Max Deepfake Revenge by Anthony Silman

Author:Anthony Silman [Silman, Anthony]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781800944527
Google: Z_GOzwEACAAJ
Amazon: B0BMB2LF3P
Goodreads: 77760410
Publisher: Michael Terence Publishing
Published: 2022-11-13T07:00:00+00:00

15

Max was having a blast. Karl called him from the Strasbourg office to offer any help and support he may need, and in Dordrecht, the local operations manager, his Dutch equivalent, Chloe sent an email from her home office asking Max to call her when he had a moment, which he did. The big tyre company contract was ahead of schedule and regional sales were increasing. Between them, Max, Chloe and Karl were on top of their games, and Max knew that Dan would be pleased.

Max told himself he deserved a drink and, unusually, stopped off at The Carpenters Arms. It was not his type of pub, but the draught bitter was excellent, and that’s just what he fancied.

Duggie recognised ‘Slicko’ the moment he walked in. It was unusual for Duggie to be in ‘Sniff’s pub,’ but he’d called in hoping to bump into his chum and mentor.

“A pint of your wonderful bitter please,” Max asked of Eric, who responded with action, not word or smile. Eric was a master of taciturn.

Max looked around. His eye settled for an instant on Duggie and then moved on. I’m sure I know that little bloke, he thought as his mind drifted back to the clattering Ford Escort and his first illicit transaction in the Onetelcall car park.

Several poly bubble packs later, Max was more familiar with the car than its driver but seeing Duggie, even out of context, made the image clearer. Apart from a young couple sharing a bottle of wine at the window table and two middle-aged men leaning against the bar, heads close in earnest conversation, it was just Duggie and Max at the beer-taps end of the bar.

Max decided.

“Buy you a beer?”

Duggie was overwhelmed with confusion and unidentifiable foreboding. Should he say ‘yes’ or ‘no’? Should he know Max or not? Should they be talking or not? What would Sniff say? Christ.

“Stella please.”

Eric, unasked, obliged and placed Duggie’s new pint down with a meaningful splosh. Duggie knew it was a meaningful gesture but had no idea what the meaning was.

“Cheers, thanks.” God, don’t let him talk to me, please make him go.

“Yeah, cheers. Quiet in here today, isn’t it,” commented Max to Duggie and Eric together.

“Oh yes,” blurted Duggie, “court, you know, they’re all in court.”

Max’s senses rang their alarm.

“Really?” he responded with one of his winning smiles, “all in court, eh? What on earth have they all done? Nothing too serious, I hope, no prison sentences in the offing, are they?” he said with a laugh in his voice.

“Ain’t nothing to talk about,” declared Eric, with taciturn factor turned up to eleven. “The wife’s just a witness in some case involving one of our regulars, that’s all. No one’s done nothing wrong round here, and that’s a fact.”

Max nodded his understanding.

“Courts are tedious, long-winded affairs usually; your wife has my sympathy.”

Duggie listened, watched and thought if Max and Eric were talking, he must be on safe ground, besides which he might get another pint out of ‘Slicko.’

“Yeah, I’ve been in court, you know, it was fuckin pants.

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