Then We Die Read Online Free PDF

mutating into a sneer. ‘Rollo!’ she shouted. ‘Pervert alert! . . . Rollo!’
    A small, fat, bald man of indeterminate age waddled over. Beside him was Dominic Silver. Wearing an expensive-looking navy suit with a black shirt, Silver looked like he owned the place, which, in effect, he did. The fat man, by contrast, looked like an extra from
Pirates of the Caribbean
, in black leather jeans and a ruffled white shirt that was unbuttoned almost to his waist. All that was missing was a parrot on his shoulder.
    ‘You finally made it then?’ Silver asked.
    ‘Yes,’ Carlyle coughed.
    ‘Good.’ Copper turned drug dealer, turned entrepreneur, Dominic Silver had known the inspector for something like thirty years, give or take. They had a good, if occasionally fractious relationship, which they both knew would survive this latest blip.
    ‘Charlotte,’ Silver’s sidekick hissed, ‘get dressed! We are starting in ten minutes.’
    Rolling her eyes to the ceiling, the girl handed the fat man the cigarette, then turned and flounced off in the direction of a stylist waiting beside a long rail of clothes. Despite everything, Carlyle couldn’t help but be transfixed by the sight of her perfect buttocks as they retreated across the dressing area. He let out a deep, deep sigh.
    ‘And who are you?’ The fat man broke the angel’s spell by prodding Carlyle in the ribs.
    ‘He’s my guy,’ Dom said hastily, shooting Carlyle a look that said:
be cool
,
stop embarrassing yourself
.
    ‘Oh, I see.’ If anything, this news made the fat man even less happy about Carlyle’s presence.
    ‘Rollo Kasabian, fashion designer,’ Silver kept his voice low, trying to play the peacemaker, ‘meet Inspector John Carlyle, policeman.’
    Without offering a hand, Kasabian grunted something that could not easily have been translated as
Pleased to meet you
.
    Carlyle didn’t even bother with a response. Kasabian was Dom’s bunny, so Carlyle knew that the man would do what he was damn well told.
    Another babe walked by, this one naked only from the waist down. His embarrassment waning, Carlyle smiled at Dom. ‘Are we ready to go?’
    Silver looked at Kasabian, who nodded.
    ‘Good,’ said Silver, slapping Kasabian on the back.
    The designer mumbled something about ‘last-minute arrangements’ and sloped off.
    Silver took Carlyle by the arm and led him towards the curtain leading to the runway. ‘Let’s go and get our seats.’
    Rollo Kasabian’s collection for London Fashion Week was being showcased on the ground floor of an empty office block in Knights-bridge, close to the Royal Albert Hall. The seats surrounding the runway were six rows deep – enough, Carlyle calculated, to accommodate maybe 200 people. As they stepped out from behind the curtain, he was pleased to see that the lighting made it impossible to see the audience from the runway. That would make his job easier when it came to effecting an arrest. Two uniforms were parked in a car outside, ready to take the suspect back to Charing Cross police station. After everything that had happened during the last few hours, Carlyle seriously doubted he would have the energy to conduct an interview this evening.
    Dom led him to a pair of seats at the back, to the side of the runway. After they took their places, he pointed out a couple of celebrities and fashion editors, stern women with oversized sunglasses perched on their heads, who were sitting in the front row on the opposite side.
    Carlyle grunted, unimpressed as he hadn’t heard of any of them. He jerked a thumb at a gaggle of snappers at the end of the runway, saying, ‘I don’t want any of those buggers getting a picture when I slap the cuffs on the lovely young drug-dealing model.’
    ‘Don’t worry,’ said Dom. ‘It will all be done backstage after this has finished.’
    ‘The show must go on.’
    ‘Of course. But it makes sense for you, too. There’s half a kilo of coke in the girl’s bag.’
    ‘That’s