Paparazzi Jo Fenton (the first e reader .txt) 📖

all about, what either of them have been working on, or why the hell you’re involved. And frankly, I’m surprised it was worth you revealing yourself to me. Was it necessary, or was it only because I showed up this morning?”

“It is necessary, and you saved me the job of showing up at your home. Matt had asked me to avoid that if possible. But he did help me to find Joanna. He didn’t realise we’d lost touch with her, and mentioned that he was surprised when she’d showed up at your house. It was easy after that. But now that you’re aware of our existence, it’s imperative to bring you in to some degree.”

“I get that, but I’m still waiting for you to tell me something.”

His brief pause is breached by a mobile phone ring tone; ironically, Skyfall, one of the more recent James Bond theme tunes. He answers it with a brief ‘Yes’. There follows a series of yes and no responses, during which Joanna and I exchange frustrated glances. A moment later, with the call ended, he puts his phone back in his left inside jacket pocket.

“I’m afraid I have to go, as I’m needed elsewhere. Becky, I just need you to sign this. When I get home I’ll scan it and email you a copy.” He extracts a plain white envelope from his right inside jacket pocket and hands it to me. I open it and read. It’s a brief statement confirming that I am bound by the Official Secrets Act and will reveal nothing under any circumstances.

“I don’t know anything to reveal.” I shake my head, frustrated by the lack of information.

“You know enough. You’ll learn more in the days ahead, as I believe your skills and knowledge will be useful to us. Meanwhile, continue with your current case. It has no bearing on our present work, but it should prove a useful exercise for you to renew your skills.”

He hands me a pen, and I sign. My chest tightens. I feel as though he’s backed me into a corner, and I have no choice, but Joanna smiles at me, and nods. I hand back the pen and the signed document, and Roger leaves without another word.

Chapter Fourteen

With Roger gone, we return to the lounge, and settle back into the seats we occupied before. I turn to Joanna.

“Right, so I’ve now signed the Official Secrets Act. Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“It’s not for me to say. I think you probably know enough. Anyway, I don’t think Roger cares about the past. I have a feeling he wants you on his team for the future.”

“Fantastic. I’m just about getting my head around becoming a private detective. I don’t think I can handle the idea of being a spy.” Bile rises in my throat.

“No one’s asking you to be a spy, Becky. But sometimes there are activities a civilian can handle best, and Roger and his team like to have people on the ground to help. I guess in our new roles as White Knights, we might be able to investigate a few things for him.”

“What did he say to you before I arrived?”

“He was having a bit of a go at me for running away without telling him where I was. I’m pleased you turned up when you did. He just kept going on about it before then.”

“So what makes you think he wants us to investigate stuff for him?” I rest back in my chair, curiosity overcoming fear for the moment.

“He handed me this before he left.” She shows me a torn piece of newspaper. It’s got an advert on it – recruitment for a lab technician. It’s obviously at the top of the page, as the name of the newspaper is on it, and yesterday’s date.

“Is he suggesting you apply for it?”

“I reckon so. It’s not far from here, and it’s got to be more interesting than Asda. If the pay is okay, I might be able to buy myself a cheap car. Roger might part with a few hundred quid in advance if I ask nicely.”

My phone buzzes, and I glance at it. “Shit, is that the time?”

“Why?” Joanna looks at her watch. “I make it just gone twelve-thirty.”

“I should have been meeting someone at half past. I’d better just message to say I’m running late.” I tap a quick apology into my phone and click Send.

Finn will be waiting for me.

***

I park outside the pub, tucking the car as discreetly as possible between two large SUVs and with my rear bumper against a hedge. Opening the sun visor, I check my face in the mirror. I look a wreck. I’m already late, so an extra minute won’t make much difference. A quick attack with a hairbrush and lipstick, and the worst is hidden. Hopefully Finn won’t look too closely. I get out of the car and head inside.

He’s sitting at a table near the back of the pub – a fact which he informed me of by text. I find him easily and get a few seconds of observation before he lowers his newspaper. In the six months since I last saw him, he’s gained a few grey hairs, and lost weight. He looks tired.

“Becks!” He folds his paper quickly, throws it on the table, and gets up. I’m enfolded in a hug tight enough to crack ribs. “God, I’ve missed you, girl,” he whispers against my ear.

I cling on for a moment, then pull away, a little too conscious that we’re in a public place. I sit down and pick up a menu, using it to shield my hot face.

I notice he takes his time to sit down and watches me intently while he does so. It’s been too long since we met and spoke, and there’s too much history for us to pick up and carry on as though nothing had happened. I feel as tongue-tied as a teenager on a first date. Actually, I think Cheryl would