We met at our usual table in the dim lightat McCray's Irish Pub. I downed a few brews and was feeling comfortable whenI first saw her. She was a stunning brunette with piercing light eyes and sideways cocky smirk.Her hair fell way past her shoulders, which were bare in her tight velvet blackdress. A small silver charm hung from her delicate neck and shined brilliantlyagainst her pale skin. Her attitude was evident in her pose on that bar stool...it was both inviting and intimidating. Her slender legs from beneath her skirtdangled a few inches above the floor. Her black chunky pump shoes made thestatement of "I can walk all over you little boy". So still thatshe sat there, I almost thought she was a mannequin. I blinked repeatedly and tried to scan the rest of the people at the bar,but somehow my eyes fell back to her automatically. She stared back at me,as still as could be. My friends took quick notice of my noticing her and madea few rude gestures. Friends with beer have a way of. He replaced the books and sat again. He took a sip of sherry. ‘Tomorrow, Mel, we are going to London. Bring an overnight bag. We are going to an hotel where we will meet two of those other people. One of whom you will recognise, one you will not. Now, come on, let’s go and get some dinner. I will answer any questions I can over a steak.’ By the end of dinner I was convinced. I had never known him lie and I knew he was not now. My Dad was an assassin, albeit one on the right side. Why did he need me? That was the one question he could not answer all evening, despite my repeatedly asking him. The following day we went to London. The hotel was just off Pall Mall and we made our way to a private meeting room. There were two people already there, coffee pot and cups on a table between them. The man stood to greet us. The woman, whom I recognised as a very senior government Minister remained seated. The male was, it was explained to me, the head of a very secret department of the Ministry.
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