Excerpt from The Mind of a Genius
by David Snowdon
by David Snowdon
The phone began to ring and freelance MI4 agent, Jason Clay reluctantly disengaged himself from the girl he was kissing and reached for the phone.
“Hello,” he said, grabbing the receiver.
“Is that Clay?” said the voice at the other end.
It was a posh, home county voice and Clay thought it sounded vaguely familiar. But at that very moment, he couldn’t place it.
“It is,” he said frowning. “You sound familiar, who’s that?” Clay spoke with a mildly posh London accent.
“You’ve got a poor memory. It’s Colin Shooter.” Clay smiled.
Shooter was the assistant head of the MI4 and he knew that Shooter never called him just to say hello. Whenever Shooter called, there was always a reason, and a very good reason at that.
“Hello you,” said Clay cheerfully.
He was grinning now, and the girl sitting beside him on the sofa, a tall, slim blonde with lovely blue eyes, and who was about 24-years of age, was staring at him, a curious expression in her eyes.
“Long time, no see.”
“Listen, Clay,” said Shooter, “I’ve got something that might wet your appetite. “You haven’t got anything on, have you?”
“Only the shirt on me back,” said Clay smiling. “And that’s coming off very soon.” The girl chuckled.
Just like the girl sitting beside him on the sofa, Clay was tall, slim and Handsome with blonde hair, and lovely blue eyes. He was 34-years-old and had a smile that made the girls go wild. All he had to do was smile and within minutes, they’d be telling him the story of their life.
Tonight, he was wearing a white silk shirt and a pair of white cotton trousers.
“I’ve got something that’s right up your alley,” said Shooter. “This one’s irresistible. You’ll love it.”
“Will I?” said Clay jokingly, wondering what it was, and what was in it for him.
“I know you will,” said Shooter, at the other end of the line.
“You know my terms, don’t you?” said Clay, smiling. “I won’t even contemplate getting out of bed for anything less than ten thousand a day.”
“You’d be lucky to get half of that for this one,” said Shooter. “But come and see me tomorrow morning in my office at ten, and we’ll talk business, okay?”
Clay continued to smile. “Ten thousand a day plus expenses or no deal.”
“I’ll see you in my office at ten sharp tomorrow,” said Shooter. “And don’t be late.” And the line went dead.
“That guy,” said Clay, dropping the receiver, shaking his head and turning sideways to stare at the girl sitting beside him. “He drives a hard bargain, but he’s all right.” The girl smiled invitingly, but didn’t say anything.
“Now where were we?” said Clay smiling, as they started to kiss passionately, again.
The time was now 20.47 and they were sitting on a beige leather sofa in Clay’s spacious, luxurious living-room. The TV was on, but the volume had been turned down low. As they continued to kiss, they could hear it raining hard outside, and there was the occasional rumble of thunder. But that didn’t bother them, as they were now in paradise.
At 10.00am the following day, Colin Shooter sat in a conference room, at a conference table, in the MI4 head office in Vauxhall, overlooking the River Thames and worked on his laptop.
At 56, Shooter was tall, well-built, and had light brown hair. He was an ex-banker.
Today, he wore a brown suit, a yellow shirt and a brown tie.
Also in the room, sitting around the conference table was Special Agent, Paul Hudson and Special Agent, Janet Bond.
Hudson was 38, tall, dark and lean with handsome features and dark brown curly hair.
He wore a well-cut, navy blue Italian Suit, a white shirt and a black and blue stripped tie. He was an ex-solicitor, and a very good one, and it was his track record more than anything else that had impressed the M14 into employing him.
Janet Bond was 32, 5-foot-7, slim with a nice curvy figure, and blonde with blue eyes, and Scandinavian features.
She was a beauty, but she was also very intelligent. And it was the combination of beauty and brains that had attracted Shooter to her.
The phone started to ring, and Shooter snatched the receiver.
“Colin Shooter,” he said, speaking into the receiver.
“Mr Shooter, I have Mr Jason Clay here to see you.” The receptionist’s voice came clearly through the receiver.
“Give him a cup of tea,” said Shooter. “I’ll let you know when we’re ready to see him.”
“No worries,” said the receptionist.
And Shooter put the phone down. As he put the phone down, he continued to work on his laptop, and both Hudson and Bond sat in silence, with a blank expressions on their faces. They knew that whatever Shooter was doing on his laptop had to be vital, as Shooter was always very punctual.
Ten minutes later, Shooter finished working on his laptop and reached for the receiver.
“Send him in,” he said, when he got through to the receptionist. And he put the receiver down.
Three minutes later, there came a knock on the door.
“Come in,” said Shooter.
The door slid open and Clay wandered into the room. He wore a beige coloured suit, a beige coloured shirt and a red tie. He was looking very smart and there was a cheeky smile on his face, as he wandered into the room, and walked towards the conference table.
“Morning, all,” he said, aware that everyone was watching him.
The others returned his greeting.
“Take a seat,” said Shooter, waving him to a chair.
Clay moved towards the chair and sat on it.
“Thanks for coming,” said Shooter. “This one’s a beauty and you’re gonna love it.”
“That remains to be seen,” said Clay, smiling at him. “Let’s have the details and we’ll take it from there.”
Shooter stared at Clay.
He didn’t like Clay’s cocky attitude. Come to think of it, he wasn’t too fond of Clay. But Clay had his uses.
“Malcolm Prince, the scientist, remember him?”
Clay thought for a moment, then he remembered.
“He died a few months ago, didn’t he?”
Shooter nodded. “And that’s why you’re here.”
“Come off it,” said Clay, his smile turning into a grin as he looked from Shooter to Hudson, from Hudson to Bond and from Bond back to Shooter.
“I didn’t kill him. You’ve got the wrong guy.”
“I wouldn’t put it past you,” said Shooter, smiling at Clay. “You’d do anything for money, wouldn’t you? But if you’ve got your facts right, you’ll know that Prince died of a heart attack.”
“I could have told you that,” said Clay, smiling at him.
Shooter continued to talk. “Malcolm Prince was one of the finest scientist in the world. And at the time of his death, he had just completed a major project; a project that could change the world; a project that could benefit the world.” There was a pause, then Shooter continued to talk.
“We don’t know what the project was about. It was a well-kept secret, but we do know that the project was completed shortly before he died. Shortly before he died, he was on the verge of revealing the project to the world. But now he’s dead, and nobody really knows what that project was based on.”
“That’s sad,” said Clay.
Shooter continued to talk. “We’d like you to try and find out what that project was about.”
“And how do you expect me to do that?” said Clay, changing his position on his chair. Shooter smiled at him.
“Prince has a very lovely wife, and rumour has it that he was very fond of her. We have a feeling that she might have some vital information. Your task is to seduce her and to find out what that project was about.”
Clay gaped at him. “I thought you said I was gonna to love it.”
“You’re a very impatient man,” said Shooter, smiling at Clay.
He was thoroughly enjoying himself. “Patience is a virtue, Clay. Agent Bond has a present for you.”
Special Agent, Janet Bond produce an envelope and slid it across the table towards Clay. Clay opened the envelope, removed a glossy photograph and stared at it.
A beautiful, middle-aged, blonde woman with blue, friendly eyes, wearing a navy blue shirt stared at him.
Clay studied the woman in the picture and a wave of excitement swept through him.
The woman in the photograph looked classy, exciting and sexy. A combination that Clay considered to be irresistible. Shooter was right. He had a feeling that he was going to love this assignment. Here was an opportunity to have a good time, and at the same time, to make some decent money.
Clay smiled as he studied the photograph. It was a passport photo that had been enlarged into a 6 x 4 photograph.
Shooter and the others watched him, as he studied the photograph, and Shooter had a feeling that Clay was hooked.
“Nice girl,” said Clay, dropping the photograph on the table in front of him and smiling at Shooter.
“Laura Prince,” said Janet Bond. “45-years-old, 36-26-36 and an ex-secretary. She has a penchant for handsome toy boys. Had a few lovers when Prince was alive, but isn’t seeing anyone at present.”
“Very nice,” said Clay smiling and looking around the table.
“I told you,” said Shooter. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”
“But what makes you think she gonna fall for me?” said Clay.
“You fit the bill perfectly,” said Hudson, in his posh accent “You have a way with women. You can charm the birds out a tree. We’re sure you can swing it.”
“I can try,” said Clay. “But I can’t guarantee success.”
“That’s good enough for me,” said Shooter. “We don’t know for sure if she knows anything. She may be none the wiser, but all we can do is try.”
“That’s fine,” said Clay. “Ten thousand a day plus expenses, and I’ll see what I can do.”
“I don’t think so,” said Shooter, shaking his head. There was a crafty, little smile on his face. “Five thousand a day plus expenses, and you can take it or leave.”
Clay smiled at him.
“I’ve got a feeling we’re wasting each others time. Ten thousand a day plus expenses, or you can get someone else to do it.”
Shooter stared at him.
There were other agents that he could use, and who would work out a lot cheaper than Clay. But he realized that if anyone could pull this one off, it was Clay. And this assignment was far too vital to be bungled.
“Seven thousand a day plus expenses. Not a penny more, not a penny less. And that’s my final offer.”
“Done,” said Clay.
“Money, that’s all you ever think about, isn’t it?” said Shooter.
“What else is there to think about?” said Clay, smiling at him. “Money makes the world go round. And where would we be without it.”
“Sometimes I wonder why we pay you so much money,” said Shooter resentfully. We’re wasting hard-earned taxpayers money on you.”
“I’m value for money and you know it,” said Clay with his cheeky smile.
“I can get three good agents for what I’m paying you,” said Shooter.
“That’s three for the price of one. But you’re one of my best guys, and I’ve got a soft spot for you.”
“Come off it,” said Clay jokingly. “You haven’t got a soft spot for your own mother, let alone a guy like me.”
Shooter smiled at him, but this time the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“Watch what you say, Clay. You shouldn’t speak about anyone’s mother like that.”
They regarded each other for a moment, then Shooter continued to talk.
“An advance payment of £70,000 will be paid into you’re account. Spend it wisely. Agent Bond will give you all the necessary details.”
“Cool,” said Clay, grinning at Shooter.
Money was very essential to him and he never got tired of talking about it. The more money he could lay his hands on, the better.
“Has Prince got any other relatives that you know of?”
“He’s got a grown up daughter and a grown up son from a previous marriage,” said Hudson.
“I hope so,” said Clay, looking down at Laura Prince’s photograph. “He was old enough to be this chick’s father.”
“She was his second wife,” said Hudson.
Clay regarded Hudson.
He had been so busy concentrating on Shooter that there had been times when he had forgotten that Hudson was also in the room.
“Can’t Pretty boy, Hudson handle this job?”
“I haven’t got your knack with women,” said Hudson, smiling at Clay.
“You’re tailor-made for the job.”
Agent Janet Bond smiled.
“And why is Agent Bond smiling?” said Clay teasingly.
Janet Bond lost her smile and stared at him. There was something about Clay that she didn’t like.
“I wasn’t smiling at you.”
What a chick, thought Clay giving her his dazzling smile. She reminded him of the girl that he had spent the night with. They both had blonde hair and blue eyes, but Bond was undoubtedly the better looking of the two.
“One of these days, we’ll go for a curry.”
“I don’t like curries and I don’t like you,” said Janet Bond.
“One of these days, you’re gonna love me,” said Clay teasingly.
Bond’s eyes flashed angriliy.
“One of these days, Clay, I’m gonna…”
She suddenly stopped without finishing her sentence, aware that Shooter was watching her with interest. She would have loved to have given Clay a piece of her mind. She would have loved to have told him exactly what she thought of him. But she didn’t want to lose her composure in front of her boss.
“Enough of that,” said Shooter, sensing it was time that he intervened.
“Now Agent Bond will give you the details.”
Special Agent, Janet Bond regained her composure and started to talk in her posh accent.
About Author David Snowdon:
Brirtish thriller writer, David Snowdon was born in London, and currently lives in London. His first book, Too Young To Die, was published in August 2006, while his second book, The Mind of a Genius, was published in November 2007. Snowdon started writing in 1983, and wrote his first book, which hasn’t been published.
Author Website - http://www.the-mind-of-a-genius.com
Order details - http://www.the-mind-of-a-genius.com/order.html