was just business, nothing personal.
As soon as I arrived back in London I phoned Tony and offered to take him for a drink that evening in a wine bar down the road from his Mayfair office. He was already sitting at a brass and glass table nursing a white wine and soda when I arrived.
'Doctor's orders, sport,' he said after he'd jumped to his feet, and shook my hand and slapped my back and rattled my teeth. 'Told me to lay off the hard stuff, liver trouble and all that. Can't say I like this muck, though. And it's about twice the price of a half-decent whisky.'
'You can afford it, Tony, stop complaining,' I laughed. 'I've seen you collect enough receipts to know the sort of expenses you get. Just to make you feel bad I'll have a double Glenmorangie, and you can pay for it.'
He slouched over to the bar, tall and fair in a dark blue business suit and highly polished shoes. He'd grown a moustache since the funeral and it added about fifteen years to his long, thin face. A thick rectangle of black hair, it half covered a thin scar that ran from the left side of his lip up to the middle of his cheek. The few times I'd asked him about the scar he'd laughed it off with jokes about jealous husbands, scorned lovers and frustrated business partners and after a while I'd stopped asking. There was a lot I didn't 57 know about Tony Walker but I loved him like a brother.
He brought the tumbler of malt back to the table and sat opposite me, careful to cross his legs so that the sole of his shoe faced away from me, a hangover from dealing with Arabs. He caught my look and smiled, reaching for the peanuts on the table with his left hand, just to show me that he wasn't fully converted to Middle East customs.
'How's the lovely Shona?' he asked.
'She's fine. Sends her best.' Not true, she didn't know I was going to see him.
'And David?'
'He's well. He's staying at a private nursing home for a few months just until I get myself straight. They look after him really well but he can't wait to get back with me.'
'And when will that be?'
'Soon. Soon, I bope.'
'I hear Shona is handling most of the business herself at the moment. And handling it well by all accounts. She's a capable girl, you should watch her. I should have paid more attention to her myself - I could have saved myself several thousand pounds.'
'Now, now Tony, down boy. And what big ears you have.'
'Word gets round, sport. You know how the grapevine works. Been down here long?'
'Just arrived off the Shuttle, the noo,' I said, lapsing into a music hall Scottish accent that made him smile.
'Flying visit, or business, or social?' he asked, and it felt suddenly as if I were being interviewed by a high-powered headhunter, feeling my way through traps set for the unwary. Tony raised his thick eyebrows and looked me straight in the eyes through long, dark lashes, but unlike Iwanek's penetrating gaze Tony's was warm and friendly and caring.
'Business, Tony, but it's got more in common with your 58 line of business than mine. I'm in the middle of setting up an export deal with a West African country, dictatorship to be more accurate, and I'm due to entertain one of their Trade Ministers in London next week.'
'Entertain?'
'Exactly. And I'm afraid it's not the sort of business I'm au fait with.'
'What's his predilection? Boys, girls, camels? Drugs?'
'Girls, or at least a particular type. He likes them classy, very classy, the ultimate Sloanes. He likes them pretty, wellgroomed and intelligent. This guy was educated at Sandhurst, he's not out of the jungle. She'll have to be talkative, witty, charming . . .'
'And screw like a rabbit?'
'Exactly.'
'Not quite your line of country, sport,' he said, sipping his drink and grimacing.
'We're branching out.'
'Are you sure you're being one hundred per cent honest with me?'
No, Tony, I'm Iying through my teeth but if I told you the real reason I want the girl you'd try to stop me. 'Hell, Tony, if I could go into details I would, but I
As soon as I arrived back in London I phoned Tony and offered to take him for a drink that evening in a wine bar down the road from his Mayfair office. He was already sitting at a brass and glass table nursing a white wine and soda when I arrived.
'Doctor's orders, sport,' he said after he'd jumped to his feet, and shook my hand and slapped my back and rattled my teeth. 'Told me to lay off the hard stuff, liver trouble and all that. Can't say I like this muck, though. And it's about twice the price of a half-decent whisky.'
'You can afford it, Tony, stop complaining,' I laughed. 'I've seen you collect enough receipts to know the sort of expenses you get. Just to make you feel bad I'll have a double Glenmorangie, and you can pay for it.'
He slouched over to the bar, tall and fair in a dark blue business suit and highly polished shoes. He'd grown a moustache since the funeral and it added about fifteen years to his long, thin face. A thick rectangle of black hair, it half covered a thin scar that ran from the left side of his lip up to the middle of his cheek. The few times I'd asked him about the scar he'd laughed it off with jokes about jealous husbands, scorned lovers and frustrated business partners and after a while I'd stopped asking. There was a lot I didn't 57 know about Tony Walker but I loved him like a brother.
He brought the tumbler of malt back to the table and sat opposite me, careful to cross his legs so that the sole of his shoe faced away from me, a hangover from dealing with Arabs. He caught my look and smiled, reaching for the peanuts on the table with his left hand, just to show me that he wasn't fully converted to Middle East customs.
'How's the lovely Shona?' he asked.
'She's fine. Sends her best.' Not true, she didn't know I was going to see him.
'And David?'
'He's well. He's staying at a private nursing home for a few months just until I get myself straight. They look after him really well but he can't wait to get back with me.'
'And when will that be?'
'Soon. Soon, I bope.'
'I hear Shona is handling most of the business herself at the moment. And handling it well by all accounts. She's a capable girl, you should watch her. I should have paid more attention to her myself - I could have saved myself several thousand pounds.'
'Now, now Tony, down boy. And what big ears you have.'
'Word gets round, sport. You know how the grapevine works. Been down here long?'
'Just arrived off the Shuttle, the noo,' I said, lapsing into a music hall Scottish accent that made him smile.
'Flying visit, or business, or social?' he asked, and it felt suddenly as if I were being interviewed by a high-powered headhunter, feeling my way through traps set for the unwary. Tony raised his thick eyebrows and looked me straight in the eyes through long, dark lashes, but unlike Iwanek's penetrating gaze Tony's was warm and friendly and caring.
'Business, Tony, but it's got more in common with your 58 line of business than mine. I'm in the middle of setting up an export deal with a West African country, dictatorship to be more accurate, and I'm due to entertain one of their Trade Ministers in London next week.'
'Entertain?'
'Exactly. And I'm afraid it's not the sort of business I'm au fait with.'
'What's his predilection? Boys, girls, camels? Drugs?'
'Girls, or at least a particular type. He likes them classy, very classy, the ultimate Sloanes. He likes them pretty, wellgroomed and intelligent. This guy was educated at Sandhurst, he's not out of the jungle. She'll have to be talkative, witty, charming . . .'
'And screw like a rabbit?'
'Exactly.'
'Not quite your line of country, sport,' he said, sipping his drink and grimacing.
'We're branching out.'
'Are you sure you're being one hundred per cent honest with me?'
No, Tony, I'm Iying through my teeth but if I told you the real reason I want the girl you'd try to stop me. 'Hell, Tony, if I could go into details I would, but I
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