The Wrong Gentleman
Louise Bay
One
Landon
London’s buildings were lit up by the afternoon sun, the Regency moldings standing out, proudly on display. I couldn’t remember the last time I was out on the street and I’d looked up just to enjoy the view rather than to check for anything out of the ordinary. It was almost as if I were in a different city, even though I’d worked two streets away for the last seven years. I was always so focused on work or people. Reading situations and atmospheres.
I spotted the bookshop I’d been looking for and headed down some stone steps to the entrance. When was the last time I’d been in a bookshop? Even now I wasn’t sure what I was looking for—inspiration and ideas, I guessed. Places to visit, hobbies to master in the next few months. The last time I’d had free time I’d been in school with no money to do anything.
As of yesterday, my life was very different.
The travel section caught my eye and I headed right. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. I’d never done a beach holiday before, and I couldn’t imagine I’d be much good at lying on a sun lounger and drinking cocktails. It wasn’t really my style. Perhaps trekking. I’d never been to Costa Rica before, and I’d heard that it was beautiful. I started to pull out travel guides and flick through them.
“Landon Wolf, is that you?” a familiar male voice called from behind me.
I turned to see an old army buddy, Harry Reynolds, bounding toward me. I might not notice architecture, but I knew people, and I doubted Harry had ever been into a bookshop before. Our meeting was no coincidence.
“Reynolds,” I replied, setting the book I’d picked up back on the shelf and holding out my hand.
“Fuck, so great to see you, mate,” he said as he took my hand, shook it, and pulled me into a hug.
“It’s been a while,” I replied. “But you look good.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment from the best-looking bastard on the planet. What are you doing here?” He glanced around.
“What are you doing here is more of the question. Didn’t realize you could read.”
He chuckled. “Oh you know, just browsing. But now I’ve seen you, I might have an interesting proposition for you.”
I knew us running into each other was no accident. “Browsing?”
“Okay, I tracked you down. You’ve changed your number,” he said. “And I have something I want to talk to you about. Let’s get out of here. We can talk on the street.”
My stomach dipped. If he didn’t want to be overheard, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what this proposition of his was. I knew Reynolds had started up his own private-security business shortly after I’d started mine, but we’d never crossed professional paths. I didn’t want to start now.
“So, I hear you sold up,” he said as we got to the top of the stone stairs and out onto the pavement. The papers were only signed yesterday, so he must have his ear very close to the ground.
I nodded. “Yeah, got an offer too good to refuse.” Once I’d started to get higher end work and consistent government jobs, I started to get offers from buyers. I wasn’t interested at first—I liked the job too much but holding out just made the offers go up, so when I was offered a consultancy position at MI6 the same week as I got another multimillion-pound offer for my business, I’d decided the time was right.
“I heard that. Good for you. So, does this mean you’re at a loose end?”
I frowned and shoved my hands in my pockets as we began to walk toward Fleet Street. “I don’t know where you heard that.”
“Harvey told me that you had a couple of months to yourself.”
That made sense. Since leaving the SAS, our mutual friend, Harvey, had worked freelance doing all sorts of shit. I’d put a call in to him, asking him if he wanted to join me on a trip, but he’d been busy.
“He said you two were working together,” I said.
“For a few years now. I’ve got him in the Med at the moment, security for a VIP.”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t think of anything more boring than standing around in the heat, pretending I was guarding the safety of someone, when in fact, I was just there to make them feel important.
“He mentioned you had some time off before . . .” He frowned. “Whatever it is you’re doing next.”
“Yeah. I’m looking forward to doing nothing for a few months.”
Reynolds chuckled. “Yeah we both know that’s bullshit.”
It wasn’t exactly bullshit, but it wasn’t exactly the truth either. I couldn’t do nothing for any period of time. It wasn’t who I was. But I was looking forward to doing something new. Fresh. Exciting.
“I have a proposal for you,” he continued. “I’m shorthanded and have just been given a terrific job. I just need the right person for it.”
I shook my head. “I’m not your man, Reynolds. I don’t do field work.” I’d had plenty of men who used to work for me. My time was better spent strategizing and building my business. I had nothing left to prove in the field.
“This is hardly field work. Think of it as more of a paid holiday.”
“I don’t need the money, trust me.”