Lethal Intent

Forty-two

'Delight' was pitching it a bit strong, Sean Green thought, but overall the place was not too bad. The furnishings were reasonably comfortable and, from what he had seen on his way through to the small office behind it, the kitchen looked clean.

'Hello,' said the bald, thick-set man behind the desk, as he rose to his feet, 'I'm Peter Bassam. You're the guy who phoned about the job?'

'That's right,' he said, extending his hand. 'John Stevenson.'

'Do you have references?' Bassam's English seemed impeccable, although his accent reminded Green of a Turkish villain in an old James Bond movie.

'Sure.' He took an envelope from his jacket and laid it on the desk. 'Plus there's a list of the places I've worked.'

'Where are you from? You don't sound Scottish.'

'Neither do you,' he responded, with a grin. 'I'm from Sussex originally; I came to Scotland a couple of years ago.'

'Why?'

'Girlfriend. I met her in Brighton, and followed her up north. She lives in Stirling so I took a job there.'

'Why are you moving on?'

Green fingered his nose, tenderly, under the new, plain-glass spectacles. 'Because her husband found out.'

'Ahh,' Bassam exclaimed. He grinned, and Green knew in that instant that he had the job. 'Always a risky game, my friend. What did the husband do?'

'He was a wholesaler; only a little guy, but he knew a couple of big guys.'

'This place you worked in Stirling, what was it?'

'Asian.'

'And before?'

'In Brighton? Asian again, but before that a couple of Cordon Bleu places, the kind where you're embarrassed about the size of the portions you're bringing to the table.'

'You won't have that problem here, I promise.' Bassam opened the envelope and slid out five sheets of paper, all different colours. 'These are all glowing, I take it,' he said.

'They're all honest. You'll find addresses and phone numbers on every one. Please, check me out.'

'I will, don't worry.' Somehow Green doubted that he would phone them all, but if he did, each call would be switched to an operative who would endorse the testimonial. 'When will I hear from you?' he asked.

'Where do you live?'

'I've rented a place in the West Port.'

Bassam glanced at his watch. 'That's good. Get yourself home and make sure you've got the proper dress for the job. My waiters are all expected to come to work in a clean white shirt, black trousers, black shoes and socks; we supply the red tie. Come back for six this evening, John, and I'll give you a trial.'

Green smiled. 'Thanks very much,' he said, meaning it. He shook Bassam's hand again as he rose.

'Just one thing,' said his new employer, with a raised eyebrow. 'If you ever meet my wife, don't get any ideas. The people I know break much more than noses.'