I’ve always said it was better to be lucky, the message read, and I was. No vital organs hit, and thanks to the uniform and staff ID Gillespie kindly gave me, I spent two weeks in the ICU and another two in a private ward as Moses Nhlapo, c/o Inkomfe’s medical insurance. Those surgeons are excellent, baby. The scars are already healing. And thanks for the tourniquet—I think you applied it? They said it helped a lot.
Anyway, I’ve been doing some research, and I have a tip-off. Rashid Hamdan is traveling to Istanbul next week to attend a conference. I know where he’s staying, and I’ve got an insider there who can help. Best of all, I’ve got a shitload of money coming our way once we do this job. Serious moolah. We’ll split it fifty-fifty. You’ll be set up for the next few years. No more following cheating husbands for a while.
I assume you’re in on the deal to take out the murdering sonofabitch? I won’t accept no for an answer. I didn’t just take one bullet for you, I took three. I think you owe me, so let’s use Hamdan to square up the account, then go our separate ways. I’ll wait to hear from you ASAP.
Robbie
P.S. Nice bikini.
Acknowledgments
Every writer needs a special somebody who can offer criticism worded so tactfully that it sounds like praise. I’m incredibly fortunate that my loving partner, Dion, is that special somebody. He’s also really good with dispensing sympathy, pouring wine, buying chocolates, and other essential support services a writer needs. Dion, words cannot express my love and gratitude.
I’d like to thank my wonderful agent Stephany Evans from FinePrint Literary Management for all the amazing work she’s done on my behalf, as well as Bronwen Hruska, Juliet Grames, Amara Hoshijo, and the incredible team at Soho Press, who took a chance on the first Jade de Jong thriller and who are the reason that it’s a series today.
Bad Seeds Page 31