Then We Die Read Online Free PDF Page A

that you understand the seriousness of the situation.’
    ‘Of course. Thank you.’ Nyc gave Carlyle a pleading look and stalked off in the direction of the bar.
    Carlyle watched the man go, taking the rest of the eighteen-year-old single malt with him.
You could at least have left me the bottle
, he thought mournfully.
    French turned to Carlyle. ‘I need you to go to West End Central to make a formal statement.’
    Carlyle drained his glass and stood up rather unsteadily. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I was going to head over to the hospital first, and then I need to speak to my commanding officer.’
    French thought about that for a moment. He clearly wasn’t happy with this plan, but at the same time he knew that he couldn’t object without coming across as a total arse. ‘Who’s your CO?’ he asked finally.
    ‘Simpson – Commander Carole Simpson.’ Carlyle made a vague gesture in a northwards direction. ‘She’s based up in Paddington.’
    ‘Don’t know her.’ French yawned. ‘Any good?’
    I bloody hope so
, thought Carlyle. He would need all of Simpson’s political skills to help pull him out of the shit this time. ‘Yes, not bad.’
    ‘Okay,’ French sighed. ‘Take your time. It’s clearly going to be a long night.’
    Carlyle nodded. ‘Yes, it certainly is.’ His mobile started vibrating in his pocket. Pulling it out, he checked the screen. No number. Hoping that it wasn’t the Commander, he hit the receive button.
    ‘Hello?’
    ‘Do you know what time it is?’ Despite the background noise on the other end of the line, the inspector recognized the voice immediately. It certainly wasn’t Carole Simpson. And it certainly wasn’t happy. ‘Where the hell are you?’
    Shit
. Walking away from French, Carlyle took a deep breath, followed by another. His headache had returned with a vengeance and he wondered if he might be about to puke. He had completely forgotten about the evening’s planned business. Thoughts of arrests, newspaper ink and glory seemed, at best, totally irrelevant now.
    ‘John?’
    ‘Piccadilly,’ he said wearily. ‘I’m in Piccadilly.’
    ‘What the hell are you doing there?’
    ‘Sorry, Dom,’ he mumbled, trying to keep his voice even. ‘Something came up. Tough day.’
    ‘I don’t give a monkey’s about that,’ Dominic Silver snapped. ‘This is your window of opportunity here, sunshine. We are good to go. You need to get your arse over here
tonto bloody pronto
.’
    ‘But—’
    ‘No buts – I’ve laid out everything on a plate here for you. Not for the first time, I might add. So get your arse in a cab and get over here. Right now.’
    Still holding the phone to his ear, Carlyle stepped out of the lobby and onto the pavement. Right in front of him, a cab pulled up at the kerb, disgorging a couple of hotel guests who were immediately swept up by one of the liveried doormen and shepherded to the side entrance. Grabbing the door before it slammed shut, Carlyle slid onto the back seat of the taxi and barked an address at the driver. ‘Okay,’ he said into the handset. ‘I’m on my way.’
    Ending the call, he tossed the phone onto the seat, closed his eyes to stem the tears and rested his head on the cool leather. Blocking out the sounds of the city, he said a silent prayer. It was time to go to the show.

FIVE
    Just how surreal could this day get? All the background noise and bustle gradually faded to the point where he was aware of nothing beyond the fantastically pretty girl standing five feet in front of him, without a scrap of clothing on. Ignoring the swaying inspector, she idly scratched her left breast, just beneath the erect nipple, as she sucked on a cigarette. Blowing smoke into the air, her eyes locked on Carlyle’s. Feeling himself redden, the inspector nervously fingered the plaster over his left eye and tried not to lower his gaze. Making no effort to cover herself, the girl took another drag on her cigarette, her grin effortlessly