mental sidekick can perpetrate another crime.’ she answered, her voice raised and still angry as she walked into the next room.
Strange looked up from the Wi-Fi router and out of the window to the apartments opposite. There was an old, grey haired man in a stylish suit staring at him intently. Strange approached the window and looked back at him, noticing his left arm was stretched out slightly, the index finger of the left hand pointing towards a small table. He also noticed red scabbing on the top of the hand. He immediately looked up to the old man’s face and saw that his lips were moving.
‘We…do….’ Strange murmured, shaking his head slightly. The old man repeated the phrase. ‘We didn’t do it.’ Strange murmured again, his features filling with surprise as he mouthed silently, ‘John?’ The old man nodded, then emphasised his pointing. Strange followed the arm and finger down to the table, to the small bear that sat staring back at him. ‘Ian Bear?’ Strange mused quietly, a look of confusion on his features as he looked back up from the bear, to display that confusion to the old man: but the old man was gone.
‘Daydreaming out of the window is not going to get us anywhere. Neither is your loyalty to Saul. Start getting with the game plan Strange and acting like a DCI or I might just have to have a word with your Super.’ Cruickshank loudly admonished as she slowly strode around the wall and window, her compulsive walk being halted by the presence of Strange in her path.
Strange faced up to her, his demeanour conciliatory, body language open, yet assured as he looked down to Cruikshank’s agitated expression.
‘Gaynor. You will have to forgive me, I haven’t had the time to get fully up to speed with the events of last week, so I am behind the ball on the facts as they pertain to John. What I do know is that all through the events at Featherstone Hall, all John was interested in, was finding out what was happening and more importantly, why. He knew that there was evidence incriminating him and he brought most of it to my table. From what I have seen so far of the happenings here this week, he has done the same with you. He pointed you in the right direction on the reveals by the Fallen Angels and did warn you about your team. I get that there is a large amount of incriminating evidence more than suggesting John and Rebecca’s involvement in this and I am not for one minute suggesting that isn’t the case. But I have an open mind, not a locked and prejudiced mind. Knowing John as I do, there is still a very big part of me -a very, very big part of me-, that thinks he is doing exactly the same as us: trying to figure out what the hell is going on. And knowing John as I do, I can tell you right now, he will be doing a damn sight better job of it than we are!’
Chapter 7
‘The most important thing to remember is, you are a God, but so is he. That is how he thinks, that is how he acts. That is what I taught him. Watch for the signs. Watch for the things I have taught you. How are you feeling?’
Gentle jazz softly oozed from hidden speakers in the opulent, contemporary bar of the ‘Jing’s Club’, an exclusive establishment in the centre of Edinburgh frequented by politicians, wealthy business people, aristocracy and the rich and famous. Hushed conversations were politely taking place at the lines of tables either side of a floor lit walkway leading up to an empty cocktail bar, the clientele enjoying fine dining and expensive wine.
Eve was adorned in a red, figure hugging Bruce Oldfield evening dress, which was split from the hip down one side, her long slender exposed leg drawing admiring glances from the male occupants of the tables as she sashayed down the walkway. Even more ogling stares were directed toward her exposed cleavage from the plunging neckline at the front of the dress, which stopped just above her
Strange looked up from the Wi-Fi router and out of the window to the apartments opposite. There was an old, grey haired man in a stylish suit staring at him intently. Strange approached the window and looked back at him, noticing his left arm was stretched out slightly, the index finger of the left hand pointing towards a small table. He also noticed red scabbing on the top of the hand. He immediately looked up to the old man’s face and saw that his lips were moving.
‘We…do….’ Strange murmured, shaking his head slightly. The old man repeated the phrase. ‘We didn’t do it.’ Strange murmured again, his features filling with surprise as he mouthed silently, ‘John?’ The old man nodded, then emphasised his pointing. Strange followed the arm and finger down to the table, to the small bear that sat staring back at him. ‘Ian Bear?’ Strange mused quietly, a look of confusion on his features as he looked back up from the bear, to display that confusion to the old man: but the old man was gone.
‘Daydreaming out of the window is not going to get us anywhere. Neither is your loyalty to Saul. Start getting with the game plan Strange and acting like a DCI or I might just have to have a word with your Super.’ Cruickshank loudly admonished as she slowly strode around the wall and window, her compulsive walk being halted by the presence of Strange in her path.
Strange faced up to her, his demeanour conciliatory, body language open, yet assured as he looked down to Cruikshank’s agitated expression.
‘Gaynor. You will have to forgive me, I haven’t had the time to get fully up to speed with the events of last week, so I am behind the ball on the facts as they pertain to John. What I do know is that all through the events at Featherstone Hall, all John was interested in, was finding out what was happening and more importantly, why. He knew that there was evidence incriminating him and he brought most of it to my table. From what I have seen so far of the happenings here this week, he has done the same with you. He pointed you in the right direction on the reveals by the Fallen Angels and did warn you about your team. I get that there is a large amount of incriminating evidence more than suggesting John and Rebecca’s involvement in this and I am not for one minute suggesting that isn’t the case. But I have an open mind, not a locked and prejudiced mind. Knowing John as I do, there is still a very big part of me -a very, very big part of me-, that thinks he is doing exactly the same as us: trying to figure out what the hell is going on. And knowing John as I do, I can tell you right now, he will be doing a damn sight better job of it than we are!’
Chapter 7
‘The most important thing to remember is, you are a God, but so is he. That is how he thinks, that is how he acts. That is what I taught him. Watch for the signs. Watch for the things I have taught you. How are you feeling?’
Gentle jazz softly oozed from hidden speakers in the opulent, contemporary bar of the ‘Jing’s Club’, an exclusive establishment in the centre of Edinburgh frequented by politicians, wealthy business people, aristocracy and the rich and famous. Hushed conversations were politely taking place at the lines of tables either side of a floor lit walkway leading up to an empty cocktail bar, the clientele enjoying fine dining and expensive wine.
Eve was adorned in a red, figure hugging Bruce Oldfield evening dress, which was split from the hip down one side, her long slender exposed leg drawing admiring glances from the male occupants of the tables as she sashayed down the walkway. Even more ogling stares were directed toward her exposed cleavage from the plunging neckline at the front of the dress, which stopped just above her
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