The Last Devil To Die полностью

Bob’s laptop is open on Ibrahim’s desk, and the three men gather round. Ron and Ibrahim had paid Mervyn another little visit yesterday and explained what they thought was going on, man to man. Better that it came from them, had been Ron’s judgement, Mervyn being one of those men who found information harder to take in when that information came from women.

Mervyn had agreed to go cold turkey for a week, and hand his correspondence with Tatiana over to Ron and Ibrahim. The big idea was to lay a trap, to see who was behind the scam and if they could be brought out into the open, after which, in Ron’s view, they should be ‘given a good hiding’ or, in Ibrahim’s view, ‘turned over to the relevant authorities’.

And, of course, Mervyn still feels there is a chance that Tatiana is Tatiana, and that his loneliness might come to an end. Ron understands that. He had spent his Christmas Day with Pauline, and it hadn’t gone entirely smoothly. She’s a smashing bird, really she is, and Ron knows he’s punching above his weight, but Ron had wanted to open presents after breakfast, which is the correct way of doing things, while Pauline wanted to wait until after lunch. They had opened them after lunch, of course, but it wasn’t the same. Ron is no stranger to compromise, far from it, but that’s taking things too far. They are having a little break from each other to allow things to simmer down. Ron is missing her, but is not about to apologize for something when he’s so clearly in the right.

Bob Whittaker had been recruited as a tech expert after his blinding work on New Year’s Eve. They’d all watched the Turkish New Year together, then toddled off to their beds. Ron and Ibrahim had stayed awake, drinking whisky, and seen in the New Year again, three hours later, raising a toast to Joyce and Elizabeth in their absence.

Joyce had warned them that Bob could be shy, and might say no. But Ibrahim had explained the plan to Bob, and Bob, who had seen the same programme as Joyce about ‘romance fraud’, had been only too happy to help. Had jumped at the chance, in fact.

He has just opened Tatiana’s last message to Mervyn. After a brief negotiation it is agreed that Ron can read it out, which Ron is pleased about as he senses that neither Ibrahim nor Bob would do it with the accent, and the accent is surely half the fun. Ron reads.

‘My darling, my prince, my strength – all right, love, Christ – It is just over a week until I see you, until I melt into your arms, until we kiss as lovers – I’m actually going to stop doing the accent now – I hope you are as excited as I. I have one problem, my sweet, kind boy – oh, here we go – My brother is recently in hospital for an accident at his work, he fell from a ladder and it will take perhaps two thousand pounds to pay for his bills – I’ll bet it will – If I cannot pay, I fear I cannot come to see you, as I shall worry with concern for my brother. Darling, what shall I do? – I’ve got a couple of ideas – I cannot ask you for more money, as you have been so generous already. But without the money I fear I shall have to stay and care for my brother. You are always so good with ideas, my Mervyn, perhaps you will know what to do. The thought that I will not see you next week might break my heart. Your ever loving Tatiana.’

‘Poor Mervyn,’ says Ibrahim.

‘So what now?’ asks Bob.

‘Now we reply,’ says Ibrahim, and starts typing. ‘My darling Tatiana, how I long for your touch …’

Much as he loves romantic poetry, Ron decides to call it a night, and leaves Bob and Ibrahim to it. Ib seems fairly happy. Ron still feels guilty that they didn’t play charades at Christmas. But Ibrahim understood the principle of the thing.

As Ron walks through Coopers Chase, a fox scurries across his path. White tips to both of his ears. Ron sees him about a lot, darting in and out of bushes. You know where you are with foxes; they’re not trying to kid you they’re something they’re not.

‘Good luck to you, old son,’ says Ron.