2084 The End of Days by Derek Beaugarde Read Free Book Online Page A

more reporting work to the new trainee. You know - Ruthie Venters? The girl I assigned to you before Christmas. I would like a bit less of Ruthie running about getting you coffees and photocopies, if you please? I’m a big golfing buddy of her father - Dr Rolf Venters – he’s a top gyno in Harley Street. Told him I would keep an eye on his baby babushka. So I want to see her being stretched a bit more, okay?”
    That had been over a week ago and Buckley was as good as his word. The mountain of work had duly arrived on Jill’s desk and since then she had been madly running around the south east of England on the various investigations into known drug barons, organised gangs and the odd shady MP or three. She had been putting in far too many hours and missing too many lunch breaks. The only good thing that had come out of it, Jill thought, as she sat slumped exhaustedly on her sofa, was that Ruthie had actually turned out to be a real find. The girl was a workaholic and had the instinctive bloodhound’s nose for sleuthing out a top-notch story. Ruthie reminded her of the Jill she used to be not that long ago. The Jill she fully intended to be again. Just then her mobile rang shrilly and she stuck it to her ear, still half-numb with hunger and tiredness. She could not even bring herself to speak and she just listened for the caller to break the silence. He spoke in a whisper.
    “Hi, it’s me. I’ve been meaning to call you…”
    His voice was so low and muffled that she could not tell who it was, although she was sure the voice was familiar.
    “Sorry, can you speak up a bit?”
    He spoke just a fraction louder this time and Jill could hear the other muffled voices in the background.
    “It’s me, it’s Khan. I’m still at this latest meeting in Manchester. We’re just taking a short coffee break. I can’t speak for long –“
    “It’s bloody late for a meeting, Khan. I thought you were coming back tonight?”
    “I can’t, Jill. This property deal is busting my balls up here. But, I think I’ve just about got it cracked –“
    Jill’s fraught nerves made her feel irritable and snappy and she also felt a little nauseous again. In fact, she was beginning to worry that there was something medically amiss with her body lately. But then, she told herself, it all comes back to that niggling bloody text message from Khan.
    “What do mean you can’t come home tonight? You promised you’d be back!”
    Khan tried hard not to raise his voice. The other guys in the room who had been chatting over coffee were starting to pay attention to the rising irritation in his voice.
    “Jill, baby, this is a twenty million pound deal and it has been hanging in the balance for weeks. I’m getting real close to closing this one down –“
    Jill lost her temper and snapped down the phone at him.
    “I’ll tell you what’s hanging in the balance, Khan! You’re wanderlust cock and our bloody relationship – that’s what! You’re going to be staying with that fuckin’ bitch you’ve got up there, aren’t you?”
    Khan gritted his teeth and hissed back.
    “God, Jill, I’ve already told you there’s no-one else. It’s only you – only you, love. Look, they’re calling me back to the table. I’ve got to go, my sweet baby. I’ll phone you tomorrow…”
    Khan quickly finished the call before Jill could respond. He crossed back over to where the meeting table was across the room and sat down with the others who had now finished their coffees and had been waiting for him. The six men were all of various Middle Eastern origins, like Khan, who was himself a Muslim Kuwaiti-born Arab. His Jordanian friend spoke first.
    “She is beginning to be a problem, Khan, my friend –“
    “Look, Mahmoud, I can handle it. She doesn’t suspect a thing about what our Group is doing. She only thinks I’m screwing around.”
    Mahmoud El Kharroubi, the Al Jazirah journalist, who had known Khan al Ahmed since their university days in