39
Back In Manchester
I sat inside the city-centre coffee shop watching the rain bounce down outside, dressed as Katerina. White dress. Black boots. Grey mackintosh. And a bit of bling.
I was back on the healthy eating, so I stuck to OJ and carrot cake. Well, anything with carrot had to be healthy, right?
The target wasn’t there yet, but I’d tracked them unseen all the way from their home on the bus, using a few of my new spy skills. Tradecraft, as Philippe called it.
I knew their movements well and I gave it five minutes before they turned up here, ordering a cinnamon swirl and a mochachoccawhatever.
My phone pinged. You have 1 new email.
I opened it up. It said: Something you might find interesting. From your friends in low places.
It was Giles. He and his hacker mates were busy
