Infixion (Mesmeris Book 2) by K E Coles

Author:K E Coles
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
Publisher: White Glove
Published: 2014-09-08T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE SPICER

Spicer hadn’t driven since the day he passed his test. He kangarooed up the road, glad Ruby wasn’t there to mock. The first few times he hit the brake, he almost winded himself on the steering wheel, but by the time he reached his destination, he’d got the hang of it.

He turned into Crawshay Avenue – tree-lined, respectable, middle class suburbia. He pulled in alongside one of the larger, detached houses, set back from the road. Whatever Naden did, it paid pretty well.

Spicer pressed on the doorbell. No reply. He pushed again, his left hand sweaty on the package in his pocket.

A woman’s voice came from behind him, accompanied by a high-pitched, irritating bark. A thin, elderly woman stood at the end of the drive, her tiny, white dog beside her.

Yap, yap ‘. . . garden.’ Yap, yap ‘. . . expect,’ she said.

‘Pardon?’

‘Major Terrence.’ She shouted. ‘He’ll be in the garden.’

‘Right,’ Spicer said. ‘Thank you.’ He checked the number on the door. Definitely right. He went to the side of the house and shouted hello, aware of the woman watching.

The perfectly manicured garden appeared to be empty. To the right, stood a large greenhouse. Spicer drew closer, saw someone, crouched over flowerpots on a shelf.

‘Mr Naden?’ Spicer said.

The guy straightened up – sparse, ginger hair, cut in a military-style short back and sides, moustache. He looked about sixty-five, maybe older, but stood upright, shoulders back, chest puffed out.

‘Who the hell are you?’ Everything about him spoke of authority, including the public school accent.

‘Nic sent me.’

Naden looked past Spicer, down the garden. ‘And?’

‘We want something on Paterson.’

‘On Ian?’ Naden shook his head. ‘Can’t help you, I’m afraid. Now, if you don’t mind . . .’ He pushed past Spicer, and headed towards the house.

Spicer followed, through white-painted French windows into a square living room furnished in a sparse, masculine style – all leather furniture and dark wood. The kind of room where a stag’s head wouldn’t look out of place.

Naden turned. ‘I’ll tell you once. Get out of my house, before I call the police.’

Spicer would have liked nothing more than to leave the old guy be. ‘Can’t do that, sorry.’

Naden backed towards the fireplace. ‘Find someone else to do your dirty work. I want nothing to do with it.’

Spicer drew the package from his pocket, held it out. ‘He said to give you this.’

Naden stared. His face paled, took on a grey tinge. An old man, after all, behind the bluster.

‘Are you all right?’ The last thing Spicer wanted was this OAP pegging out on him.

Naden swallowed, took the package. ‘Is – is this what I think it is?’

His reaction piqued Spicer’s curiosity. ‘And what would that be?’

Naden glanced up at a pair of crossed swords hanging above the fireplace. Spicer wondered if he’d use them. He looked desperate enough - eyes protruding, artery pulsing in his neck. He glanced back at Spicer, assessing him, weighing his options perhaps.

Don’t do it, old man. Spicer flexed his fingers, stared back.

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