“My people will—”
“I don’t care.”
The waiter arrived with a tray, a hefty glass, a large block of ice and an ice pick. It seemed he was to perform the new trend of preparing ice in front of a customer. Bishop didn’t care for it. Ice was ice. Making a song and dance out of it didn’t change the fact that it was still frozen water. Just give me the damn ice and be done with it.
The handcuffs were secured and Astrid cast a stare as icy as anything on the tray before him.
“Swear revenge or whatever,” Bishop lay back on the couch, “I’m too tired to care.” He waved dismissively. “Bye bye.” Turning towards the bar, he shouted, “Scotch?”
One of the police officers leaned towards Bishop. “You need urgent medical attention.”
Bishop waved him away too. “Later. Later.”
The scotch arrived and Bishop sat up to pour himself an exceedingly large glass, sloshing a good measure on the table in the process. Lacking the energy required to chip his own ice, he went without. He took a sip and closed his eyes.
The sound of the purveyor of his pain being led away was music to his battered ears. For a glorious few seconds he believed it would be the last thing he heard before he drifted off to sleep.
He was wrong.
The prim receptionist once again yelped, this time in a different pitch, somehow even higher than before. Reluctantly, Bishop pried his heavy eyelids open to see a heaving body burst through reception. He was unblemished by his ordeal, but flushed. Just as Bishop had, the new arrival ignored the screeching receptionist to scan the room for Astrid. He found something else.
Strolling towards Bishop, Oleg couldn’t hide his astonishment. “How did you make it here so soon? I left you—”
“For dead? Yes, I do recall. I swore revenge right after you left. I really must repay that at some stage.”
“I—”
“She’s been arrested. The local police just took her away. They’re rounding up her cohorts. No thanks to you.”
Still seeming perplexed by the sudden turn of events, Oleg sat next to Bishop. “For what it’s worth, I apologise for leaving you for dead.”
With a Herculean effort, Bishop sat up and leaned forward. “No hard feelings.”
Reaching down, Bishop grabbed the ice pick and slammed it into Oleg’s leg. Instantly blood poured from the wound. Yowling, the Russian leapt up and cradled his haemorrhaging injury. The assembled patrons of the first-class lounge, already startled, gawked at the big man hopping around, screaming Russian blue murder.
In response, the MI6 agent took a sip of scotch, reclined on the comfortable couch and closed his eyes. For the first time in what seemed like weeks, Bishop smiled.
Epilogue
The crowd gathered around the limousine, mesmerised. It had been several days since their neighbourhood had been rocked by the search for the two men supposedly in their midst. Since then, officials had advised that the five million dollar reward had been a hoax, and no genuine offer ever existed.
It was lucky, because once again, Bishop found himself in Cité Soleil. Several locals asked him who he was and what he was doing in their city. He gave the inquisitive locals an enigmatic grin, offering no reply.
With the use of a cane, he hobbled to the door and knocked. It took several seconds before the door flew open.
“What is it n—”
Roseline’s jaw dropped. Bishop couldn’t help but smile. Her shock was absolute. She obviously never expected to see the odd foreigner ever again.
“I’m here to repay my debt.”
“I… what?”
“Remember? I said if I ever got out alive I’d buy you dinner.” Bishop spun—albeit slowly—to demonstrate that he was indeed alive. “We have reservations at Observatoire Restaurant at eight. I’m told it’s the most expensive restaurant in all of Port-au-Prince, offering stunning views of the shimmering city.”
“Observatoire…” She seemed in awe. Roseline shook her head, trying to snap herself out of it. “I… I’d love to, but I don’ have a t’ing to wear to such a…”
She stopped herself when Bishop held up a delicate light blue satin dress.
“It’s…” She moved closer and touched the fabric. “It’s beautiful.” Leaning down, she checked the tag and regarded him quizzically. “It’s my size.”
“You mentioned I was observant, remember?” He held the dress out to her. “Shall we?”
The grin almost consumed her entire face.
Half an hour later the two were seated overlooking the lights of the city and the expanse of the bay. They sat in an exclusive corner; Bishop was assured by the maître d it was their very finest table. Bishop believed him. The view was stunning.
The vision across the table was equally pleasant. Resplendent in her new dress, Roseline was clearly enthralled by the goings-on of the restaurant.
The napkins fascinated her, as did the choice of food and drink available. She spoke to the staff as real humans, asking if they enjoyed their work, and seemed genuinely interested in their answers. Bishop relished her innocence, her appreciation of things he too often took for granted.
When the first course arrived, they toasted one another, but her face fell, as if a sense of gloom had overcome her.
Bishop put down his glass. “What’s wrong?”
Her demeanour was forlorn. “I’ll remember dis night forever.” There was melancholy in her tone. “My one glimpse of a life I’ll never have.” As if only just realising she was speaking aloud, she shook her head. “I apologise. Well too sad for such a generous night.”
He frowned. “I’m afraid you’re under a misapprehension.” Her face creased in confusion. Bishop continued. “Tonight isn’t the end. It’s just the beginning. That five million dollars you so selflessly declined? It’s yours, compliments of His Majesty’s government.” He raised a glass of champagne. “Welcome to your new life, Roseline.”
For Bishop, the expression of shock on the young woman’s face was almost worth everything he’d been through.
THE END
Hey there,
Bishop won the day.
But is he ready for the next escapade? Are you?
Bishop returns and this time its personal – Agent Provocateur.
When Bishop’s former mentor threatens to instigate a nuclear war, the MI6 agent dives headlong into a deeply personal mission where nothing is quite what it seems.
Racing across China with hounds snapping at his heels, Bishop is forced to confront not only a relentless adversary, but demons from his own past.
Full throttle action, snappy dialogue and twists at every turn, Agent Provocateur will have you turning pages late into the night.
Want to know when Agent Provocateur is out?
Sign up to my VIP Book Club and be the first to know:
https://davesinclair.com.au/newsletter/
Thanks for reading!
Dave Sinclair
P.S. If you enjoyed the read, please consider leaving a review. It really helps a lot.
About Dave Sinclair
Dave Sinclair is a novelist, a screenwriter and a really excellent parallel parker.
He lives in Melbourne, Australia with his two crazy daughters. He’s also an award-winning filmmaker, a title that sounds far more impressive than it really is. He won a best comedy screenplay and cinematography award for a short film he wrote and directed, though at the time he didn’t really know what cinematography was. A completed screenplay is currently doing the rounds.
Dave’s overflowing bookshelves include many works by Douglas Adams, P.G. Wodehouse, Dashiell Hammett, Raymond Chandler, Janet Evanovich, Ian Fleming, Zadie Smith and John le Carré.
The Eva Destruction books are stories Dave wanted to read, full of action, laughs and fascinating characters. Eva has many more adventures up her tattooed sleeves.
To find out more, you can stalk Dave at his semi-reputable website: https://davesinclair.com.au
Ac
knowledgments
It was kind of daunting starting a new series, but luckily the first Bishop book came together pretty seamlessly and I had a blast throwing the characters in the deep end. The next two books are locked and loaded and will be a lot of fun.
For readers of the Eva Destruction series, hopefully you had a ball finding out what makes Bishop tick.
If you’re a new reader, welcome! You’re in for a ride. If you haven’t met Eva Destruction yet, you’re most welcome to look her up. The events in the Bishop books take place before those in the Eva Destruction series, but don’t worry, there’s no big spoilers.
Now for the actual acknowledgements!
First and biggest thanks goes to my amazing partner, Kristi. She’s my biggest cheer squad and still manages to get excited when I message her that I’ve finished another chapter.
Or at least pretend to get excited, let’s be honest, there’s a lot of chapters. Monkey heart unicorn, you’re amazing.
To my girls, Esther and Quinn, their boundless energy is an inspiration. The literary world is on notice as both have started to write their own books (so far there’s plenty of unicorns and bunnies). The literary world won’t be the same once the Sinclair girls are let loose.
Every writer needs a tribe. Pretty sure I’ve found the craziest writing tribe there is. The G-Mob are all amazing writers and even better drinkers. Craig, Justin, Luke, Nathan, Steve, Amanda and Amanda have provided support, assistance, insight and laughter when I need it most. Go read their stuff! http://genremob.com/
To my talented sis, Ali, thank you for always being so supportive. Check out her books here - http://allisinclair.com. She even dedicated her last book to me, which was amazingly sweet. I dedicated this book to the cat.
A big thank you to my editor Vanessa Lanaway. She fiixes my mystakes goud. She’s also a great human. Thanks to Nathan who formats my pages to make me look almost professional.
Thanks to Amanda Pillar (a great writer you should look up) who designed all the Bishop covers. Check out her cover work here - https://www.smokinghotcovers.com/
Thanks to my beta team, Steve & Gerard. I took every suggestion onboard. Well, some. Okay, a few. Alright, that one thing about the duck. And thank you to my intrepid team of book ninjas who get to read after I’ve made changes.
Thank you also goes to my VIP Book Club team who receive my exclusive newsletter. One lucky newsletter reader, Corissa Palfrey won a competition to have her mum’s name (Betty Jo Anne Palfrey) appear in this book so she could be killed off. That’s love, people.
Reader feedback helps me along too, so don’t be afraid to reach out on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, on the street, hiding in my closet, that kind of thing. You can stalk me at all these semi-reputable places:
www.davesinclair.com.au
https://twitter.com/thedavesinclair
https://www.instagram.com/davesinclairauthor/
https://facebook.com/DaveSinclairAuthor/
Finally, thank you to the reader. I love hearing from you, and don’t be shy dropping a review, it is greatly appreciated. Thank you and here’s to many more adventures!
Until next time, cheers!
This edition first published 2019
Copyright © Dave Sinclair 2019
The right of Dave Sinclair to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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