E. Seymour - A Deadly Trade - A gripping espionage thriller

Eventually we swung into the grounds via a set of large electronic wrought-iron gates and drove uphill along a sinuous gravelled drive with fields on either side. Symbols of Billy’s success stood like monuments at every twist and turn: the man-made lake on which sat a rowing boat anchored to a post and chain; an old Victorian dovecote beautifully preserved; a folly glimpsed from within the manicured gardens. With a shudder, I realised then that the trappings of great wealth counted for nothing against a weapon of grotesque proportions.

At last we drew close to the entrance of a substantial black and white timbered farmhouse. I paid the fare and, as I handed it over, it occurred to me that I was no different from Billy. My rewards had also been earned from the deaths of others. The driver took my blood money and, pretending affability, nervously asked me to pass on his best wishes.

Brief conversation with a housekeeper informed me that Billy was last seen in the stable block. She suggested that I head that way. Other men would employ more stringent security measures. I could have been anyone. It was a measure of the man’s ruthlessness that Billy saw no need for extra protection. I knew that if he wanted to kill me he could, and probably smile in a moment of sober reflection afterwards.

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