Countdown to Terror

Chapter 28

Jenny and the Gent were in the Atrium coffee shop at the Imperial, trying to figure out where they were headed. He was convinced that the other agency was somehow involved in the murder of Sulamain; it was too much of a coincidence. They ordered coffee and French croissants, perfect elevenses.

His mobile rang. It was Monroe. ‘That meeting with Spinner, he wants it in the morning. Is that OK?’

The question seemed absurd in the circumstances, but he thought better than to say so. ‘Yes, no problem.’

‘Spinner thinks it best if we come over there, better for you not to have your face all over the CCTV cameras.’

‘Yes, OK.’

‘See you about ten thirty, then. Oh, and you can include the girl if you want.’

The Gent was perturbed at first. Why was there a tail on him? But Monroe was a policeman, after all. Ah! They would have been watching the house of Shakira Khan in Wimbledon. Jenny looked at him quizzically.

‘Is there something wrong?’

He explained the misunderstanding as the coffee and croissants arrived.

They skipped lunch, settling for afternoon tea, where they discussed their plans for the meeting the next day. What plans? Apart from his theories, which would appear fanciful, to hardened policemen there was still not enough to determine a target.

Saturday evening, a nice evening in London, would be too good an opportunity to waste. He reserved a table at Ciao Bella in Bloomsbury, where they had previously dined. The weather was perfect, with a bright orange sun setting over Russell Square. Looking the part, she was in white linen trousers and an azure top with shoestring straps, and he was in a blue-striped short-sleeved shirt and Ted Baker charcoal slacks. They strolled together over to the restaurant.

The maître d’ welcomed them as only Italians can, and his riposte of remembering them was almost convincing. The restaurant was situated over two floors: a bright and buzzy ground floor and a more relaxed and intimate basement. They opted for Bombay Sapphire gin and tonics with ice and lime, and the live piano played as they perused the menu. From the chef’s special menu, Jenny chose asparagus olande, followed by fegati and bacon; while his choice was involtini di salmone con avocado with a main course of tagliata di manzo. The waiter recommended a bottle of Montepulciano Riveria Aldiano (2007).

They discussed a host of things. Jenny offloaded about her grandmother, and the world and its problems were all sorted out. They were even convinced their golf had improved. The events that had led them to be there in the first place were also somehow forgotten. Their own relationship was never mentioned. To the waiter, however, they were clearly... well, you know.

Strolling back, there was no need to talk. It was dusk, and arm in arm they walked through the gardens in Russell Square. In a secluded spot, they embraced. He kissed her passionately, and her response was equal. As they gazed at each other, their eyes spoke the truth as pure as mountain dew. They walked a few steps and Jenny stopped and asked him.