Blowback by Peter May Read Free Book Online Page A

tall, a man in his sixties, almost completely bald, with a tightly trimmed silver moustache. He was dressed all in black like the other servers, but had the relaxed demeanour of someone in charge.
    Guy nodded. “Thank you, Patrick.”
    Patrick waved an open palm toward the marble table and Enzo saw that it was now laden with food. There were a large breadbasket with four different kinds of bread to be broken by hand and eaten with the fingers, bowls of salad and pasta, and a large steaming dish of freshly cooked mussels in a cream and garlic sauce.
    Elisabeth Fraysse bustled out of the office as Guy and Enzo took their seats, and she sat opposite them while Patrick placed clean plates in front of each.
    “Did you get that bottle I asked for?” Guy asked him.
    Patrick made a small bow, for all the world like a well-practised butler, or an old family retainer. “I did, Monsieur Fraysse. I’ve had it breathing for you.”
    Guy grinned at Enzo. “A little something to celebrate your arrival.”
    As they loaded their plates with salad and pasta, and large scoops of shiny, gaping mussel shells revealing succulent orange
moules
, Patrick brought a bottle to the table and held it with the label toward Guy, bringing a smile to his employer’s face.
    “Perfect.” He turned to Enzo as Patrick poured him a mouthful to taste. “A 1993 DRC Grand Cru, La Tâche. Domaine de la Romanée Conti. Most people believe you should only drink white with fish and
fruits de mer
, but a good
pinot noir
will go with most seafood and is particularly good with
moules
.” He put his nose in the wine glass, breathed in, swirled it, breathed in again, then took a small sip to wash around his mouth. “Oh.” His eyes almost closed in ecstasy. “This is going to be so very good.”
    Patrick filled Enzo’s glass, then Guy’s, but Enzo noticed that Madame Fraysse was drinking only sparkling mineral water. Guy raised his glass to touch Enzo’s, and they sipped at the pale liquid red. Its wonderful spicy light fruit filled Enzo’s mouth, and he caught Guy watching him for his reaction. “I hope,” Enzo said, “that watching me drink this doesn’t induce you to die a little.”
    Guy laughed. “Never, when a bottle is shared with a friend. What do you think?”
    “I think it’s an extraordinary wine, Guy.”
    “What do you taste?”
    It was, it seemed to Enzo, almost like a test. What did he
really
know about wines. He took another sip to roll around his mouth and said, “It’s light, elegant. But still rich. Full of plum, berry, and a touch of vanilla. Aged long enough, I guess, for most of the tannins to have turned to fruit.”
    Guy grinned infectiously. “Spot on. You know your wines, Enzo. Not bad for a Scotsman.”
    “Maybe we’ll try a whisky tasting some day, and we’ll see how
you
get on?”
    Guy threw his head back and roared with laughter. “And I’ll bet there’s a thing or two about drinking whisky that you could teach me.”
    Enzo smiled. “You would win that bet.”
    He turned to the
moules
, breaking off a piece of bread to dip in their creamy juices, then extracting the first of them with his fork and popping it into his mouth. It was so soft and tender and full of flavour that it seemed to simply melt on his tongue. He used its empty shell as pincers to pick the others from their shells, savouring each one in turn, and cleansing his palate from time to time with some wine and the mildly dressed salad on his plate.
    He looked up to find Elisabeth Fraysse watching him. Her smile was a little embarrassed, as if she had been caught spying on him. “I see you enjoy your food, Monsieur Macleod.”
    Enzo grinned. “I do.” He patted his middle. “A little too much sometimes.” He mopped up more juices with another piece of bread. “What sort of waiting time is there for reservations at Chez Fraysse?”
    “It’s about six months these days,” Madame Fraysse said. Enzo’s hand froze midway to his mouth, juices