Wild Fiction

‘Sit down,’ the author said looking at his watch. ‘All the high street banks are closed. I’ll wait for the morning, go into London, and do it then. It’s also better if I go alone; we don’t want to attract too much attention. I think that you should lie low. The blokes that sunk your boat may be back in England. I like your theory by the way, that they may be from Belmarsh Prison. Why don’t you call around tomorrow and establish if anybody’s escaped or recently been released from there.
‘Another thing I haven’t told you. While you were in Belize, I did some investigating of my own. The insurance company Sir Betelgeuse ripped-off is Royal Guardian. He took them to the tune of £30,000,000. They have offered a reward of £2,000,000 for the return of either the money or the goods – no questions asked. That’s two million pounds of clean, untainted cash. Can you imagine what I…we…could do with that?’
‘That’s around 770,000 pints of beer at the Flutter and Firkin,’ James said.
‘I need to reprogram you,’ the author said standing up. ‘Nobody needs to know trivia like that.’ He walked to the door looking at the neatly written details on the piece of paper. He left with a small piece of the house attached to the front bumper.

Chapter 29

The incessant beeping of an electronic alarm forced the author to open his eyes and switch it off. After his shower he massaged a small amount of gel into his thinning hair and combed it back. He pulled back his lips and examined his teeth inches from the mirror. From his wardrobe he took out a black Armani suit and a powder blue Aquascutum shirt and matching tie. With his shoes in his hand, he slid his sock clad feet across the polished floor.
‘Where are you going?’ Genevieve’s voice came from behind him as he reached the door.
‘Um…to um…to London.’
‘What for?’ she asked looking at the bedside clock.
‘Some um...some research for my book,’ he paused. ‘And I have to pop into the bank and run some errands.’
‘I’ll come with you. I need to pick up a couple of things at Harrods and I’ve almost run out of those dewberry bath oil thingies. I’ll be ready in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. Cut and peel an apple for me while I get ready, and make sure it’s a Golden Delicious, not one of those crappy sour Granny Smith ones.’