Man of the World by Paul D. Brazill

Author:Paul D. Brazill
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Down & Out Books

Waterloo Station was cluttered with its usual mishmash of commuting businessmen, holiday-goers heading off to France and the waifs and strays found at train stations everywhere. I’d dressed in a black roll neck sweater, black jeans and a brown corduroy jacket and brogues. I’d even put on a pair of horn-rimmed glasses, hoping to look as neutral as possible. I had the holdall over my shoulder and patted it regularly. The station was riddled with pickpockets and bag thieves. And spectres, of course. Meatloaf, Danny Blake, Napper—they were all hanging around outside Foyles bookshop.

I pushed through a group of babbling Italian teenagers and went into Foyles. It was full. I headed straight to the gardening section where, as expected, I found Lulu. Alec ‘Lulu’ Louise was well over six feet tall with his long red hair tied in a ponytail. He wore a worn leather biker’s jacket, a frayed Motorhead T-shirt and ripped jeans. He was flicking through a Monty Don gardening book and sneering.

‘I take it you’re not impressed, then?’ I said.

‘Hardly,’ said Lulu. ‘He’s just another posh-boy dabbler. A dilettante with the right connections. The media’s full of them these days.’

I shrugged. ‘Probably always was.’

He put down the book and turned to me. ‘Well, you’re looking in pretty good nick, considering.’

‘That’s clean living for you,’ I said. ‘I’ve been cutting down on the booze since I came back to London. I stopped smoking and am pretty much a vegetarian these days.’

Lulu shook his head and groaned. ‘Now, that is one step beyond,’ he said. ‘I’m partial to a bit of pork.’ He winked.

‘Trust me,’ I said, ‘a change in the diet could make even you shed the pounds.’

‘You know that sort of body shaming can be really hurtful. Besides, Ashan likes my love handles.’ He patted his sides.

‘How is your better half these days? Still doing the MI6 gig?’ I said.

‘Off and on. He’s working more for Mossad these days, though. They’re a right bunch of psycho bastards they are, by the sounds of it.’

‘I bet he bloody loves it.’

‘Oh, he does! Anyway, let’s go somewhere a little more private.’

We stepped outside the shop.

‘I take it nobody followed you?’

‘I don’t think so, but you can’t take anything for granted,’ I said and looked up at a drone buzzing overhead.

Lulu chuckled.

‘That’s alright. It’s one of ours,’ he said.

‘By ours, I take it you mean The Ministry?’

‘Of course. I’m sure you didn’t believe all that bullshit about breaking up the band, as it were. We’ve just widened our horizons, is all. So, what’s your poison now you’re on the wagon?’

‘Would you believe me if I told you I was heavily into Zico coconut water?’

‘I might if I knew what the bloody hell it was,’ said Lulu.

We walked down to Villers Street and into Gordon’s Wine Bar, down the narrow staircase and into the dark cellar. The place smelled of wine and cheese. It was full of early morning drinkers, tourists and bright young things. Flashy media types and city boys sat around chatting.

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