Regnum Defende

Agent Merlin was picking apart his third beer mat and dreaming of driving his fist into Eddie’s face when the object of his pique suddenly walked in.

“You’re late.”

“And you’re impatient.” Eddie sat and smiled. “What would you prefer, punctuality or thoroughness?”

“The two are not incompatible.”

“On this occasion they are. The mark didn’t leave his pad till three hour ago. I’ve been shivering my bollocks off in the car while you’ve been sitting here …”

“Did you do it?”

“Does Dolly Parton sleep on her back?” Eddie glanced around the bar and lowered his voice. “On our friend’s desk top, in a discreetly named file he won’t even notice is there, there are now over a thousand images of kiddie porn.”

Eddie sat back and widened his smile.

“So, you going to buy me a drink?”

Agent Merlin finished his scotch, stood and threw a manila envelope on the table.

“Here’s your money. Buy your own.”

Outside, he turned up his collar against the chill wind and fished his mobile out of his jacket. An empty Coke can rattled past as he tapped the number.

                                                               ♦ ♦ ♦

From deep inside the bowels of Thames House on Millbank, a man in an immaculate, three-piece suit snapped shut his portable phone and glanced at his superior sitting behind his desk.

“It’s done, Sir.”

“Good,” said the other, leaning back in his chair and swirling the brandy round in his glass. “I’ve a feeling the tiresome Mr Corbyn will not be bothering us for very much longer."

End