Half-awake Davy and Ghashide departed Marbella as the morning sun peeked over the horizon.
Their flight circled London a few times before beginning its descent.
On leaving arrivals, Davy met Angie.
Ghashide smiled, said hello, and walked on. Hand in hand, they strolled to the car park and drove home.
***
Brushing her long blonde hair to frame her face, Janice smoothed her skirt, took one last look in the mirror. Henry Chapman, her boss, wanted to see her in his office. Usually, Henry would telephone or drop into her office if he was passing.
Rather than use the lift, Janice climbed the stairs. Once there, she paused. Out of respect for his position, Janice knocked and entered. Henry sat behind his colossal grey desk, glanced up as she came in.
"Janice, grab a chair and park your bum."
She gave him her best smile, removed a pile of old newspapers from the only chair, and sat with her legs crossed.
Henry finished his doodling, placed his pen on its rack, smiled and looked straight at her.
Janice, my love, how long have we known each other? No, don't tell me. It makes me feel old. This paper gives you a free hand to search out stories, and we have both benefited. The trouble is, you often find a conspiracy at a vicar's tea party."
She knew without any doubt that this quiet man of the world was avoiding the issue. "Henry, get on with it."
He grimaced whilst rubbing his hands together. "A Mr Ronald Harman-Smith telephoned and told me. You're treading on thin ice."
She hesitated. "What else did that horrid man say?"
The fingers of his right hand drummed on the desktop. "Is this project of yours worth the hassle and expense? I know you don't need the money, and your hunches in the past have made it worthwhile, but the paper has its reputation to think of." He paused as if thinking what he should say next. "Purely out of editorial interest, have you any evidence to back your story?
She told him an edited version of her findings.
Henry whistled softly. "It would be better if we handed over your information to the police and let them deal with it."
The telephone rang. Henry lifted the handset. "Not available," he snapped.
"I don't like that idea," Janice objected. "The SAS have rules, but Harman-Smith's outfit makes them up as they go along. They'll slam the door shut and bury whatever. How about, officially, I no longer work on this story, and any time I take off is a holiday? God knows you owe me enough."
"No." Henry's voice was firm. "For Christ's sake, Janice, these guys don't fuck about, for once in your life, leave it alone.
She jumped at the tone of Henry's voice. "They've got to you, haven't they? What did they threaten? Your family, your job, or both?" Her voice became louder as she spoke. "Can't you see that these people are first-rate bastards? They'll stop at nothing to silence you."
Henry visibly stiffened. "How the hell would I know? It's all right for you; I'm 57. A few more years and I'm out to grass: I need this job and the pension that goes with it."
"Okay, I quit." he was right, and, as a friend, she would not place him in jeopardy. She respected this man who had given her so much when she needed it, and now it was her turn.
