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By Barry Maitland

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A taxi drove slowly past and Brock took out his phone and called Zack. After a moment he snapped it shut again and shook his head. ’ Brock’s phone rang and he answered it as they walked back to their car. Kathy watched the frown, the scratching at his cropped white hair and beard as he listened, classic signs of Brock’s impatience. ‘I really think that’s premature, sir,’ he said, then fell silent as the caller gave him an earful. ‘Right you are,’ he said finally, and rang off. He sighed. ’ They climbed in, Kathy started the car, then paused.

She laughed. ’ ‘But true. ’ ‘A mystery, eh? ’ He laughed, then sat up and peered out over the heads of the seated crowd. ‘I thought I saw your admirer again back there. ’ She peered at the image on his camera, and made out the man in the dark glasses, taller than the people around him, with black hair slicked back. ‘Oh yes, that’s him. ’ ‘Like a Mexican gangster. ’ ‘He’s probably gone home to his luxury penthouse, which is what we should be doing. ’ They finished their drinks and got to their feet, feeling stiff now and tired, and threaded their way down the row of chairs and through the trees onto the avenue leading back to the entrance gates, becoming part of a solid stream of people making their way out onto Lower Sloane Street.

That’s kind of you. ’ ‘Well, I’ll get moving. ’ Not much more than a mile away to the east, Kathy was working in her office.

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