A Choice of Evils by Joe Thompson-Swift Read Free Book Online

soft midnight chimes of the carriage clock.

6
    A good night’s sleep put me in the right frame of mind as mouse woke me up at 7am. I stopped him laughing at me as I got out of bed. A peep out of the window brought me the glad tidings of a crisp bright day then I went through my usual routine with the kettle, bathroom, coffee and toast as I listened to radio 4 news. Oh dear, it seemed the talking point was an MP (member of parliament) got caught with his trousers down with somebody else’s wife. It seemed for the past few months newspapers were feasting on wife swapping and sleaze dredging. Never mind all the horrible things going on in the world or the state of the UK economy. Politician’s penises seemed more interesting to the news channels. But then mine was important to me too. Somehow that brought Aisha to mind and how I had met her after my meeting with Dr Ahmed. Now I was thinking about the XP42 formula. I had plenty to think about.
    A look in my post box as I left for the paper shop saw me finding two letters. One from my publishing agent asking for an update on my novel and another from Sharon, a girl friend, asking could she come over and cook me a meal. That always meant she was on the boil. Therapy she called it. But it was good for my biological condition too. I planned to phone her later.
    Outside the paper shop, the placards advertised the sleaze scandals. A stray dog looked at me for a hand out so I bought him a packet of crisps. Then he decided we were related and followed me some two hundred yards before a lamp post claimed his attentions for a pee. I was relieved about that as the varnish on my front door was already peeling off.
    Back home, I scanned the paper to see if there was anyone I knew. Two armed robbers who I had done time with years ago were on trial at the Old Baily high court. It was a typical case of guns, gangs and grasses (informants). Not my kind of people. Being known as a thief was bad enough, but stealing from the rich and famous was not as bad as stealing from the poor. I did have principles.
    I still had to get the films I had taken at the zoo developed so that was on my agenda besides looking at all the ones that Terry and the sisters had taken. I also need to look at the laboratory where Ahmed said Bruce had moved too. My guess was that the formula was somewhere in the lab he was said to have defected too. After I had mulled over my things to do, I made my way to the chemist which developed the films that could be collected after two hours.
    A drive into central London, found me outside the address of the Tropical Research Lab in Blackfriars Road. It was a big municipal building with cameras and security guards at the entrance. Clearly a pass was needed to gain entry.
    In my car, I sat, watched and waited, noting the procedures of visitors to the building. All were carefully vetted on production of a pass. I noted it happened only to those going in and not coming out. Somehow, I had to get one. It would of course have to be a forgery. I knew just the man who could supply that for me. Peter the pen! He was so good that he could draw a £50 note. But first I needed an original pass for him to copy. It would have to be stolen. Again I knew just the man who could help me with that. It was Danny the dipper. He could take the watch off your wrist with a hand shake. Often he would pretend to be drunk and fall all over his victims stealing their watches, rings and wallets. He could sit, watch and select his victim from here. I knew where I could find him. Satisfied my ideas were sound, I made for home, just in time to collect my photos before the chemist shop had shut.
    Once indoors, I made three phone calls. The first was to Sharon. She was in when I called. Already she was half packed, not forgetting her apron. That’s all she liked to wear when cooking. Eight o’clock she planned to arrive complete with oils and frilly knickers. My next call was to Peter the pen. I gave him a brief