Mark Ghashide sipped his coffee while reading a report. He pushed a memory button on his mobile. It assured him the contents of the package from Spain were of high quality.
"Angie Symes."
"Your boyfriend did okay. Any problems?"
"None. Davy made it happen."
"I want to see both this evening. Come over around nine for a drink."
"See you later." She replaced the handset.
Angie waited for Davy to ring. Late that afternoon, he made contact. They agreed to meet in the Kings Arms at eight.
He arrived early, and when Angie entered, finished his first pint.
"Drink?"
"Fresh orange and tonic, please."
He interrupted the barmaid, who, with other customers, stared at the television.
"Same again and a tonic with fresh orange."
While they waited, he turned and faced her. "Why does Ghashide want to see us?"
She thought she understood him, although most of the time, he confused her. "I imagine he has another job."
Davy handed the correct money to the barmaid and passed Angie her drink.
"Well, after our working holiday, I could use another. It's time Ghashide starts paying."
"You don't tell him what to do."
"He's a stickleback in a tiny pond, and we need to get the sharks. My idea worked, so I'm going to push."
With their drinks finished, they walked the short distance to Ghashide's flat. He was with his minder.
Ghashide smiled, sauntered forward and grabbed Davy's hand. "Well done." From his inside jacket pocket, he removed two sealed envelopes. "A bonus. And Angie, something for you."
They sat in the tan leather armchairs, formed in a semicircle in front of the fireplace.
Davy took a deep breath. "How would you like similar supplies each week?"
"First, let me ask you a few questions. When we met, I had a notion that you were not what you appeared. I admit you passed my test. My problem is I trust nobody."
There was an edge to his voice. "Where you were before we met."
Davy gazed into space for a moment. "Peterhead prison."
Ghashide shrugged. "You're full of shit. Tell me the truth, or my friend behind you will become nasty."
Davy turned. "Back off before I break your fucking arms."
Ghashide nodded, and the minder returned to the door.
"If you want proof, talk to the police. I did six full years for robbery and GBH in Peterhead, and I counted each bloody day."
Ghashide smiled. "That's better, but before your incarceration?"
Davy told him about the orphanage and why he absconded. "I survived using my wits." He explained that his life of petty crime paid the rent. "I robbed small shops and village post offices."
