp at the audacious gift her darling had left for her. A bottle of "O" by Durex, guaranteed to make her say oooh and a double headed mini vibe.

"Naughty boy", she grinned.

"This could have some seriously positive possibilities", she called out, turning around, "but if you think I'm using this baby on my own", she twirled the two – header round her fingers, "you are grossly mistaken."

She took the opportunity to freshen up her downstairs region and was just removing her contact lenses when she heard a loud crash from the living room and a sound of muffled struggling.

"Larry? Larry, are you alright?" She scrambled for her slippers and started running towards the sounds.

"Larry, what on earth..?" Her voice trailed off at the sight that met her eyes and she came to a dead stop.

"Larry??" she whimpered.

Larry was on the floor, lying in a pool of blood. A tall man wearing a ski mask was standing over him. As she stood there frozen, the man lifted up his eyes and seemed to notice her for the first time.

"Shhh" he said, raising a finger to his lips and slowly raising the gun in his hand. His gentle demeanour and quiet voice seemed an odd contrast to the violent scene before her eyes.

"Goodnight Miss."

Frances shut her eyes and prayed fervently that this was all just a bad dream, that she'd open her eyes and her world would be back to normal.

A single gunshot rang out in the silence, echoing around Frances and Larry's thousand pounds a week flat.

# Three nights ago

# BOBBY

BOBBY WAS IN a bad mood.

It had been a hectic day followed by a stressful night and it didn't seem to be getting any better. He'd had very little sleep and indulged in a massive overdose of caffeine in all its glorious forms- coffee, Coca-Cola and energy drinks. The wonderful sleep - denying combo had gone a long way to ensure that not only did he have a splitting headache and gritty eyes; he also had twitches and a short fuse as well. He was sure his green eyes were totally bloodshot by now.

His pet dog, Chuckles ambled by, his tail wagging desultorily.

"Chuckles, my dog, we've been doing this for far too long. It's time for something new, we need a Plan. Make that Plan with a capital P-L-A-N.

Chuckles settled himself in his basket and stared back unemotionally.

Bobby sighed.

Staring at his computer screen, he scratched his nose and then rubbed his neck and back aimlessly, resembling for the entire world a chimp in a zoo swatting at fleas. Catching a glimpse of his reflection in his monitor, he grimaced.

Bobby had no illusions about his looks but today he knew he was really looking strung out. He shook out his shaggy brown hair as he ran his fingers through it and tried to focus. Other guys had the charm, the looks and the swagger. He had an IQ in the stratosphere and he knew it. And a passably agreeable face if he could only get round to having a shave. For him other people were optional, but figures, charts and data were his life's blood. He needed them like he needed air.

The numbers on his screen were starting to run together and the algorithms he'd written in a precise and logical manner were making no sense to him at the moment. He looked back at his dog.

"I believe it must be time to call it quits for now." When a man who lived for numbers couldn't process them, it was a dark day indeed.

A pounding on his front door had him raising his eyes to the clock. 6 a.m. It was so passed time for him to call it a night. Or more rightly, a day. Any excuse for a break.

"Perfect timing" he mumbled to himself.

Shuffling his chair backwards he hitched up his jogging pants and walked towards the hall. As he did, the time on the clock finally sank in.

"You expecting anyone Chuckles?" he asked his furry companion. "No good news comes from visits that start before 8 a.m., especially when we didn't invite them over. Do you think we should pretend we are not here?" Chuckles thumped his tail on the floor in agreement.

The pounding on the door continued, getting louder with time and growing more irritating with each beat.

"Oh, for fucks sake, it not like I owe anyone money or anything"

"What is your problem?" He asked angrily as he yanked the door open. "Do you have any idea what time it is you silly bugger? I've been up all..."his voice died off as he saw the dishevelled, grimy and frightened woman who was standing there shivering in the cold. Her waist length black hair was wet and moulded to her skull, looking tangled and unwashed.

"Frances? What in the world......."

"Bobby, I had nowhere else to go, I don't know who to trust, what to do, I'm so confused..." the words were tumbling out of her , coming out under pressure as if her tongue was tripping over itself.

"Bobby........."

"Come in, come on in, let's get you out of the cold, you must be freezing."

He yanked her into his home, trying to process the humongous surprise that had just been dumped on his front door. He guided her towards the couch in his living area, the only piece of furniture in his place not totally covered with books and papers and only because that was where he was planning to crash if and when he finally got to bed. Surprisingly, he no longer felt so sleepy. It must be Frances, she always did have a way of making him sit up and take notice.

He'd noticed quite well, from the first night he'd met her right up until the moment when she had eloped and married his twin brother, two weeks before their own nuptials. He hadn't spoken to either of them since and that was three years ago.

Then, he would have given anything to have her come to him for anything at any time of the day, but those days were long gone. She'd taken his heart and stomped on it and he found he just couldn't care about what had brought her to his apartment. In a way, he mused, he owed her and his brother, Larry, a big thank you for the free tuition they'd given him for the crash course in how to be screwed over in royal style. Or was that just screwed? He wondered. Whatever.

As memories twisted through his mind and his tummy roiled with a mix of emotions, he noticed that Frances was still shivering and taking in her general state concluded something must be very wrong to have brought her to him at such a time. He hardened his heart. No matter what problem she was having, it was quite simply none of his business. He didn't even know what the hell had brought her to his door of all places. It wasn't like they were 'soul mates' anymore.

After all, all reports from the family wireless network had suggested that she and Larry were still disgustingly happy together. No surprise there. The three of them had been great friend for years; he just thought HE was the one she loved more.

"Frances?" He touched her shoulder, his voice unnaturally husky, "What is it? What are you here for?"

He dipped his head towards her as he spoke.

"I'd been hoping for a pretty young thing to come and scratch this itch I've been having for a while but somehow I doubt you are here to grant me instant and wildly gratifying......"

"Larry's dead."

His whole world seemed to stop on a dime.

"Excuse me, I've been up all night", he stammered. I mustn't be hearing too well, the lack of sleep and all that, he thought to himself, "I thought I heard you say that Larry was dead."

He looked into her sombre grey eyes and knew he had heard right the first time.

"He's dead?"

"He is. Three weeks ago. They killed him, he was shot by this guy in our apartment and I was there. They killed him, they killed him, and he's dead Bobby, he's dead."

"Who are they? What are you talking about Frances, who killed him?"

"I don't know!"

"Why?" Bobby was having trouble putting words together.

"I said I don't know. I don't even know why the guy left me alive."

"You were there? You saw who did this?"

"Aren't you listening to me at all? I said was in the apartment with Larry at the time. It was this guy, wearing a hood, he had an eastern European accent......... I was right there but he let me go."

"You need to go to the cops"

"The cops? Are you crazy? These guys will come back for me. It wasn't an accident; it wasn't a home invasion, cos they didn't take anything. This was a hit."

"There must be some misunderstanding. Who would want to kill Larry?"

Sure his twin had been a right dick and a major player but people didn't get shot just because they had social integration issues. Besides he was biased. Case in point, if he hadn't shot his no-good low life brother when he stole his girl – Frances\- no one else he'd pissed off should have either. Damn it. He'd hated his backstabbing twin but he had loved him as well. And now he was gone. The silence for the past three years and the cause behind it sudden it seemed a little trivial and petty.

Frances was still going on.

"I don't know anything. What do I do, I'm scared to go back there, I'm scared to go to work." Her voice shook. "The man said he would be watching me. He shot a bullet so close to my head he clipped off some strands of my hair and he said my time would come soon enough and if I didn't want to hurry up and join Larry in Never-Never Land, I should lie low for a while and let things sort themselves out."

Well that sounded like good advice to Bobby. He was all for the live now, die later plan. Much much later if they could manage it. I mean, yeah heaven was glorious and all but what was the rush?

"Do mum and dad know?" He asked, referring to his elderly parents who live d out in Nottingham. It had been awhile since he had spoken to them and he felt a twinge of guilt now.

"I don't know, I don't know. I haven't called them, I've been hiding out for the past three weeks, afraid to call anyone and afraid to go home, I've been travelling up and down the UK to try and keep moving but I was running out of cash and afraid to use my credit cards."

"You should have come to me Frances, you know that" Bobby said sincerely, his thoughts of just a few moments past forgotten as he looked at her.

Frances look up at him, suddenly conscious of how she must look and remembering the last time she had spoken to him. It had been a few weeks before their wedding, she had known that she could not go through with it and had tried to tell him how she felt about Larry, but he hadn't understood what she meant and she had chickened out at the last moment and chosen to run away with his twin rather than tell him the truth.

Though the two brothers were very alike physically, downright identical if you didn't know them as well as she did, their personalities were very different. In a way, being with Larry was like being with Bobby, but when he was in a very hyper and extroverted mood, only all the time. Being with Bobby was like being with Larry on the few occasions when he decided to prove that he knew that life was not all a joke and that he could be serious sometimes. She smiled tearfully as she remembered his happy-go-lucky ways then decided she had to take the bull by the horns.

"Bobby, I'm so sorry about..."

"Just leave it, Frances", he said roughly. "This isn't the time."

He could see she still had something to say. He cut in quickly before she could start.

"You've done well. This couldn't have been an easy time for you. Let's get you clean and dry and fed and then we'll go from there."

"But Bobby..."

"We'll talk later, we've got time. The bathroom is through there", he pointed, "and if you wait a little, I will try and find you a clean towel and some sweats, ok. Watch out for Chuckles, he likes the steam in the bathroom and he knows how to open the door so make sure you latch it from the inside"

She sensed it was pointless to push it. Nothing she said at that time would make much sense; she had just told the guy his estranged twin was dead for Christ's sake.

"Ok, thanks", she murmured.

She could tell it was going to be a long day. That shower was sounding better with every passing minute.

# CARL

HANK LOOKED OVER at his partner Carl with anger and disgust on his face. Frustrated anger seemed to be his default setting these days whenever he was around the guy. They were sitting in his car with the air-conditioning on and he had just had a very disturbing but very enlightening conversation with their handler.

He eyed Carl with distaste. He had had just about enough of Carl's fly by the ear approach to everything. They were getting sloppy and he didn't do sloppy. He couldn't afford sloppy.

Carl had returned from his last appointment laughing about how he had scared the shit out of some little London wifey, shooting so close to her head. It had tickled him to see her almost shit herself when he pointed the gun at her. Now Hank's bosses were having issues with the situation and when his bosses were irritated, Hank got very irritated.

"You meathead"

"What man?" asked Carl tersely.

"Why couldn't you just do this one thing right? Can you tell me again why you didn't kill the woman in South Kensington? Why didn't you just shoot the damn broad on the spot?"

"We weren't paid to waste the broad."

"We weren't paid to waste the broad", Hank mimicked angrily.

"Yeah, you're the one always going on about how we never work for free or hand out freebies when we have a contract or appointment", Carl responded tersely, wondering what the matter was.

"Carl, I also taught you not to be sloppy and to always tie up loose ends and that bitch is a loose end. I just got off the phone with Phil and he said the bosses are very unhappy, they said their contact was very unhappy with the customer service they had received from us and he stressed the term very unhappy. Oh, and one other thing, you want to know why they didn't pay us to waste the guy's wife? Huh? Do you?"

Hank got up in his face and was gratified to see the little weasel flinch.

"Because the damn guy didn't have A FUCKING WIFE!!!" he roared.

"Whaaaaaatttttt?"

"That's right, Bonehead. You wacked the wrong guy, you fucking meathead, you idiotic shithead, you shitty little dickhead!!"

"That just isn't possible", Carl stammered, "The guy looked just like the mark in the pic you gave me."

"Yeah? Well so do half a million other guys. Why couldn't you just do this one little thing right, for once in your miserable life?"

"I thought..."

"That is all I need right now, you are having thoughts. May all the Saints preserve us. Carl, trust me, what I do not need right now is you trying to explore the vacuum that exists between your goddamn ears and manufacturing some random things that you call thoughts."

"Jeeze, Hank, lighten up. So we wacked the wrong guy. We'll get the right one. I'll get the right one."

"You'd better", Hank snarled, as he eased his Volvo out into traffic, "cos if you don't, then I'll be the one getting you cos I have fucking had it. Bad enough that Phil had to call us. First you leave a witness, and then I find out that the real hit is still out there. Common Carl, these guys do not tolerate such shit and you know it."

"No problem. I get it. I said I'd do it, I'll do it."

Carl sighed and sank back into his seat. He wondered how things had gotten so royally messed up. He was so sure the face and the pic matched, and he'd stalked his target for days, picking the right time to strike. He knew he was relatively green when compared to Hank but he was a professional for fucks sake. A man had to have standards you know, have pride in his work. If word of this got out, the brown stuff was going to hit the fan in all manner of unpleasant ways.

He shook his head, deep in thought. Whacking the wrong mark was the kind of shit that got a man like him in trouble with the powers that be, big time. He had no intention of being permanently on their shit list. It was bad enough he had pissed off Hank. The guy would be like a babe with a bad case of PMS till this was sorted, miserable son of a bitch that he was.

He had to find this chick ASAP and get her out of circulation, convince Hank that he'd put out her lights (permanently this time) and then go after the lucky fool who had just gotten an unearned three week extension on his leave to remain on earth without even knowing it.

He had a lot riding on this situation. He'd put in too much time, blood, sweat and tears in a literal sense. Admittedly not much of it was his own blood, sweat and tears after all, but still. A lot of effort had gone into making sure he was where he was today and he was damned if he was going to let some little chickadee mess things up for him.

Things just could not fall apart now. He was so close to getting what he'd been working towards for the past few years.

He looked over at his partner. "Hank, step on the gas would ya, you drive like my sister. I've got a mark to find."

Hank grunted but didn't say anything. He'd said his piece. The little shit had better sort out his mess or else.

#  DAVIS

DAVIS CALVORTA WAS sweating. London was hot for this time of the year and the building maintenance crew hadn't sorted out the thermostat yet so the heating still came on at the time it was set to do so in colder weather. It was a nightmare. He'd turned his office radiator down as far as it would go but he still felt like he was in a tropical hotspot. What he wouldn't give for some cool air right now or at least no air from those damn vents that were currently number 1 on the list of things that were making his life miserable at the moment.

Being a lawyer in a top UK law firm of corporate solicitors was a cushy job with lavish perks, but over the past few months, the gilding on his cage had worn off somewhat and he wondered if he hadn't lost his edge. Lately his attention span seemed to be getting shorter and shorter and he often found himself disgruntled and short tempered. The endless cycle of litigation-settlement-appeal-litigation- injunction-appeal was wearing him down. He needed something new. Something fresh and interesting.

It was affecting his personal life as well. Though he was still in good physical form, thanks to his love of jogging and swimming, he felt heavy and sluggish. Not to mention things hadn't been going too well lately with his missus or with his bit on the side.

At thirty six years of age, he felt he was too young to be going through a mid-life crisis but you never knew. Weren't all the bubble heads on TV always going on about how everybody was different, each individual unique blah, blah, blah? He snorted. What a load of rubbish. People were all the same, all motivated and controlled by the same things and he didn't feel it made him the least bit shallow to admit that he was the same as well. No matter how much he got or how many cases he won, he lusted after more with every fibre of his being. More publicity, more money, more power, more of everything.

His intercom beeped, distracting him from his musings.

"Mr Calvorta, your 10 o'clock is here. A Mr Raphael Adams to see you."

"Ok, thanks Beverley, you can send him in now"

Davis got up and walked towards his office door. Straightening his suit jacket on the way, he cursed the damn heating once again as he could feel himself sweating more profusely with each step.

He had heard a lot about Adams but had never met him in the flesh. He was known as a wealthy, well-educated man with fingers in a lot of different pies with rumoured connections to organised crime and connections from Bangkok to Washington.

It was said that when Raphael Adams whispered in London, the echoes were heard even as far as the Himalayas. His most popular firm was the technology development firm, Zetatech which developed everything from cell phones to satellite dishes. Adams was a big fish and if he could reel him in, he'd be making history at the firm, unsavoury past be damned. He wasn't afraid of walking on the wild side. Adams had never been convicted after all, although he'd been indicted on a number of occasions.

"Good morning Mr Adams, I'm Davis Calvorta, one of the partners here at Rathford, Altons and Birch. How can I..."

"I know who you are and I know which firm I'm at, thank you very much", Raphael said gruffly. "I'm standing in your office after all, Calvorta."

"Yes, yes of course. Please have a seat. May I offer you some refreshment? Tea? Coffee?"

"No thank you."

"I'm sorry it a bit warm in here, we are having a bit of an issue with our air- conditioning."

Raphael nodded.

"How may I help you, Sir?"

"Don't call me Sir, I work for a living."

God, this brute was rude and rather manner less. Think about the money, think about the money, Davis chanted to himself.

"Yes s.., Mr Adams. Now..."

"I have some issues that require legal advice."

Duh, really? Thought Davis. And here I though you needed a colonoscopy.

Raphael narrowed his eyes at him as if he'd heard his snarky thoughts.

"Mr Adams, if you would like to put our firm on a retainer, we would be happy to assist you......"

"If you would just settle down and stop acting like a pup on steroids and allow me to finish", Raphael said irritably, "I have some issues that require your legal expertise. They involve large sums of money and a fair amount of fast and smart talking, plus some very important people. Now I have asked around and my sources tell me that this is the best dog and pony show in London and that you are the best monkey grinder in the circus you clowns call a firm. I'm not interested in the other bozo's here, just you."

He shook his finger as Davis opened his mouth to speak.

"Unhuh, not yet. This is how this arrangement is going to work. You'll give me a number, I will write you a check, you will put your resignation on that desk and walk away from this dump with me today. When you report for duty at", he looked at his gleaming watch face, "midday today, you will be given the cards and credit facilities you will need for walking around money and a chauffeur driven town car will be put at your disposal. In return, I will have your brilliant mind at my disposal.

There was stunned silence in the office. If a pin had dropped it would have sounded like a thunderclap.

"You may speak now."

Davis swallowed. He was now sweating more profusely than ever. He mopped his brow in a vain attempt to calm himself down and look more professional. He looked down to see his hands shaking and hid them under the desk, pretending to adjust his suit.

"Mr Adams, I have a lot of clients at the firm, I can't just walk away, I'm an integral part of the firm", he began hesitantly, wishing he sounded more confident.

"Fine if that is how you want it." Raphael looked bored and irritated or maybe that was just his normal facial expression. He started to get up. See you around, or not Mr integral lawyer.

Davis was trying hard to coordinate his thoughts but the offer and the man had completely blindsided him. He was floundering. "Ahh, Mr Adams, Mr Adams, perhaps I might have a few days to think this over."

"Forget it kid, I haven't the time or the inclination to hang about while you contemplate your navel." As Raphael walked towards the door, Davis gave himself a mental slap on the head. What the hell was he thinking? He couldn't just let the guy walk out of his office.

"Perhaps I could, that is Mr Adams" he cleared his throat desperately, "Mr Adams may I enquire as to the kind of legal issues you will be requiring me to handle? I do corporate law, I've never handled property law, no divorces, or paternity suits."

"Quit wasting my time kid. Are you in or out?" he barked.

It had been some time since anyone referred to him as kid. Davis forced a sickly smile. "I would be honoured to work with you, Mr Adams. Can I just ask how long you expect these legal issues to last?"

"They will last as long as they last, or as long as it takes you to get your fancy ass into gear and sort them out. Who knows you might grow on me and I'll decide to keep you around permanently."

Yeah right. Grow on him like some sort of parasitic fungus, Davis thought. Think about the money, think about the money.

"Naturally, naturally. I am always up to the challenge of handling legitimate issues for my clients."

Raphael raised an eyebrow at the subtle dig but otherwise made no comment. Not all his business was on the up and up but he could live with that. He knew what it took to survive and he had no qualms about getting what he wanted. Hell, for the money he was paid, the little people had better earn their keep or else. Raphael had a simple philosophy when it came to the hired help. Free their minds of material worries and you'll get the best of their productivity. It was that simple.

He eyed Davis appraisingly. With a little luck, the boy wonder here would be worth the trip into the city today. That reminded him.

"Now, about your retainer."

Taking a shrewd look at his soon to be new client and boss, Davis named a figure that was four times as much as his current take home packet. Raphael didn't even flinch.

"Done. Is that weekly or fortnightly?"

Huh? What was with this guy? "Errm, monthly, if that is alright with you, Sir."

"Yeah? No sweat then. And quit with this Sir business. Draft your letter and meet me here"- he handed Davis a card.

"What if the firm refuses to accept my resignation?"

"Calvorta, you did say you were a lawyer right? Quit asking me silly questions and get a move on, we have a lot of work to do. You have till 12 noon to meet me there or the deal is off. Either you are on board with this or you are out. Make up your mind and stop waffling", he threw over his shoulder as he walked out of the office, leaving a very dazed and confused Davis in his wake.

Davis stood shock still trying to absorb what had just happened. "Oh man, what the hell have I gotten myself into?" he pondered. Raphael Adams did not strike him as the kind of man who would be exerting himself unduly without a good reason. For Adams to have come for him in person this morning meant that whatever the issues were that needed sorting out they were huge! And they were probably far from legit. The cushy benes proved it. The man did not seem as if he would be overly concerned about staff welfare unless it helped him get what he wanted when he wanted it.

"It would certainly be a challenge", he mused aloud, "and wasn't that just what I wanted anyway. Something different." Anything was better than moulding around here at Rathford, Altons and Birch until he became a fossil like the three senior partners or till they put him out to pasture.

"Legitimate issues huh", he smirked to himself. "Well whatever it is, so long as it's corporate law, I'm the man for the job." He sat down at his desk to draft his letter and then thought better of it and just drew a big fat smiling face on the sheet of paper with the words "I QUIT!!" written beneath it and waltzed out of his office. He could vaguely hear his secretary squawking on about the other appointments he had planned for the day but he couldn't be bothered. It wasn't his problem anymore.

Let them keep their crappy no AC-ed office and their job. He was off to bigger and brighter things. He had a 12 o clock appointment to keep.

# BOBBY

BOBBY COULD HEAR the shower going. He was still trying to deal with the bombshell Frances had dropped in his lap and he was afraid he wasn't coping with it as well as he should be. But Larry dead? He'd sooner believe that the polar ice caps had disappeared totally overnight. That kind of possible but highly improbable situation seemed to be on par with what he was going through at the minute.

He wondered who was behind it all. If what Frances had described was accurate, something very strange was going on. Larry had been taken out by a pro, one with great aim going by the deliberate shot that had spared Frances life but frightened her properly. He wondered about that too. What kind of pro left a potential witness to scamper off into the night with just a warning? It didn't make much sense. This kind of things simply didn't happen.

And if Larry was dead, or had been dead for going on three weeks, how come no one but Frances knew about it? It wasn't like he'd been gunned down in transit with no id or lost at sea and unidentified. The hit was at their Kensington flat. Surely somebody in their apartment block had heard the shots? And what about his body? Was it even now bloating and stinking up their digs or had the police found it? The thought of it made him queasy. If they had, wouldn't his parents have called him by now to let him know? Did they know? Had they not been told that their firstborn son was dead?

All the questions swimming in his mind were making him dizzy. Or maybe that was the sleep deprivation. He had been about to crash after all. He heard the water turn off in the shower. Frances was done then. He thought about getting her something to eat then decided she could sort herself out with whatever she found in the fridge. He looked round for Chuckles but the dog basket was empty. The lucky canine was probably on the other side of that door. Frances wet was a sight to behold.

"Don't go there man", he murmured to himself. "This isn't the time or place and remember. She belongs to Larry now."

"Belongs or belonged, that is the question isn't it", the other, less rational side of his mind argued. "Besides, who saw her first huh?"

That was the problem.

He'd been head over heels for the girl and she'd simply traded him in for a fancier and livelier version without a second thought. It smarted. No one likes to think they are replaceable

It made matters worse that she had run off with Larry, and stayed with him. Before Frances, Larry's average relationships lasted for all of three weeks or less. They had been together for more than three years now. He knew it was petty of him but he'd kept waiting to hear that she'd run off with somebody else or caught Larry fishing elsewhere but it hadn't happened.

Though it galled him thoroughly to admit it, they must really have had a strong relationship to have lasted so long. Besides they'd had all that time when they were apparently just friends while he and Frances had been dating to really get to know each other. "How nauseatingly sweet", he sneered.

He sighed. His time with Frances had served as a foundation for their marriage. Big deal. You'd think he'd be over it all by now. Besides he had more pressing matters to consider.

First and foremost, he desperately needed to get some sleep.

He dumped a pillow and a couple of sheets on the couch along with a blanket and staggered off towards his bed. He needed to make some room for napping among the intellectual debris scattered all over it and he could feel his physical reserves draining away with every move he made. He looked at the books and research papers arranged in organised chaos on his bed and sighed again. He resented moving them because although they looked like a right mess, he knew what everything was and he knew where everything was. Oh well, he'd just have to sort them all out again when he woke up. He piled and pushed everything over to one side of the bed and made enough space to fit his aching body.

His last conscious thought before his drifted off was that he had to call his parents and find out if they had been notified about Larry and if they were ok.

# DAVIS

HE'D MADE IT with only ten minutes to spare. Because he'd been in a mad rush, he'd opted to tube hop instead of taking his car. Big mistake. It was one of those days on the London underground when all the train drivers seemed to have their fingers up their arses and the services kept having unexplained delays. Shit, shit, shit. He could not afford to be late or Adams would walk away without a second thought.

As he walked through the doors of the swank café in Victoria, he looked round to see if he could sight Adams anywhere. Nope. Not that he expected him to be waiting for him at the bar.

He approached the Maître d' and showed him the card Adams had given him at the office. "Excuse me, I have a 12 o clock appointment and I'm almost late. Can you show me to Mr Adams table, please?"

"Of course Sir, he's been waiting for you. This way if you please."

Oh no, that didn't sound too good. Been waiting for him? For how long? He straightened his tie and dammed all the tube drivers to hell and back. He should have just risked the traffic and come down in the car. At least, then he'd have spent the time in the air conditioner and not been so sweaty.

The Maître d' showed him to the table where Adams sat with two men that Davis recognised but had not met before. One was Russell Barkern, the other Watson Smarks. Barkern was an MP that had been making a lot of waves in the house and was a member of the shadow cabinet while Smarks was a political correspondent for the BBC. Or was it ITV? Serious company for a lunch date.

Raphael looked up at him "So, Mr Integral, come to join us have you? You sure took your time about it. Have a seat." He gestured towards the vacant seats opposite him.

Davis seated himself gingerly on the chair nearest to him.

"Will you be ordering anything Sir?" The maître d' asked.

"Not at the moment, no."

"Well, now that I have your attention, I'd like to introduce you to these two fine gentlemen. Russell Barkern", he nodded at Barkern who smiled and shook Davis' hand, and Watson Smarks who just nodded.

"Pleased to meet you both, I'm sure", Davis murmured.

"Gentlemen, this is Davis Calvorta, the newest member of my legal team. Please rest assured that anything we say is considered privileged and I'm sure we can count on the discretion of everyone seated at this table."

Davis swallowed. He didn't know if he should mention that as he was employed by only Raphael, it was only what he said that was privileged, not what the other two said or what any of the waiting staff overheard. He opened his mouth to speak but then he caught Raphael eye and held his peace. He definitely hoped he would never have to testify about this lunch in the first place and he could always develop a convenient case of selective amnesia if the need arose.

He leaned forward and tried to look smart as the discussion continued around him. It didn't take a degree in political science to know that Raphael had to be lobbying for something big or else he would have no need to have both an MP and a political correspondent at his table. Davis knew that a reasonable amount of lobbying was accepted and in fact expected but one had to be careful not to cross the fine line that tipped ones activity into frank bribery and / or perverting the course of justice. "That's probably where I come in", he thought to himself. "Think about the money, think about the money"

"So tell me Davis, what do you think about parliaments bid to outsource British engineering projects to France and Germany?"

"Well Sir, in the current economic climate, I think it's a blatantly political move to try and keep the EU happy while it is also making someone in the house with links to a French or German manufacturing firm one very happy camper"

"Spot on the money, my boy. See I told you he was sharp", Raphael crowed, "now who do you think just might have an interest in those two companies and how do we get them to cut us in on the deal."

"Sir, wouldn't it be better to try and convince parliament to keep the manufacturing in the UK. That way it will not only cut down the costs of purchase for the consumer but also keep jobs and money in the UK economy"

"Yes, well if I was governor of the Bank of England, I would be worried about the UK economy" he scoffed, "But keep your eye on the ball here, Calvorta. The only economy I am interested in is my own, and how do we keep the Germans and the frogs happy if we do not sweeten the deal with a little labour package here and there."

"You are quite right Sir", Davis replied. "Well I think the first order of business would be to find out which cabinet ministers have ties to Europe, most especially France and Germany, either through descent or marriage or simply because they like to holiday there."

Smarks leaned forward. "That will be my job then. I'll check through the archives at the BBC and on other websites and find that information for you, Adams, but it will take a little time."

"Three days, no more", warned Barkern. "The house is sitting and the referendum will be passed by the end of the week or earlier if the prime minister has his way."

"Stall them if you have to. We can't let them vote till we know who is in favour and who is against it. We also have to find out who is the primary beneficiary and convince them to cut us in on the deal. If they don't share, we block the bill. It is that simple."

Davis could scarcely control his expression. It was simple, yet brilliant, this plan Adam had to get in on the deal. He had heard of power plays like this and did not consider himself to be naïve but he could admit to himself I'm playing with the Big boys now......

The best part of the deal was that there would be no way of tracing the deal back to Raphael as there was already someone else poised to profit from the referendum. It was a no risk, all gain gambit and he only wondered how Raphael intended to swing the house votes on the matter.

# FRANCES

FRANCES TURNED OFF the water and looked over the bath edge. Somehow, during her shower she had acquired some company in the bathroom. She hadn't even heard the door open.

"Well, I'm done, Mr Dog, so see you later", she said to the huge mutt lounging on the bath mat and apparently enjoying his own personal sauna. It was odd to think of Bobby as a dog owner but it was obvious that the mangy dog suited him and his home to a tee. She towelled herself dry and put on the oversized tee-shirt and tracksuit bottoms that Bobby had left out for her. Strange to think that no matter how different Larry and Bobby were outwardly, they still had so much in common. Like their taste in loungewear.

It had been difficult talking to Bobby when he looked so much like her dear Larry. Her eyes welled up at the thought of the last time she had seen him.

"No more crying, no more crying, you have to be strong girl. Got to keep strong", she chanted to herself.

It had been a hectic three weeks but just being alive seemed to be a great achievement given the circumstances. She couldn't bear to think of the alternative.

"So don't think, just do."

She walked into the living area and noted the pillows and bedding on the couch. She could hear snores of alternate frequencies coming from the bedroom area. Bobby must be asleep already.

"So, Mr Dog, I guess it's just you and me."

Chuckles didn't seem to think much of that plan and retreated to his basket, from where he watched her with beady eyes.

"Relax pooch, I'm not going to make off with the silver or anything."

She wandered over to the kitchen and put the kettle on. She was dying for a cup of tea. As the water boiled she peeped into the fridge. "Hmm, not much choice here", she said to herself. "I think eggs; yes an omelette will be just the thing."

She broke two eggs into a bowl and whisked them, sipping the tea she'd made at intervals. Apart from all the mugs and cups in the sink, and the cans around his work station in the living room, the place was rather neat. A typical bachelor pad, no frills whatsoever but nice in its own little way. And the sound system in the corner was totally boss. She smiled. She remembered that about Bobby. He always liked the best when it came to technology, be it computers or iPods, and he wasn't above tweaking the specifications to suit whatever his brilliant mind felt was in order. Smart as a button the man was.

She finished making her meal and settled down to eat. She tried to place the feeling she had had since coming in to Bobby's home. Safe, she felt safe. It was as if the past three weeks were a nasty dream and she had finally woken up. At least she was no longer alone in this.

She eyed the couch. From the sound of things, Bobby would not be getting up any time soon and now that she was clean and fed she could admit to being exhausted as well. A nap would definitely do her good.

Putting her dishes in the sink with a mental note to tidy up when she woke up later, she made her way over to the couch and proceeded to make herself comfortable. Say what you would about Bobby's housekeeping skills, his pillows were fluffy as hell and the blanket so cosy as well. The man knew a thing or two about human comfort, she'd give him that much. She closed her eyes and let the stress and anxiety she had been hauling around with her drift away as she fell asleep.

# RAPHAEL

RAPHAEL WAS FEELING mellow and at peace with the world. His two major issues for the day had been settled nicely, his lunch date had gone smoothly and the legal eagle he had personally recruited seemed fit for purpose. It seemed the eager young lawyer was going to fit in smoothly into the scheme of things.

Now that Russell Barkern had finally gotten his act together, Raphael was sure that before long he would be counting a hefty profit not to mention, wielding some serious influence over the EU markets and finances. Having Smarks along for the ride would speed things along and was just icing on the cake really, he supposed. All it needed was the right timing and everything would fall neatly into place.

"That's the kind of working day I like" he smiled to himself. "Now let's see what those idiots in Bangkok are up to."

He got on the phone and told his secretary to schedule a conference call for his head office in Japan and settled back to have a quick power nap while she got things organised.

Making himself comfortable on his plush couch, he smiled to himself as he contemplated the next moves in his private chess game, with MPs as pawns and him as the White King. It seemed that the board was set for him to make a killing. Thinking of the silly git who had been getting on his nerves all day, he soothed himself with a reminder that Phillip had promised that the slight hitch in getting rid of the programmer would soon be a thing of the past. He smiled again as he fell asleep.

Twenty minutes later, his secretary came to wake him and inform him that the CEO of their Bangkok office was online as well as their legal adviser for the office and their Asian market analyst. "Right. Tell them I'll be with them in five."

He stepped into his en-suite to use the loo and then washed his hands, straightened his tie and rinsed out his mouth. Drying up with a paper towel he looked at his reflection in the mirror. It seemed the grey around his temples was getting more noticeable as the days went by. Think distinguished, think Silver Fox, he told himself.

"Right, let's go sort them out."

# CARL

AFTER BEING CHEWED out by Hank on the ride home, Carl was determined to get started as soon as he could. The other appointment they had could wait, or someone else could handle it. Those were the rules: one job at a time. That way they kept the attention of the police off them and also gave each job their undivided attention. It was rare for them to get a job with a time limit on it though and that more than anything was putting the pressure on.

Wisely deciding to stay as far away from Hank as possible for the time being, he went up to his room to meditate and go over things that had gone awry with the Kensington job. Firstly, he'd apparently gone after the wrong dude. Easy mistake to make if the guy looked as much as the mark as the fellow he'd gone after had. He'd been given the picture and told that the guy would be coming in on the Eurostar into St. Pancreas International at 4.15 p.m. on Thursday the 15th of June. It had been a simple thing to get settled down at the Starbucks at the station in good time and wait till the arrivals board showed the platform the train would be arriving onto. Then he'd dragged his wheeled suitcase (a suitable prop of course) round the corner to the edge of the platform and waited till he'd seen the guy disembark with his arms around an attractive young lady. He'd tailed him to the underground where they had gotten on the Piccadilly line and followed them till they got off at the South Kensington station. He'd watched for days before he'd made his move and could only conclude that it was simply a case of unparalleled bad luck if both the look alike and the actual mark had been on the same train.

His heart sank when he realised that he didn't know the name of the actual mark or how to go about finding him without getting Hank involved. It didn't help that he'd destroyed the original pic given to him but one didn't keep such evidence lying around now did one? He could hardly go about the whole of the UK with a mental image in his head of the guy the customers needed done or else he'd have more than one wrong hit to account for. And being that he'd thought the job was over, he'd be forgiven for forgetting what the guy had looked like.

That he could still remember vividly what the guy looked like was not information he would be sharing with anyone any time soon, especially not Hank, nor would he be sharing the why of that happy circumstance either.

He was in a bit of a pickle here.

He decided that confronting Hank as soon as possible was the lesser of two evils and resolved to do it that night.

"First, I bloody well need a drink, a shave and a bath" he growled under his breath, "then I'll need to make some phone calls."

Deciding that the order didn't really matter, he sat down on his bed and renewed his acquaintance with a bottle of single malt whisky that he had stashed under his pillow. Everything else could wait he decided.

It never paid to sweat the small stuff, he thought to himself. There was a whole shipload of FUBAR headed his way and the only thing he could do was make sure he came out the other side, even if it was smashed up beyond all recognition.

He lay back and let the whisky do its job.

He heard someone coming up the stairs. It had to be Hank. He guessed avoidance only went so far before Mohammed started making his way towards the mountain.

His door was kicked open without ceremony

"Don't tell me you are in here getting sozzled when we have a job to do" Hank barked.

"No, boss. Not getting sozzled, just trying to think my way through stuff and plan the best course of action"

"So what's the whisky for?"

"I do my best thinking with a little lubrication for my brain cells"

"Enough with the pretence already, Carl. We both know you have no brain cells to speak of; and enough with the thinking shit already"

"Well, Hank, much as it seems to disturb you", Carl replied drily, "I have to think, and drink, because I do not have a clue in hell as to how to find either the mark or the girl that I scared so well I'm sure she will not stop running till she gets to Alaska."

"Yes, that's what I was coming to discuss with you. I was wondering when you would remember that we needed a base location to pick up the target from. Seeing as you did so well the last time, Phil has given me the added pleasure of following you on the trip"

Shit. That was the last thing he needed. "Hank, there is no need for that. Just give me the location and I will sort it out"

"Hmm, I don't know. You have seemed a bit flaky recently and here you are 'lubricating your brain'"

"What? No, no. Not another drop, I promise" Carl said, re-sealing the bottle and wiping the back of his hand across his lips. "See? I'm good, I swear."

"Fine, but remember, you get one shot at this, and only one. It is literally your neck on the line here pal, so don't mess it up. The girl may have gone down to Wembley and the guess what? The guy you're looking for is also supposedly based up in Wembley."

Oh what joy.

He was off to Wembley it seemed. He wondered if he could catch a football match while he was at it. It seemed unlikely but you never knew what could happen. A football fan could unexpectedly drop dead or something and he could unexpectedly inherit their tickets. Life was full of surprises, he smirked.

# DAVIS

SASHA WAS GETTING ready for dinner. Already perfumed and coiffured, she was considering the many variants of the little red dress hanging in her walk in closet to match the pair of red come- do – me heels she already had on. If Davis was picking her up for dinner and the theatre, she wanted to be ready in good time. Like most men he hated to be kept waiting. Like most other women, she knew her role was to keep him happy and that meant looking good, being sexy and avoiding things that he didn't like.

Being Davis' kept woman had kept her in style for many moons and she had no intention of getting off the gravy train just yet. No, she had every intention of getting rid of the current Mrs Calvorta and stepping into the role herself with no understudy being kept in the wings either.

She heard a key turn in the lock. He was early.

"Sasha."

"Up here honey, I was just getting ready."

Davis came into the room and walked over to her dresser.

"Sasha darling, I have a surprise for you."

Davis had proved to be a very generous lover when he was in the right mood and Sasha had never questioned his need to show his affection in material and valuable forms. There was a reason why they said diamonds were a girl's best friend after all. She smiled and walked away from her closet to join him near the dresser. She had a good idea what the surprise was. Men were so predictable after all.

She leaned in and gave him a kiss while running her hands down his chest. "A surprise huh? Is that what they are calling it in legal terms these days?" Her eyes widened perceptibly as they landed on the slim black box he held in his hands. "Oh, Davis, really, you shouldn't have darling."

"It's just a little token by way of apology my dearest. I will not be able to make it tonight and I knew you were looking forward to watching that show. Something came up and I simply can't get out of it."

"Aww. I was so looking forward to our night together. It's been ages since we went out on the town", she pouted.

"I know, I know", Davis said coaxingly. "Something came up like I said and it's really a big deal, but I promise I will make it up to you. I got a new client, well actually, more like a new boss and"- he smiled, gratified to hear Sasha gasp as she opened the jewellery box he'd handed her. Inside nestled a slim diamond bracelet with a gold clasp. It had cost a pretty penny but the look on Sasha's face made it well worth it.

"Wow. That must have been some client."

"You have no idea, babe. So am I forgiven?"

"Of course, my darling. There is actually nothing to forgive. The west end can surely wait for a few more days."

Glancing at the clock on her wall, he leaned in and gave her a deep kiss. "Hmm. Actually since I am already here, we don't have to cancel all our plans for tonight."

Sasha smiled knowingly and slid her hands down the front of his trousers to tug on his zip. "No, not all of them darling, not all of them at all" she smiled as she lowered her head.

Davis leaned back against the wall and let the pleasant feelings of her ministrations wash over him. See, this was what he couldn't get at home. Minimal fuss and maximal attention. If he hurried, he could still stop off home and touch base with the Mrs before heading over to Adams place as planned.

He looked down at Sasha's head. "Sweetie, what do you say we move this gig to a more comfortable spot huh?"

She readily acquiesced and led him eagerly to the bed. Pushing him down on the duvet she stepped back and began to disrobe. She left her heels on and lingerie on but pulled her robe off as Davis watched her with interest. She had such a lovely body. Sasha knew that he loved her breasts and brought them closer now for his inspection. He reached up and filled his hands with those ripe, luscious globes. Her nipples were rosy and stiffened as he caressed her.

"Oh Sasha", he groaned as she straddled him.

"Yeah baby, Sasha's here. I've been waiting for you all week. See how wet and hungry my little cat is. She's hungry. Will you feed her? Will you fill my little pussy cat with your big strong dick?"

Davis loved it when she talked dirty to him. It fucking blew his mind. He reached down and fondled her intimately. She was indeed wet.

"Oh darling, I can't wait. You are so wet, so warm."

"Yeah baby, do it now. I need to feel you in me. Fill me now, Davis, now."

Her moans mingled with his deeper groans as he thrust into her and they began to move in a rhythm as old as time.

She reached up and held his face. "Look at me, look at me. Feel this honey, feel this. Nobody can do you like I do. Baby, feel this, feel us. It's real"

"Yeah Sasha, I feel you, I feel you girl", he crooned as he kept thrusting into her. He bent his neck to kiss his way down her neck. Her body was already convulsing with little tremors as he felt his release coming over him as well.

After their bodies had stilled and breath had returned to their chests, Davis looked over at Sasha who was sprawled over him. He smacked her rump affectionately. She had a great ass.

"Sasha, I think I'll need to use your shower and then I've got to leave."

She rolled over, giving him a glimpse of all he would be leaving behind. "Well I suppose, if you must."

"Believe me I would rather stay here with you", he bent to kiss one of her nipples one last time as he stood, "but I really do have to go."

"Call me later?" she asked tentatively

"I'll try", he said as he turned on the shower.

They both knew he wouldn't. It wasn't their way. Davis would show up when he could and that was it. Sasha had learned to live with it even though she didn't particularly like it.

Hmm, she thought to herself. That's one thing that will change when I get that old beanbag he calls a wife out of the way. For now she had to content herself with the company of the sparkly stuff Davis had brought her that evening. She turned to pick up the trinket. It really was rather pretty.

# BOBBY

BOBBY WOKE UP with a start, his heart pounding. In his head he could still hear the echo of his dream, with Frances voice screaming in his head. Jeezus! He'd relived the events she had related to him earlier in live Technicolor. Thank God it was just a dream. He couldn't begin to imagine how terrifying it must have been for her. And the past three weeks must have been dreadful.

He yawned loudly and stretched, feeling dehydrated and cranky. He got up and made his way unsteadily towards the kitchen. As he passed the couch, he stopped and looked down at Frances. Still sleeping soundly, she appeared small and defenceless. Bobby smiled slightly. Looks could however be deceiving and he knew that beneath that small exterior lay a steel core but a large heart. She was a puzzle in more ways than one.

He went to the fridge and got himself a bottle of Snapple which he downed in a few gulps. He was tempted to make a cup of coffee but thought he ought to avoid caffeine, what with the massive overdose he'd had overnight. He settled for hot chocolate instead. He looked at the time. 2.45 pm. He'd been asleep for just over seven hours. All that time and it seemed like just a few minutes.

He remembered that he had to call his parents but decided not to alarm them if they didn't already know. He'd rather he saw the body and confirmed Larry was dead than make them worry needlessly. Somewhere between falling asleep and waking up, he had decided in his subconscious that it was all just a terrible misunderstanding. He planned to get to Kensington later today and check out their flat for himself.

He smiled to himself. If there were indeed assassins watching the place, he would convince them of life after death, he smiled grimly to himself. And of death after death too, because he would not be held accountable for his actions if he actually did find the intruders responsible for this macabre comedy being enacted with him, his brother and Frances in lead roles.

He dialled his mother's cell phone number from memory.

"Hey mum"

"Hello Bobby, is that you?" he could hear the smile in her voice. His mum was always so cheerful and loving; you'd think she never had a bad day in her life. "Oh you've made my day, calling me today. I was just thinking of you, I really was."

"You were? Well great minds think alike, I was just thinking about me too."

They both laughed.

His mum did not seem to be distressed in any way and he knew that if she had heard anything about the Larry Situation as he was calling it in his mind, she would have blurted it out the second she picked up the phone. Happy and cheerful she was, but not known for keeping secrets.

He sighed.

"Oh Bobby, what's the sighing for?" She asked.

"Nothing mum, I was up all night and I'm just a little tired. I have been meaning to come up and see you and daddy but never seem to be able to get more than a day off between projects and you know how I hate dashing all the way there just for a meal and then starting to dash back."

"I don't mind. Even if you come in for just an hour, I'd love to see you. Promise me you'll come down soon."

"Ok mum, I promise. Give my best to dad."

"I will, my love. Take care of yourself."

"Thanks mum, bye."

"Bye."

As he disconnected, his brow creased into worried lines. So, his parents hadn't heard anything about what was going on. Which could only mean one of two things.

Either the police hadn't found the body yet or there was no body to be found. He hoped for all their sakes that it was the latter.

Feeling more positive, he headed back to the room to get the leash for his dog.

"Come on, Chuckles, I know you need a run. Here boy, here boy."

He attached the leash to the collar, left a note on the kitchen counter top, put on his running shoes and headed out of the door. He would think a bit more while Chuckles stretched his legs and did his constitutionals.

# FRANCES

SHE WOKE SLOWLY, a little groggy and a bit stiff and uncoordinated. Must be the snoozing on the couch. As she glanced around the part of the apartment she could see from where she sat, it appeared that she was the solitary occupant as everywhere appeared still and quiet. Seems I'm home alone, she thought to herself. She walked towards the bathroom and caught sight of the empty dog basket. Yep, definitely alone, she thought. "I've been abandoned by both man and beast."

She shook her head. It was good to be able to joke again, even if it was only in her head. Funny, it seemed that just sharing what had happened over the past few weeks had taken a load off her shoulders. A problem shared and all that.

She glanced at the clock. The day was already far spent. The sleep had done her good though. She felt refreshed. She wondered what Bobby had planned for the rest of the day. It seemed a little late to head for Knightsbridge and she'd prefer it if they went earlier in the day, the better to keep a look out for the scary man with the gun.

She went to the kitchen and saw the note that Bobby had left, confirming that he and Chuckles -must be the dog, cute name , but I prefer Mr Dog, she thought, -had gone for a late run and that they would be back soon. She decided to start sorting out the dishes she'd left in the morning while wondering what to cook for the pair of them for dinner. She wasn't sure if she was up to it and decided they could simply order in pizza or something. She doubted Bobby would complain. Judging from the state of his fridge and the spotless and little used utensils in his kitchen, he wasn't much of an eat-in person anyways.

"I wonder how he stays so slim with all the junk food that man eats", Frances muttered to herself. It wasn't fair that most men had the kind of metabolism that let them get way with eating junk. Woe betides the female that tried it. If the bloating didn't do you in, the weight gain would. She smiled wryly. If the biggest worry she had these days was how much she weighed, she'd be one very happy woman. Her lips trembled as she thought of Larry. He always said she weighed just perfect and that her size was just right. Oh Larry.

No more of that. She braced herself. She would get through this, she had to. She went to the bathroom just as she heard the front door opening. Bobby and his furry friend must be back.

"Hey Frances", he called out.

"Hey you guys are back. How was your run? I'm just in the loo", she called back through the door.

"Not too bad. The weather is good and Chuckles seems to have had a nice time as well." He heard the toilet flush and then the sound of running water as she washed her hands.

"So what's the plan? Bobby asked as she stepped out.

"Funny, I was about to ask you the same question", Frances replied. "It seems a little late to be heading down to our place when we don't know what the situation is."

"About that, I was thinking that maybe I should go on my own" he trailed off at the sight of her face. It was apparent she did not think much of that idea.

"Absolutely not", Frances was adamant. "You look just like Larry. What do you think that man's reaction will be if he just saw you sauntering casually down our street?"

"We don't know that he is watching your place anyhow, what would be the point with Larry dead and you on the run? And what's more, he knows what you look like as well so I don't see what you are fussing about" Bobby retorted.

"He only saw me for a short time that night, besides, I'll wear a disguise"

"So will I."

"Nevertheless, I think there's safety in numbers, so we should definitely stay together."

"Ok, if you say so. Now it's my turn to shower so..." he gestured towards the bathroom door.

Looking him over, Frances noticed that his jogging gear was a little damp in places. She nodded. "I think that is a good idea. You go right ahead with that. I was thinking of ordering pizza, what do you think?"

"Yeah, ok, whatever, I mean that'll be good."

"Maybe later we can catch a movie or something", Frances suggested hesitantly.

"Sorry love, no can do, I have some work to finish up."

Stupid. What had she been thinking? He couldn't be pleased to be spending so much time with her considering their history. He was probably just tolerating her till they confirmed what was going on and what had happened to his twin.

Her face must have shown what she was thinking because Larry spoke again, this time in a more gentle tone of voice.

"Look, Frances, I do not mean to be rude but I really have to get this stuff done. Maybe later. Or tomorrow. After all if your flat has survived for three weeks, it can wait a little longer right?"

"Right. Well, I'll just make myself comfortable then." Frances returned to her perch on the sofa. She picked up the remote and started flicking through channels in a desultory fashion while Bobby headed off for his shower.

Using one of the many takeaway menus lying around Bobby's living area, further testament to his lack of interest in the home cuisine department, she ordered a large pizza for them to share. She added some sides to cover for Chuckles and fished around in her purse for the last twenty she had. No way was she paying by card.

She glanced over at Chuckles who had flopped over just by her feet and was gazing at her intently with his tongue lolly out.

"What, Mr Dog? You want to watch something with me, don't you?" The dog just kept looking at her with no change in expression. "What do you know; you're his dog after all." Chuckles wagged his tail gently as she spoke then got up and snuggled closer to her on the sofa. She hugged him and rubbed his fur appreciatively.

"Aww. You sweetie. Thanks for that." He licked her face gently then lay down across her lap. "God, you are heavy, Mr Dog, but don't move, I like it. So what do you think about Leverage? Or we can switch to Desperate Housewives." His canine face seemed to pucker in dismay. "Ok ok. I got it, Leverage it is."

She settled back against the sofa and tried to get caught up in the world of loveable rogues and con men. She turned up the volume to drown out the sound of the water rushing in the bathroom and did her best to ignore the odd sensation in her chest as she hugged Chuckles tightly.

# CARL

SITTING IN THEIR kitchen, Carl watched with interest as Hank methodically cleaned his guns. Hank with his weapons was a thing of beauty. The man had a very precise way of doing things. He dismantled each handgun, wiped it clean and then put it back together with obvious ease, ease that belied the level of skill he was demonstrating without thought.

Finished with his four guns, he placed them in their holsters, one at his waist, one in his shoulder holster, one in the small of his back and one strapped to his ankle.

"Are you going out then? Have we got another appointment this evening?

Hank turned his attention to the collection of knives that were his pride and joy without giving Carl a second thought. He got his sheaths out and started replacing the cleaned and sharpened blades into their respective holders. He lifted one up to catch the light as he sighted along the edge. Carl could see his reflection in the blade. Their eyes met in the steel mirror.

"What I'm going to be doing later isn't really your problem now is it?" Hank finally responded.

"Aw, don't be like that big guy"

"You really have a lot of nerve you know. I thought you would be trying to fix a certain fuck up that you had initiated a while back."

Carl sighed. "Hank, we've been over this. I told you I'd sort it and I will. Just give the heavy stuff a rest for a while."

"Neither of us have that luxury, boy. In case you didn't quite get it the first fifty times I've said it I'll tell you again, this is your last chance. The bosses will not cut you any more slack."

"I know. I'm headed to Wembley anyhow, I was just waiting for rush hour to be over."

"Are you driving then?" Hank asked, slightly mollified.

"No, I think the tube will be best. In and out, I'll walk around and get a feel for the area."

"Watch out for the cameras on the underground, they are everywhere." Hank advised. He still felt protective towards Carl and it showed in his manner. Carl couldn't imagine what the man saw in him.

Carl snorted. "They have eyes but cannot see. All their cameras do not stop determined people like us. They can't even stop a mugging. I'll be fine, I promise. It'll be a walk in the park."

Carl looked at the picture that Hank had retrieved for him. He already knew what the guy looked like but couldn't rightly tell his partner why this was so. Small wonder, the man was having none of it. Hank had not been a very happy camper in recent times and Carl was only sorry that before this was all over the guy was going to hate his guts even more. He was actually a little fond of the guy, not that he had anything like a man crush like Hank had mentioned on previous occasions but one had to admire someone who had such focus and dedication when it came to his craft. He was a professional through and through.

Carl knew he could never attain that level of perfection and quite frankly, so long as the job got done and he got paid, he didn't much care about anything else. He often wondered how they had gotten paired together and thought that it might have been a trick of fate. Oh well, whatever the reasons, he had learnt a lot from the old guy and he only wished things could be different. But he had to look after number one. That was just the way it was.

"I'll be on my way then," he told his partner as he left the apartment.

He walked down to the bus stop then caught the bus to the closest tube station; it was a simple thing to find the line he needed and head off to Wembley. As he sat on the tube, he did the day's Sudoku puzzle in the daily paper and tried to look casual and unimportant. "Just another ordinary day in the life of Joe Blogs" he mused to himself. Glancing at his reflection in the darkened tube windows as they whistled along, he noted that with his casual appearance, he actually did blend in. The scanty post-rush hour crowd on the tube was made up mainly of tourists, students and migrant workers on the way to their next minimum wage job. With his blue jeans, sneakers and hooded sweatshirt, he fit right in. One of his greatest advantages in his line of work was his nondescript physical attributes. He could melt into almost any crowd, anywhere and could change his accent to go with whatever persona he chose to go with that day.

He got out at Wembley Tube Station and picked up a fresh copy of the Evening Standard from a vendor near the exit. He rolled it up and put it under his arm as he powered up Google maps on his phone. Ah, the wonders of modern technology. He switched to the navigation panel and entered the address that he had been given for the programmer who was his next target. The timer on the map said the address was just a mere thirteen minutes' walk away.

"Now, that's a promising start right there", he said to himself as he began to walk in the direction the pedestrian satnav was guiding him in. He put in his earphones and pulled his hood over his head, trying to blend in with the youths walking about aimlessly in the areas. He walked at a moderate pace, keen to escape attention.

As he turned into Lincoln road, the street that led to the address, he swore under his breath. "Damn it, Hank, how am I supposed to keep a low profile here, this place is like a damn mom and pop store." The neighbourhood was mainly residential and there did not appear to be much in the way of lookout spots.

He was glad he hadn't come in a car as he had initially planned to. From what he could see, a strange car would have attracted more notice. He walked further down the street and decided that he would simply have to find a house to camp in for a while or he would have to trail the mark when he left for work although from what Hank said, the fellow did most of his work at home.

He sighed.

Who said life was easy? He'd need to either lure the man out or go into after him. He considered this for a minute. Sometimes it was easier to pin the victims down in their own environment where they were more vulnerable and less likely to be on their guard but something told him this might not be the right approach in this situation.

He would have to convince hank that it would be in their best interests if the two incidents with guys who looked alike did not happen in quite the same way. Yeah, he'd buy that. He'd even tag on the overworked and underpaid cops who would take undue interest in the case if they were too similar. Hmm. It just might work. He just had to get something to lure the guy out of his apartment at the opportune time.

He made up his mind. Hank was already way too suspicious for him to try anything today. It would be tricky but he felt he could pull off the plan with no hitches. He really needed this guy so he had to make it work. He would get his accommodations in order and then return to pick the guy up at a later date.

He whistled softly as he strolled along. His mind flashed back to how he had come to be a hit man in the first place. He had always been fascinated with life and death and found he was handy with guns and stuff. A friend of his had been shot when they were teenagers by a neighbourhood gang member who felt he was paying too much unwarranted attention to his girlfriend. Carl had tried to reason with his friend, Mark but he hadn't listened even though everyone knew the gang leader was bad news. Mark had ended up with a bullet in his chest. Carl had been devastated. Orphaned at an early age and an only child, mark had been the closest thing he had to family and his loss was hard to swallow. He bided his time and asked the gang leader for a meeting. When the guy had turned up with his four man crew, Carl had shot each of them once in the head, execution style. No accusations or discussions and no excuses. Just five accurate shots fired one after the other in quick succession. They didn't even have a chance to fire off any shots of their own.

Phil was a small time London crime boss who had a reputation for running crews that got the job done, whatever the cost. When he heard about the shooting he had been impressed and had followed the story in the papers with interest. However with no murder weapon, no witnesses and no active leads the police was stumped. Their investigation was going nowhere and the story soon died down. Phil however hadn't lost interest. He had put his best man on it, an old timer called Hank. Hank had found and recruited Carl and the two of them had worked side by side for several months now, though they still did solo gigs from time to time. It would be hard to say goodbye but Carl knew he had to look out for number one.

He kept walked past the address and turned the corner at the end of the street till he came to Norton road. He noted the park that was on the other side of the road and also took note of the streetlamps that were starting to come on. It seemed this council had not yet signed on to reduce the hours when their streetlamps were on. Oh well. He'd break a couple of bulbs if he had to but he hoped it wouldn't be necessary. He decided to walk down to Wembley stadium and enjoy the atmosphere before he started heading back to base.

He took his pleasures where he could find them. "Simple things, the pleasures of life", that's what his Granddad had always said and he had come to see that the old man had been right. Who knew, he might just find that football fan with the tickets.

# DAVIS

"HONEY IS THAT you? Where have you been? You did say that you'd be home by five today. Are you alright?"

The voice of his own personal alarm clock and security centre, his monitor rolled in one was grating to his ears. He did not need Belinda's stress, especially not on a day like this. When he spoke however, his voice reflected none of the inner frustrations he was feeling.

"Yes, my dear. I'm sorry but stuff came up at work." All he wanted was to go upstairs, change, shower and meet up with Adams at the networking session at his house that evening. He'd have gone straight from Sasha's place but he had to keep up appearances and change at home. Right now, his reasons for doing so were becoming very blurry in his mind.

He looked at his wife. She used to be so pretty, so accommodating. He supposed she was still a handsome woman, but she did nothing for him when he thought of Sasha's luscious curves and her willing albeit purchased, acceptance of his quirks and commitments. The dissatisfaction that he felt that morning was returning here at home. It was true; a man gets married and then his life as he knows it is over, full stop. He refocused on what she was yammering on about.

"...I called your office, your secretary did not know where you were, she was sprouting some nonsense about you walking out around midday, something about a smiley face and that the partners and clients were most upset."

Suddenly, Davis had had enough. He was the man of the moment, everything was coming together for him, he quite honestly did not need this shit tonight and could see no reason why he should continue to put up with it. He started climbing the stairs, suddenly in a hurry to get ready and get the hell out of there.

He spoke to her over his shoulder as she trailed behind him, "Firstly, you had no right to call my office, Belinda, I have told you that several times before. I am not a dog on a leash. I will come home if and when I want to. And secondly, that dip-shit secretary does not know a thing about my affairs so asking her is a waste of time. Not that you have anything else to do with your precious time, that is why you keep playing phone tag trying to find me the moment I am out of your sight.

"Davis, don't you walk away from me. We need to talk, this cannot continue."

"Belinda, you seriously need your own life and we will talk when you are calm and I am good and ready. I have a business meeting to get to and your dramatics are getting very tedious, my love."

"Davis, you do not speak to me like that, you don't. I will not have it", Belinda protested, her voice was getting shriller by the minute and they both noticed it.

He turned and glared at her. "You see, this is why I never come home unless I have to. It's nag nag nag straight from the door" he griped.

Belinda made a conscious effort to cool her ire. She would gain nothing by alienating him tonight. She could see that he was in one of his moods. In a more conciliatory tone she started again.

"Davis, I am not nagging, I am simply concerned. I've been trying to reach you for most of the day and I couldn't. Your phone has been switched off for hours and you haven't replied to any of my voice mail messages. What if there had been an emergency?"

"What could possibly be so urgent that you left twenty-five messages on my phone, all with the same where are you tirade? He looked at her with his eyebrows raised, holding on to his temper by a thread. Of all the people he knew, she could wind him up faster than a hare could eat carrots. "Seriously it is getting old, Belinda. I am so tired of this nonsense. If my phone has been off, you of all people know damned well that it's been off with good reason, Belinda. I've been in some very important meetings all day."

"And I am supposed to believe that having had these very important meetings all day, you are heading out to another one again now, aren't I?" she asked in a disbelieving tone.

"Yes, I am. Why is that so hard to believe? If you could pull yourself together and stop all this incessant whining, I would love to have you there as moral support but this is way too important to me to allow you to mess it up."

"Davis", Belinda was struggling to grasp all the things he was saying, "I can pull it together. I promise." She desperately wanted to go with him, it seemed like their going out as a couple was happening more and more infrequently these days and she didn't know what to do about it. Besides if she went with him she could confirm for herself if he was truly going for a business outing.

It frightened her sometimes how dependent she was on him and she knew she was often on the verge of losing control. That was the reason behind her demanding behaviour, Davis was her only anchor to reality most days and she was terrified of losing him. Once a high powered city executive, she was now just a shadow of her former self and sadly, she was well aware that her charms were diminishing considerably as the years went by.

"Have you been drinking again?" Vodka and orange mixtures were her drink of choice, closely followed by cosmopolitans and her happy hour started whenever she felt like it.

"No, I swear, I haven't had a drop all day", she lied immediately, hoping he'd believe her. She knew she'd been drinking too much these days but how else could she cope with the crushing loneliness and sense of worthlessness that were becoming her constant companions around the house. The mixes didn't judge her the way she felt Davis assessing her constantly, neither did they find her wanting or lacking in charm.

"Ok, then. Get your act together. I will think about it."

Belinda went to the guest room across the hall to start getting washed and dressed. It was as much to stay out of Davis's way while he got ready as to avoid him seeing her naked. This was for both their sakes. She had no illusions about the toll the years had taken on her body and it helped to preserve her dignity.

Davis ignored her as his thoughts turned to other things. She was pathetic really. He had stayed in the marriage long after the magic had worn off because the senior partners at the firm were a bit conservative about image. He smiled to himself as he thought that the opinions of the senior partners were no longer an issue. Still, it would be prudent for him to bide his time for a while until he found out what the playing field was like with his new boss.

In the meantime, Sasha could continue to help him work out his stress issues and he would continue to keep up appearances with Belinda at public functions. The dressing down he had given her would keep her in line for a few days at least although he winced when he thought about the bill she would no doubt work up on their credit card when she inevitably went out for pick –me- up retail therapy. He shrugged. He could well afford it now.

He walked to the back of his walk in cupboard and opened his personal safe. Searching in his suit pocket he retrieved the humongous check that Adams had written that morning. He placed it in the safe with reverence and carefully shut it, engaging the locks. He'd pay it into his account in the morning.

# RAPHAEL

THERE WAS A gentle sense of satisfaction that came from knowing that the all the pieces were falling in the right places with very little extra effort on his part. Raphael Adams sat back in his recliner and surveyed the gathering in his lounge, letting the chatter and the music just wash over him. It was the perfect end to a productive day and he was glad that he had planned it for tonight. He had gathered over twenty of the city's most influential minds at his little soirée tonight and during the course of the five star dinner prepared by his in-house chef, had gently dropped hints about the upcoming bill in the House of Commons and had then prodded, coaxed and out rightly bullied his cohorts into falling in line with his line of thinking. He smirked to himself. By the close of business the next day, the MP's would not know what had hit them. The upcoming bill would be on every blog, every chat show, every website and every news channel across the country.

The happenings in the House of Commons and the House of Lords were never scintillating news at the best of times of course, unless someone had an angle that they needed to bring to the attention of the public. And why was public opinion necessary? Because history and common lore had shown that the great British public liked to be told what to think and would predictably react in the way that the media told them they were supposed to react.

For his plan to have any chance of success, it would be vital to prepare the public mind set well in advance. They had to be convinced that the global economic crisis had affected the Eurozone so badly that the civilised world was coming to an end. This was already well underway of course, with no help from Raphael's busy bees but he liked to work with available tools whenever possible. Then, he wanted them to plant the idea that the only hope for saving the world was for Britain to step in and take over, naturally. Once the UK was sold on the idea, it would be a simple thing to get the House of Commons and the House of Lords to do a swift ping pong and get a Royal Assent in. He sipped from his single malt and allowed himself a mental pat on the back. Really, sometimes, he outdid himself, he really did.

One of the wives invited over came over to make small talk. Stephen Cullum was the MP for the Newark area and his wife Susan had delusions of grandeur that made her think that she and her husband were destined for number ten. It wasn't completely her fault as Raphael himself had lured them on to his side with vague hints of his backing and promises of campaign support. When the time came, he would simply have to express his regrets and offer them something else. He smiled and nodded at one of the inane comments she made and complimented her on her dress. He grimaced inwardly. Her husband was a nice enough man but his progress would forever be hampered by this horse-faced bitch who felt she was in the driver's seat. Talking to her, one always seemed to get the sense that she was trying to take credit for Stephens's political successes and excuse herself from all his inadequacies. It was sad really. She did have a keen political mind but her personality was shit. He wished she would just buzz off and let him enjoy his drink and moment of peace but she seemed intent on making a point about something or the other. Nevertheless, he remained the charming and urbane host with none of his inward thoughts showing on his face. He bore the torturous natter until someone else caught her eye and she moseyed off to talk to them instead.

He looked out of his patio door and watched as some of his other guests strolled and sat around his Olympic sized swimming pool. The lights and modest decorations made an appropriate backdrop for the informal gathering. It really was a power setting. He took notice of who was talking to whom and who was ignoring whom. He would have Phillip dig a little deeper on the more interesting subjects so he could get more information. It was the kind of thing that came in handy in his line of business. With more information came more leverage; and with more leverage, power. He saw some hard and fast networking was going on as well. Raphael had no issue with that as he would definitely claim appropriate credit for connecting them when the time came. His new lawyer seemed to fit right in although his eagerness was almost painful to see. On the other hand, it was his hungry attitude that had drawn Raphael towards him in the first place. When given the choice in people, he'd always go for the dissatisfied and hungry rather than the content and comfortable. Experience was not always a plus.

He congratulated himself silently. It was a good gathering and he was sure that the results would be sufficiently worthwhile. He was sure that the MPs who had proposed the deal in the first place would be surprised by the overwhelming support generated through no effort of their own. Once Smarks was able to pin point exactly which member(s) of parliament was in on the deal from their declared assets and from a little snooping of his own, Barkern would help sway the opposition cabinet through some choicely distributed incentives. Because he was in the house, Barkern was able to advise Raphael on who had being having a particularly tough time of it since the expenses scandal had broken.

Raphael smiled smugly to himself. He wondered if Barkern had any inkling that he and Smarks had helped to fan the flames of that particular fire into the inferno it later became in order to make room for Barkern to get on the shadow cabinet. Oh well, it definitely paid to have ones fingers in a lot of different pies now, didn't it.

He waved Calvorta over. It was time to do a little legal stuff before the party really started. He looked over the blond haired lady that was following in Davis's wake. He'd expected Davis to show with the floozy he knew he kept on the side and applauded the man's discretion and sense of decorum in coming with his spouse. Keeping up appearances was important in most spheres and it appeared that Davis was aware of that.

"Good evening, Sir", Davis began,

"Still with this bloody Sir business I see", he snorted good-naturedly. "Well, I'll soon break you out of that habit, never fear. Settle your lady and then meet me in the study, down the corridor, second door on the left. I have a few things I need you to look over before tomorrow." He nodded at Belinda and gave her a courteous smile before leaving them alone.

# DAVIS

BOTH THE CALVORTAS were in awe. It had been such a shock to see some of the faces at the select gathering. Davis at least had already had a taste of the Adams' magic but Belinda's evening had started on a high once she saw the town car and driver that was waiting for them outside their home.

Davis had been a bit smug in pointing out that they were the fruits of the "so called meetings" she had been trying to call him through but the man had a point after all. She'd apologised again and promised him that she was turning over a new leaf.

She had determined there and then that she would totally clean up her act. She could not afford to lose Davis now, not when he was finally making it big. No, she had been the woman behind him when the road was bumpy and now that he was launching out into the stratosphere she aimed to be right there, clinging to his coattails all the way. Though he hadn't really shared much of the details, she sensed that this new job could well be the opportunity her husband had been yearning for.

She glanced at him now, a totally different man than the Davis that came home to her every night. Here he was in his element and was actually interested in the conversations happening around them. She had to admit it was a far cry from the insipid babbling that passed for conversation at their infrequent dinner parties. "You better hurry love; your new boss does not strike me as a man who likes to be kept waiting. I'll be alright, I'll wait for you right here I promise."

"I dare say that he isn't often kept waiting at all", Davis replied, surprised that Belinda was astute enough to realise the kind of power Adams welded. He hadn't really believed her when she claimed not to have been drinking earlier but had had no choice but to bring her along. Adam's response to him bring his wife had been positive as far as he could tell and it struck a right note with the other power couples here at the soirée. It had been the right move.

Still he worried that he might be tempting fate leaving Belinda without a chaperone in the midst of such a gathering while he attended to business. He looked at her now and he knew she could read the disconcertment in his gaze.

"You really need to be careful; I will not take kindly to you making a scene here, Bel."

"Now there is the husband that I know and love", She replied airily, sinking down into the leather recliner just vacated by Davis. "I know you're worried Davis but I promised I would not let you down and I will not. Just go already."

He could read the sincerity in her gaze. "Ok. I'll hold you to that." He hurried off to join Raphael in the study. He would just have to wait and see if she could be trusted or not. If she made a mess of things tonight, this would be the every last gathering they attended together. His tolerance could only stretch so far.

# BOBBY

AFTER HE HEARD the doorbell ring, Bobby went and collected the pizza delivery, paying the man off at the door from his wallet. From the look of it, Frances had done a good job in getting the grub on. The most important part of the delivery as far as Bobby was concerned was the extra-large bottle of Coca-Cola that came along with it. He was feeling caffeine deprived and the unusually balmy London weather made the thought of a warm drink slightly undesirable at the moment. The ice that had sat unused in his freezer for a while would really come in handy right now.

He could hear Frances in the kitchen. She was fussing about with dishes and cups, opening cupboards and rattling draws. What the hell was she doing? He wasn't sure he wanted to know. Women. She had done more washing up in the few hours that she'd been in his apartment than he had done in the past three months. What was with this nesting instinct that babes had? They saw a nice bachelor pad and their hormones went on a riot. They couldn't rest until they had straightened this little thing and spruced up that little thing and generally made the hapless males' domain un-fucking –recognisable. There was a reason why his love life since the Frances-Larry debacle had been a revolving door of females. He kept them moving on before they got too comfortable and started changing things up. He liked his things just the way were, thank you very much.

"You know", he said conversationally, "there are paper plates in the top cabinet on your left or you could just eat the pizza out of the box like its meant to be. Just grab a few napkins and we are done."

She shook her head in a mock despairing fashion as she came out of the kitchen. "Bobby, just because its pizza doesn't mean it has to come out of a box."

"Seriously, it tastes better that way."

"No problem, what's a couple of plates anyway."

"Ok. But tomorrow when you are doing dishes, please remember that I offered you another option. Me and Chuckles are fine regardless."

"Chuckles and I, you mean", she said smiling.

"Oh fuck off", he chuckled around a mouthful of pizza.

Frances was determined not to intrude too much into Bobby's routine. He appeared unsure how to relate to her and she didn't want to push it anymore that day. He apparently had some really important stuff to so she'd let him get on with it. She watched as he dropped some breaded chicken wings in the dog bowl for Chuckles and moved back towards his computer desk and bed.

He surveyed the damage done while he was trying to find a spot to sleep in thanks to Frances unannounced arrival. He had completely lost his train of thought when she showed up but he guessed he was allowed a little slack on any number of levels. While his pc booted up he powered up his laptop and the secondary palm held device that he had rigged into a nifty home-based LAN. He plugged them all in and waited for the magic to begin. He called his home station the Enchanter and sitting here was where he did his best work. This was what he lived for. This was what he needed to be doing.

He had made a lot of progress yesterday and up until the early hours of the morning when all the drama had started, he had been feeling very optimistic that the programme he was writing would be the finest he had done in quite a while.

He was designing an add-on programme for one he had already designed. That particular programme was called SURGE and had attracted a lot of attention. He was in the process of landing a meeting with a top Ministry of Defence official to discuss its use in the British armament and weapons development division. His plans did not suit his former boss at Zetatech, Raphael Adams but he couldn't care less. There were more important things than money; things like the greater good could not be ignored because of one man's greed.

Adams had tried to flatter him and then to buy him out with an outrageous sum of money but Bobby was having none of it. He knew what Adams was like and had no illusions about the legitimacy of some of the work he himself had done while working for him but hey, everybody had to eat. He'd never claimed to be a saint. Adams had later turned threatening and when Bobby had remained undeterred in the face of his posturing, had continued to pester him.

He had also blocked Bobby's initial tries at contacting the Defence Ministry but with perseverance, Bobby had worn down the walls. His programme was simply that good and in a few years' time he could see it saving a lot of lives. Funnily enough for the past few weeks, he'd noticed that Adams had eased up a little and the relentless barraging had all but stopped.

The good thing was that Bobby knew not underestimate the guy either. Hence his current project that he was working so frantically to finish. He was developing an add-on programme that he meant to insert into SURGE. If it ever fell into the wrong hands he was determined that there would be a way not only to stop SURGE from picking up British weaponry but also to set it to broadcast the location of every enemy artillery in the area. It would be the perfect Trojan horse and there was definitely a part of him that almost wished for it to fall into the hands of people who wanted to take on the UK. The codes he was using were revolutionary and would change a lot in the world of modern warfare. He could understand why Adams was wetting himself trying to get his hands on SURGE. It was a masterpiece.

He glanced over to the bed again and let out his breath in a huff. It seemed that regrettably, some of the work he needed to refresh his mental synapses was currently buried under a mountain of other work. He knew the exact page in the paper he needed but try as he might he could not visualise the text mentally. And there was no way he was sorting through the mountain of paper tonight. He went through the pathways he had already written that morning. It was coming along nicely but he sensed he was missing a step or something somewhere and it irked him that he could not readily identify what exactly it was.

He knew what the problem was though. Frances crossed back and forth the living area as she cleared up the debris form their meal. He felt a surge of irritation. He knew that she was itching to have some kind of talk, some sort of closure session with him and he wasn't in the mood for it. Besides, if truly Larry was out of the picture who knew what could happen. And that way lays madness, young man.

As she walked by he caught a whiff of her scent and his sense of irritation increased. All of a sudden it seemed that the walls were closing in on him. He was fooling no one by sitting in front of the Enchanter except himself and maybe Frances. He looked round for Chuckles. The traitor had made a new friend alright. Frances glanced over and saw him looking. She seemed to gather her courage and came over to talk to him. "I need a favour from you"

"Always a promising start" Bobby quipped in reply.

"I'll make it worth your while" she continued slowly.

"That always sounds good, catch the audiences' attention and then draw them in with visions of instant gratification"

His flippant attitude was not helping matters. But she was not going to be put off that easily, she had waited for three years to say this to him. "Bobby, can you please be serious."

"Ok, I'm listening." He turned around and gave her earnest eyes, trying to camouflage his rising agitation at her nearness. In deference to her presence he had had a shave that morning but his six o'clock shadow was darkening his face anyway. He rubbed his bristly chin as he waited for her to speak.

"Promise me. Promise me that you will not let what happened between us stand in the way of you finding true love, of settling down and having a family of your own."

Now he was truly pissed off. Frances had a lot of nerve. "Tried that true love thing, it didn't quite work out alright for me. Wonder what happened? Oh yeah, now I remember" he paused sarcastically for full effect, watching her face intently as he leaned forwards.

"My bride ran way with my best man, who....wait for it......just so happened to be my twin brother!"

To her credit, she did not flinch. "Bobby, look, I know we hurt you and I'm sorry, but I wouldn't give back the time I spent with Larry for all the world." She leaned forward as well. "Things always happen for a reason."

"Don't you say that to me."

"What if you met me just so that the universe could bring me and Larry together?"

"You cannot seriously be asking me that can you?" Now, he really wanted to know.

"Lives can be beautiful yet complex all at the same time. The curve is never straight, but by altering the gradient, the x axis and the y axis you can vary the picture in different ways."

Bobby had just simply had enough. "Yeah yeah yeah. Look, do me a favour woman, spare me the psycho analytical bullshit ok, I have enough weird stuff in my own head. You and Larry did a runner and you have been living happily ever after. I get that. Now as for me, I, Bobby, whatever, I'm going out, are you going to be ok on your own or do you want to come with?"

"Oh. I'm definitely coming with. No way am I staying alone at home again tonight."

"Fine. Have it your way. I'm leaving in 20 minutes. I've washed out the shirt and jeans you were wearing so you can wear those if you don't want to go out in my stuff and we can pick you some tops at the mall tomorrow."

"That's alright. If we are going to go to Kensington tomorrow, I can get a change of clothes there. I know how much you guys hate shopping with me."

"Fine, 20 minutes."

Bobby was stressed out and looking for relief. He didn't care that Frances was seeing him at less than his best, he just needed to get some space in his head. Driving around for a bit helped but he was horny as hell as well and having her light scent in the car with him wasn't helping matters either. It was strange because he didn't think she was wearing perfume but he knew that his Radox shower gel never smelt like that on him. It was all earthy and musky and sexy as hell.

Bobby you need to get laid. There is nothing good going to come out of this situation, he told himself. "She made her choice; she didn't want you" he told himself brutally.

Cursing under his breath, he made an illegal U-turn as he spied an after hour's club that he frequented when he needed to loosen up. Parking the car, he walked into the club, not really caring if Frances was in the mood for clubbing or not.

She followed him docilely enough though; she seemed to sense that he was on the edge. He got her situated at the bar then headed to the dance floor where he soon attracted the attention of some of the more regular club girls hanging around.

He made his pick without much consideration and the others soon drifted away to more promising prospects.

Without much preamble, he whispered something in the girl's ear and they left the dance floor to head off to the private rooms situated near the men's room. There were condoms stashed in a box near the door but Bobby had brought his own.

The girl, who introduced herself as Amber, was very pretty but her hair was the wrong colour and her tits were too big. She was enthusiastic enough though and right now, and that was all that mattered.

She kissed him and rubbed her considerable bounty all over him and he felt himself stiffening in response. "Ooh Papi, you in a mood tonight aren't you", she crooned as she slid her hands down his chest. "Let's see what you brought Amber tonight"

She smiled her approval as she saw what was poking its way out of his trousers. He stood back as she held out her hand for a condom. She expertly rolled it along his shaft, giving him a bit of a hand job as she went along. He'd give her that, she worked fast. She pulled her down her panties and settled in for a good ride. She quickly manoeuvred him into position with a sigh. "Yes. Oh yes, Papi, that feels so good."

Bobby tried to block out her voice and the smell of her perfume. Why couldn't the bitch just shut up? He wasn't in the mood for the soundtrack. She needed to just shut up and fuck.

He yanked down her top and suckled her tits frantically. There was a stale taste of sweat and a musky smell but he paid it no mind. She raised her face to kiss him but he turned his face away. No way was he kissing this girl. Who knew where her mouth had been.

As he thrust into her, she bounced along in sync with him, giving him vocal encouragement to continue. He felt himself nearing the end and pushed her off him as he spewed his semen into the condom.

"Hey, what did you do that for?" She asked angrily. "I was almost there too."

"I'm sorry" he said, pulling off the condom and wiping himself off with some tissue. "I shouldn't be here."

"No shit. You damn well shouldn't. Selfish motherfucker." She gave him stink eyes as she went back out into the club to find herself another partner.

Bobby leaned back against the wall of the room and took a deep breath. It was all Frances fault. She had him all wound up, tensed and roiling inside. Even in the midst of sex with another woman he could still smell her hair and see her face. He thought he had forgotten and gotten over her but tonight showed that he still had major issues where she was concerned, issues he had buried but not destroyed.

He checked that he was decent and made his way through the crowd, back to the bar. Frances was there, chatting with another guy who was apparently sitting out a dance while his partner frolicked on the dance floor.

"Hey where have you been? I was looking out to see your dance moves but I couldn't find you anywhere" She asked with a smile.

He didn't answer. He just looked at her.

"What, do I have something on my face? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Come on, let's get out of here, this was a bad idea."

As he reached over to help her up, she caught a whiff of cheap perfume. She turned to look at him properly. She could see lipstick stains on his collar and his clothes were rumpled.

She couldn't believe it.

"Bobby, please tell me you did not just drop me at a bar so you could go have sex with some random stranger."

"Ok, so I won't tell you. Can we go now?"

"Bobby, how could you? How could you do that?"

"Don't start with me, Frances. I'm a grown man, I have needs. Needs which didn't magically vanish when you waltzed off three years ago without another thought for anybody else." He sneered at her. "And it's not like you were offering."

" Bobby",

As she opened her mouth to continue yelling at her, Bobby lost it. He couldn't think straight, he was all stressed out, he just leaned in and kissed her with all the pent up feelings and desire and confusion that he had running through his veins.

It took some moments for it to sink in. He had his arms around Frances; he was kissing her, Frances again.

And she was not kissing him back. She was frozen and unresponsive in his arms.

He sank back slowly, and looked into her eyes, dropping his arms from around her and stepping back a little.

"I'm so sorry Bobby."

"Yeah, I'm sorry too", he said harshly.

She couldn't have made it clearer that not only could they not turn back the clock and recapture the past three years, she had no inclination to. She felt nothing when he kissed her that much was glaringly obvious.

"Let's just get out of here."

# CARL

HAVING SUCCESSFULLY CONVINCED Hank that following him would be a bloody waste of time, Carl set off ostensibly for Wembley again. He'd covered his tracks by telling his partner that he intended to stake out the address that was just a walking distance from the Wembley rail station. He intended to blend in and watch the apartment for a while. At least that was what he told Hank.

Unknown to him, Carl was actually on his way to meet a new friend that he had made recently. He had always had a keen nose for when a situation was about to go tits up and his inner meter had been telling him for a while now that the thing with him, Hank and Phil was becoming too much of a good thing, even without the recent complications so he had bought himself a little insurance.

He stepped off the Piccadilly line at Wood Green and walked a few meters towards the shopping village. After taking a quick look over his shoulder to ensure that the paranoid mother hen had not followed him after all, he walked through the shopping mall and came out at the rear entrance. He then took a left and let himself into the dingy studio flat where he had been keeping his ace on ice for the past three weeks. He turned on the lights as he kept the curtains tightly drawn at all times and had given his houseguest strict instructions to keep it that way. So far he'd been cooperative.

The man was, as usual, lying in bed, with a pillow under his injured arm. He looked thin and weak but apart from his arm, very much alive and well which was the whole point. Unfortunately recent events had put a little bit of a wrinkle in Carls plans and he was getting a bit grumpy about it.

He kicked the man's foot and was rewarded with a groan. He smirked. It was way past time the guy woke up and discovered how truly fucked up his life was. He'd thought he was lucky when the hit man had decided to spare him instead of shooting his brains out. Carl wanted to see how lucky he felt when Carl told him that he wasn't even the guy they wanted at in the first place. Talk about stinking bad luck. He sniggered to himself and then kicked the guy again

"Hey, I'm talking to you, man."

"What is it? What do you want? Why are you keeping me here?" the man asked as he sat up gingerly. Honestly, the way the guy whined you think he'd housed him in the garden shed rather than a studio flat. He wasn't chained up or anything now, was he?

"Yeah, about that", Carl replied, perching his behind on the large study table that took up most of the space near the bed,

"It seems the reason why you have been singularly useless in proving information about why my bosses want to gone isn't just because you are monumentally dull and it's not because you have amnesia or anything"

"Of course it isn't. I told you that all along. So do you believe me now? What finally changed your mind? Apart from me telling you over and over again that I had no enemies or business partners to speak of, that I'm just a civil servant?"

"Yeah, and a bloody boring one at that. So yes, your pip-squeaking helped. But more importantly, it was the info that came down from the powers that be, seeing as they have come back with a beef about how I did in the wrong guy."

"So, you mean that after all this time, it wasn't even about me?" The guy was getting worked up but Carl ignored him. Whiny little sod. Did everything have to be about him? He truly did not get this wanker at all.

"So I was kind of thinking 'no harm no foul', right, but the thing is, I'm going to be needing your accommodation for the other guy if and when I get him and I kind of need a body to put in the other guy's place, and you kind of know too much already", he let his voice trail off meaningfully.

"Who am I gonna tell? Who'll believe me anyway?" Seriously this guy had to grow up for fucks sake. A man should face his fate like a man. Oh well, it was probably too late for him anyway so Carl decide not to let it bug him. It was the guy's last few minutes of life, he could afford to be generous.

"Yeah well, see the issue is not that I don't trust you and all but quite frankly that's not a risk I think I can take. And since you can't really help me with my present situation"

"Are you sure? Let me see the real guy who should have a very sore shoulder and a threat of execution hanging over his head. Who knows, it might even be my brother."

Carl snapped to attention. Now that was something he didn't know. "Wait a minute you have a brother? Why the hell didn't you say so ages ago?"

"Because most rational people that I know do not outline their family trees to people who shoot them and then hold them captive for God only knows how long."

Hmm, he had a point. Anyway if they were brothers it would only made his plan go a little easier. He'd kill this one, put him in the Wembley apartment so Hank could see the body and then stash the IT guy back at this place. It could work.

"Ok. So this brother of yours, I'm assuming he lives in the UK right?"

"Yeah, but he hates me. He's the only one I thought, just for a second who could have hired you but its three years since I've seen him so..." His eyes widened as he saw Carl pull out his hand gun from the holster at the small of his back and start attaching a silencer

"Is he in IT? Cos apparently the guy we were supposed to erase does IT for this big firm, errm Zetatech, I think it was", Carl asked as he idly screwed in the silencer on his gun. "Where does he stay? You never know..."

"I'm guessing he stays in Wembley, right", interrupted a new voice from the door.

Both men turned slowly to see a very angry Hank in the doorway.

"Hank, what are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question but I really don't feel like I'm up for chit –chat at the moment. I can see just fine what you are doing here. You are here, simply being a God- awful low down backstabbing ignorant piece of shit like always. And I am tired, man, too tired."

"Hank, wait, it's not what you think, I can explain"

"Save it, Carl"

"No really, I was doing it for us, we're a team, remember."

Yeah? And I bet you picked the wrong mark on purpose for us as a team as well."

"No, no that was an accident, I swear."

"Well, you see, Carl, we have nothing to talk about. Bad enough if it was just an honest mistake", Hank shook his head as if to convey how ridiculous he found that idea. "But the guy is here, alive. That don't look right you know. Don't forget that when you mess up it's my nuts on the chopping block cos I partner with you. I vouched for you, you selfish son of a bitch."

"Yeah but I was going to plug him anyway, just now as a matter of fact."

Carl read his fate in his partner's eyes.

"Please Hank."

"It's over kiddo. You know it and I know it. Don't demean both of us by acting like there is any other way out of this shit storm you have created."

Carl could see that there would be no convincing Hank. He raised his hand to fire and jumped upwards, backwards and to the right as the same time. He felt the bullet Hank had fired at him graze his shoulder as he landed. He wasn't sure if his shot had met its target. The next shot took out the lights. Obviously not, he thought to himself.

He could hear the mark scrambling around on all fours under the table and smiled to himself. Anyway you sliced it, the guy's number was up; if he didn't get him, Hank would. No way would the old timer leave him alive. He prayed he would be the one to shoot the bugger and not Hank. The alternative did not bear thinking about, not when he was so close.

He tried to pinpoint where the last shot had come from, but it was tricky in the dark and he couldn't place where Hank was. He was just about to move when he felt cold metal slide under his chin. He stilled.

"You know, I always was better with a knife, Hank drawled conversationally, just before he slit his throat."

Carl tried to speak but his throat was filled with blood and he was finding it hard to breath. With a final gasp, his eyes rolled back in his head and he went still. Hank wiped his stiletto on his shirt and then used a paper towel to clean his hands.

He would have to tell Phil that he had taken care of Carl because the fellow's inherent sloppiness was putting them all at risk and he felt it was the only avenue open to him. If he acted fast and was convincing, he just might be able to sell it to Phil. He left the apartment quickly and quietly, his mind in turmoil.

In his haste, he totally forgot about the man who was hiding under the bed.

# This morning

# FRANCES

FRANCES WAS DRESSED and ready to go but she was loathe to check on Bobby or wake him up if he was still asleep though she could not hear any snoring from the bedroom. It had been a quiet ride back home and an even quieter time in the apartment since they had gotten back last night after their disastrous time at the club last night.

She wasn't really sure what had happened last night. One minute she and Bobby were spending some time together, just chilling while he eased off some stress at the club. The next she was attacking him like a jealous wife or girlfriend. What had she been thinking? Bobby had every right to be mad, she thought to herself. "He's a grown man, what he gets up to at a club is none of your business, Frances," she told herself sternly.

Then there was that kiss. It broke her heart to see that Bobby was obviously still hurting over her actions around the time of their wedding but if she had to do it over again, she'd have no choice but to do it the same way all over again. Larry was her true love. She only wished she had found out early enough to have spared them all the estrangement and bitterness between them.

Bobby was a great guy and she knew it had hurt Larry on a fundamental level not to have his twin in their lives. They had kept tabs on him over the years though, asking subtle questions at family gatherings and in letters and phone calls to the brothers' parents. Wonderful people that they were, they had never blamed Frances for the role she had played in splitting the brothers but had welcomed her with open arms and made her feel loved.

She made up her mind that one way or the other she would make things right with Bobby, but from his reaction when she broached the subject yesterday, she would have to take things slow.

She looked at the time. 10 a.m. She went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, stopping only to stroke Chuckles on the head. She could hear Bobby getting up and moving around. Once he was ready, they would be heading to her home in Kensington where Bobby was convinced that they would find clues to tell them what was really going on. She shuddered to think that they might find Larry's body in the flat, and firmly squelched any hope that they would not.

"Besides, even if his body is not there, it doesn't necessarily mean that he is alive," she muttered, trying to prepare herself for the worst.

It could simply mean that the people who wanted her husband dead had disposed of his body themselves.

Bobby came into the kitchen, with Chuckles close on his heels. "Talking to yourself is never a good sign Frances", he said.

She looked at him gratefully, happy for the distraction. "Morning Bobby, you sleep ok?"

"Yeah, I was alright. You?"

"So, so." She replied. "Can I interest you in a cup of java" she offered, gesturing with her mug.

"Hmm, just what the doctor ordered. I think that would be a good idea." He passed her a mug and she filled it with the freshly made coffee. He took a sip and gave a grateful sigh. "Aww thanks for that, love" he said then winced at the endearment.

"Errm, Frances about last night"

"Bobby, don't worry about it," Frances hastened to reassure him.

"No, I need to say this", Bobby persevered. "I am truly sorry for my actions yesterday. You didn't deserve to see me like that and I can only claim stress. I wasn't myself."

"Bobby, no one understands the stress more than me, I have been living with this for three weeks already so I have processed it a little. You are still dealing with the shock on multiple levels. Seeing me again for the first time in ages is just added pressure."

"So, you and me, we're ok, right?"

"Yeah we're square."

Ok, let me just get my knapsack and we can head over to your place.

Bobby, what are we going to do if his body is not there?

"Whether it is or not, we will get you some clothes, see what we can see and then take it from there. I am still not convinced that we should not get the police involved in this but let's take it one step at a time."

"Alright Bobby, you are in charge. Let's get breakfast and then we can head out."

"I need to take Chuckles for a quick walk because I do not know when we'll be back and it's not fair to him to be cooped up all day."

"You really love that dog don't you?"

"There's no need for you to sound so surprised, you know", He huffed.

"I'm not surprised you love him, Chuckles is totally adorable. No I'm more surprised that he loves you", she said teasingly.

"You wretch" he said. "I won't be long, alright."

"Why don't I come along with you, we can get breakfast and walk Chuckles at the same time, then bring him back before we head off."

"Ok, that sounds like a plan."

As they went off to get that done, Frances reflected that one way or the other, by the end of the day, they would have some answers about what was going on and she drew comfort from that and from the strong young man at her side. Whatever their issues, they were in this together and she was glad that she was no longer alone with all this.

# RAPHAEL

IT WAS GETTING close to the time for the parliamentary vote and Raphael found that he was feeling an unusual emotion. He sat down to examine himself further, trying to discern what that feeling was.

The closest he could think was that he was anxious. But that was absurd. He didn't get anxious for the very reason that he always got his way. Raphael always made sure that he had planned every last move before he started so that things could fall into place the way he wanted them to. It was a thing of pride and of preservation.

Once you had a reputation for always getting your way, it did make things easier when you went up against competition as his competitors often pulled out of deals when they heard they were up against him. But keeping up the appearance of effortless success took quite a lot of behind scenes planning and strategizing. Without conceit, Raphael knew that this was where his main strengths lay. Things usually went according to plan for him because he took time to plan, and plan well for every possible eventuality.

He thought about all he had accomplished in the past few weeks and then it hit him. The niggling feeling was that sense that something had been left uncompleted and he knew what it was.

He picked up the phone.

"Phillip, I am most disappointed that I haven't heard back from you since Friday. What on earth is taking you so long? I am starting to lose faith in your promises."

"Sorry, Mr Adams, I'm afraid we've come across a slight stumbling block."

The crime boss's voice was apologetic but calm. Men like Philip did not fluster easily. He had a lot riding on his ability to convince his client that he and his team were on top of the situation and that was what he set out to do.

"Phillip, it is not like you to be this incompetent. You know that I cannot and will not tolerate failure in any form."

"I am well aware of that, sir and you know that I will not let you down. Whatever it takes, I promise I will sort this out."

"Your promises are no longer sufficient I'm afraid. I am running out of time and this delay is potentially costing me a lot of money. This is not the kind of service I expect from a man of your experience Philip."

Philip was tempted to take Raphael's tone personally but he reminded himself that the fault was with his team and Raphael was within his rights to be a little stroppy. However, there were many ways to deal with a disgruntled client in his business and he would have to find a way to remind Raphael of that later. No one was untouchable.

"I understand where you are coming from Mr Adams and I just want to say again that I am truly sorry for that sir. I can only ask for your patience and assure you that I will be heading into the field personally to sort this out one way or the other."

"I do not like the sound of that." Raphael seemed doubtful.

"I will call you as soon as I have more promising news, Mr Adams."

"You do that. I'm warning you, this is bigger than both of us and failure is not an option."

"I understand. I hope to call you soon."

Adams disconnected the call. It seemed that things would not be going as smoothly as he had hoped. He thought for a couple of minutes and then reached out to make another call, but this time on his private line. Only a select handful of people had this number and he liked to keep it that way. Still desperate times called for desperate measures.

He would have liked to ease Calvorta in slowly to his more private affairs but it couldn't be helped. He would just have to take precautions well and above the norm for his new staff. He had already done some intensive screening before he picked the young lawyer for the post but still, there was too much on the line for him to take anything or anyone for granted.

If his years of wheeling and dealing in the international business world had taught him only one valuable lesson, it would be this: Loyalty is for sale, you just have to have the right price tag. It wasn't always monetary either. It would be interesting to find out just how far Davis would go to demonstrate his loyalty. Then again, the guy kept a mistress so he definitely one for bending the rules. And he'd left his former firm with barely a twitch, though it was for a really astronomical pay rise. Adams was nobody's fool. He knew how much Calvorta had been making previously, he just hadn't cared. After all the money he'd asked for was just like bits of fragmented peanuts to him. He would see.

Davis picked up after a couple of rings

"Hello, Sir", he said, when he picked up. Either he answered all calls that way or he was making use of the caller ID and was calculating that any unfamiliar number would be his new boss. Raphael suspected it was the latter. Smart guy.

"Mr integral lawyer"

"Yes, Mr Adams."

"I need you to come over now, something has come up and you need to come over here so we can sort out some options, pronto."

"Ok sir, I will be there as soon as I can."

"You better be. I'll be waiting for you in the den. You have twenty minutes. And bring your ditzy wife with you."

"Errm, My wife?" Davis stammered. What could Raphael possibly want Belinda over for?

"Yeah, your wife." My lady said she found her entertaining at the dinner. Davis did not quite know what to make of that but promised his employer that he would be on his way shortly.

Raphael hung up feeling a bit better with himself. Apart from planning, the next best thing was decisive action and that was just what he intended to get started in the meeting he had arranged with Calvorta. It was time to shore up the defences and make sure that if things were not to go according to plan, he would at least sail through scathe free. That was the most important criteria he supposed although he would like the hefty profit as well.

"Quo sera, sera," he smiled as he sang the old song softly to himself as he went to find the lady of the house and tell her she would be having some guests shortly. He'd tell her to invite some of her other female friends over as well. It would do her good and stop her fussing about his affairs. She worried too much.

# DAVIS

ADAMS SEEMED TO be in a foul mood when Davis entered his den a few minutes later. Davis watched him covertly as paced across the room. Adams did not seem like the kind of man to pace. This did not strike Davis as a good sign. He got seated apprehensively on the leather seat facing the massively opulent mahogany desk that dwarfed most of the room and tried to keep his cool. Whatever it was that had Adams rattled had to be a major problem. He adjusted his tie for the umpteenth time and got out his jotter and pen.

"Put those away," Raphael barked. "What we have to discuss here is too big for you to be scribbling about it. No writing, no notes, not now, not ever."

Davis could feel his blood pressure spiking. He could feel a throbbing headache starting behind his eyes and spreading to his temples. This was big, this was very big. He laid down his pen and paper on the desk and tried to keep calm. Whatever it was, it definitely had Adams rattled. He didn't strike him as a guy who rattled easily, and with good reason. He adjusted his tie for the umpteenth time and unconsciously reached out for his jotter and pen again.

"I said 'Put those away', Raphael barked. "This isn't a kindergarten class, what we have to discuss here is too big for you to be scribbling about. I repeat: No writing, no notes, not now, not ever."

Davis took a deep breath. He laid down his pen and paper but then did not know what to do with his hands. He adjusted his tie again then checked his cufflinks. Then he straightened his trousers. Belinda had assured him that he was looking professional and cool, just like a lawyer should but what did that vodka queen really know?

He steeled himself. He could do this. After all Davis had come to hire him, him, out of thousands of other legal practitioners. He must have seen something in him that he liked. He could do this. He sat back and crossed his fingers. "Do go on, Mr Adams. What are we dealing in with? He asked, trying to sound positive and proactive."

Raphael eyed him intently. "You know the deal I have going with the EU manufacturers and stuff," he began.

"Yes sir, the one involving Barkern and Smarks," Davis replied hesitantly, wondering why Adams felt the need to remind him about the deal they had been working on together since he joined his legal team.

"Well, to sweeten the deal I promised the EU manufacturing firm that I would allow them access to a new kind of military software called SURGE that was developed by some whizz kid that used to work for me at my software company, Zetatech."

"And?" Davis prompted, wondering what the issue was. It sounded like a proprietary issue or maybe corporate espionage. Maybe someone had stolen the software. But none of those scenarios would account for the level of anxiety Raphael was currently displaying. What could possibly be that serious?

"Well, the kid tried to play hardball with me and he was wasting my time so I got one of the teams I keep on retainer involved in order to get the problem solved quickly and efficiently."

"Solved how sir?" Davis asked, sitting forwards. His curiosity was fully aroused. He wondered who the kid was. He must have some major balls standing up to Davis.

"Don't be such a dolt. Solve the problem, get SURGE, make the kid go away. Do I have to spell it out for you?"

Davis sat back and tried to look as if he had not just heard his boss and new meal ticket confess to having arranged to have someone killed. What the hell?

Forget about playing with the big boys, I'm swimming with the sharks now.

Raphael was watching him closely and he sensed that it would be unwise of him to let on how unsettled the information had made him.

"Well, sir, as your lawyer, it would actually be better if you did not spell out some things as I may be forced under oath to reveal them."

"Yeah, what about all the confidentiality crap that you shysters are always spewing?"

"Well, Mr Adams, when it comes to a felony such as", he paused delicately and gestured with his hands, "hypothetically speaking, murder or conspiracy to commit murder, the situation is a little bit different."

"No kidding, genius." Raphael shook his head angrily. "You lawyers really have a knack for understatement. A bit different my ass. Will you get to the point already and stop blathering on"

Raphael was struggling to hold on to his temper. He had not been having the best of days and he was not in the mood for equivocation.

"You don't seem to understand Calvorta. I own you and for better or for worse you are along for the ride. If I go down, you go down so there should be ample opportunity for you to do the quick thinking and fast talking that I hired you for."

"Bbbu but", Davis found that he was stuttering. This never happened with anyone else.

"No buts. Besides I haven't even shared the kicker in the tale yet" Raphael added, taking a certain malicious glee in seeing his new lawyer so shaken. It was petty but true. The greedy, overreaching and ambitious sod. Well, he had signed the deal with the devil and now it was time he earned his keep.

Davis blanched. Surely nothing could be worse than what he had already heard. The look on Raphael's face told him that he would not like what he was about to hear.

It was almost the look that Davis remembered from high school, on the face of the school bullies. That mixture of guilt, pride and smugness that showed up on their faces after they had shoved Davis down the hill or jammed him upside down into the cleaning closet. It was a look that said 'I know that I've been bad and there is nothing you can do about it'. Davis hated that taunting look and to see it not did not help his mental state at all.

"Go on."

"Yeah, the guys on the team went after the wrong guy apparently cos they told me they had wacked him but the IT guy still logs on at work as usual every night and once during the day as well. I don't see how he could do that from six feet under if you get my drift."

This just keeps getting better and better, Davis thought. Raphael was going on. "The kid has access to a lot of Intel from the corporation and with the level of his computer skills. There is simply no telling which of our files he has compromised. He could ruin everything. Do you understand what I am saying?"

"I think so sir," he said but he wasn't sure that he really did. The magnitude of the issue was one that would take a little bit of time for him to fully digest but he was making a great effort to take it all in.

Davis noticed that he had started sweating again. Copiously. And this time he could not blame it on faulty air conditioning as Raphael's den was at the optimal temperature for the weather. It seemed that proximity to Raphael activated his sweat glands in a most bizarre fashion.

He sat there quietly for a while, trying to cope with the dawning conviction that he had bitten off a lot more than he could chew. In all the issues they had discussed, he had yet to see any issue that was primarily corporate law which was what he had signed on for. He wasn't cut out for criminal law, that much he knew it although it seemed that now he would have no choice but to brush up on it fast.

Since he went into this knowing Raphael's reputation for walking a fine line with the law, he had expected the magnate to be involved in odd shady deal or minor infringement but this went way beyond that. Mitigating fines and defending Adams on murder charges were worlds apart. Nevertheless, it was too late to cry over spilt milk now. He would just have to make the best of a bad situation. Telling himself to think about the money did not seem to bring him any comfort this time. He wished to hell and back that he had allowed the damn bastard to walk out of his office that fateful day.

He cleared his throat. "Well, taking into account all that you have said and all that is at stake here there are really only a few options open to us. Personally, I think we will need to proceed with extreme caution. I will have to advice that you distance yourself from these persons or person. I also suggest that you take immediate steps to make it very difficult for anyone to have access to your private documentation. We will have to hope that a situation does not arise in which we need to prepare a defence."

He met Raphael's gaze full on. "I hope your man in the field is thorough in such matters."

"Well, I have never had cause to complain before now."

"Then let us hope that he will come through this time as well." Davis could hardly believe it, but he found that deep down he was actually hoping that the damn IT guy was dead and buried by the next time he had a consultation with his client.

"And in the mean time?" Raphael asked with his eyebrows raised. The kid had impressed him so far but he wanted more.

"In the meantime, I would suggest that you change your phone line and sever all personal contact with this group of persons until it all blows over."

"I meant in relation to the SURGE, EU firm and the manufacturing deal?"

"Well if you can lay your hands on the software, it should be a simple matter to make copies of it and distribute it as you would like. Of course, establishing your proprietary claim will be easier if the writer of the programme had relinquished his rights willingly or had died interstate. I am sure contracts and supporting documentation can be provided to ensure that we satisfy the curiosity of his family and other interested parties."

Raphael considered him thoughtfully. "You know, Calvorta, you are not half bad at thinking on your feet. I know I threw you in at the deep end but I can see now that I made a good choice when I hired you."

Davis took a deep breath. It looked like he was passing a test of some sort. He hoped he didn't mess it up. Things had suddenly become deadly serious. The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. He sat still, looking at Raphael.

"However", Raphael continued warningly, "I must inform you that all our sessions to date including this one have been recorded and you have given me some very explicit and helpful advice on record. So I would like to repeat and ensure that you understand. We are in this together, for the long haul. If I go down, you go down. And the ditzy wife comes with. Capisce?"

Davis could not believe that the man had the audacity to threaten him. On top of everything that the money hungry, power hungry ass had done.

"I believe I understand Sir", he said quietly.

"Good, good." Raphael was back to being his mellow, affable self, no sign of the tyrant that had been threatening his life and wellbeing a few moments earlier.

"I knew you would see things my way. Why don't we join the ladies for some refreshment? It would be a good idea for you to start drafting the paperwork we spoke about when you get back home."

"Of course Sir", Davis said, his mind working furiously while he tried desperately to appear calm and accepting. "It will be alright."

"For both our sakes, I hope you are right Davis" Raphael patted him on the back as they walked towards the door. "Don't look so glum. I have been indicted quite a number of times but never been convicted. It won't come to that this time either"

"I hope not", Davis muttered darkly under his breath, "I sincerely hope not." What the hell had he gotten himself and Belinda into?

# BOBBY

"SO WHAT ARE we doing here?" Bobby muttered to himself.

It had been just over an hour since he and Frances had walked into their flat and he was getting twitchy. They didn't know what they were looking for in the first place, other than proof of Larry's demise which obviously was nowhere to be found.

He glanced over at their mantel piece, covered with snap shots of the two of them, looking relaxed and happy, at ease with each other and the world around them. He moved closer and picked up a candid shot of Larry, framed in silver.

"So what have you been up to Lar? What did you get yourself into that was so bad that someone would want you out of the way for good?"

"You know, it's funny you should ask that", said a voice behind him.

Bobby spun around and gaped at his twin standing behind him, looking a little worse for wear but otherwise quite healthy, unless he was a very corporeal ghost that is.

"Larry, you sick fuck", Bobby yelped. "Where the hell have you been man? What in the world happened to you?"

"Apparently, it's you that the goons were after. I was just unlucky enough to look like you, yu yob." Though he said it with good humour, Larry meant every word.

"It's good to see you too", Bobby said with a smile on his face. And surprisingly, it was true. Maybe it was the wrenching sense of loss he had felt when Frances had told him Larry was dead but it was true. The world would be a darker place for him if Larry wasn't in it. Corny but true.

They moved towards each other and hugged, gripping each other's shoulders tightly. Three years of separation melted in the face of true emotion. They drew apart slowly, wiping the embarrassing dampness from their eyes surreptitiously. They were men after all.

"God I missed you, you stupid piece of shit."

They hugged again, this time slapping each other across the shoulders and sporting matching ear to ear grins.

"I'm glad you're here too. It's been a very rough couple of weeks."

"You're telling me? Man, my life hasn't been right since Frances walked through my door again."

"Yeah, about that..." Larry was remembering all sorts of stuff and didn't quite know where to start. His brother surprised him though.

"Chill Bro. I know. I've seen her face when she's talking or thinking about you. It was never like that between us. I'm cool so don't worry." Not to mention I do absolutely nothing for her passion wise. He didn't have any pressing urge to mention that either. Or how he came to know that for a fact either. Some things were best left undisclosed.

"Thanks, Man. You don't know how much it means to hear you say that. I've wanted to call you a thousand times but felt what we had to say should be said in person not over the phone or in a letter."

"No worries, Lar. What's past is past."

"Speaking of Frances, where is she, she's alright, isn't she? I know she must have been through hell." Larry was as anxious as hell to see his wife. It had been the hardest part of his ordeal, being separated from her, not knowing if she was ok, not knowing if she was safe"

Bobby could hear the concern in Larry's voice and he hastened to reassure him. "She's alright, just calm down a little hombre. She said she was just popping down the corridor to talk to your neighbours in the other flat. I don't know what about. She should be back soon"

"Ok." He could hardly wait to see her but he decided to wait till she came back rather than barge over to bang on doors till he found her like he really wanted to.

"So tell me what happened."

As Larry narrated his ordeal to his brother, he looked him over. Though they looked so much alike it was almost like looking in a mirror, he found it hard to take his eyes off him. His twin, his Bro, his rival, well ex-rival for Frances' attentions, well, no longer at least. He tried to put his three weeks of hell into a condensed version.

"So anyway, the guy who shot me belonged to this crew that carry out hits for all these corporate types. From what I gathered, he and his partner basically do or did eliminations for all those rich guys who do not want to get their own hands dirty.

The look on Bobby's face was incredulous as Larry continued.

"He wanted out, that was why he didn't kill me, just shot me in the arm so that I'd bleed like a mother fucker and tranquilised me at the same time so that I looked dead. It hurt like hell though."

"He certainly convinced Frances. He really scared her."

"Yeah, I think he meant to scare Frances out of here so she wouldn't tell anybody. Then he spirited me out of here and kept me locked up and out of circulation while he tried to get his shit together and get the detectives he'd been talking with to sort out the details of his bargain- you know, testimony for immunity."

"So is it done then? Has he sorted it out? He let you go?"

"Let me go? Nothing so nice, Bobby. The guy was about to waste me when he was killed by his pissed off partner."

He saw the look on his brother's face. "I know. I couldn't make this stuff up, it is so unreal. But it happened, Bobby, it happened. The last thing I remember before the gun man entered our flat that night was getting ready to make love to my wife. Then my world turned upside down."

Bobby opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before he was able to vocalise what was pulsing in his brain. "What? Right in front of you."

"Yeah. Then he left me there in the apartment with the dead body. So I ran away before he came back."

"That's something man. Your guardian angel must really have been looking out for you. That's two; no three times you've escaped the grim reaper, man. That is damn lucky."

The brothers were quiet for a minute, assimilating that fact. Larry had indeed been very luck and the improbability of cheating death by professional hit man three times was just dawning on him. He really had been quite lucky up till now.

Bobby was curious though. "But why did the first guy change his mind and try to kill you again?"

"Ah, yes. You see that the truly weird thing. Not that this whole situation is not totally weird but that's beside the point. Apparently, they recently found out that they weren't even after me at all. The guy he was supposed to hit was an IT guru who writes...."

Bobby's blood ran cold. He stared at his brother in dismay.

"Programmes for Zetatech Corporation" they finished together.

It all made sense now. Bobby blinked rapidly as the implications of what had happened caught up with him. He had wondered why Adams had backed off in the past few weeks, now he knew. The bastard had planned to have him eliminated. But somehow had they fixated on Larry instead of him. It seemed unlike Adams to hire an incompetent crew.

He asked Larry about that.

"The guy said that when they gave him the pix they told him that the mark would be at Kings Cross Station on a particular day. It must have been when we were coming back from Paris, late last month."

"Last month? That must have been when I was coming back from Amsterdam."

"Yeah, they probably just followed us by mistake."

"Oh shit, Larry, I'm so sorry."

"No worries, hey it's the least I deserve since I stole your girl. Speaking of said girl......"

"She should be back by now", Bobby said worriedly.

"I'll go check on her, she's either in Harriet's or Linda's flat anyway, those ladies can talk a person's ears off and they have not seen her in ages."

"You just sit still and rest a little", Bobby started but Larry was having none of it.

"I know this place better than you; it will take me less time. I won't be long, ok."

"Ok. But if you both are not back here in about 10 minutes, I am calling the police. This shit has gone on long enough."

"No, don't call the cops, just get yourself out of here, and fast."

"I'm afraid nobody will be going anywhere soon guys" said Hank from the door.

The brothers turned as one to see Hank standing just inside the living room. Larry paled visibly once he recognised the vicious killer from Wood Green.

"Hello, young man. It's good to see you up and about and all that, but you really shouldn't be here. We didn't really have time to chat the last time we met but I'm sure we'll catch up soon."

Hank stood there holding Frances arm and a gun in his free hand that was pointed at her skull. "And it is nice to meet you as well", he nodded at Bobby, "You know, you and your twin have gotten me in a bit of a sticky situation you know."

"Larry", said Frances.

"Hey beautiful lady", Larry said with a forced smile.

"Oh Larry, I thought you were dead."

"Save the touching reunions. I hate mushy stuff. Between you guys being twins and that two-timing no good leech Carl stabbing me in the back; I have not had two minutes peace in a long time. And not having any peace kinda makes me twitchy. You really really do not want me twitchy when I have a gun to your wife's head. Or your sister-in-laws head." He moved the gun for emphasis.

"You don't want them. They have nothing to do with this. You and your partner made a mistake. Just take me and let them go."

"Bobby, No!!" Frances cried, her eyes filling with tears, "You don't have to do this."

"It's the only way, Frances," Bobby said.

"No, it isn't", Larry said.

"Actually, the noble sacrifice is touching but totally unnecessary. You see, I simply cannot allow any of you to leave here alive. That loose lipped idiot has jeopardised everything and I have nothing to lose. If I do not get rid of you guys, I'm toast. I do not particularly like toast. And I most definitely do not want to be toast, you dig?"

"There must be something we can do."

"Actually there isn't." Hank sounded bored.

The three of them were frozen in place, praying desperately for a miracle. Bobby tried again desperately. "I could give you SURGE, you know, the programme, the one Adams wants. I could give it to you, he'd reward you for bringing it in and no one will have to get hurt."

"Boy, I wasn't born yesterday. Besides I don't know who this Adams guy is and I sure as hell do not know anything about any damn software either. No I was paid to provide a service and that is all I do. It's nothing personal."

Bobby looked at his brother and then at Frances. Seeing them together he was able to finally admit to himself that they were right for each other. He knew what he had to do.

"Lar, take care of my girl ok."

"Always" Larry replied, "but she's my girl now."

"No question Bro."

Hank interrupted them. "Whatever you two are thinking of doing, I would strongly advise you not to. It will not help you and may have the negative effect of making me seriously pissed off. Not only am I more skilled than you want to know about in martial arts and all the wonderfully unique ways of extinguishing human life, I am also armed with more hardware than you can see."

Larry acted as if he couldn't hear or understand a word he was saying. Unknown to Hank, when he was leaving the apartment where he had been held for an excruciating couple of days, he had picked up one of carl's guns to protect himself. He'd tucked it down his shoe and he would use it if he had to. He knew he could probably get off at least one shot before the gunman put him down. He could sense that Bobby was thinking of doing something to get the man way from Frances. He would be ready.

Hank braced himself. "So who dies first huh? The husband, the wife or the twin? Decisions, decisions. Careful there missy," he said as Frances strained against his hold. "You wouldn't want me to get the wrong idea now would you?"

Suddenly there was a loud rapport in the room that sounded like a thunderclap accompanied by the sound of breaking glass. Frances screamed loudly just as a red dot blossomed in the middle of Hank's forehead. The two men gave hoarse cries as well.

The three of them dived for the floor as shots continued to be fired into the apartment. As glass and bullets rained down on them, Larry and Bobby both crawled towards Frances where she lay near Hank's dead body and threw an arm and most of their bodies over her as she cowered there.

The sudden silence as the shooting stopped seemed deafening. They could hear voices and footsteps on the stairwell. There were loud shouts from the street and from their neighbours' apartments. In the distance they could hear sirens. Bobby picked up one of Hank's guns. He pulled out Carl's gun and passed it to Larry. He searched the body and got the second one from the shoulder holster. The brothers pointed the three guns at the door and waited.

"Freeze, this is the police. Drop your weapons and put your hands where I can see them", said an authoritative voice from just outside the door.

"Show us some ID" Larry shouted at the same time Frances cried "Don't shoot, don't shoot, the hit man is dead, it's just my husband and brother in law here with me."

"Hello, ma'am" the officer said, holding out his ID badge as he stepped carefully into the apartment. He was holding a weapon and they heard as he put the safety on, though he kept it pointed at the three of them huddled on the floor.

"I must ask you to put down your weapons sir," he asked again.

Larry and Bobby put down their guns and raised their hands above their heads.

They heard a fresh set of footsteps coming up the steps in a hurry.

"Sargent, we got the gunman, he was just picked up about two blocks over. And we got the gun, the murder weapon we believe, though he had a number of other weapons on him as well."

"Perfect. We'll need ballistics to confirm but I think we got this one fair and square. Good job guys."

"Thanks Sargent. The teams are on their way." The junior officer went back down to direct the crime scene crews that were coming to set up their equipment to document the evidence and remove Hank's body.

"But how did you know to be here?" Larry wanted to know. After all that had happened he was having a tough time trusting anyone. For all he knew, the police were working with the hit men. Anything was possible.

"And why didn't you come in before all the shooting?" Frances added.

The policeman grimaced.

"I am Sergeant Ryan Mallory with the London Metropolitan Police. We've been working with the late Carl Simmons- his partner I believe." He nudged Hank's corpse with his foot.

"We just discovered his dead body at his apartment. We went looking for him when he missed a meeting he was supposed to have with our undercover detective earlier today. We thought he had lost his nerve so we went looking and found his corpse and evidence of a gun fight. We knew you had been targeted and had a man watching your apartment."

"Lucky for us then" Bobby said sarcastically.

"Yes actually, I think it was extremely lucky because our man was able to get a call out when he saw the second gun man trail this one here to your apartment. We would never have gotten here in time otherwise and I doubt he would have left the rest of you alive after he had finished with him."

"But if you knew about all this, why did you let them keep my husband this long? Do you know what I have been through, with no word of him? Have you any idea what it was like not knowing if he was dead or alive?"

The policeman tried to placate her.

"While I appreciate your anger ma'am, it was very important that we followed procedure and did not spook the informant before everything was in place and he was ready to come in."

Larry was incensed. He and his family had been through hell, and all for some covert police operation that they had neither asked for nor agreed to participate in.

"Yes, but did you know that your precious informant was planning to put a bullet in my head earlier today when he discovered that I was not the intended victim after all. I was being held practically a prisoner in that apartment where you found his body"

Mallory looked shocked. "No, we didn't know that at all. In fact we had no idea of another target at all. Nor were we aware that you were being held against your will at that apartment"

Larry wasn't so sure that he believed him but he let it go, the important thing was that it was over.

"Hmm. I wonder just how much information you were actually getting from him. Apparently it wasn't me but my twin that these animals were after."

"Never mind all that," Bobby interrupted irritably. "I have information as well. I know who hired these thugs and more importantly, I know why."

"Well sir, any information the three of you can give us that will be helpful to our investigation will be appreciated. It appears that their failure to kill you two must have triggered the other hit man to come and terminate the initial team. We'll know more once we get him down to Scotland Yard."

Mallory looked them over, the two tall brothers and the diminutive woman they held between them. While all of them were looking a bit shaken up, one of the brothers was definitely looking worse for wear.

"If it is alright I would like you all to accompany us down there as well so we can take your statements. Do you have anywhere else to stay? Friends or family? It would be best if you had somewhere to get some rest while we process the crime scene."

Bobby spoke up. "Yes, they will be staying with me," he spelt out his address in Wembley while Mallory jotted it down.

Larry and Frances hugged each other, scarcely able to believe that it was over and they had come out unscathed.

"That makes four times Bro," Bobby said as they went down the steps to the waiting squad cars.

"I know, I know," Larry said

"Four times what?" Frances asked.

"I'll tell you later darling", Larry replied as they ducked and entered the unmarked police car that would take them down to the station. Though it was a little disconcerting to be in a police car, he was just glad to have her safe and in his arms and he didn't really mind where they were as long as they were together.

# Two weeks later

# (An Epilogue of Sorts)

# RAPHAEL

RAPHAEL HUNG UP the phone. He thought for a few minutes and then sprang into action. It seemed as if he would have to take an immediate and extended trip to his Hong Kong base of operations. The London environment had suddenly taken a rather hostile turn.

Once he had touched base and picked up a couple of things he planned fly on in his private jet to Mexico, Brazil and from there to a group of private and remote island resorts in the Indian Ocean that he co-owned with some of his friends. He had always wondered what the magic of the World Wide Web could do for him when he was forced to spin outside the confines of his usual urban hunts. Well, he was definitely going to put the internet to work as his sources told him that he had to flee immediately or face prosecution. He would be out of London for a while it seemed.

As he swiftly made his way to his private hanger, he did not even spare a thought for any of his minions who were left behind to face the music. The only little people he was interested in at the moment were his pilot and cabin crew.

It was a long flight to where he was going.

# DAVIS

ORANGE WAS DEFINITELY not his colour. Davis Calvorta knew he would be a very sad sight in a prison glow suit and he was desperate to avoid that fate at all costs. He was still confused about how things had turned around so badly. All the police had told him was that he was being charged based on new evidence that had come to light based on testimony they had received from an informant. They hadn't said much but he had gathered that Adams had fled the country and left him holding the bag. Well he would not go to jail for that bastard's crimes. He would sell him down the river, attorney client privilege be damned. He would be lucky to be able to practice law pro bono by the time this fiasco was over.

He had used his phone call to tell Belinda what had happened and to tell her to come down and arrange his bail which had been set for a hundred thousand pounds. She had asked him how she should go about raising the funds and he had remembered the cheque Adams had given him. With all that had happened, he had simply left it in his safe at home. He told her the combination for the safe and awaited her arrival. The amount on the check would pay his bail five times over. He just hoped it wouldn't bounce.

The guard came to get him and told him he had a visitor. When he got to the visitor's room, he looked round for his wife but did not see her. Instead he met a young man in a courier uniform.

"Mr Calvorta?"

"Yes. Who the hell are you and where is my wife?"

"Mrs Calvorta gave me this card and asked me to deliver it. I'm just a messenger. If you could sign here please."

Swallowing the feeling of apprehension that was clawing at his gut, Davis reached out and signed the hand held device. The courier checked it, nodded and then handed over the slim envelope that he held in his hand.

"Have a good day." He said as he turned and left.

Davis wished him the same but definitely felt that the odds of him having a good day in here were very slim and had maximally reduced with the delivery of this envelope.

Where the hell was Belinda and what did she think she was playing at. Unable to conceal his impatience, he ripped open the envelop she had sent.

A legal looking document fell out along with a smaller note on the personalised stationary that Belinda was so fond of.

He scanned it rapidly. The bitch. The legal papers were divorce papers. What did she think she was doing?

He turned to her note

Davis,

I do hope this meets you well, or as well as you can be under the circumstances. As you have probably read, I am suing for a divorce on the grounds of infidelity and emotional cruelty as well as irreconcilable differences.

The check in your safe will come in handy with my legal fees but I will also be suing you for half of all you own. I think I'll keep the house for now, so if you do manage to make bail, don't bother coming home as I have already changed the locks. You might try your floozy's apartments instead.

Lots of love

Belinda.

Ps: I should also tell you that the door in Raphael's den was not shut when you two were plotting and planning that night.

Davis crumpled the note in his fist as he stared unseeingly at the wall in the visitors' area where he sat despondently. He suddenly had a very clear idea of who the new police informant was. He was totally fucked up. His life was over. It was clear that Belinda was out to make his life a living hell and she was definitely doing a better job than he would ever have given her credit for. He had no idea what to do next.

The television in the visitors' area was tuned to the most popular cable news network. The hourly news was on. Davis looked up blankly at the screen.

"Live from London. In a dramatic new development, the prime minster today announced that a development contract worth one hundred and sixty billion Pounds will be given to the French engineering firm Agamemnon. This development, the government claims will help boost the failing EU economy and strengthen UK-French diplomatic relations. Though critics of the move have pointed out that UK firms could also benefit from the contract, the parliament has voted in favour of the bold move by the prime minister."

It then showed a clip of the prime minster mouthing his party line and showed a shot of number 10 Downing Street.

Davis shook his head. How ironic. The bill was still passed and he didn't doubt that while he and Raphael would be missing out on the deal, someone would still profit from the deal. He needed focus on his own predicament though. Sasha crossed his mind but he discarded that idea almost immediately it arose. She was savvy but he didn't delude himself into thinking she would stick by him when the chips were down.

As he made his way back to his holding cell, lost in his own thoughts, a fellow inmate beckoned to him.

"Hey Mr Integral Lawyer, got a message from your number one fan."

Davis stumbled and lurched away from the bars in fright. Only one person called him that. He recalled Adams threats and lost the little colour that he had left.

"Don't you even want to know what the message is?" The guy yelled after him. "It's really important."

Davis did not turn back. He felt miserable, alone and afraid. He wished he could just close his eyes and wake up before all this started, as if it was all just a bad dream. This was so not his day.

# BOBBY

IT WAS A lovely sunny day in London. As Bobby took Chuckles for a walk in the park he ruminated about the twists and turns of fate. He thought back to what Frances had said about changing the variables on the x and y axis of life. Life was stranger than fiction sometimes.

He had handed SURGE in to the committee for arms development at the Ministry of Defence and had had several talks with the Secretary of state about how his work could be used by the UK armed forces. The future was looking especially promising, professionally.

On a personal note, he was coming to grips with his life. He was a single man with a dog. And that was ok as well.

He felt his cell phone vibrate against his thigh where it was nestled in the nifty holder he had for it. He took the call using his hands free earpiece.

"Yeah?"

It was Mallory. He was calling to give Bobby an update about the state of their case so far. It was proving a little difficult to build a case against Adams. His legal team was tap dancing its way through the loopholes in the case and the word of two criminals, one of whom was dead was not holding up very well against the word of a respected member of the business community. Though Bobby and Larry had given sworn statements about all that had transpired, linking Adams to a conspiracy to commit murder charge was proving an uphill task. Their progress was also hindered by the number of public officials who were in Adams pocket and were bringing pressure to bear on Mallory to drop the charges.

"Hello, Bobby, we've had a breakthrough in the case." Mallory sounded excited for the first time since they had met.

"Yeah? What's up?"

"The wife of Adam's newest lawyer has turned in her husband and Adams. She said she eavesdropped on a conversation they had that discussed a whole range of topics, from corruption in the houses of parliament to your work with SURGE. She said her husband never noticed. I got the impression that there is not a lot of love between that woman and her spouse."

"Huh. The lawyer's wife huh. Who would have thought? So does this mean that we can get Adams now?"

"Well that's the other thing that I wanted to tell you. It seems Adams got wind of our tip off and he has flown out of the country to parts unknown. But we will find him. He is on his private jet so we can't tell where he is headed but he has to touch down sometime and we will be waiting. We got the lawyer though and when we threatened him as an accessory to a conspiracy to commit murder and attempted murder he started cooperating with us big time. He's been charged and is in jail awaiting bail."

Bobby guessed that was the best they could hope for in the circumstances. At least this way, Adams was out of the UK and out of his and Larry's lives.

He thanked Mallory for the call and hung up.

"Well, Chuckles, that was a spot of good news. It seems that dirty scumbag will get what's coming to him after all."

Chuckles wagged his tail as they walked along. He seemed enamoured with the little dog being walked by a lady in a form fitting tracksuit. She looked vaguely familiar. As he and Chuckles drew closer, he recognised her. It was Amber from the club, although she looked a little different. It must be because she's wearing more clothes he thought to himself. He remembered with shame the way he had treated her that night. He considered hurrying past her and pretending he didn't recognise her but as she turned towards him and he saw her eyes widen, he knew that was not an option.

"Morning." he said quietly.

"Are you talking to me, asshole?" she asked snidely,

"I know I owe you an apology for the other night. I am sorry. Like I said at the time, I was not myself".

"Really?"

"Yes. Please, come and have coffee with me. Our dogs can play together and I can do my best to convince you that I'm not a total ass."

"And why should I do that?" she asked stiffly, though a smile seemed to be lurking on her lips.

"It'll be my treat and I promise that if you give me the time, you will not be disappointed."

She looked up at him coyly from under her fake lashes. Although it was early in the morning and she was walking the dog, she was in a full complement of makeup. She was obviously conscious of her looks though in the bright sunlight it did not seem as if she needed it. She looked much better here in the open than under the dark club lights. Her complexion was radiant and she looked gorgeous.

"Well, I guess I can spare the time for coffee, Papi. But you better learn how to treat a girl right Mr"

"Maybe you can teach me" Bobby said hopefully.

"Maybe I will" she said.

Bobby smiled down at her as they walked along. She was no Frances but she seemed alright. He would see what the future brought him but for the present, he would keep it light. Fun and games were important if he was going to keep Bobby from being a dull boy.

He smiled to himself as he looked round at the park, looking wonderful in the glorious sunshine. It really was a lovely day.

# FRANCES

FRANCES STRETCHED AND yawned as she made her way to the en-suite. She and Larry had booked into the New Plaza Hotel in Kensington. Though the police had released their apartment back to them, they both felt that the apartment had been the scene of too much trauma and were keen to move to a new place where they could start to build new memories. They had been camping out in the hotel since then. They had moved out of Bobby's apartment a week ago though they continued to meet up with him regularly. The twins were definitely back together and Bobby and Frances were learning to be more comfortable around each other as well. Their parents were ecstatic.

She finished her business in the bathroom and walked back to the bed. She spent a couple of moments just looking down at Larry as he slept. Her heart clenched as she contemplated how close she had come to losing him, not once but three times in the past month. If she had her way she would never let him out of her sight again.

Unfortunately both brothers had been very busy, getting back to their day jobs and working with the police to cement the case against that inhumane monster who had thought nothing of snuffing out the lives of two promising young men. And for what? For a lousy piece of computer software.

Though Bobby had explained what SURGE did and its possible benefits to the UK armed forces, Frances had remained unimpressed. As far as she was concerned, no programme was worth the life of one of her favourite men in the world. Not to mention both of them

Her favourite man Numero Uno was stirring.

"I can feel you staring at me again. What are you looking at?" He asked sleepily.

"I am looking at you my darling, my love."

He opened his eyes and smiled at her.

"Now, I'm looking at you too, sexy."

She sat next to him as he lay there, all tousled and warm. She reached out and traced the angles of his face, following the contour of his nose and brushing her hands over his brow.

He turned her hand and kissed palm lovingly. "What? What's got that look on your face so early in the day?"

She swallowed passed a lump in her throat and blinked back sudden tears. "It's just that...." She shook her head, unable to continue.

"Hey", Larry said tenderly, "its ok, its ok. We're safe. It's over now. No more of that now." He pulled her down across his chest and kissed her tenderly, wiping away her tears.

He understood what she could not say. The thought of living his life without Frances did not bear thinking about. He truly did not know how Bobby had coped with losing her. Though he felt bad for snatching his brother's bride to be, he had acknowledged to himself then what he knew to be true now. He simply could not live without her.

He kissed her deeply as she ran her hands over his shoulders and into his hair. Oh God, how he loved this woman. He could feel her breasts pressing into his naked chest and it was driving him nuts. Not being able to touch her for so long had been torture of the worst kind and he was still making up for lost time.

He pulled her fully into bed and on top of him. "Oh Larry." She moaned. She could feel him pressed against her and she loved it. He rolled her over and pulled off her pyjama bottoms. As he saw the wet thatch of hair that covered her most intimate parts he felt his mouth begin water. She was so lovely she made his heart hurt just looking at her. He bent down to press a kiss to the nape of her neck and positioned himself behind her.

"Oh Larry, yes, oh yes my darling." Frances was on fire, twisting and writhing in passion. He steadied her, holding her still as he entered her from behind. The rightest sense of home coming washed over him as he made love to his wife. Frances. His love, his life. His breath was choppy and his lungs were burning by the time he felt her convulsing around him but he would sooner have died than stopped.

They collapsed together on the wrinkled sheets, holding each other closely as their heart rates slowed and their breathing gradually returned to normal.

"I love you" Frances whispered as she fell asleep again, feeling safe and well loved in Larry's arms.

"I love you too darling," Bobby said as he stroked her black hair. This time it was him stroking and watching as he held her close while he slept. His brother said he was lucky to have survived the past month. Larry believed he was lucky just to have Frances in his life. With her by his side, he knew he could face anything.

"Honey", he whispered in her ears, "when you wake up, I've bought another addition for the new pink bag that I cannot wait to try out with you. And we haven't truly broken in the last one either."

Deep in slumber, Frances lips curved in her sleep, almost as if she could hear him.

# The end

#  Afterword

Did you enjoy the book? Turn the page for a sneak preview of Cassandra DeBrown's latest book Our Urban Utopia, soon to be available.

# OUR URBAN

# Utopia

# NANCY

It was snowing lightly and had been for hours. The whole landscape was encased in a shiny white film, with snowflakes falling softly like little drops of candy from the heavens. Mercifully, it was no longer as cold as it had been in the previous weeks although there was still a bit of a nip in the air. The weather forecasters were making the usual predictions of warmer weather around the corner but it was hard to believe them with the winter wonderland that surrounded the city.

Bundled up in the best of my winter woollies, I trudged on slowly up the hill as I walked into town. It really wasn't walking weather but having been cooped up in that house for two long days I was sure that one more day of forced inactivity would surely drive me insane.

It wasn't so much that I needed the exercise although that was a definite bonus I must say, but I needed some time to think as well. I wasn't one for jogging or running about like I had a stick up my butt but walking had always had a soothing and calming effect on my nerves and that was key to me keeping my sanity. My walks afforded me the opportunity to stretch my legs, get some air into my lungs and head and sort out issues that were bugging me. And catch up on all the best hits playing on my favourite FM station all at the same time. That was actually the main thing that I loved the most about walking - the twenty to thirty minute hikes I took through town helped me to ventilate both my body and my mind and I often came back home refreshed, with a well thought out strategy for tackling whatever tasks I had ahead of me for the coming weeks.

As I tightened my scarf around my neck, I reflected on the fact that Stephen had been housebound as well over the past week. While we had discussed his work problems often enough during the time we'd had spent together, he had shown no interest in the job sites and agencies that I'd had found for him. Surely it was in both our interests if he found another job before telling his boss where he could stick his job and all the hassles that came with it.

I shook my head. That was the problem with men, they never listened. As my Nan used to say, it was always easier to entice a man into doing something than to prod them or lead them in the way that you felt they should go. A smart woman had to make her man believe that it was all his idea in the first place and Nan had been nobody's fool. I smiled wryly as I remembered the cunning way that my grandmother had gotten Gramps to do stuff that no one else could, and make the grumpy old man think it was the best thing since sliced bread. Ah, Nan. I missed the fiery old bird, I really did.

I was trying to do the same with Steven, filling out applications on his behalf without him even knowing it, refreshing and sexing up his CV, registering him with jobsites. After all I had a little bit of time on my hands now that I was on leave and if the recruiters didn't shortlist him for an interview, I'd never tell him, it was that simple.

If they did call in and the job was good, he'd simply think they had heard of his expertise from one of the clients he had dealt with in the past. He was that arrogant I knew, but with regards to his work I also knew that he had rightful cause to be. He was very clever and all his colleagues always spoke highly of him. It was just damn bad luck that he'd been passed over for a promotion and was stuck with this pin-headed lump for a boss. It had changed him. What could go wrong, I wondered as I wandered past the town's central park. It was a genuine win-win situation.

I was trying to remain optimistic but I knew that the negative energy from his job would soon start spilling over into our domestic life and I was not sure how long I could keep up with that if it happened. I loved Stephen, I really did, but I didn't deceive myself into thinking that I was in love with him, because I simply wasn't. There was a lot of deep seated affection and passion between us but none of the torrid feelings and emotional whirlwinds of the romantic kind. I had had that when I was much younger and frankly could say I did not miss it. I didn't like being unsettled and Stephen was very predictable, safe, and normal. I could count on him to be his usual laid back self and I could be my own placid homebody and all could be well. At least I had someone to talk to when I got home every night.

I was nearing the town centre having made surprisingly brisk time in spite of the inclement weather. It would be interesting to see if I could beat my personal best time of twenty minutes flat. Hah. Beat that Buzz. Or Bolt. Or whatever the abnormally fast guy's name was. Who cared?

I went in to the Café du Plaza, our neighbourhood's answer to the swanky watering holes of Paris and sat down to wait. My friends and partners should be joining me soon and I was hoping that today we would cover a lot of ground in the planning for our next few weeks. We had a lot to talk about and I found myself anxious to begin. I ordered a scone and a cup of tea and sat down with my laptop to wait. I powered up my laptop and began to tap away.

In addition to my part time job as a human resources manager, I was making a living spilling out penny ante books for sale on-line. I always knew that one day I would want to write my own books. I love to read, some might even go so far as to say it is what I do best. Fiction in any genre, encyclopaedias, classic literature, textbooks, you name it. In fact my first relationship with the Bible was because it was full of the most wonderful stories. As a child I devoured tales of good triumphing over evil, of knights and villains, of damsels fair and in distress and of castles in the air. With my vivid imagination I had a million thoughts about how I would go about it, the settings, the characters, the texture and feel of the marvellous stories I would write.

Of course no book written by me would ever be boring. Oh no. When I put pen to paper I was going to be more gripping than Grisham, more scintillating than Sheldon and of course more captivating than Coulter. The only problem with my dreams of literary grandeur was the ever present dilemma of time, or the lack of time to be precise. Where in God's precious universe was I ever going to find the time to write my bestseller? I mean how in the world was I supposed to write at least three thousand words a day? So I kept putting it off.

Since I grew up, I kind of felt as if the time would never be right for me to pursue this dream. I was stuck in a time demanding, dead end job with little or no prospects. I wasn't getting younger and one day I just decided, "That's it, today is the day I start my bestseller". It came as a rude shock to discover that having ideas and great plot lines did not translate easily into massive book ready for publishing. I was torn. On the one hand I wanted to write the masterpiece, the one that was going to put me on the map as a serious writer; on the other hand, I was tempted by the lure of more income now for a less magnificent body of work. I ended up making a compromise that suited me well. I continued with my day job, kept up my activities with my friends and wrote about our exploits every free minute I had. Thus, the laptop.

My tea was getting cold and the ladies were not yet here. I didn't mind though but I felt it would be prudent to wait till they came in before I topped up, so we could all order together. I scrunched up my forehead trying to remember if it was my turn to pick up the tab. I didn't remember and couldn't really care less. All I knew was we would meet, we would eat, and the tab would be sorted. We had enough in our collective pot of funds to cover a lunch meeting for Christ's sake.

# MAKAYLA

This is the worst time of my life and it is still better than some people will ever have it. That is a Fact. The world around me seems to be a wonderful but scary place and I seem to be limiting my interaction with it to the necessary. It's a very short cycle that comprises of Work, Home and Shopping with the occasional foray into church, tourist attractions or the cinema. I love going to the movies but sometimes it seems as if the other clowns who come to the cinema just come along to piss everyone else off with their inappropriate comments and disgusting farts. Seriously, the one thing missing from modern life is a fart detector that lights up the air around the gas emitter and bleeps "he dealt it, he dealt it, try not to smell it". It would be a charm, I swear. But might be a bit self-defeating if it keeps going off every three minutes during the movie as it is likely to. There is something about young people that just makes them fart when they are in a crowd. Or pee in the swimming pool like the yellow stream and the sudden stillness with the concentrated facial expression isn't enough of a giveaway. What the fuck man. And then the fidgety kid across the aisle who just makes you want to smack him. Naa. I'd rather save a couple of pounds, save myself the agro and just watch it on line or on my Sky player.

Ok, so you can probably tell by now that I myself am not exactly in the first flush of youth but hay, at least all my organs are working fairly well and I can get myself from point A to point B without shitting myself or drooling. All the joints are still in working order and the few times I see myself full frontal, I can assure myself that no one will run screaming at the sight of me. Seems a comfortable place to be. No hearing aids, no Zimmer frame and no diaper. Please God, if you can hear me, kill me before that happens ok. I don't mind a long life but the trade-off does not seem fair if I'm going to have to gnaw on pureed pizza or spag bol for dinner.

I never go to sleep hungry unless I choose to, which varies depending on my mood. I eat a lot but I stay within roughly the same weight class, give or take 2 kg. I wouldn't call myself an anorexic but I do have definite food fads and I can be a bit lazy in the kitchen. I'd rather sleep than eat frankly so that explains that, I guess. Most weeks I'm on a liquid diet. No, not booze, I'm not that bad. No. tea, coffee (a latte or cappuccino will do me fine if I can get it), cola drinks, orange juice and clementine juice. Seriously, I am seriously addicted to the stuff. I spend a mini fortune on drinks each week but then that suits me to a tee.

I have family around me. Frankly, sometimes it seems as if my siblings and I have some weird form of asexual incest going on. We get all caught up in each other's lives and believe me it can sometimes get very smothering. But their hearts are in the right place though being the baby of the family hasn't really helped issues. Add- in the combo of having no nuclear family of my own and you begin to get the idea.

In addition to this, I have a very colourful extended family as well. From evil aunts to spells like on Charmed, from adopted kids to disowned ones, marriages , divorces, affairs on the side, feuds, romances, wills and probates and the occasional reprobate, we had quite a clan believe me. If I could get Gough and Miller to spend a year filming us, they would never have to make another episode of Smallville. No more sloppy reruns on cable TV. God, where can I get a reality TV contract? I'd be rolling in dough by now.

Anyway, having six married sisters and four married big brothers is not easy for an independent single lady of a certain age. It can get a little weird. Don't even get me started on the in-laws. Thankfully both my parents are six feet under and have been for some time now. Having done their bit to increase the world population (eleven kids, way to go folks, guess contraception wasn't the in-thing back then was it), they laid down their earthly burdens within a couple of years of each other. Don't get me wrong, I miss the Old Folk as we've always affectionately referred to them at home but it's really best for me that they've passed on

I cringe to think about what they'd think of me now. But that's for later. I've been counting my blessings to remind myself that while I may feel so frustrated and sick to death of my life, there are people out there who would give their all their teeth to be in my position but I guess that's just basic human nature isn't it. The grass is always greener and all that.

So what's filling me up with an impending sense of doom? Please do not ask me silly questions. If I knew what the problem was I'd be half way to solving the mess now wouldn't I. Life is all about comparative need now isn't it. Like I was fine with my 36 inch TV until my big sis (number 7, I'm number 11, I told you before) bought a 42 inch one and wall mounted it. Now I want a bigger TV and my 36 inch one has become a symbol of my lower earning power and the general sucky-ness of my life. It's the little things that do a girl in, you know.

My alarm clock starts to belt out its jarring jingle, the signal that a new day was starting and I had lounged in bed long enough for one day. I checked the calendar. Yep. Three more blissful days of PMS to get through. No worries though. I had gotten managing my hormonal states down to a fine art form. I would get through this. I made my way to my medicine cabinet and got my selection of B vitamins and pain relievers, laxatives and contraceptive pills. I made my way downstairs, turned up the heating and downed them with a glass of orange juice while I listened to the headlines on BBC News. Nothing new today, just the same droning on about the economy, immigration and the usual smattering of celebrity shenanigans. I turned off the telly, fished my cereal and went upstairs to get ready for another day in my life. Things could only get better. I'd leave the self-exploration for later.

I let the bath fill and smirked as I imagined the horror of the eco-conservationists' in the family if they discovered that I had had a bath in the morning instead of a shower "gasp" and I fully intended to soak in the tub again when I got back. So sue me. I had learned to take my creature comforts where I could find them and it worked for me. Besides I didn't want to go into work grouchy or it would be a sad day indeed at the agency.

The best bit about working at the recruitment agency is that I can do pretty much what I need to when I need to. The hours are regular and the money was alright as well. The only thing was I wasn't fulfilled at work because I knew that there was something else I was meant to do, I just didn't know what it was.

I often got this feeling that I was living the wrong life. Some days it seemed that my real life is a movie and the movies are the boring stable existence that is normal. At least most of the soaps and films on telly had predictable plot lines. If it was an action movie you knew the hero would save the girl and kill the bad guys. Many a time it seemed that the cosmos dropped me feet first into my own personal soap opera but without a script so I am kinda winging it and improvising as I go along. My mainly dysfunctional family and my weird upbringing aside, I think grew up to be a fairly well-rounded and grounded young lady, if you discount the mood swings, the obsessive - compulsive disorders, the dyslexia and mild acalculia. Who needs numbers anyway? Unless they're on my credit card..........

Which brought my thoughts neatly back to my job. I was almost ready now, just had to pack up my bag and get my scarf and gloves ready. I glanced at the clock. Yep, I'd get to work in plenty of time, it wasn't like I was trying to win employee of the year or anything but the mantra what is worth doing is worth doing well is deeply ingrained in my psyche. This means since I am a person of some conscience and a workaholic to boot I derive pleasure in not only doing my job but not letting anyone else complain about my standard of work. That's right. I'm one of those people, you know, obsessive compulsive especially at work, the type of girl every guy wants on their project team but very few want to date. Yep that's me alright. But I'd have time to feed my numerous compulsions later when I met up with my friends.

# ROBIN

The sun was just crossing the horizon when I woke slowly, alone in my bed, every muscle in my body humming, my blood throbbing in my veins. I stretched lazily and smiled contentedly to myself. I'd just had a starring role in one of the most intriguing triple X rated dream I'd had in a long time. I truly was not sure if some of the positions I'd just been in in my subconscious were even anatomically feasible. My nipples were tingling and I felt like I'd been well and truly loved all night long.

Then I frowned, my sense of contentment vanishing like a snowflake let out in strong sunshine. It was all very well to have hot dreams especially when you'd been having a long dry spell in the bedroom as I've been but that was beside the point. It wasn't the dream or the explicit nature of it that was the problem. No, the main problem was that it had also starred one of my old lovers. I was angry with myself. When was I going to let it go, when was I going to finally get over my obsession with the one that got away? No matter how well I convinced myself and all the people around me when I was well and truly over the two-timing, no good bastard, ever so often my subconscious still managed to play tricks like this on me. It also showed in the choice of dates I had gone on in the years we'd been apart. I found myself looking for parts of him in the guys I met. His smile, his turn of phrase, his dick. Oh yeah. That guy had very been well-endowed and as an added bonus, he sure as hell he knew what to do it with. Size truly doesn't matter unless you knew what to do with it.

And Sam, no, I wasn't even going to think his name. We'd broken up more than 10 years ago, yet my dreams of him remained as vivid as any of the encounter we'd ever had. In fact, truth is told, more vivid.

"This has got to stop", I muttered angrily. What was the use of pinning over a guy who just didn't have a minute's time for me? Life had moved on for both of us, we were definitely no longer the kids we used to be. I'd dated a couple of guys over the years; he'd bedded a few dozens of girls each year, of that I was bloody sure. Sam never was one to keep it in his pants. We'd grown up and I more than anyone knew that fairy tales and happily ever after were just that. Tales and tall ones at that.

But more than the sex and the companionship, I knew that what I missed the most was the way I felt when I was with him. His optimism was contagious and he always had one project or scheme up his sleeve. I found that I was a different person around him. More approachable, more outgoing and definitely more sexy. He brought out the best in me.

I glanced over at my beside clock and yelped. Fuck. While I'd been here mooning, the day had started in earnest. It was already 8.50. I had to be in to work at 9 and it took me more than twenty minutes to get there. I hopped out of bed, stubbed my toe on my bed post and hopped around like an energiser bunny for a couple of seconds as my brain exploded with pain. Damn, that fucking hurt. I scrabbled for my towel and shower cap as I turned on the shower, praying that the hot water would kick in and melt some of the cobwebs in my head. No such luck. It seemed Bill and Jenna, the couple upstairs had been indulging in their early morning make out sessions again. I had no business being worried about anybody else's sex life, I really didn't, but the walls here were paper thin in our apartment flat. I mean seriously, I could even hear Bill's grunting when he was taking a dump. Grossed me out every single time, I tell you. I compensated by playing my music loud enough to cover the sounds as much often I could. This helped but it was possible that their early morning soundtrack had triggered my dreams this morning. Worse, they had probably ended up in the shower again because all the hot water was gone and I was left to make the most of it with a lukewarm trickle. This was already shaping up to be a great day. Well no need to hang about, I was late enough already but no way was I leaving home without some caffeine in my system.

I moved through the flat at turbo speed, seriously, wonder woman had nothing on my moves as I plugged the kettle, and dropped a muffin in the toaster then dashed back to the room to yank on my trousers and stuff my feet into my pumps. I brushed out my hair and tossed my make-up bag into my handbag, buttoning my shirt as poured the hot water into my travel mug. Breakfast on the go, what else was new. I just hoped I could sneak into work before Jeannette, my line manager noticed I wasn't already in my cubicle, clacking away like a good little admin officer or else I'd be in a lot of trouble. The frumpy old grouch had an ill-concealed dislike of me and I didn't know why. Well I did know why but I couldn't help it. I was born with my pale skin and red hair and my guileless baby blues. She thought that I got where I was in life by trading on my looks, I though she seriously needed to go fuck herself. I passed Bill on the steps as I rushed out of our building. "You freaky Nutjob", I called out affectionately. "You guys finished all the hot water again. You owe me".

"Told you that you were welcome to join in, any day, anytime. The missus won't mind, I told you she has a thing for redheads, Bill replied with a naughty wink and a smile as he walked towards the parking garage, referring to the repeated invites I'd had to make their freaky twosome into a fantastic threesome.

"One of these days, I will take you both up on that invite, show you two a trick or two", I laughed as I set off for the day. The sad bit was that he didn't know that I was only half joking. It just might put the Sam dreams on hold for a while.
