Blood Money Read Free

airstrip sits almost entirely surrounded by water, the airport having been developed as part of a series of docklands regeneration projects around what were once The Royal Docks. The Citation’s descent is nearly complete, it crosses the Thames and despite a gusting crosswind it wastes no time in smoothly touching down.
    On reaching the western end of the runway, the Citation turns left towards an available ramp and it comes to a stop just outside the Jet Centre. Whilst the pilot goes through his shutdown procedures, the co-pilot gets the forward cabin door open.
    Eddie moves to the front of the plane and descends down the lowered steps onto the tarmac, leaving Alexis to remain inside for a few minutes longer. Taking a deep breath of the cold, damp air he glances at the brooding ashen skies before checking the time yet again. It’s just gone 7am so they’re bang on schedule just like normal. He walks briskly to the arrivals entrance and with no one to queue behind he immediately goes through passport control where (as usual) the uniformed official barely takes a glance at his passport. He now passes through customs clearance and exits the airport to go and retrieve his parked car.
    Standing beside his boss’s Mercedes S-Guard armoured limousine he reaches inside his jacket and removes a telescopic pocket search mirror. Once it’s fully extended he switches on its in-built torch and makes a sweep around the underneath of the black luxury car. With nothing untoward found, Eddie unlocks it and gets inside. He passes through the barrier-controlled exit, and once he’s pulled out onto Hartmann Road he drives over to wait outside the Jet Centre’s front entrance. Eddie’s done this hundreds of times and the routine with his boss is almost perfectly synchronised. Within twenty seconds, Alexis appears through the doors and enters the safety of the waiting limousine. Pulling away smoothly, Eddie begins the short seven mile journey over to Alexis’s London headquarters in the very heart of the square mile, 60 Lombard Street.
    Just half a mile north and Eddie gets on to the dual carriageway that will take them west across the meandering river Lea and through some of the poorest boroughs of London. Alexis rarely looks up at this stage of the journey, he doesn’t wish to acknowledge the existence of the brutal monolithic tower blocks and the sprawling, run-down housing estates of Tower Hamlets, Newham and Poplar. But it doesn’t take long to pass through the unpleasant deprivation and in the blink of an eye they reach Aldgate to find themselves surrounded by the comforting wealth and opulence of the City of London.
    The City is often referred to as the ‘Square Mile’, but far from being square its shape has more resemblance to a misshapen crown, a result of its ancient boundaries remaining virtually unchanged since it was defined by the building of city walls back in the middle-ages. Its only true rival to the claim of being the world’s leading centre of global finance came in the nineteen nineties from a small district at the very southern tip of Manhattan, known as ‘Wall Street’.
    Eddie checks the clock in the Mercedes; it’s now 7:15am.
    The journey has been smooth and unhindered, the same as usual. At this time of the morning the roads are relatively traffic-free though the pavements are starting to get busy. Like black ants, multitudes of city workers are emerging from various tube stations and independently move towards their allotted workplaces. Wearing dark suits, some choose to carry briefcases; others hold onto take-away coffee cups or folded-over newspapers. Unsmiling, these white collar workers scurry along, a crowd of strangers alone with their unhappy thoughts. The only individuals to interact with one another are the groups of smokers huddling outside office entrances, taking their last fixes of nicotine before they too disappear inside their financial