He didn’t give a damn for dubious reputations. He believed in nothing he hadn’t seen for himself or could not prove. Price was never a consideration either, I don’t think, in determining what he chose to acquire, except when set very high. Then, his rapacious appetite for ownership could make a t...
He had researched there, written there and curated exhibitions there that had proven very popular with both the public and the press critics who reviewed such events. He had never stolen anything from the museum, though, and had never dreamed that he would. But he was about to do it now and could...
It wasn’t too much of a detour on his route home. He walked rather than rode his bike there because the smog along Victoria Street and Whitehall seemed all but impenetrable. Cars and lorries were grinding a path through the gloom in first gear but only making progress inches at a time. Every hund...
He looked it up in his heavily thumbed and dog-eared A to Z in the bright sunlight on the street outside Vogel and Breene and then jogged towards London Bridge tube with only a glance at his watch. It was eleven fifteen. He’d been with the old man over an hour. It had seemed less at the time, but...
He was seated in the far corner of the coffee shop wearing a charcoal suit and a grey flannel shirt open at the collar. She assumed from the size of the cup that he was drinking a flat white. His attention was focused on a small titanium-clad laptop next to it. People at adjacent tables were self...