"Good morning your Lordship, your brother is in his office," Wicklow said, without even a skerrick of a grin, even though it was a standing joke at the Dorchester Hotel.
"Good morning Rags. Coffee for my brother please Wicklow," the Duke of Almondsbury said.
"Rags, we are not making enough progress. You are enjoying fucking a different slut every night. It's not strategic enough."
Rags smiled, "Eight, I'm not enjoying myself. I am fucking for King and Country."
Eight snorted, he knew the death of his brother's fiancee had turned him into a voracious sexual animal, a talent he had been using, sadly with little success.
"These Gynaecide murders, I'm having you transferred to the Met to help with the investigation. It will mean that you can investigate the spy network with your cock inside your pants."
"Coffee, Your Lordships," Wicklow said, he delivered the cups with a flair that only a Maitre D' could achieve. What ever he heard would never be repeated.
When they were alone again Eight said, "I have my best agent already there, the only other person who knows is Chief Superintendent Grierly."
"Your agent, do I know him?"
Eight smiled a mischievous smile, "Rags, you will not find him!"
On re-reading the reports, Grierly's face darkened, if that was possible. He was a dour man who shunned frivolities such as amusement; joy or laughter. The depths of the lines carved in his face, bore testament that his dour nature was not a shallow or recent dalliance but a lifetime's work. Criminal elements were having more of an impact, in Grierly's London, than Goering's Luftwaffe.
His secretary knocked.
"Come!"
"Inspector Hoyden, Sir."
She spun her trim figure and exited the office revealing Roger Hoyden.
"Sit!" Grierly spat, indicating a chair.
He resisted barking and sat. He caught the report that was flicked across the desk. Grierly's eyes never left his face while he read.
"Hoyden. I don't like people being foisted upon me."
"Yes... Sir."
Hoyden's face gave nothing away.
"You were an experimental engineering manager and test pilot for our new bomber?"
Roger shrugged, he rubbed the phantom itch on his calf which was once flesh and bone.
"My research reveals that you used to be a decent young man, what happened?"
"May I answer frankly?"
"Of course Hoyden, we only deal with the truth here,"
"Mind your own fucking business... Sir."
"Yes Hoyden your superiors say you lack discipline and the Royal Air Force say you lack Moral Fibre."
LMF, or lacking moral fibre was a euphemism for being a coward. If you refused to fly you were out. It was all part of Eight's cover. It was times like these where he hated all the subterfuge and lies. Hoyden struggled out of his chair.
"I repeat my earlier response."
He turned and walked towards the door.
"Sit down Hoyden, you have not been dismissed."
"You have more than dismissed me... Sir. I will not work with someone with your attitude."
Griely's face, always dark turned apoplectic. He demanded Hoyden's return. Hoyden spun and walked purposefully toward the desk.
Sensing a threat Grierly stood. He was surprised when Hoyden offered his hand.
"Good afternoon Sir, I am Roger Hoyden, I believe I have been assigned to work the Gynaecide murders?"
Grierly looked from the offered hand, to the man's eyes. He saw steel in Hoyden's gaze. He had been offered an olive branch, he took the offer and the hand. Roger locked eyes until the Chief Superintendent looked away. Roger knew that was all the apology he was going to get.
"You've read the reports Hoyden." He nodded at the latest one on his desk that Roger has scanned earlier. Griely had the report on Eights mission not the cover story.
"As you can see we suspect another politician has been compromised. You need to find the prostitute who is turning them."
"Leave it to me, Sir."
"What I suggest you do - "
Roger interrupted, not a wise thing to do with Grierly.
"If this attempt fails its all down to me."
A muscle twitched at the corner of Grierly's eye, it could have been a nascent smile vainly seeking a path to expression.
"It will be Hoyden, it will be. Well don't just sit there Man, get on with it."
Roger unwound his large frame from the chair, which he thought was deliberately selected to be uncomfortable. Saluted and exited. He sighed when the door was shut.
"Nothing thrown, no shouting, no evidence of physical violence, he must like you."
The secretary's sweet smile lit the office, making it the total antithesis of the one he had just escaped. She gave him a frank appraisal, there was lots to like about Roger. He was tall and well muscled but handled his bulk with grace. He had a rugged sort of ugliness which on a man of his stature, and with a little charity, could pass as attractiveness. His smile was his best feature, it broke hearts.
"Hello, I'm Roger."
"Yes, I've been told to avoid you... something about Lothario?"
"Lothario seduced for pleasure and financial gain, I don't seek money. Who has been maligning me these rumors are becoming destructive?"
She ignored the question.
"I am Georgina and I will not fall for your charms like Lola."
Roger smiled, he liked smart women.
"So Lola is complaining about loosing her virginity again?"
"It gives her an opportunity to advertise her wares, she has become very popular with the men."
"I think I'll call you razor, you're sharp. Remind me not to play with you without gloves."
Her attention had returned to her typing. Roger was disappointed but he took her signal to leave. Looking back, as he exited the office, he noted that his was not the only killer smile. Who would have thought that a meeting with Grinning Grierly could have turned out so positively. He would actually enjoy his next visit to Grierly.
Ernest watched Cynthia prepare for the evening. Watching was an understatement, a naked Mae West may not have been sufficient incentive to interrupt his ogling.
