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offshore bank account into which the money was to be transferred. Richards left the cafe and took a taxi to the airport. Once there, he sat in one of the departure lounge’s cafes, turned on his laptop and transferred the first fifty thousand to the assassin’s offshore account. The game was on.
    The assassin went back to his flat and began packing. Excited by the challenge, he started to think through the best way of killing Fairweather. The tricky bit was making it look like an accident. He had Fairweather’s address in St James’ Square and he knew the area well enough to know that he could easily hide in the shadows near the house or in the Square’s central garden and wait for an opportunity to get close to Fairweather as he either entered or left the building. It would be relatively straightforward to pretend to stumble into Fairweather as he walked past him, inserting the blade of a knife between the ribs and into the heart as their bodies came together. This would kill him almost instantly. If he wore dark jeans, a dark hoodie and kept his head down, there would be little chance of him being identified from CCTV footage after the event. But the problem with this approach was that it wouldn’t look like an accident. St James’ is an exclusive part of town and home to lots of expensive London clubs. It is reasonably busy at all hours and well patrolled by the police because of the importance of some of the people using the clubs. It is not the sort of place that people are routinely mugged and killed and any such murder would merit investigation by the police. He had to come up with an alternative plan.
    He continued to think through the problem as he drove down towards London the next morning. He always preferred to drive if he was working in the UK as it meant that he could avoid public transport and the thousands of cameras that were now a feature of every train station, airport and bus depot. He’d stolen the car, a five-year-old silver Citroën, the night before from one of the rougher parts of Edinburgh, replacing the number plates with a set that he’d made himself early in the morning with a machine that he’d stolen years ago. The new set were exact copies of a number plate he’d seen on a similar vehicle the previous night. This vehicle had been parked in the drive of a smart looking house near the Botanical Gardens, one of Edinburgh’s most expensive residential areas. His rationale for copying this car’s number plate was that people living at such an address were no doubt wealthy enough to pay their road tax and to keep their car insured and road legal. It would therefore be unlikely that this number plate would attract attention if randomly checked by the police, although he was only too aware that he didn’t know the name of the vehicle’s owner and he would therefore struggle if stopped and questioned in detail. To avoid drawing attention to himself, he drove carefully, keeping to the speed limit all the way into London.

Chapter 8
    Highworth sat in his office reading the Financial Times . Tokifora’s shares had gone up again from 150 pence per share to 154. This was clearly good news but he sensed that they would soon start to plateau and then probably start to dip. If asked to explain why he felt this, he would probably say that the gradual acquisition of large volumes of shares by his fund would have led other speculators to start investing in the company. This would have created an unusual level of demand which would have inflated the price of the shares beyond their realistic worth. The dipping would represent nothing more than the shares settling at what he and others would consider to be a fair price. But he was not really interested in owning shares that had stabilised, particularly when he would need a fair amount of money readily to hand to start buying Bubble.com shares shortly. He called in his PA. ‘Tell the team to start