Free The Angels of Destiny by Haydn Jones Page B

passed by the main bedroom he noticed his own reflection in a mirror on the wall, six feet one and of slim build with very short cropped hair, he prided himself on his tough, soldier, image. He opened his mouth and checked his teeth and tongue in the mirror before sitting down on the plush carpet next to a data plug on the wall.
    Fifteen minutes later he was back in his hotel room. It was a top rated hotel and the rooms were luxurious but still sparse in comparison to the opulence of Hudson ’ s place. Switching on his laptop he sat down to check out the contents of Hudson ’ s hard drive but a detailed search routine for words and comments revealed no reference to ‘ M13 ’ or the people involved in the project. Wayne wondered if Hudson had actually received anything at all from Black.
    A check of Hudson ’ s schedule revealed that he had booked a table-for-two at a sea front restaurant called Chez Michel ’ s in Fisherman's Wharf for this very evening, at eight forty-five. Seconds later he was viewing the restaurant section of the computer menu. It showed Chez Michel ’ s as having three tables vacant. Wayne booked a table for eight-thirty, set a wake up call on the computer alarm for six-thirty, lay on the bed, and fell asleep.
     
    Chez Michel ’ s was busy when he arrived and the atmosphere was relaxed and noisy from the buzz of conversation and laughter. Waiters were busy scurrying around serving cocktails to the clients, mostly from the journalistic fraternity. Discussions about tomorrow ’ s headlines, politics, scandals and news-breaks were commonplace. It was the place to be seen if you were involved in journalism.
    Wayne was enjoying his first course of garlic pate when Tom Hudson and a female companion entered the restaurant. Both were smiling and looked relaxed as a waiter showed them to their table, some distance from Wayne. Hudson was carrying a large brown envelope, which he placed on the table next to him. The small microphone placed under their table by Wayne, earlier, was working well and his earpiece was picking up every noise.
    "I ’ m glad you could make it, Susan, especially at such short notice."
    "Well, I tell you, it almost cost me a divorce, Tom. If you can drive me home by eleven o ’ clock, I think my marriage just might survive. I hope it ’ s as red hot as you indicated over the phone."
    “ Oh, it ’ s red hot baby, believe me." Hudson gently pushed the chair in behind her as she took her place at the table facing Wayne.
    "Did you enjoy your trip to London, Tom?"
    "Yes, I did thank you."
    "Business or pleasure this time?"
    "Pure pleasure this time, Susan; pure pleasure," replied Hudson with a wide smile. "And, something I intend to do more often in the future."
    "Anyone I know, Tom? ” Susan enquired with an inquisitive look.
    "A golfing colleague, no one special my dear,"retorted Hudson, playing the whole thing down. "Anyway, enough of that, let ’ s talk business."
    "What is it, Tom?"
    "Hi guys," interjected a young waiter. "May I get you some cocktails before your meal?"
    “ Yeah. What will you take, Susan?" Enquired Hudson.
    "I ’ ll have a Baby Boomer please."
    "I ’ ll have a mineral water." Hudson said, smiling.
    "One Baby Boomer, one mineral water coming right up," replied the waiter.
    After the waiter had moved off, Hudson threw a brown envelope across the table to Susan.
    "Read this," he said, in an excited tone.
    Susan removed the document from the envelope and started to read. Hudson watched her as she speed-read the individual pages in a matter of seconds. She was wearing a black evening dress and a gold necklace. Her hair, as black as her dress, was cut short in a bob style and she looked much younger than her age. Her glossy red lipstick contrasted with her pale complexion, consciously cultured by avoiding direct sunlight for many years, partly because of her vanity to remain youthful looking but mainly prompted by her fathers death from skin cancer, some fifteen