Dressed in black tights, sensible shoes, black skirt and white blouse with a black chequered scarf, she could easily be mistaken for a policewoman. The look would be complete when she attached a large blue Police Community Support Officer logo to the back of her padded winter jacket and a Metropolitan Police badge onto the front. The jacket and the logos were perfect copies of the real thing, as was the policewoman’s hat she carried in her bag. The Chameleon had purchased the uniform, a variety of badges, warrant cards, fake radios and police equipment from the night security man at a London television studio costume department. Just in time, too, because now that The Bill had come to an end the Metropolitan Police were securing all of the cast uniforms to prevent their auction to the public. The last thing they needed was to have individuals passing themselves off as police officers.

Gil would attach the necessary Metropolitan Police idents with Velcro later; she did not want to be caught posing as a police officer and so she would limit her time in the public eye whilst in full uniform.

Parking the car in the Shell Centre close to the London Eye, the only parking anywhere near to the attraction, Gil paid the fee and attached the ticket to her car windscreen. She had parked in one of the small bays reserved for city cars where two such cars could use one normal space. It also meant that she would be at ground level in the multi-storey car park underneath the great tower block, and away from the security cameras.

Leaving her disguise and equipment in the car for the moment, she repeatedly walked a short circular route that would allow her to see the Hokobus, should they board the London Eye.

***

Boredom and the seeping cold were fast becoming her enemy when at last the Chameleon noticed the customised silver Mercedes turn into the Shell Centre car park. The driver chatted to the attendant as if they were friends, and the driver handed the man a twenty-pound note surreptitiously. It appeared that the bribe worked, because the silver Mercedes drove straight into a large parking space reserved by a brass plate for Mr Jochen Friede, who presumably wasn’t expected in today.

As the occupants alighted from the car the driver, a well built and powerful looking man in an unaccountably lightweight jacket, looked around, seeing everything. He was clearly a professional. That might make her job a little harder, but that was why she charged a million dollars per hit, although she had reluctantly agreed a discounted rate for two assassinations in one day.

Gil completed her final circuit of the area, by which time she had observed the Hokobus taking their place in one of the London Eye’s capsules. She set her watch on the thirty minute timer and headed back to her car.

Unless there is a technical problem, the London Eye will usually rotate at the speed of a running tortoise, taking thirty minutes to complete a rotation. This ensures that passengers can mount and disembark without the wheel having to come to a complete stop.

***

Geordie was regretting his bravado of earlier in the day when he had decided on the lighter weight jacket. He was spending as much time keeping warm as watching the clients; not that they were in any danger on the Eye.

They had almost completed the revolution, which meant that in a few minutes they would be back in the Mercedes, heater blazing in an effort to reproduce the tropical temperatures the Hokobus favoured.

As a distraction he let his gaze wander to a pretty Community Support Officer whose hair was bunched up under her hat. The brown-eyed officer was quite stunning and almost make-up free, or at least it appeared so.

As she approached he stood up from the bench.

“Excuse me sir, could you look at this photo and read the description and tell me if you have seen this young girl today?” The policewoman handed him a sheet of A4 paper containing a photograph and a description of a young girl aged around thirteen.

When Geordie looked up to confirm that he had not seen her, the policewoman had a handkerchief pressed to her nose and mouth and a perfume spray pointing at his face. A fine mist was sprayed into his mouth and nostrils; he breathed it in, puzzled at first as to what was going on. Was he suspected of something? Was this pepper spray?

Then it hit him. His mouth was dry, he had no saliva, he couldn’t swallow and he couldn’t breathe. He panicked and started to flap around before his limbs were paralysed too. The policewoman took hold of him gently and sat him on the bench, and then she made him lie flat.

“This is temporary. It only lasts ten minutes or so. I am going to push in your diaphragm. Concentrate on breathing from there. Your thorax is paralysed but you can still breathe.”

Geordie was desperate for breath but as soon as the woman expelled air using his diaphragm he could breathe again, though with difficulty. He lay on the bench, paralysed by fear as much as by the drug, as the policewoman stroked his cheek and smiled, her deep brown eyes belying her intent.

“You’re doing fine. You’ll be fully recovered before you know it.”

Geordie saw the Hokobus in the distance, hurrying toward them and looking concerned as the policewoman called for the urgent attendance of paramedics, using her non-working radio.

***

Gil had watched as the bodyguard began to ready himself for departure and she had picked that moment to approach him with her most radiant smile. He went down as predicted, and luckily the mixture had been about right. He would start to regain use of his internal organs in around ten minutes, and his motor functions and speech would be fully restored around five minutes after that.

She had to work fast. She approached the Hokobus, who looked very worried at the sight of their temporarily disabled bodyguard.

“Mr and Mrs Hokobu?”

“My husband is actually Samuel Etundi, but yes, that is us,” Victoria replied, her worried eyes flicking quickly from the policewoman to the bodyguard beyond.

“Your bodyguard here fears that he has been poisoned in an attempt on your lives,” Gil explained, and Victoria’s eyes and attention refocused on her quickly as she continued speaking in her best calming, authoritative voice. “He asked me to get you to the safety of your armoured car as soon as possible. Does that sound right to you?”

“Yes. We have such a car.” Etundi spoke this time, looking around in the hope of spotting it.

“OK, let’s go. The paramedics and my colleagues are seconds away. They will be here at any moment to take care of him, but I need to get you to safety.”

Reluctantly they followed the Chameleon as she held up the keys she had taken from the bodyguard’s pocket.

“Please be well, little Mussi,” Victoria said affectionately as she kissed the paralysed man on the forehead.

Geordie was desperately trying to speak, to warn them, but his body would not respond. Tears of frustration formed in his eyes.

***

Gil pressed the remote control and the doors opened.

“Quickly, please. Every moment you are in the open you are in danger.”

The Hokobus sat in the rear seat and held one another as they heaped praise on the policewoman who had acted so swiftly in their defence. Gil smiled, and for a moment felt regret that someone wanted this happy couple dead. However, Gil knew from her own experiences that even the most evil dictators could be pleasant when they wanted to be. She had a job to do, and she always took pride in her work. The Hokobus were going to die.

“I just need to make some notes,” the Chameleon said as she locked the doors of the car. She reached into an inside pocket, as if for a notebook, but when she turned back to face them she had her nose and mouth covered.

The spray did its work for the second time that day, and Gil escaped the car and waited for the spray to disperse. Keeping her face pointed away from the security cameras, she extracted a hypodermic needle from her pocket.