❝If there was one thing Anthony Lockwood was afraid of, it would be Carolynne Blair Lynch's pure, mere, terrifying beauty.❞
𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭? Perhaps a day that didn't go your way so now you'd...
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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐞, outside the Chelsea Working Men's Club, in the heart of DEPRAC operations. Lockwood had been inside to talk to Barnes; George, Lucy and Carolynne had been settled at a plastic table near the catering vans, and were just tucking in to their first round of tea and hot dogs when Lockwood had returned. Jaw clenched, cheeks flushed, he threw himself into a chair.
"That total and utter idiot," Lockwood growled. "That mustachioed imbecile. That benighted, blinkered jobsworth. He's a clown! A fraud! An oaf! I hate him."
Carolynne snickered into her hand at the irony.
"Don't worry. I know we have our differences, but there's a lot of mutual respect there. If he hesitates, I'll sweet-talk him. He won't let us down."
"How's the mutual respect thing going?" George said.
"He's not interested!" Lockwood huffed, "he doesn't want to know."
George stared at him, "so what's his take on Aickmere Brothers? What does he think of my presentation?"
"Nothing. He didn't even look at it."
"He didn't look at my lovely dotted maps?" George set his hot dog down, "how can he have a valid counterargument, then?"
"He doesn't. Didn't even look me in the eye. Basically he cut me off as soon as I told him the address. He said there's another big push going on in central Chelsea tonight, and he can't spare anyone to 'fool around' in the outlying areas. That's a direct quote."
