post-traumatic stress and the difficult circumstances of his departure from the Regiment, but in the end they'd leave him swinging in the wind. He just had to hope that it never came to that. It was a worry, though, and a serious one.
How should I dress for the interview? he wondered.
Minerva Close Protection was a small but very successful company set up by a former Guards officer. Based in Knightsbridge, the company employed a number of ex-SAS soldiers, among others, to guard and otherwise minister to its stable of super-wealthy clients. The work often involved counter-surveillance and evasive driving in addition to straight body guarding - if Minerva clients appeared in the newspapers, they prefered it to be at a time and in a context of their own choosing.
Slater had been recommended to Minerva by Tommo Goss, an ex-Coldstream Guardsman who had spent two years with G Squadron. There was a large number of private security companies based in the West End, Goss had explained to Slater over a pint, but there was a limited amount of really top-drawer work. And a lot of companies ripped you off, charging up to a thousand pounds a day for your services and only passing on a quarter of that figure to you. Minerva played fair, Goss said, and if you played fair in return you could expect to make a lot of money.
62
Chris Ryan
at do you mean, "play fair in return"?' Slater asked.
)on't cut out the agency by offering to deal direct,' answered, 'and don't dip the quill in company
)ip the--'
I'Don't bang the female clients. Those are the two ic rules. And the boss, Duckworth, is a canny er - he'll find out if you're playing around. He j't say anything, but you won't hear from him
either.'
f'Slater decided to attend the interview in the clothes I stood up in. No point in trying to go smart - he'd dy get it wrong.
I?Within thirty minutes of leaving Mafeking Terrace was entering an anonymous block overlooking lyde Park. The offices, which were on the eighth jor, were quietly expensive. A receptionist showed jter to a waiting area containing a large abstract iting and current editions of Vogue and the New ker. Nothing suggested that this was a company Fed principally by ex-special forces soldiers and pret service personnel.
Five minutes later the receptionist was back. She was pretty - the almond-shaped eyes and wide smile ring the lie to the severely tailored grey suit. She So, Slater guessed, represented a test for potential iployees like himself. If you couldn't resist trying it with her, you were probably not suitable iyguard material. Tearing his eyes from her trim
63
The Hit List
figure, he tried to give an impression of watchfulness as he followed her across the silent carpet past a series of closed doors.
Peter Duckworth was a tall, languid figure in - Slater guessed -- his early fifties. His hair was silver and his suit of exquisite cut. His eyes twinkled.
'Mr Slater -- Neil - come in. Coffee?'
Slater was not deceived by the affable manner. There was something lethal about Duckworth.
For ten minutes the former Guards officer quizzed Slater about his SAS activities. Slater's responses were neutral and in several instances he felt it prudent not to answer - the man was a civilian, after all.
'And I understand that you're a close friend of Tom Goss, is that right?'
'We were in Belize together, instructing on the jungle warfare course,' said Slater.
Duckworth nodded and helped himself to a biscuit from the tray at his side. 'Good. Lovely. Well, let me tell you a bit about what we do here . . .'
Duckworth spoke for twenty minutes. Slater guessed he had given the same talk, word for word, many times before. The company's clients, he explained, were people of wealth - he used the phrase as if it were a form of victimhood. Their lifestyles were not ordinary lifestyles, their needs were not ordinary needs, their behaviour was not ordinary behaviour. 'Nevertheless,' said Duckworth, 'you will behave at all times as if it
How should I dress for the interview? he wondered.
Minerva Close Protection was a small but very successful company set up by a former Guards officer. Based in Knightsbridge, the company employed a number of ex-SAS soldiers, among others, to guard and otherwise minister to its stable of super-wealthy clients. The work often involved counter-surveillance and evasive driving in addition to straight body guarding - if Minerva clients appeared in the newspapers, they prefered it to be at a time and in a context of their own choosing.
Slater had been recommended to Minerva by Tommo Goss, an ex-Coldstream Guardsman who had spent two years with G Squadron. There was a large number of private security companies based in the West End, Goss had explained to Slater over a pint, but there was a limited amount of really top-drawer work. And a lot of companies ripped you off, charging up to a thousand pounds a day for your services and only passing on a quarter of that figure to you. Minerva played fair, Goss said, and if you played fair in return you could expect to make a lot of money.
62
Chris Ryan
at do you mean, "play fair in return"?' Slater asked.
)on't cut out the agency by offering to deal direct,' answered, 'and don't dip the quill in company
)ip the--'
I'Don't bang the female clients. Those are the two ic rules. And the boss, Duckworth, is a canny er - he'll find out if you're playing around. He j't say anything, but you won't hear from him
either.'
f'Slater decided to attend the interview in the clothes I stood up in. No point in trying to go smart - he'd dy get it wrong.
I?Within thirty minutes of leaving Mafeking Terrace was entering an anonymous block overlooking lyde Park. The offices, which were on the eighth jor, were quietly expensive. A receptionist showed jter to a waiting area containing a large abstract iting and current editions of Vogue and the New ker. Nothing suggested that this was a company Fed principally by ex-special forces soldiers and pret service personnel.
Five minutes later the receptionist was back. She was pretty - the almond-shaped eyes and wide smile ring the lie to the severely tailored grey suit. She So, Slater guessed, represented a test for potential iployees like himself. If you couldn't resist trying it with her, you were probably not suitable iyguard material. Tearing his eyes from her trim
63
The Hit List
figure, he tried to give an impression of watchfulness as he followed her across the silent carpet past a series of closed doors.
Peter Duckworth was a tall, languid figure in - Slater guessed -- his early fifties. His hair was silver and his suit of exquisite cut. His eyes twinkled.
'Mr Slater -- Neil - come in. Coffee?'
Slater was not deceived by the affable manner. There was something lethal about Duckworth.
For ten minutes the former Guards officer quizzed Slater about his SAS activities. Slater's responses were neutral and in several instances he felt it prudent not to answer - the man was a civilian, after all.
'And I understand that you're a close friend of Tom Goss, is that right?'
'We were in Belize together, instructing on the jungle warfare course,' said Slater.
Duckworth nodded and helped himself to a biscuit from the tray at his side. 'Good. Lovely. Well, let me tell you a bit about what we do here . . .'
Duckworth spoke for twenty minutes. Slater guessed he had given the same talk, word for word, many times before. The company's clients, he explained, were people of wealth - he used the phrase as if it were a form of victimhood. Their lifestyles were not ordinary lifestyles, their needs were not ordinary needs, their behaviour was not ordinary behaviour. 'Nevertheless,' said Duckworth, 'you will behave at all times as if it
Similar Books
