This was why she hated grudge jobs. She dropped her keys on the coffee table, keeping eye contact with the man sat on her sofa. The man she was contracted to kill two years ago in Hong Kong. Sighing she dropped into the armchair almost opposite him, hoping arrogance and nonchalance would mask the sound of her pounding heart, he had found her! How the hell had that happened?
"James Moriarty, I don't believe we were properly introduced in Hong Kong."
"I told him," she announced airily "I said 'If you want him dead, then let me just kill him, fatally wounding leaves room for mistakes'. And here you are."
He frowned slightly, the corners of his mouth turning up in a crooked smile,
"Are you calling me a mistake?" Moran supressed the urge to shiver, his soft Irish lilt was odd; amused but threatening at the same time.
"No, I'm calling him an idiot. Your survival is simply a by-product of his idiocy," she smiled at him "and it was a waste of a very nice suit."
He laughed, sitting back and considering the woman sat before him.
"I was going to have you killed," she couldn't believe how breezily he said it; he could almost have been talking about buying a pair of shoes, "but you. are. interesting. What would you say if I offered you a job?"
"Who? When? Where? How much?" she answered him instantly, it was something her father had taught her; hesitate and they doubt you.
"I don't mean one kill. I mean a permanent position with me."
"No. The only permanent thing about my job is the fate of my targets," he raised an eyebrow at her, "well most of my targets. A permanent job means you would know far more about me than I'd wish you too, and that's not good for business."
"Charlotte Abigail Sebastian-Moran, 5th generation army brat, I'm assuming that's why you're professionally known as 'The Colonel', cute by the way, daughter of Phillip Sebastian, probably the greatest assassin of his generation, which is why you used dear mummy, Alison's surname, because you want to know your jobs are about you and not about daddy."
His smile broadened as she stared at him. Her mask had slipped, the shock showed on her face, a tiny part of her was impressed, she'd hidden that stuff deep, but he had found it. She found herself going to work mode, breathe deep; calm heart-rate; fire.
"What exactly are you proposing?"
He had her exactly where he wanted her and they both knew it.
"I am a genius, and life. is. Boring! I'm 29 years old and, thanks to my attempts to shake this dull little world up a bit; I am in possession of a considerable amount of money. But just stealing isn't enough anymore."
"It got boring."
"Exactly! I want some variety, some surprises but that isn't going to happen when I know my next move and my opponent's next four moves. So I had an idea. I would help other people commit their crimes. I'd never know who was about to walk through the door, never know what challenge they were going to set me and I could pick jobs because of how interesting they are to me, as well as charging extortionate fees for the privilege of my help."
He was supposed to be dead, probably psychotic and had broken into her flat but something about him drew Moran in, he was captivatingly passionate.
"A consulting criminal," she muttered to herself,
"The only one in the world."
"That's brilliant."
"Thank you."
"These extortionate fees?" she asked "Just how extortionate are we talking here?"
"Ah, not easily distracted by art when there's business at hand. Useful."
"How much?" she insisted.
"You were paid £800,000 to kill me in Hong Kong. By the time we're through you'll be spending that on lunch."
She smiled at him. She knew she should be running as fast as she could in the other direction but Charlotte just couldn't say no to him, this was too interesting and she had a strange feeling that rejecting his proposal would probably be the last thing she ever did.
"Seems like you've got this all planned out, so what do you need me for?"
"My brains and resources, combined with your talent and connections? Honey we'd be unstoppable."
And with that little bit of flattery he'd banished all doubt from her mind. He was good. She stretched a hand out across the coffee table,
"Mr Moriarty, I think you've got yourself a deal."
He shook her hand,
"Please, call me Jim."
"Alright then, Jim."
"Can I call you Sebbie?"
She laughed,
"Never."
