The Becket Approval by Falconer Duncan (best big ereader .TXT) 📗

least attractive quality,’ she replied as she picked up her phone and headed away.

As he watched her go an eraser flew through the air and bounced off the side of his head. He quickly turned to see who had thrown it but everyone had their heads down in work mode leaving him no clue as to the culprit.

Gunnymede was sitting outside Dillon’s office as she entered it and closed the door. Dillon was at his desk absorbed by his screen.

‘Who is he?’ she asked.

Dillon looked for who she was referring to. ‘Who? Oh, that’s Devon Gunnymede.’

‘Who?’

‘Devon Gunnymede. He’ll be going to Albania with you. He’s your expert advisor, on loan to us from Military intelligence.’

‘Military intelligence?’

‘Indeed. It’s a mystery.’

She looked at Gunnymede through a gap in the smoked glass. ‘Why choose such a ridiculous cover name?’

Dillon hadn’t thought of that. ‘You don’t think it’s his real name?’

‘Devon Gunnymede? Please ... Advisor of what? Certainly not couture.’

‘I’m sure all will be revealed,’ Dillon said, getting to his feet and opening the door. ‘Would you come in please, Mr Gunnymede?’ Dillon winked at Bethan.

Gunnymede walked into the office.

Dillon closed the door behind him. ‘Thank you for coming. I understand it was at very short notice for you.’

Gunnymede smiled unconvincingly.

‘This is Bethan Trencher, our profile analyst. She’ll be going to Albania with you.’

‘We’ve met,’ Bethan said smiling politely.

‘Have you been travelling, Mr Gunnymede?’ Dillon asked. ‘You look ... weathered.’ Dillon regretted the question as soon as he’d asked it. ‘Well. We don’t have a lot of time,’ he quickly went on. ‘You have a plane to catch. Shall we get straight to the job in hand? Albania. What we know, which isn’t a great deal. There was a shooting incident on the border with Macedonia. Serious enough to make world news. A dozen fatalities, all Albanian border police. There were no British victims, however the Sherbimi Informativ Ushtarak,’ he read carefully from a document, ‘Albanian military intelligence, acronym Shiu, S H I U, has requested our assistance in the investigation. They’ve not given us much detail. All we know is that they have “interesting subjects” they’d like to discuss with us. And those who we must obey have consented to send representatives to provide that assistance, notably the both of you.’

‘Do you speak Albanian?’ Bethan asked Gunnymede.

‘No,’ Gunnymede replied.

‘You’ve been there before?’ she asked.

‘No.’

‘You’re a specialist in Balkan politics?’ she hoped.

‘No. In fact I don’t know anything about the Balkans. I know where Albania is,’ he added. ‘Roughly.’

Bethan looked at him, in particular his rash, wondering what he was doing there.

Dillon picked up a file and handed it to Bethan. ‘Your Shiu contact is one Ardian Kostaq. His details are in there as well as the case file. He speaks excellent English.’ Checking his watch. ‘You’d better get going. You can abreast Mr Gunnymede on our protocols while on your journey. Good luck and let me know if you need anything.’

Dillon sat back down and delved into his computer.

Bethan opened the door for Gunnymede who left. She paused to say something for Dillon’s ears only. ‘Why am I doing this?’ she asked.

‘Because you’re not entrepreneurial enough to be self-employed,’ he replied.

‘I meant this task. I’m not a detective.’

‘Someone upstairs thinks it needs your particular skills,’ he replied. ‘Success breeds opportunity.’

She walked out and closed the door. ‘I’ll meet you by the lift,’ she said to Gunnymede and headed to her desk.

As Gunnymede walked to the elevator Jedson stepped beside him. ‘Hello, mate.’

Gunnymede looked at him enquiringly.

‘You the MI lad?’

Gunnymede’s prat detector vibrated.

‘I’m a UCO, just in case you’re thinking I’m the cleaner,’ Jedson said with a forced chuckle. ‘Under Cover Operator. What happened to your neck?’

‘I was recently hung by Islamic terrorists?’ Gunnymede said.

Jedson chuckled. ‘Yeah. Right. Need to know. Understood. Well, gotta go. Bad guys to catch. Off to the range to do some pistol shooting. Oh, and, look after our Bet. She’s great. Nice bit of stuff. And hands off, ha! She’s mine. Or I’ll have to shoot you.’

Jedson shot Gunnymede with his fingers and walked away.

Bethan packed her laptop and files and was ready to go when Jedson blocked her way.

‘The strong silent type,’ Jedson said, referring to Gunnymede.

‘Love the last bit,’ she said.

‘Let me know if he gives you any trouble.’

She sighed and skirted around him without touching him. Jedson watched her go. An eraser bounced off the side of his head and he looked around angrily to see who it was but all heads were buried into work.

Bethan joined Gunnymede in the elevator. She gave him a polite smile and the doors closed.

Two hours later, Bethan led the way down the aisle of a commercial aircraft to their seats and opened the overhead locker. ‘Do you mind if I have the aisle seat?’ she asked.

‘Nope,’ he said, stuffing his jacket and bag into the locker.

As he leaned forward to get to his seat she accidentally struck his side with her laptop bag and he winced painfully, grabbing his wound.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, surprised at his sudden pain. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine,’ he said, recovering and sitting down.

She put her laptop into the locker and sat beside him.

The plane was three quarters full and they settled in as the crew prepared for take-off.

‘I take it you’re not enthralled to be on this job,’ she asked.

‘I was trying not to be obvious,’ he said, propping the pillow behind his neck and closing his eyes.

She rolled her eyes and sat back.

When they reached cruising height the seatbelt signs flicked off with a ping. Bethan got to her feet, removed her laptop bag from the locker and as she was about to sit back