Passion Patrol Box Set 1

Combat-3-1

When she awoke it was dawn merging into day. Thankfully it was Saturday. He still slept as she slid out of bed and tiptoed to the lounge. Quickly she e-mailed her father: “Papa - I have come across potential client for Nereus 74. Can we come to Antibes end of the coming week for a sea trial? Complicated story - will call later. Anna x.”

As long as she arranged the boat excursion she should be able to keep all the balls in the air for a little longer. Even so she was dragging her father into her lie and it was by no means certain that he would go along with it.

She heard a sound and felt his lips kiss her hair and swung round to see him behind her wearing only his briefs.

“Complicated indeed,” he purred, “had you not told him? - I thought you had fixed it.”

Her heart thumped.

“I’ve been talking to the office - I’m keeping him up to date,” she lied, closing her lap top. She knew that if he thought about it he would realize she was lying but he seemed to accept it. Perhaps she should just tell him now that she was an Interpol detective and very possibly she could end up on his case? Perhaps not!

She fixed breakfast while he looked at the prints on her wall. He had his back to her as she watched his broad shoulders and the flex of his muscles as they moved like the shiver of a horse under his olive skin. His hard buttocks pushed out roundly under the cotton fabric.

She sighed inwardly - this guy was a god! Much as she hated to entertain the idea, she wondered how much she would overlook just in order to keep him. In the back of her mind his reluctance to talk about the fight troubled her. What had he meant when he said that there was more to it than she could know? It did not mean that he was a crook, but her professional instincts were ringing urgent alarm bells.

Too soon she had thrown on her Bench top and jeans and was driving him back to his hotel in her baby Smart sports car. Breakfast had got waylaid when she could no longer bear the temptation of his body and he had decided he could not bear the loneliness of the shower. He collected his bags from the Park Lane Hilton and she gunned it to Heathrow, using everything she had learned as a Class One Metropolitan Police driver.

“Wow! That was like a movie car chase,” he exclaimed as she squealed into the Terminal 2 car park.

With ten minutes to spare they arrived at the Departures gate. He took her in his arms and kissed her hungrily yet with a searching vulnerability, asking a deep question as he looked into her eyes. She let herself melt into his arms. Out of the corner of her eye she caught the flash of a camera as the resident Heathrow news hounds heard that Freddie was on their turf.

“To be honest I don’t want to go back without you. I have business and a TV interview. I have to go.”

She lay her cheek on his chest, “It’s only a few days - I’ll think of nothing else,” she said looking up at him.

With a final wave he strode though the doors and was gone. Probably he was late, but Air France would hold the flight!

Anna let out a sigh. He was a mistaken choice from the menu that might take years off her life, but the taste was delicious. As a young cop she had often asked druggies and gamblers why they didn’t just stop doing it. Up to two days ago she had known so little of life.

Back at her flat she called her father.

“Dad.”

“Anna - what on earth is going on - you want to come to France with a client?” asked a deep concerned very English well spoken voice.

“It’s a guy called Freddie La Salle.”

“Yeah - the boxer - met him in Cannes I believe.”

“Well, we met in London,” she began, pouring out the whole story aside leaving out the extent of their affair, “And all I need is for you to play along with the story that I work for the business.”

“So you want me to lie.”

“Uh, yes,” she replied.

“And if it comes to it will you be cuddling up to him and searching his pockets?”

“I don’t think it will come to that - I mean he seems so decent and honest.”

“Is that the cop or the lovesick female speaking?” He asked with a note of kindness.

“Who said anything about love?” she half laughed.

“You didn’t have to Anna. Look - just get him to Antibes on Friday. I’ll trust you to know what you are doing - but truth and love don’t always mix - you don’t need me to tell you that. Sometimes we cannot express our lives just the way we would like you know.”

She imagined him at the other end of the line. His tanned weather-beaten seafaring face and his white hair untidily swept back. It was odd that he had put things in the way that he had.

“I love only you Dad. Trust me and thanks,” she answered, sending a big noisy kiss down the receiver and ringing off.

Chapter 6Someone was knocking the door.

“Is this about God wanting me to change my gas supplier?” she said abruptly looking at a weedy youngish guy in jeans and a worn leather jacket.

“Ms Leyton... um... Inspector... I’ve got some information for you. Maybe I can help - maybe we can work together. We need to talk.”

His voice was London British. She quickly surveyed him - thirty-ish, quick nervous movements. If it came to a fight she could eat him. She relaxed a little. She was a detective and something about this little grungy geeky guy came across to her.

“So - you’re press or a private detective right?

“Hey - respect Inspector,” replied the little guy with a grin, “Fly Fisher - I reel ‘em in.”

“What kinda line is that?” she answered with a laugh at her own pun. He nodded an approval of her wit and smiled broadly.

“Okay - that’s my column, I’m Pete Making. I’m a reporter on Fan-Tale magazine. I guess you’ve not heard of us...”

“Right!” she said her mind racing through all possible angles.

“I wanna talk about Freddie La Salle, murder and global match fixing by criminals. Am I getting through?” he asked simply fixing her with keen smiling eyes.

“You got through,” she replied opening the door, “any nonsense and you’re on the way to jail.”

She got them both a coffee. This odd little reporter smiled and filled her in.

“Sport - ya know - it’s only the mugs who think it’s a game. But gambling ain’t even a game - if it was the winners would all be crooks. I’m an investigative journalist. This fight with Brennan is fixed. Your Freddie hasn’t even put on a glove for training. Either you’re on the case or you’re being hoodwinked.”

“Okay - but first tell me how you found me.”

“I followed you from the restaurant last night. I got a tip from a couple of paps who freelance for us that Freddie was out on the town with a pretty special girl.”

Anna frowned with indignation but let it ride in view of the compliment.

“I followed you here from Freddie’s restaurant. I saw you clinching on Westminster Bridge. The lady in the salon downstairs whispered to me you were a cop when I told her I was delivering a special bouquet and I had to find you before they wilted.”

“You should be a cop.”

“Huh - I’m too damn small Anna.”

She thought quickly. Probably he didn’t know she was on the match fixing operation. He had followed her and got lucky when he learned she was a cop.

“So - you tell me what’s going on. The crooks want Freddie to lose the fight I guess cos their money is on Brennan. If Freddie doesn’t train then he’s gonna lose. So, the odds will be on the other guy to win so the mob gets less money. Surely they want it to look like Freddie will win and sting all the punters who back him,” she said, aware that this was the first time she had really thought about the facts.

The weedy guy nodded and looked at her keenly.

“There’s a factor X somewhere in Freddie’s life Anna. Something out of place. I wanna know if he’s in on the deal or if he’s on some kinda mission. He’s not hiding... maybe that’s part of the plan. You must remember that the crooks can play the bookie and punter on the internet. The important thing for them is to know the result. My guess... and it’s only a guess, is that Freddie is playing them along. At his last fight they thought it was enough to fix the ref. Everyone in the game knows that Freddie wins on points. This time they won’t risk that...”

“And if Brennan wins he’s hot property as their champ and great white hope all in one,” said Anna.

“You got it... He’s a rough house brawler. That’s real box office.”

“So what’s Freddie up to?”

“You tell me Anna. Word is he’s out of shape. Freddie is a distance man. He can’t reckon on a short fight with a knock down. He just hasn’t got that type of punching power... he’s not a vicious guy Anna. If he stands against Brennan without training he’s gonna get badly hurt,” said the reporter with a dispassionate expertise.

“In your view - would they kill Freddie?”

“Too right they would. He knows what happened in Marseille and what happened to the ref. They’ll kill anyone in the way. That means you. That means me.”

Anna nodded. There were so many risks to weigh up.

“And this factor X... ” she began.

“The guy is a mystery to me Anna. I’m impartial but I’m a real fan but I’ve never seen him open up and go for an opponent, not even when he’s hurt. No show boat stuff... just a day at the office. He doesn’t do trash.”

She thought deeply. Obviously he was on the trail. She could not risk her association with Freddie being known to Scotland Yard at this stage and she could never risk it being known to whoever killed that referee.

“Look - there are problems here for both of us,” she began, “let’s keep this between ourselves. To be honest I know nothing of this. Freddie is a boyfriend - he has no idea I’m a cop and if you tell him - I’ve got ways of fixing you up... if you get my meaning Pete?” she half snarled, wanting to be sure that she conveyed a meaningful threat. This little geek could get her killed.

“Anna - Inspector - it will be our secret. I’ve heard there’s a squad on the job. I’ll leave it to you to make contact. I’ll share what I know in return for the inside story on La Salle - that’s all I want.”

“I’ll do my best. There’s twenty six thousand officers in the Met Police. It’ll take me a while to get a source. In the meantime give me something you couldn’t just know from the papers.”

“I’ll give you a name,” he began nervously, “MauroTondelli - he killed that referee. Tortured him first then strangled him with his bare hands. Threw the body in the river.”

Anna nodded. She could check this out.

“Give me a card Pete... I’ll call you.”

The little guy shook his head.

“No cards Inspector. Who knows whose hands you could fall into? Get your cell phone and dial the number I give you. That way we know each other. Don’t put any tag on that number. I’ll do the same.”

This guy was no mug. She dialed the number he gave her. She heard the phone ring in his pocket.

“Stay in touch Anna - feel free to call me. I’ll trust you to contact me.”

With that he stood up, offered a surprisingly firm handshake and headed for the door.

She sat down wearily and considered her options. This case was heating up. And just what was the factor X in Freddie’s life?

Chapter 7A few hours later she arrived at Judy’s rambling old three storey town house near Hammersmith Broadway. She had to talk to someone or she would burst. Perhaps she needed someone to calm her down and get her back on the rails. She also needed an action plan for the week ahead, best discussed away from the office. Judy had been delighted with the chance of a girlie chat.

“Fizzio-therapy,” she announced as she plonked down two bottles of sparkling Pinot Grigio.

Judy held her son Zak in her arms in the center of the toy strewn lounge. The three year old Mia ran to Anna exclaiming over and over “