Death & the City Book Two Read Online Free PDF Page B

business. Until they start to think that being a hit-man is a better get-rich-quick scheme than the Lottery. It's not like watching a TV soap, where you get to see the outcome of their individual storylines after they pass - like Connor says, often you report something, or undertake a job, and hear nothing at your end about what happens next. No feedback, no just desserts, no Happily Ever Afters , no empathy or attachment to the people behind the scheme they've unwittingly become a part of. And I don't have any personal attachments to keep me in either job - nightclub security or hit-man runner - unless by setting me up with a wingman, they were hoping to create that.
    Hmmm. Food for thought. My fingers drum the steering wheel, as I become close to pondering the possibility of ringing Connor to ask him if he knows anything about the concept of vanilla blackmail. Using a carrot rather than a stick to keep someone's loyalty. It all sounds very Cold War spy era. Keeping your side loyal by knowing their weaknesses. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer - and those who have the job of keeping them close, the closest of all.
    For the first time, it occurs to me the concerns that head office have to incorporate, regarding keeping my loyalty. Every night I go to work in my normal job, they're risking me having a personality flux where I might suddenly fall in love with a colleague or passing customer, i.e. the next potential target. At the moment, apart from the cringe factor (my lack of experience and moral desire to vomit at the idea of) all I think is what a bizarre concept that is. Not only lust, which old-fashioned spies were allegedly rampant for, but the thought of falling in love with somebody random and inappropriate, just like that. Meaning emotional attachment, which would affect my loyalties. Turn me into a defector. How odd.
    I've never experienced it, not because my sideline requires it of me - there aren't any spoken rules, in fact - but because the motivation was never there. None of my workmates have ever asked me on a date, and the more I learn about them from day to day, the less inclined I am to think I'd accept one. Maybe in the twelve or so years in the job I've found a few of my colleagues attractive, but only from a distance. Even Joel Hardy, texting me late at night booty-call style, I find detracts from his otherwise general attractiveness and apparent good nature. Some guys are very tight-knit, will only work in the same team together, but I've never had a problem moving around different venues, and working in different teams, because I view it as part of the necessary evils of work - not part of my identity outside, in real life, that requires continuity.
    In a nutshell, I basically think: Yuck .
    But if Connor and I become an item, if this goes further than just dating, attempted brainwashing, him calling me and hanging out hoping to get lucky (in other words gets serious), then THAT would definitely give head office an advantage if I suddenly decided I was quitting for good. Especially if they weren't ready to let me retire quietly.
    Definitely food for thought. Not the kind of food Terry Dyer is getting delivered today, but definitely something for my brain cells to chew over. Now I think about it, vanilla blackmail is certainly head office's normal scheme of things. In the shape of offered incentives like shoes, sun-beds and Botox - or in my case, knitting wool and tree-houses, as they try to figure out my interests and weaknesses in the absence of any addictions.
    Like Elaine and her cookie-pushing, when she wants a man's loyalty and undivided attention. I've seen Des do it with alcohol when she fancies a customer, giving them two-for-one, charging single shot for a double, or giving them a jug of vodka Appletini for the princely sum of a quick snog over the bar. Rather than have faith in loyalty without a price, work out what the price is to keep them coming back at any cost. Coming back for