The Chosen Seed Read Free Page B

then.’
    ‘Ha-bloody-ha.’
    ‘Good. I’ll give you a call later.’
    They left the obvious subject of their pub meeting unsaid; it wasn’t necessary. Whenever they were away from work their conversation invariably swung round to trying to figure out what happened to Cassius Jones, and where the hell he might be.

Chapter Three
    ‘Y ou look like a right poof with your hair like that,’ Arthur – Artie to his mates – Mullins laughed. ‘I wouldn’t have recognised you.’
    ‘Good to see you, too.’ Cass sat down opposite the old London gangster and smiled. Mac brought in two glasses of brandy from the kitchen before disappearing again and the two men tapped their drinks together before swallowing.
    ‘The boys tell me you’ve been out and about. Ready to fly the nest, then?’
    ‘I’ve got things to do. You know how it is.’
    ‘Too right I do.’ Mullins was laughing again, a good earthy no-nonsense sound. ‘Your life is nothing if not interesting, Jonesy. Fucked-up, maybe, but interesting. I’m getting a passport and driver’s licence sorted for you. I’ll take some pictures before I go. I’d tell you to make yourself look pretty, but you’ve already taken care of that. How’s the shoulder?’
    ‘Getting there – a way to go until I’m back fighting fit,’ he admitted, wiggling the fingers of his left hand. Cass felt a little awkward now, as if the debt of gratitude he owed Artie had changed their relationship. Now he swallowed his pride and said, ‘Thanks for everything you’ve done, Artie. I will pay you back for all this. When I’m sorted.’
    ‘No problem – and technically, I didn’t do nothing – I might’ve sent the boys after them, but I kept meself at asafe distance. Better all round, don’t you think?’
    Cass had no recollection of the events between falling, wounded, into the car with the tramp and the woman, and waking up in a makeshift sickbed in the flat before this one. From what he’d gathered talking to Mac, Artie hadn’t been that impressed by the pair’s interest in Cass Jones. He’d given them a car, yes – but he’d also had another two following them. No one knew the streets of London like Artie Mullins’ men and it hadn’t been long before they’d found themselves in a poor CCTV area, when they’d blocked the car in, stuck guns in the strangers’ faces and taken Cass. What exactly had happened to the old violinist and the beautiful woman, no one – including Artie – appeared to know. The police hadn’t found them; just the abandoned car.
    ‘But why did you do it?’ The question had been troubling Cass for as long as his thinking had been clear of his painkiller fugue state.
    ‘Dunno, really.’ Artie Mullins sniffed. ‘Call it instinct. Something about them wasn’t right. If they was looking out for you, why come through me? Why not call you themselves to get you out of Paddington before they nicked your arse?’ He pointed a thick finger at Cass. ‘Cos you wouldn’t trust ’em, that’s why. And if you didn’t trust them, then why should I?’ He grinned. ‘So I let them do the hard bit, and then took over. Figured if they were friends of yours you could find them when you were back on your feet.’ His eyes met Cass’. ‘They friends of yours?’
    ‘No,’ Cass said, then, ‘well, maybe. But you were right to think I wouldn’t trust them. I think they have their own agenda.’ The girl’s main interest was Luke, his nephew, abducted at birth – at least, that’s what she’d told him on the phone. Cass was just her route to him. Why was hislong-lost nephew so important to all these people? The girl and the tramp had to be linked to the Network somehow, he knew that much: maybe not on the inside like Mr Bright, but connected all the same.
    ‘But why did you do this for me ?’ he asked. ‘We’re technically on opposite sides of the fence. You don’t owe me anything like this.’
    ‘That’s not how it works though, is it,