The Gentlemen's Hour

134

“We found the bitch.”

Jones sighs. The young gangsters his client provided—what is their collective moniker? the Crazy Boys—are efficient and suitably cold-blooded, but must they always be so vulgar? And vague.

“Which bitch?” he asks into the phone, “given that we are looking for not one, but two, women.”

“The British bitch, no se, Petra.”

“Pick her up,” Jones says. “Bring her to me.”

A woman, he thinks.

And a man.

Conceivably a couple?

The possibilities are tantalizing.