Nick Stephenson - Paydown (Leopold Blake Series)

Copyright © 2013 Nick Stephenson

The right of Nick Stephenson to be identified as the authors of the Work has been asserted him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

First published in Great Britain in 2013 by WJ Books Ltd.

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or otherwise, without written permission from the author.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Paydown: A Leopold Blake Thriller

About the Author

More Books by the Author

PAYDOWN

A Leopold Blake Thriller

By Nick Stephenson

Greed can be murder...

When a high-flying Wall Street investment banker is found brutally killed, what started out as a simple fraud case turns into expert criminologist Leopold Blake's first ever murder investigation.

Now, with the financial world at the brink of collapse, Blake must put aside his differences and work with NYPD Detective Mary Jordan to find and stop the killer before it's too late. As the glamor of Wall Street is stripped away by a series of catastrophic discoveries, Leopold will have to decide how much he is prepared to risk in order to uncover the truth - and whether it's a price he's willing to pay.

Paydown is a novella of 25,000 words (approx. 95 print pages) set several years before the other books in the Leopold Blake series of thrillers.

Note from the Author

The events in this story take place several years before Panic, the first novel in the Leopold Blake series of thrillers, and are loosely based around the financial crisis that hit the world in 2007.

Paydown is a novella of 25,000 words (roughly 95 print pages) and is a classic prequel to the other books in the series, which can be read and enjoyed in any order. I've made sure not to include spoilers (for those of you who are new to the characters) and any existing fans of Leopold's escapades will still find plenty of fresh action and mystery, as well as a little background detail on some of the major players in the Leopold Blake universe. All in all, there's something for everyone.

I had an absolute blast writing this book - I hope you have a blast reading it too.

Nick Stephenson

Summer 2007

Leopold Blake sat in the hotel bar, two martinis already in him, and waited. A man in a tux played the piano in a far corner and the room was full, though Leopold had managed to find a stool near the taps. He helped himself to a handful of peanuts from the jar on the counter and caught the barman’s eye.

“Same again?” The man cleared the empty glass away.

“Dry this time,” said Leopold. “No peel. If I want lemon, I’ll order lemonade.”

The barman nodded and picked up a shaker. Leopold watched him fill the steel container with ice before pouring in a healthy measure of Bombay Sapphire. Next, he dripped dry vermouth into a cold glass, swirled the liquid around the rim, and poured the contents away. He stirred the gin and strained it into the glass.

“Sir.” The barman slid the drink over.

Leopold nodded and sipped. It was good enough, not perfect. The room felt warmer, probably thanks to the alcohol, and Leopold felt hungry. The peanuts didn’t help, making him want to drink his martini all the faster, but his aim wasn’t to get drunk, not tonight. Not while he was working.

Outside the barroom, near Reception, a woman marched across the floor. The clip clap of her heels on the polished tiles sounded a familiar gait, the right foot falling harder than the left, either a limp or ill-fitting shoes. Leopold figured the latter. A cop’s salary didn’t usually stretch to luxury footwear.

She reached the carpet, the sound of her approach vanishing just as the light hit her face. Her features were alluring, Leopold always thought, with her high cheekbones and sharp jaw. And the eyes.

Leopold stood up as she drew close, her perfume drifting into his nostrils. She wore a black dress, a clutch bag slung over one shoulder. The outfit looked brand new.

“Blake, you better have a damn good reason for dragging me out at this time of night,” she said.

He glanced at his watch. “It’s ten thirty p.m.”

“Damn right. You know what time I get up?”

“We’re here to surveil. We can’t surveil someone while we’re asleep, can we?”

“Are you drinking?” She eyed his half-empty glass.

“I’m blending in.” He smiled and took another sip. “One for you?”

“I’m on duty.”

“You strike me as a Bellini kind of girl.” He turned and snapped his fingers. The barman had apparently overheard, fetching down a bottle of Moët from the fridge.

“I said no.”

“Relax, Mary. We might be down here a while.”

“That’s Detective Jordan to you, Blake. After what happened last time, make sure you behave yourself, or you might find yourself in more trouble than your high-priced lawyers can handle.”

He raised one eyebrow. He liked it when Mary got mad. Her Brooklyn accent always broke through when she got riled up.

“I’ll try to behave.” Leopold slid her drink over. “At least hold on to it.”

Mary obliged. “Any sign of the mark?”

“I saw him come through around eight. According to his calendar, he’s due for drinks at eleven, meaning he’ll resurface soon.”

“I suppose I’d better not ask how you got access to his calendar.”

Leopold smiled. “This guy does most of his best work outside the office. The VIP room at Suave is a regular haunt – bottle service usually gets the clients loosened up pretty fast. After that, it’s back to the hotel for room service and paperwork until around three. Then he’s back in the office for nine a.m.”

“You’ve been tailing him a while, I see.”

“It pays to be thorough.” Leopold drained the last of his martini.

“Take it easy. We’ve got a long night. I need your…” she paused. “I need your particular skills as sharp as possible. You’re no good to me half-asleep.”

“I prefer to think of it as half-awake,” he said, ordering a fourth cocktail. “And don’t worry. Even with half my brain, I’m still smarter than anyone else in the room.”

“And so modest, too.”

“Modesty serves little purpose. Other than to feed one’s insecurities by inviting more praise, that is. I have no need.”

“No. You have an entirely different need.” She eyed his fresh glass. “Just stay sharp, that’s all. What else can you tell me about the mark?”

“Teddy Gordon’s a Wall Street guy through and through. Private school followed by Princeton got him into all the right parties, landed him a job at Needham Brothers. Made senior analyst within a few years, then partner. He was bringing home five hundred grand a year plus the same again in bonuses before he hit thirty.”

“Looks like I’m in the wrong profession,” Mary said. She sighed in defeat and took a sip of the Bellini.

“Five years later and he’s a senior VP, managing eight hundred million in client money. That’s quite the ladder to climb in such a short time.”

“You think he’s working an angle?”