“Just a sec, honey.”
She stuffed the foil-wrapped sandwiches into her large Gucci tote handbag. She was starving and couldn’t wait to eat, but they had both ignored the alarm, and her makeup had taken priority over food. The pair of them looked rather out of place leaving the small-terraced house in Guiseley. He was wearing a new dark blue wool suit from Hugo Boss with a light blue silk tie—he hoped his new bosses would appreciate the German connection. She had raided Harvey Nichols and splashed out on a Diane von Furstenberg lace dress. It hugged her figure, emphasising her breasts and bottom. She hoped it was not too much, but Michael had assured her she looked amazing,
The Germans would be in awe of his English rose, he had said.
The car rounded off the package. Heinz was holding the door open to a black Mercedes Benz S 600 Pullman Guard, an armoured limousine, more commonly used by politicians and celebrities. They both looked and felt like a million dollars, and if everything went to plan, that’s exactly what they would be worth in a few short years. As they slid into the back seat of the limousine, they were enveloped in the rich aroma of fresh coffee. A percolator sat on the middle console opposite their seat, bubbling the last drops of Columbian blend into a glass jug. Two china tea cups, a small jug of cream, and a bowl of sugar lumps sat next to the machine.
“Ooh, how lovely, should I be mother?”
She poured them both a cup as the car moved gracefully into the morning traffic. Both coffee and sandwiches were despatched post-haste, and the pair sat back to enjoy what would be a short ride to Leeds Bradford Airport. The limo surrounded them in leather and polished walnut panels, and Lisa made herself busy investigating the cupboards and minibar. A small compartment in the middle console held crystal tumblers and a bottle of fifty-five-year-old Glenfiddich whisky. The minibar overflowed with more expensive delicacies, including Beluga caviar and Belgian chocolates.
“I am going to enjoy doing Meyer-Hofmann’s books. It looks like they run up some serious expenses.” Lisa beamed at Michael.
Michael was watching the terminal building pass them on the right-hand side, wondering whether their German chauffeur had maybe missed a turn. It soon became obvious he had not, as the car slowed and made a turn towards a side gate to the airport. They were waved past the barrier by an armed security guard, and Lisa replaced their redundant passports into her handbag, rolling her eyes at Michael. A small road ran around the boundaries of the airport, and the limousine accelerated towards a small hangar on the outskirts of the facility. In front of the hangar was their ride, a Gulfstream G650, the gold standard in business aviation. The plane could cover over 7,000 nautical miles at a cruising speed of 0.85 Mach, and its interior was of a similar standard to the Mercedes Benz. Four large white leather seats were positioned around a smoked glass table. An ice bucket with a vintage bottle of Dom Pérignon Champagne waited for them, together with a silver bowl of fresh strawberries on the table. A beautiful platinum blonde stewardess greeted them warmly and served the bubbly as they took their seats.
“The flight will take a little under two hours. I have a full galley on board, and can offer you a full English breakfast, a choice of cold cuts with bread and cheese, or maybe some fresh fruit salad, if you would like?”
She waited expectantly. Lisa regretted the sandwich immediately. Their plastic ham on rye bread could not possibly compete, but she was full, and the strawberries would do for her. “No, thank you,” she replied with a disappointed smile.
“I’ll take the full English,” Michael said enthusiastically.
Lisa looked at him, surprised, but he just shrugged his shoulders at her.
“I’m starving.”
The stewardess looked positively delighted to have the order.
“Lovely, I will start the moment we get into the air. Please enjoy your flight, and if there is anything you need, just press the service button in your seats.”
The plane moved gently forward, as if it had waited for their dialogue to finish. It made a left turn, and without any further delay, the roar of the Rolls-Royce engines signalled their departure from the tarmac. The aircraft moved effortlessly up to its cruising altitude, and the couple settled back for the ride. Reaching across the table, taking her hands in his, Michael squeezed them gently.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
“Okay? I’m delighted, Michael—look at this! Darling, I think we’ve arrived.”
“I think we have. I can’t believe this, limousines, private planes. It’s another world!”
“You deserve it, Michael; you’ve worked so hard, and they are lucky to get you—this is no more than you deserve!”
He kissed the back of her right hand and sat back in his seat, breathing in the opulence of his surroundings.
I could get used to this, he thought, listening to the clink of cutlery from the galley against the steady hum of the plane’s motors.
After landing in Munich, they taxied to a private hangar, just a short distance from the main terminal buildings of the International Airport. An identical limousine was waiting on the tarmac for them, and Heinz had miraculously appeared next to it, wearing a pair of dark glasses and holding the door open.
“I think I am having déjà vu,” Michael said to Lisa as they descended the stairs of the plane.
“Where did he come from?” she asked, bewildered.
“He was probably in with the pilot.”
“No passport control here either,” Lisa remarked as they left the airport car park, and the car made its way towards the A92 motorway.
“Meyer-Hofmann must have some clout.”
Lisa blew out a deep breath to underline the statement.
“Yes, it’s amazing what money can buy these days.”
Heinz hit the accelerator, and they were both pressed back into the soft leather seats. Lisa squealed with delight. They both liked to drive fast, but Lisa was a real speed freak.
“I can’t wait to get on these motorways.”
“I know, darling, that’s what I’m worried about.”
They smiled at one another and held hands, supporting themselves as the car sped off in the direction of the Bavarian capital. The countryside rushed past them as trees and fields dissolved in a blur of greens and browns. Michael stared at their chauffeur in the driving mirror, somewhat perplexed. When he had picked them up from home, he was sure the man’s face was unblemished. Now, though, Heinz had removed the sunglasses to reveal a nasty reddish scar across his left eye.
10
Captain Myles Blackburn looked up from the reports on his desk as Joe Wilson entered. It was unusual for Wilson to visit his office, unless he wanted something. Blackburn’s hackles were already rising as the detective sergeant took a seat opposite him and handed him the letter.
Probably another plea for an overdue promotion, Blackburn thought.
Wilson was without doubt one of his best detectives, but he rubbed people up the wrong way. Male people that was, it seemed females were unable to see any of his many flaws.
“What’s this?”
“It’s a letter.” Wilson smiled.
“Great, wise guy. Why are you giving it to me?”
“Captain, you remember what I told you about the Singh case, that it wasn’t so cut and dried as everyone thought?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“Read.”
The captain scanned the letter before rubbing his forehead and slowly shaking his head.
“Who is this woman? Can she be trusted?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t been in touch with her yet. But I need you to stop them releasing the bodies until we have had a chance to examine them again.”
“The governor won’t like it. They were going to ship them back to India this week. The guy was some Indian politician’s son. Probably how he ended up running a company like HLH Partners.”