On the way down to breakfast she stopped at reception to pick up a newspaper. They were laid out on the desk and one immediately caught her eye. The headline read; EXCLUSIVE – THE MAN WHO SAVED MELANIE ADAMS. There was a picture of a smiling man underneath. She took the paper into the small dining room and studied it while drinking coffee and eating some toast, although it made it difficult to digest her breakfast. Sam stared at the photo loathing the man and burning an imprint of his features on her memory. She had no problem with Melanie Adams she realized. She had done nothing wrong. In fact she quite liked her films. What the hell had they been thinking of, trying to kidnap her? That bloody fool Maguire had been leading her brother astray again.
She drank more coffee and thought about her brother. How he must be feeling all alone at the moment. He was going to have to spend a lot of years in prison, maybe his whole life. There would never be any chance of amnesty for this. She needed to see him so he knew he wasn’t alone. She returned to the photo in the newspaper. Think you’re so bloody clever don’t you Mr Tom Ashdown, she said to the picture. When will you lot ever learn to keep your noses out of our business? The article did all but give his address. He’d be easy enough to find and when she did find him, she would make him pay. Of that she was certain.
Sam’s thoughts turned back again to her brother and happier times. She loved her brother but she’d be the first to admit he wasn’t at the front of the line when they came to handing out brains. But he was there for her when she needed him. She remembered the time aged seven when she came home from school crying because Micky Rourke had taken her sweets and when she tried to stop him, he’d pushed her over and she’d grazed all her leg. It was her big bruv who had gone straight round to Mickey’s and come back home with some new sweets and a promise Mickey would never hurt her again.
She’d seen Mickey on the way to school next day and he’d crossed the road to avoid her and from then on she always felt safe, knowing she had a brother who would protect her. What her brother never discovered was that she made Mickey’s life hell for the next three years of school. It had been subtle, not Mickey’s style of brazen bullying. No, she had gained her personal revenge on Mickey every time she stole one of his books from his satchel or passed rumours amongst her friends of his disgusting habits. The best time was putting a large fly in his sandwich. It didn't matter he never discovered the additional filling. She had sat staring at him with a huge smile fixed on her face as he enthusiastically munched away. Poor Mickey had never really understood why he became so friendless and continually so unlucky.
Sam knew she was different to her brother. Everyone always said so. She was used to hearing, “you’re the smart one in the family.” Growing up she’d thought to be a nurse when she left school but changed her mind and after studying languages at University, she’d found she had a passion for travel but no real idea what to do for a career. A succession of short-term jobs confirmed she couldn’t face getting up every day to go to an office and spend eight hours behind a desk. It was her brother who suggested there were opportunities within the organization for someone to travel, who could speak fluent Spanish and French. Her Da hadn’t been happy when she went to him and told him she wanted in. But he knew how stubborn she could be and eventually agreed to make the necessary introductions. For the last two years she’d travelled to Spain and South America to make arrangements for shipments of everything from arms to drugs. She never carried drugs herself and didn’t count an occasional joint as really using them. She knew the money they made was put to good use and under the guise of working for a travel company, she finally got to indulge her passion for travel.
Sam finished eating and took the newspaper to her room. She tore out the picture of Tom Ashdown and folded it in two before placing it inside her purse. In truth his image was already irrevocably implanted on her mind. She knew from the article he lived in Brighton and ran a betting shop. After her meeting with her brother’s solicitor, she’d hire a car and pay a visit to the seaside.
Tom wasn’t entirely sure why he was surprised he’d had such a great evening. As he awoke in what was called the Royal suite at the Imperial he felt sure he must have been dreaming. The suite wasn’t the size of Melanie’s but it had all the same grandiose style and quality. This last couple of days was certainly creating unforgettable moments.
He recognized the signs of a near miss of a hangover. He had a dry mouth and tiniest degree of queasiness in his stomach but was thankful for the absence of a headache. He put it down to the quality of champagne they had drunk all evening. When Melanie had first suggested champagne and he’d readily agreed, he hadn’t anticipated them drinking two bottles of Cristal. Perhaps the way to avoid a hangover was always to drink very expensive booze. Only drawback was that you would be bankrupt in very quick time. Then he remembered more clearly that they had had two bottles of champagne at the restaurant but when they came back to the hotel they had enjoyed nightcaps in the bar, which in his case extended to almost half a bottle
