He wasn’t averse to the thought of appearing on television. As Clifford Maxwell had said, “the more publicity the better. Make the most of your fifteen minutes of fame.” Clifford had even suggested that the next step would be to appear on some reality celebrity show. Although the idea of being a celebrity was slightly absurd, Tom was more than happy with the idea of being paid to spend time in the jungle or on a tropical desert island, with some of the beauties he knew generally took part in such shows. He had however made it clear to Clifford that he had no wish to be locked up in a house with anyone.
Breakfast was some orange juice and toast, his staple morning diet during the week. He turned on the radio and listened to the morning show on Heart FM while he ate. He liked their mixture of music and humorous chat. He was feeling quite pleased with himself as he sat glancing at the Racing Post, which was delivered to his door early every morning.
He’d spent a couple of hours the previous evening playing poker on the Internet. His newfound wealth enabled him to play with a sense of financial confidence rather than his normal desperation to win. As a result he actually found himself enjoying playing, a feeling he hadn’t experienced for a long time. Playing in a relaxed manner, he ended the evening three hundred pounds richer. Now if he could just achieve that every day he would have an annual tax free income of about one hundred thousand pounds. Maybe, he thought, but there had been too many new dawns over the years for him to get very quickly carried away with one evening’s success. He turned the pages of the paper quicker than usual, just stopping to read a couple of articles with predictions for the big Christmas races. He finished his breakfast and checked his watch. Time to be going.
Tom had dressed in a navy blazer and grey trousers that conveyed a smart but casual appearance. He had considered putting on his lucky suit but decided it was unnecessary as the interview should be straightforward. There was a bounce to his step as he headed for his car. As he sat behind the wheel of his ten year old BWM he realised he could buy a new one if he wanted. He would have to make some further plans for the money from the paper. A holiday somewhere exotic would be high on the agenda. Maybe Melanie would like to come away with him. Maybe he could visit her in the States and combine it with once again playing poker in Vegas. Now that would be interesting. Maybe she would introduce him to all her film star friends. He laughed out loud. Sure and maybe he would never gamble again! Too many maybes for one morning but life just keeps getting better, he thought to himself.
Sam had checked out of her hotel and retraced her steps to Brighton. She found a small and cheap hotel close to the seafront. It was more of a guest house actually than a hotel. She saw little point in being in London if Ashdown was in Brighton. She had seen her brother’s solicitor and he wanted his client to plead guilty to murder and attempted kidnapping in return for a life sentence with the chance of parole after twenty years. She knew there was no option, as pleading not guilty would be considered an expensive waste of the court’s time and he would spend far longer in prison. Even though he hadn’t pulled the trigger, he was equally as guilty in the law’s eyes. In Sam’s eyes though only one man was guilty.
She had made the call to Eduardo who had been very happy to hear from her. They had met probably a dozen times over the previous two years. Mostly she was taking messages between home and Eduardo. He was a good looking man in a tanned South American kind of way. Sam thought he was originally Colombian but he lived in Spain and travelled on a Spanish passport. He was about ten or possibly fifteen years older than her but he looked after himself and sleeping with him would be no hardship. In fact the more she thought about the idea, the more it appealed. Eduardo was a wealthy and powerful man. He was used to getting what he wanted but had always treated her properly. They had enjoyed several dinners together in fine restaurants in Madrid and he had always behaved like a gentleman. He’d certainly been a lot less pushy than most of the men back home and he’d understood what No meant. Even so she’d always flirted a little and held out the promise that one day he might have a chance.
She had learned at a quite young age that boys and then men wanted her. She could use a smile to encourage and get what she wanted. She could deal with a man’s bad mood by offering him sex. She could celebrate with a man by having sex. She knew she could often attract a man just by saying No to him. Men always wanted what they couldn’t have. Once they had it, she had also learned that their interest could quickly diminish. She had used this knowledge to her advantage
