Shadow Creatures by Andrew Lane Page A

were being exceptionally discreet.
    The man returned with a glass of cloudy lemonade, placed his jacket on the back of a chair and sat down. He glanced at Rhino’s chest. ‘Thank you for leaving your jacket off. I can
see no evidence of any recording device on you.’ He ran his hands beneath the table, leaning forward to cover the area nearer Rhino. The floral smell of his aftershave was almost
overpowering. ‘And nothing hidden beneath the table either. Well done.’
    ‘Your instructions were clear,’ Rhino said calmly. He nodded his head towards the coffee roaster. ‘And, besides, I presume you chose the location and the time so that there
would be enough background noise to prevent any eavesdropping.’
    ‘Indeed,’ Tzuke said casually, ‘but technology has come a long way; it’s best to take all precautions possible. Speaking of which, may I see your mobile phone?’
    Rhino took it out of his jacket and placed it on the table. While Tzuke checked it over with economical, practised movements he took another sip of his espresso, nearly finishing it.
    ‘Already switched off,’ Tzuke said. ‘Thank you. I am carrying a mobile-phone jammer in my suit, of course, but I always believe in a “belt and braces”
approach.’
    ‘You’ve done this before,’ Rhino murmured.
    Tzuke raised an eyebrow. ‘You need to be aware that I am just a facilitator,’ he said, ‘a go-between. I am not a criminal.’
    ‘You just work for criminals,’ Rhino said.
    ‘I make no moral judgements. I am a solicitor. I am hired to do a job by a client. The job is entirely legal.’
    ‘Two people were kidnapped by Somali pirates while they were sailing off the coast of Africa,’ Rhino pointed out, ‘and you are here collecting the ransom. That doesn’t
sound legal to me.’
    ‘I don’t know what the money is for,’ Tzuke said, smiling cheerfully, ‘and I don’t know where it is going. I have merely been hired to collect a payment and pass it
on.’
    ‘While taking a cut yourself.’
    ‘I am providing a business service. That does not come free.’
    ‘Speaking of the “service” you provide, I believe you have to give me proof of life,’ Rhino countered. ‘I need to know that Peter and Sarah Wilkerson are still
alive and in good health; otherwise the ransom does not get paid and you do not get your cut.’
    Tzuke reached into his jacket and removed a brown A4 envelope, which had been folded in half. He handed it across to Rhino. ‘I do not know what is in the envelope. I was just told to give
it to you.’
    Rhino pulled the flap open and removed a single sheet of paper. It was a photograph, printed by a laser printer. It showed a couple who looked as if they were in their thirties. It also looked
as if they had been wearing the same clothes for several weeks, and had spent most of that time either worrying or crying. There were shadows beneath their eyes, and the man – definitely
Peter Wilkerson, based on other photographs Rhino had seen, provided by his family – was unshaven. They both looked as if they were at the end of their tether. Peter Wilkerson had his arm
protectively around his wife’s shoulders. She was holding up an African newspaper so that the front page was clearly visible. Rhino presumed that it was yesterday’s newspaper, proving
at least that they had been alive and in relatively good health twenty-four hours ago. He would make sure later, from his laptop.
    ‘Is that sufficient?’ Tzuke asked.
    ‘It is.’
    ‘Thankfully, the days when the envelope would have contained a severed finger or an ear are long gone. Digital cameras and emails are a boon.’
    ‘By the way,’ Rhino said, ‘if we checked, I presume we wouldn’t find out that this image had been printed on your
own
home or office printer?’ He folded the
page back up and put it back into the envelope.
    ‘Of course not.’ Tzuke smiled his easy smile again. ‘I am not that stupid, and neither are my clients.’
    ‘Of