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dying. Your boss must not touch this with his hand.
Whichever enemy takes all of this amount by mouth will be dead in
one day. As soon as it is eaten it starts to work. There can be no
going backwards. A horrible, horrible way to die.”
    Serge crossed himself and muttered something
beneath his breath. Kalif handed over the cash and stood up,
swaying a little to the left. The vodka slammers were starting to
take effect. They shook hands. As Kalif headed uncertainly towards
the door Serge called out.
    “My friend. Please tell your boss that if he
needs anymore of this shit he can make it himself. Tell him to see
his computer; I hate doing business with this Latvian bastard. He
charge too much.”
     
    Norman felt like shit as he headed towards
the Trafalgar Arms. He silently cursed Kalif for drinking so much.
Bloody youth today.
    It was 4:50 pm. The lights were still on in
“Just For Her” across the road. Norman had just enough time to
assess the situation. They needed to sit away from any security
cameras. Preferably a quiet spot as far away from the bar as
possible. He checked the menu; plenty of sandwiches were available
to order.
    “Yes Sir. What’ll it be?” asked the
barman.
    “Can I have pint of orange and lemonade and
two cheese and salad sandwiches please?”
    “What’s the table number Sir?”
    “Oh. I’m sorry I don’t know, it’ll be that
one in the corner by the window,” Norman replied pointing.
    “OK that’s number three,” he replied.
    Ironic, thought Norman. He picked up his
orange juice and took a seat, waiting for his apple.
    At exactly five o’clock the lights dimmed in
the shop. He watched Renee lock the doors and head towards the
pedestrian crossing.
    “Here we are Sir,” announced the barman
putting the sandwiches down on the table.
    “Thank you,” acknowledged Norman.
    The lights were still green, the rush hour
traffic bumper to bumper, he had a couple more minutes. He opened
the sandwich in front of him. Carefully taking the small plastic
bag from his pocket, he mixed the deadly bean “mush” in with the
lettuce, quickly putting it back together before swapping it for
the sandwich on the other side of the table.
    “Oh Hi Norman. Sorry if I’m late,” said
Renee, “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”
    “Not at all. What would you like to
drink?”
    “Oh I’ll have a gin and tonic thanks,” she
replied, hanging her coat on the back of her chair, “Oh you’ve
ordered some food, how considerate, I’m famished.”
    Norman got the drinks from the bar. He
ordered himself a double vodka and orange juice. Untraceable, just
like the ricin, just like the cash he used to pay, just like
him.
    “Here we are,” he said handing Renee her
drink, “so how did your day end up? No more dirty old men, I
hope.”
    That laugh again. It sent a tingle down
Norman’s spine.
    “Not bad I suppose. Business isn’t too good
at the moment. The landlord put the rent up on the shop a couple of
months ago, so my bonuses from Head Office have been cut to the
bone and I’m under a lot of pressure to make the targets.”
    Norman noted a certain sadness in Renee’s
eyes as she talked but there was no need for sympathy. She was
merely another apple from Hamid’s tree.
    “Who is the landlord?” Norman asked
innocently.
    “The Hamid family from St. James’s,” she
replied biting into her sandwich.
    “Hamid? That name rings a bell. Wasn’t there
something on the news recently about some Hamid or other?”
    Renee was nodding, her mouth full. She was
waving her hand politely as if to say, I’ll speak when I’ve
finished this. Keep eating, thought Norman, keep eating.
    “I remember now. It was that Old Bailey trial
the son was accused of rape or something,” keep talking, he
thought, let her eat up, “that was it. He was supposed to have
raped some young girl and then set fire to the house. I think the
girl’s mother died as well if my memory serves me correct. Terrible
affair. But