little hand bell lying on the polished mahogany table beside him. Julio entered the room a few seconds later.
‘Yes, boss?’
‘There’s been a development.’
‘Oh? So we’ll need to adjust our plans.’
‘We leave first thing in the morning.’
‘Heading for where, boss?’
‘That doesn’t concern you. The pilot’s the only one who needs to know my itinerary, got that?’ Baldwin glared at his number two, and Julio nodded in response. ‘Now go. Get things sorted.’ He waved his hand to dismiss the Spaniard and tucked into his food again.
He had no intention of letting anyone know what his plans were, since ordering Benji’s death his men had been jumpy, jumpier than normal anyway, the complete opposite of what he’d intended, or expected. He could tell none of them were happy, he’d seen the loathing in their eyes, and yet none of them had said anything to him. For the first time he sensed this group of men, given the opportunity, wouldn’t think twice about stabbing him in the back. He shrugged, am I bothered? Am I fuck!
Within a month he’d be the richest man in the world, with, or without his band of merry men. Muscles came and went like the seasons in this game, if this mob didn’t work out he’d kill them and find another group, one that was nastier and more respectful. He paid good money, and at the last recruitment day no fewer than two hundred beefcakes had turned up hoping to get a job.
None of them had been put off by his unique interview method either. The "interviewees" were forced to take part in a Gladiatorial type battle with the winner having the honour of joining his well-paid staff, while the loser ended up in a ditch somewhere with his throat cut. Survival of the fittest had definitely proved to be the order of the day.
The last two men to cock-up, apart from Benji, had been the men who’d led Lorne Simpkins to his planned escape route, Portsmouth harbour. The day after they’d started their seven-year stretch for aiding and abetting a criminal in PentonvillePrison , guards had discovered them both hanging from the window bars of their cells, bed sheets wrapped around their throats and their guts leaving a bloody mess on the floor beneath them.
Baldwin had insiders on his payroll in every prison the length of Britain, just in case, you never knew when you might need one to carry out an inside job.
‘Ah, Lorne Simpkins, now there’s a name I know well. I wonder what she’s doing on my tail. Last I heard she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.’ Baldwin laughed raucously before carrying on his conversation with himself, ‘Now, if the chance arises, I have every intention of finding out what the little lady is made of. Sugar and spice, that’s definitely not what her vixen of a daughter had running through her veins after I’d finished with her.’ He laughed again then returned to his dinner, cruel thoughts still running through his deranged mind.
As this would be his last planned venture, he intended going out with a bang and he couldn’t think of a better way to do it than with his nemesis, Lorne Simpkins. He had been working on a plan for the past couple of months, which was why he had resurfaced in France, after allowing the world to think he was dead following the explosion at Portsmouth Harbour.
He knew she’d want revenge for him taking her lover’s life. Well, the time had come to see what the former inspector was made of.
Chapter Twelve
Lorne had just drifted off to sleep when a knock at the door woke her. In a daze, she grabbed the hotel’s white towelling robe out of the bathroom, threw it on, and opened the door.
The words tumbled out in the wrong order before she had a chance to stop them. ‘Capitaine … um. I’m sorry bed I was in … I mean, I was just going to sleep.’
She blushed as the Capitaine’s eyes ran up and down her slim body. ‘I was worried about you, Lorne, concerned even. Can I come in?’
Not knowing
‘Yes, boss?’
‘There’s been a development.’
‘Oh? So we’ll need to adjust our plans.’
‘We leave first thing in the morning.’
‘Heading for where, boss?’
‘That doesn’t concern you. The pilot’s the only one who needs to know my itinerary, got that?’ Baldwin glared at his number two, and Julio nodded in response. ‘Now go. Get things sorted.’ He waved his hand to dismiss the Spaniard and tucked into his food again.
He had no intention of letting anyone know what his plans were, since ordering Benji’s death his men had been jumpy, jumpier than normal anyway, the complete opposite of what he’d intended, or expected. He could tell none of them were happy, he’d seen the loathing in their eyes, and yet none of them had said anything to him. For the first time he sensed this group of men, given the opportunity, wouldn’t think twice about stabbing him in the back. He shrugged, am I bothered? Am I fuck!
Within a month he’d be the richest man in the world, with, or without his band of merry men. Muscles came and went like the seasons in this game, if this mob didn’t work out he’d kill them and find another group, one that was nastier and more respectful. He paid good money, and at the last recruitment day no fewer than two hundred beefcakes had turned up hoping to get a job.
None of them had been put off by his unique interview method either. The "interviewees" were forced to take part in a Gladiatorial type battle with the winner having the honour of joining his well-paid staff, while the loser ended up in a ditch somewhere with his throat cut. Survival of the fittest had definitely proved to be the order of the day.
The last two men to cock-up, apart from Benji, had been the men who’d led Lorne Simpkins to his planned escape route, Portsmouth harbour. The day after they’d started their seven-year stretch for aiding and abetting a criminal in PentonvillePrison , guards had discovered them both hanging from the window bars of their cells, bed sheets wrapped around their throats and their guts leaving a bloody mess on the floor beneath them.
Baldwin had insiders on his payroll in every prison the length of Britain, just in case, you never knew when you might need one to carry out an inside job.
‘Ah, Lorne Simpkins, now there’s a name I know well. I wonder what she’s doing on my tail. Last I heard she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.’ Baldwin laughed raucously before carrying on his conversation with himself, ‘Now, if the chance arises, I have every intention of finding out what the little lady is made of. Sugar and spice, that’s definitely not what her vixen of a daughter had running through her veins after I’d finished with her.’ He laughed again then returned to his dinner, cruel thoughts still running through his deranged mind.
As this would be his last planned venture, he intended going out with a bang and he couldn’t think of a better way to do it than with his nemesis, Lorne Simpkins. He had been working on a plan for the past couple of months, which was why he had resurfaced in France, after allowing the world to think he was dead following the explosion at Portsmouth Harbour.
He knew she’d want revenge for him taking her lover’s life. Well, the time had come to see what the former inspector was made of.
Chapter Twelve
Lorne had just drifted off to sleep when a knock at the door woke her. In a daze, she grabbed the hotel’s white towelling robe out of the bathroom, threw it on, and opened the door.
The words tumbled out in the wrong order before she had a chance to stop them. ‘Capitaine … um. I’m sorry bed I was in … I mean, I was just going to sleep.’
She blushed as the Capitaine’s eyes ran up and down her slim body. ‘I was worried about you, Lorne, concerned even. Can I come in?’
Not knowing
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