Distant Annihilation. (Tarquin Collingwood Adventures Book 1) Read Free Page B

could barely countenance the thought of living elsewhere. After unpacking and putting away my luggage I reheated a beef casserole for supper and washed it down with a glass of Pinotage. After dinner I pondered on Nielsen an obscure composer whom I was trying to get to grips with, but instead settled on Haydn a rather underrated composer, whom I had modestly been championing since receiving a boxed set of Haydn symphonies several years earlier. I settled on symphony no 100, known as the Military; which I thought rather befitting. Moments such as this were one of utter contentment - a whiskey in one hand, free to think and ponder with no interruptions. I imagined where Jules might now be and reflected on his observations in the coffee shop.
     
    As the finale of woodwind, brass interspersed with drums came to an end the flat fell silent. I sat there appreciating the quiet and contemplating bed when there was a rude awakening - the telephone had intervened. Who the devil could it be at this hour, I cursed as I answered.
    “Hello”, I bellowed into the phone not making any attempt to conceal my displeasure.
    “Tarquin?” the caller inquired rather sheepishly.
    “Andrew?” I replied.
    “Thank heavens it’s you. I need your help”
    “ What is it?” I enquired rather concerned, my displeasure at the call having all but evaporated on hearing the voice of Andrew Sinclair an old friend.
    “Listen there isn’t much time; I’m in a spot of bother. I think my li fe’s in danger.”
    “Where are you?”
    “Moscow. I‘ve been doing business here and I’ve got in with the wrong sort. I think I may be in over my head. I’ve received several threatening phone calls saying something unpleasant would happen to me. I dismissed it thinking that it was a crank call. But yesterday someone broke into my hotel room and rummaged through my stuff,” he explained.
    “I see ,” I stated, trying to sound composed in stark contrast to Andrew’s excited state, “Get on the next plane to London or get to our embassy,” I counselled calmly.
    “I would do but I’m certain I’m being followed. ”
    “Who exactly are these people?” I asked in exasperation. Just then I heard someone entering his room, there was then a muffling sound, shouts and the sounds of a struggle.
    “Andrew are you there? Andrew……Andrew” I shouted but the line had gone dead.
    “Hello…..hello!” I cried, but it was in vain.
    I looked at the receiver in desperation and reluctantly hung up. I called the operator and asked them to trace the number but they were unable to do so. The disappointment only served to accentuate my fatigue. The exertions of the day had caught up with me – namely the thrashing about with the licentious chambermaid. There was nothing else for it, I decided but to go to bed.
     
    The next day started as a bright spring morning. I awoke late – it was 10 o’clock. I showered, dressed and breakfasted. I looked out of the window at the blue sky on this mild spring day, at the trees bursting with new leaves and the mundane London traffic. I had an appointment with my Stockbroker at 2pm apart from which I had nothing else planned for the day, except a visit to the gym. I felt the need to stay fit despite no longer being in the army. I looked across the wall in my drawing room where the picture of Captain Tarquin Collingwood, wearing his uniform and all his medals stared across at me. I could hear the birds singing as I opened the window and took in a deep breath of fresh air. It’s on days like this one’s glad to be alive. As soon as this thought crossed my mind the memory of last night’s phone call from Andrew hit me with as much force as if someone had just struck me across the face.
    “I had bloody well find out if Andrews alright!” I said aloud in rebuke to myself.
    I tried to deduce whom to call, when the phone rang. I picked up the receiver, “Hello?”
    “Collingwood?” the voice inquired.
    “Edward?” I sighed