Read Bolt Action for Free Online

of housing estates. Next to his former constituency in fact. Several dozen millions of pounds ago.
    “Ullo?’ Despite his new-found airs and graces, she knew Malham would speak Geordie to those from the city. A defence mechanism.
    Tristie took a deep breath, glanced one last time at the Internet print-off. It said that a woman called Kayleigh Brook had joined First Jet Private’s Newcastle operation six weeks before. A photo off the company website showed her to be a dyed blonde and smiley. And big boned from the look of things. Size fourteen. Tristie launched into her best Geordie. ‘Sir Dale Malham?’ The inflection rising at the end. ‘Is that you, Sir Dale?’ She was as good as she was because the British Army had made her so.
    ‘Wey aye.’ Very slightly sozzled, but still with the politician’s touch. ‘This is he.’
    Tristie continued, gushing, like a schoolgirl. ‘My name is Kayleigh. You used to know my uncle. Long time back. He lived in Harydene. Perhaps you don’t remember. Anyway, that was a way ago. I work in finance, at First Jet Private. You know . . . Them . . . You know . . . Those . . .’ She stumbles here, a little bit breathy. Trying to sound flustered, talking to her first ever knight of the realm. Golly gee.
    ‘I don’t know you, pet, but it’s all right. I know First Jet. You’re calling from Newcastle.’ In her other ear Ferret whispers. ‘ He’s smiling. He’s with you. ’

    ‘I gotta be canny here, Sir Dale. I don’t want no trouble ‘cos it’s all very embarrassing. I’m going to get an awful rocket from your missus if she finds me out.’
    ‘What is it, pet?’ Malham sounding intrigued.
    ‘Your birthday. This coming Tuesday . . . Happy birthday, by the way, Sir Dale . . . Well. The wifie has booked a surprise flight for ya birthday and all. Private jet, like a surprise, and a big tour round France and Venice. Three nights in some very posh places. You’re not supposed to know, like.’ Ferret in her left ear. ‘ He’s nodding. Big smile. Whatever you’re saying is making sense to him. ’
    ‘We took her credit card to confirm the hotels and things. Only we didn’t run all the charges, not until this afternoon ‘cos you know the fuel surcharges are always last-minute, like. But her card won’t work now. You know the end of the month is Sunday, so there’s nothing left on her card, like. No juice.’
    ‘ Frowning now. Not a happy bunny. Going a bit red round the neck. ’
    ‘Anyways. I dunno what to do, like. It’s right doing my head in, this. ‘Cos I don’t want to spoil your party, like, but I don’t want to get a rocket from your missus if we lose all them takeoff and landing slots.’ Breath. Pause. Breath. ‘And it’s Friday night, Sir Dale. And I want to go get me dancing boots on, have a bit of a boogie. And I know this thing is going to be messing with my head, like, all weekend. So I thought I’d give you a bell and all.’
    Ferret speaking softly. ‘ He’s got a big shit-eater’s grin on his face. ’
    Malham sounded leery when he spoke. ‘So. Miss Kayleigh. What exactly do you want me to do?’
    Tristie gave a little breathless giggle. ‘Well, you could just tell me ya card number. And ya PIN, of course. And trust me to be a good girl with it over the weekend.’ Now a little bit saucy. ‘But I’ve never done very well at being a good girl . . . if you know what I mean . . .’
    ‘ God’s honest truth, he’s playing with his balls right in front of me. Taking a drink of his whisky with one hand and playing with his fucking balls with the other. ’
    Malham’s voice sounds a little slurry. ‘Pet. Good girl or not, as much as I want to you give you my credit card . . . I’m sure you realise that’s not the wisest thing. So how’s about we try another way.’
    Amused resignation in Tristie’s voice. ‘I thought you might say that . . . so I guess I’m going to have to give you the company bank account. Do things the