“What? No, surely not? Oh, Penny, I am so, so very sorry.

I’m sorry I thought I sent out the funeral invitations to all our friends but Ken died several weeks ago,” she replied faintly. Just a quick call to see how you both are and to have a word with Ken about a mutual friend of ours.” He rang Kenneth’s number and his wife Penny answered.

Crossland was beginning to realise that he knew very little about Fadyar Masri other than she obviously wished to disguise her identity, at least to the extent of using a different name, and that she had been had been recommended by his old friend Kenneth Styles – at one time probably Crossland’s most profitable personal client but who had sold everything up a year back and now enjoyed comfortable retirement in Sussex. When he met Fadyar she was very reticent to talk about its intentions and changed the subject. The funds had arrived, via a respected bank with branches throughout the Middle East, but he was none too sure whether there really was a properly constituted and functioning consortium. As promised, all the paper documentation had arrived and appeared to check out. The one he had a slightly uneasy feeling about was the latest addition to his personal drawer, the Halima Chalthoum email on behalf of Corniche Consortium. Most involved investments and accounts lodged by or for various foreign multi-millionaires, mainly Russian, Middle Eastern or American, and he was feeling rather relieved.

It did not take him long as he was very familiar with them, and by mid-afternoon he was nearly finished and apart from one was totally satisfied. He thought it would be prudent to undertake an immediate review of his personal files to make absolutely certain there was nothing he had overlooked. “I’m not going to lunch today Jane and you can cancel any of this afternoon’s appointments.

Dreams to Die For by Alan G. Boyes