walked down through the hotel reception to meet his driver. Manuel was waiting at the surgery. He could see that his patient was making a remarkable recovery and could walk unaided from the car. They went straight into the operating room; Enrico had already prepared a tray with disinfectant swabs and needle-sharp scissors. There were still extensive black bruises almost covering the padent's entire torso. However, the small incisions were healing well, and Enrico cleaned them and replaced the small round plasters. Manuel then asked his client to sit in a chair beneath a strong lamp, and he personally unwound the head bandages. The fine, delicate stitches were snipped one by one and Mr. Smith could hear a faint sound as each was placed into a stainless-steel bowl. Once the last area of plaster across the nose had been removed, Manuel leaned close to inspect his work.'Good, very good.'Mr. Smith examined himself in a mirror. His face was puffy and the scars were still red, but none were infected, and within hours the narrow bridge of his nose would broaden. His thinning hair was dirty and the ponytail was caked in blood. He had not had a total browlift because of his receding hair; hair plugs would have made the skin too stretched and raw.'How soon can I get plugs done for a hairline?' he asked Manuel.'In a couple of weeks, 1 would suggest.''What about the teeth? I can begin a series of dental implants, can't I?''Yes, of course.'Manuel was astonished that his patient gave no reaction to his finished work. It was, even by his standards, a superb transformation. The man hardly resembled himself, yet he seemed intent only on leaving as quickly as possible. Manuel was paid twenty-five thousand dollars in used notes, packed into a large brown envelope. Smiling, Mr. Smith passed over a second envelope containing the extra ten thousand dollars.Manuel placed the money into the pocket of his wheelchair without counting it.Then Mr. Smith surprised him. He was about to click shut the briefcase when he hesitated and removed a small square box which he passed over to Manuel.'A little extra gift,' he said. 'Enjoy ...'He strolled out, albeit stiffly because the liposuction soil made it uncomfortable to walk. His suit hung as if too large and he placed a cream cotton cap on his head to cover his scalp and donned a pair of dark sunglasses. Back in his hotel room, Mr. Smith spent almost an hour staring at his reflection in the dressing-table mirror. It was an amazing transformation: his chin and neck were taut and the cheek implants made his face look chiseled. His lips were still puffy but his nose was looking much better. Before, he had had an aquiline, almost hooked nose; now it was small but perfectly straight.After a much-needed shower, he looked again at his reflection. Gone was the beginning of a paunch and he had regained a muscular slenderness. In fact, he had dropped at least fifteen years; by the time he had his hair transplants and new teeth, he reckoned he would look no more than late forties or early fifties.Enrico had returned home to his family. As ever, Manuel had been very generous, but he was concerned. The box had contained four vials of Fentanyl, and when he had tried to take it, Manuel had snapped at him to leave it in the fridge. Fentanyl was unobtainable in Mexico and he feared that the young man, although clean for four years, might be tempted.Mr. Smith flew to Los Angeles and from there on to Brazil for the rest of his makeover. Although he was still feeling some twinges of pain, the worst of it was over. He did as Manuel instructed and waited another six weeks before he had a full transplant of hair, not gray, but dark brown, combed back from his forehead and cut into a shorter style. Now it was just below his collar, exactly as Manuel had worn his.Lastly, he had a three-week session with a dental surgeon who implanted six back teeth and gave him what they termed in Hollywood 'the smile' makeover. By this time he had begun to work out, not too strenuously, but he wanted to retain his slenderness.The entire 'operation' had taken almost three months and he was finally ready to return to England. Money was running out and he was about to make one of the biggest deals of his life. His luxurious life had been disrupted by a disastrous turn of events in the German and American money markets, leaving him on the verge of bankruptcy. Never one to dwell on misfortune, however, he was certain that he could—and would—once again return to the lifestyle he had grown accustomed to. With his new image, he was confident that he could remain undetected until his deals had been organized.Leaving Brazil, he flew to Spain to arrange finances for a boat he had ordered to be brought into Puerto Banus. Money by now was a major problem; he had to get financed and fast, and it had to be cash. But he remained assured that he would be able to accomplish his deal.However, dealing with drug cartels from Colombia, he could not afford to make any mistakes.One mistake would obviously have been his connection to Manuel, but as a man who had been around drugs and addicts for many years, he was sure that temptation would rid him of any risk from that quarter. He was correct. Enrico, not having heard from Manuel for over a week, went to the clinic. He knew by the accumulation of black flies in the overheated reception room that what he had feared had happened.Due to the low temperature in the operating theater, Manuel's body was not too decomposed. The still-handsome man sat in his chair, his dead eyes staring, as if at the open box of Fentanyl resting on his lap. He had used only one vial but that had been more than enough to stop his heart.Mr. Smith made arrangements to return to England. He doubted that he would have problems entering the UK and he was looking forward to 'going home' once more. He was also confident that, using one or other of his many passports, he would not be recognized, even by his own mother. Detective Inspector Anna Travis's relationship with James Langton was long over. Since she had last seen him, she had been assigned two other investigations. She had read about his promotion to Chief Superintendent and so knew that he was overseeing all the Murder Squad teams. She also knew that her most recent cases would have come her way on Langton's recommendation. Anna had been nervous about confronting him again, but neither investigation had created much media attention and Langton had not even made an appearance.The small flat, however, which had been hers before he moved in, retained his strong presence. To get him out of her system completely, she knew she should find another place to live. She put the flat up for sale and, in a matter of weeks, had received a cash offer—which meant she had to hurry to find herself a new home.It was a depressing experience. One apartment after the other was nowhere near as pleasant, or as well maintained, as the one she was selling. Finally, she found what she wanted: a top-floor maisonette, part of a new development close to Tower Bridge, overlooking the Thames, it had one spacious bedroom with bathroom ensuite, an open-plan living room with kitchen and dining space, and views of the river from wraparound windows. A balcony ran the width of the main room, with space enough for a small table and two chairs. There were only seven other apartments below hers, then underground garage parking, with a lift to all floors. The security of the building was a major plus.Anna spent several sleepless nights wondering whether she should take on the apartment, knowing it would be a stretch, with her salary, to manage the high mortgage payments. It was during one of these nights, sipping a glass of warm whiskey, that she realized how few friends she had. She could think of no one whom she could take to see the
CHAPTER 2
apartment. She was feeling lonely; the ghost of Langton kept resurfacing. He lived not too far away from her, in Kilburn. This move would be a clean break: no chance of running into him or his ex-wife. Anna took leave for two weeks to accommodate the sale and the move.In the heat of the moment, Anna opened an account at John Lewis on Oxford Street and ordered new bed linen as well as new blinds and rugs, as the floors were all stripped pine. She even went crazy and bought a massive plasma-screen TV. She coordinated all the removal crates, tagging and bagging everything as if it was a massive forensic exercise. On the day of the move, she was up at eight, what small items she could ferry in her Mini stacked up and ready to go.Later, standing in front of her new windows, overlooking the river, surrounded by her unpacked belongings, Anna broke down. She didn't understand why she couldn't stop crying; all the upheaval of the past few weeks was over. Was it exhaustion or the fact that, if she wasn't careful, she could run into serious debt? Or was it because she felt just as lonely as before?With a huge effort, she pushed herself into unloading her china and glass and finding homes for it in the sparkling new cupboards. She worked hour upon hour, determined to get everything unpacked and in position before she went back to work. Late that evening, she flopped down in a state of exhaustion on the new bed. The bubble wrap was still on the mattress, but she was too tired to take it off. She just wrapped her duvet around herself and crashed out.A couple of hours later, she was woken by a loud foghorn and shot up in a panic. No one had mentioned that the riverboats were similar to street traffic. Anna stood in her pajamas, staring down at the dark river below, watching the lit-up boats passing back and forth. Mist hung like a gray cloud just above the water. She took a deep breath: it was a view worth taking in. Suddenly she knew she had done the right thing. This was going to be a very special place to live.At eight the next morning, Anna got back into her jeans and an old sweater, intending to have another bout of unpacking and settling in. She went down to the garage and was impressed by the array of expensive cars there: a Porsche, a Ferrari, two Range Rovers, and a Lexus.
