Wild Fiction

‘We feel that the success of this operation, or should I rather say, the outcome of this little caper, will depend very much on your involvement. We’re going to need all of you in this sting operation. Because you’re civilians, we’ll provide you with full protection and no harm will ...um...come to you.’ Ogilvie looked down at the table from where he was standing and stroked his chin with his fingers. Then he looked up and smiled at them. It was the first time Rebecca had seen him smile. It was a crooked smile with his mouth lifting more on the left than the right. It added to his bad-boy-made-good roguish aura.
‘Rebecca,’ he said looking at her and swallowing his smile. ‘I’ve written up what I want you to say and arrange with Fullroy. If you wouldn’t mind coming with me we can go through it together and then I’d like you to make the phone call.’
Rebecca stood up. The chair grated across the floor as she pushed it back. She looked at each of the other fictionals in turn without saying anything, the corners of her mouth pulled down.

Chapter 62

Rebecca and Genevieve walked into Epsom’s Pizza Express at exactly noon the following day. A couple of overweight teenage girls sat at one table, otherwise the restaurant was empty. They took the four chair round table in the far corner, as they had agreed, and looked at the menu. Retir W. Doog came in twelve minutes later and sat himself opposite them. After staring at each of them in turn, he looked out the window and into the street. His eyes moved from side to side as they scanned each person that walked past or stopped close by. The bristles in his beard stood out recklessly around his mouth. A white bandage enveloped his nose and clung to the skin covering his cheekbones with transparent gauze tape. The bruising below his eyes had turned purple and yellow.
‘Be very careful,’ he said. ‘If you do anything stupid you’ll regret it very quickly. That’s the first and last warning you’re getting.’
Rebecca could feel the wire running from the transmitter around her waist and under her bra strap. The tape that held the microphone between her breasts pulled against her skin and she fought to control the urge to scratch and adjust it. She looked across the table and noticed that Genevieve was scratching herself where the wiretap ran between her breasts.
‘Do you have them?’ Retir asked his eyes darting from person to person outside the window.