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don’t know who Johnny is. That is to say we know who he is, we just don’t know who he is.”
    “Makes perfect sense,” I said even though it didn’t make any sense at all.
    “Which is a problem because he’s left you holding the not-so-smoking gun.”
    “Yes.”
    “Convenient for him. Rather like your little trip into the east-end. All very neat.”
    “So what do you know?” I asked him.
    “Well I know while you have been off playing double-oh-seven Johnny and his little blonde friend have been busy little bees. They’ve been draining your trust-fund account and transferring your property, which your father so carefully constructed in an offshore Cayman Islands holding company into another holding company they own,” he said.
    “What are you trying to say?” I said with a frown.
    “What I’m saying is that Johnny, your square jawed international playboy spy is a conman. He has taken you for all you are worth. Apart from what you’re wearing he’s taken everything.”
     
    The shock was quite something to bear. 
     
    The notion that Johnny had carefully constructed a world of deception merely to fleece an impressionable bored socialite from her fortune never for once crossed my mind.
    “You look surprised,” he said.
    “Wouldn’t you be?”
    “No, not really. But then I know Fleming wrote fiction, the reality is much more boring.”
    I wanted to be violently sick. For all his mystique and charm Johnny was nothing more than a petty conman. If my charming new friend was right I had lost everything without even noticing.Explaining my incarceration for a firearms offence was one thing, explaining the loss of my multi-million pound trust inheritance would go down like a lead balloon at a children’s tea party if Daddy ever found out.
    “He’s probably done this before,” he added in some attempt to comfort me.
    My shock turned to anger.
    “Well why the bloody hell didn’t you bang him up then!”
    “It’s hard to convict someone when you don’t know who they are and what they are guilty of. Women of your social set tend to have somewhat elaborate tax structures around their wealth that they would prefer not to be investigated.”
    “That’s comforting. Ten years for a firearms possession or ten for tax evasion,” I said. “So are you going to do anything about it?”
    “Well that’s not my job.”
    “And what is your job, exactly?”
    “I’m more interested in Vladimir Kolokov,” he replied. I tried to suppress my shock, how could he possibly know anything about that? “Amongst the people this gun is associated with are a list of what we would consider people of interest . What I want to know is why Johnny knew about them and for what reason he had you kill them.”
    “I didn’t kill them!” I protested.
    “Let us say you did, under the misapprehension you were doing it for the good of Queen and Country on Mister MI6 Johnny’s orders.”
    “If that was the case he wouldn’t have told me anything, need to know basis and all that spooks bullshit.”
    “Well that’s a problem then isn’t it?”
    “Why is that a problem?”
    “Because without Johnny on the hook the only thing that links you to these murders is this gun. Which was in your possession.”
    “Which Johnny gave me,” I cut him off.
    “That would be a useful defence if we actually had Johnny.”
    “Well go and arrest him then.”
    “He left for Geneva at seven a.m this morning with your little friend Charlotte, we don’t know where he is. And more importantly we don’t actually know who he is and who he is working for,” he said then smiled. “But we’d like to find out.”
    “What makes you think I know where he is?”
    “I don’t expect you to know where he is. As far as Johnny is concerned you are banged up and bang to rights. He’s cleaned you out. You can’t even afford a decent lawyer. Your involvement with the musician is enough to have your friends and family wash their hands and disown you.