“After the meeting he’d be taking a cab to the hospital. The flowers, he thought, might just cheer Jessie up. Faces around the table studied the flowers. The meeting had been called for eleven. It was already ten past. ‘Welcome …’ A figure at the head of the table stood up, extending a hand. Introductions followed, names and titles, smiles and handshakes. The city’s Strategy Unit occupied a corner of the third floor in the Civic Centre, a smoked-glass seventies building straddling two sides of t...he Guildhall Square, and numbered half a dozen key officers. With one exception, they were all around the table. A secretary came in with a tray of coffee and relieved Charlie of the flowers. She admired them at arm’s length and reminded him to collect them before he left. Charlie watched her retreat to the big open-plan office outside. An hour’s walk along the seafront had dispelled the worst of the hangover but he’d remembered, far too late, that he’d left his file in Barnaby’s spare bedroom.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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