Cherringham--Episode 10--12 by Neil Richards

Author:Neil Richards [Costello 1, Matthew 1, Richards 2, Neil 2]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-3-7325-0570-8
Publisher: Bastei Entertainment
Published: 2017-09-30T00:00:00+00:00

9. The House on the River

Jack walked down the terraced lawns of Magnusson’s house towards the river and took in the gorgeous view.

The sun shining brilliantly, the Thames below sparkling as it flowed.

In the fields along its banks bright flags fluttered from white marquees. On either side of the Magnusson estate he could see ancient woodland stretching down to the water.

The whole scene would have been perfect …

Had it not been for the two tall men in sunglasses and dark suits who accompanied him as he walked.

They’d been waiting for him in the lobby of the house when he arrived. Not threatening, just the right side of intimidating.

But sending a signal nevertheless.

He’d phoned ahead to make an appointment — when he’d described his business as ‘urgent and confidential’ the male voice at the other end of the phone had agreed to the meeting with his boss.

Although there had been the warning: “Mr. Magnusson is a very busy man and you will have twenty minutes of his time only, Mr. Brennan.”

So here Jack was, still in his jeans, but with his best Banana Republic tan jacket just to show a little respect for the occasion …

“Don’t see you fellas in Cherringham much,” said Jack cheerily to his two bodyguards.

There was no response — not a flicker.

“You know, you should check out Huffington’s at least — they make these amazing little cookies—”

The bodyguards stopped in their tracks so Jack stopped too.

“If you could wait on the jetty, sir; Mr. Magnusson will be with you shortly,” said the bodyguard on the left, gesturing down to the river. Jack could see a short jetty that jutted out into the Thames next to a smart white clapboard boathouse.

The bodyguards didn’t intend to come with him, so Jack smiled nicely and walked the last few yards alone. There was a small bench so he sat down. He looked back up the lawn at the house. The place was immense — must be ten or twenty bedrooms, he thought. God knows how many bathrooms.

The interior had been all wood floors and big modern art. Nice in a gallery — not Jack’s taste in a home, that was for sure.

Apart from the two guards, who now stood motionless twenty yards apart on the lawn, there was no sign of life in the house that he could see.

He guessed Mr. Magnusson would join him eventually. That ticker might be running already on his twenty minutes, so he hoped it would be soon.

He turned his attention back to the river. There were boats everywhere scurrying back and forth, somehow avoiding each other. Rowing boats, cruisers, yachts, barges.

One boat caught his eye.

A single scull, bright yellow, a couple of hundred yards away, but coming in his direction fast. The guy rowing was tall, blond — and Jack suddenly realised — was almost certainly Mr. Magnusson …

A fine rower too. Back in the States Jack had rowed a little in college but he quickly knew his limitations and switched to track. He’d seen guys who were destined to be international oarsmen though, and admired their technique.

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