Normally my busy work life means that, on work nights, I drop in at home, get changed, and arrive at the gym, swimming pool or the squash centre by five thirty. As I grow older I have discovered that I have to be in bed by eleven if I want to have any chance of making the early Tube, and so my midweek socialising is strictly limited.

As the Tube train rattled into the Greenwich station, Dee, my new close Protection Officer (bodyguard), set out the plan for our return to my house.

“Josh, just take your normal route back, walking at a steady pace, and I’ll hurry ahead, taking a short cut through Ashburnham Place. I should get to Ashburnham Mews before you. I’ll leave the front door on the latch, and then I’ll go up to the first floor and check out your flat before you get there. We can’t be too careful.”

I couldn’t help smiling as I agreed to the cloak and dagger scheme that seemed to me to be both overly complex and melodramatic. Nonetheless, Ms Conrad did have a point. If she went on ahead, anyone watching the house would think she was another tenant and would be unaware that I was being guarded.

***

Bob heard the ‘clack clack’ of a woman’s heels coming along the street at a brisk pace; he opened the gate and pantomimed the checking of the lower hinge. His face was obscured by his bent back as Dee passed by. As soon as she had passed him, Bob stepped back into the alley and closed the gate again. He watched her as she walked along the street. Her skirt was tight enough to show that she was all woman, and the way she walked showed some class. Bob was still watching when Dee opened the door to one of the three story properties that were split into four or more flats. He was interested to note that she lived in the same building as Josh. Living in Greenwich obviously had its advantages.

If Bob had lingered on Dee’s rear any longer he would have missed seeing Josh round the corner into the mews. Bob had to work fast. He took the gun and pressed himself against the wall of the alleyway with the gate closed. The gun was concealed by his side. There was too much background noise to hear Josh’s loafers lightly treading the mews pavement, and so Bob had to rely on his eyes. A moment later Josh passed by the alleyway, staring straight ahead, seemingly lost in thought.

Bob stepped out onto the pavement with one large step, levelled the gun and fired three shots in quick succession into Josh’s back. There was virtually no sound, just the pop, pop, pop of three projectiles leaving the barrel.

Bob saw his target go down, and watched as three bright red patches bloomed on Josh’s back as he lay on the pavement. Bob stepped quickly back into the alley and shut the gate, locking it with a padlock he had brought with him. The owners would be annoyed when they discovered that their gate had been padlocked and they had no key, but Bob couldn’t care less about that. He did it simply because it ensured his safe getaway. In the end the padlock proved to be unnecessary, as it seemed no-one had witnessed his part in the unfolding drama.

Bob packed the gun into the attaché case as he strode through the back garden and walked fifty metres along a cobbled backstreet onto Devonshire Drive. Once he was sure no-one was following, he slackened his pace and moved casually towards the bus stop, about a hundred metres away on Greenwich Street. A bus was already taking passengers on board and so Bob hopped on, swiped his Oyster card and sat down. He didn’t know where the bus was going, but he would eventually get to an Underground station he recognised, and soon after that he would be heading back to the City.

***

I rounded the corner into the Mews just in time to see Ms Conrad close the door to the house. It was certainly a pleasant sight. Far from being worried about my blackmailer, I was mildly excited. I was looking forward to an ‘evening in’ with the lady who was protecting me and whom I fancied like mad. As I walked along the path I planned my moves for the night ahead. Perhaps the ransom demand wasn’t all bad, after all, if this was a consequence.

I had just walked past the Pattinsons’ house, which was being refurbished after a fire, a fire for which I was the loss adjuster - very convenient for site visits - when I felt what seemed like a punch in the back. It was followed by two more hits before I found myself gasping for air and dropping to my knees. Feeling dizzy from a lack of oxygen, I fell face forward and in another few seconds blackness overtook me. Oddly enough, just before I passed out, the last thing I remember thinking was, “How does Bob expect to get his quarter of a million pounds now?”

***

Dee checked the apartment for intruders or any unexpected messages or parcels. The apartment was clear. It took no time to check because there was virtually no furniture in the place. What little furniture Josh had was minimalist but stylish. The apartment was bright with light neutral colours dominating. The decor was neither masculine nor feminine. It looked like a show home, rather than the archetypal bachelor pad she had been expecting.

Having satisfied herself that the flat was clear she walked to the first floor window to look for Josh, and that was when she saw him. He was lying face down on the pavement, his dark suit punctuated with three closely grouped hits to the back that were bubbling bright red. Dee’s heart skipped a beat. She flung off her shoes and ran barefoot down to the ground floor and out of the door.

***

I wasn’t at all sure how much time had passed, but when I next became aware of my surroundings I was sitting on the pavement with my back against the wall. An assortment of concerned and curious neighbours had gathered around. Dee was kneeling at my side, encouraging me to breathe deeply. I looked at her hands. They were covered in red. “Is that my blood?” I asked, not really wanting to know the answer. She looked concerned, guilty even, as she answered my question.

“No, Josh, it’s paint.”

I wasn’t sure I understood, or whether I had heard her correctly. The neighbours looked puzzled, too, and I was somewhat irritated to note that some of them even seemed a little disappointed that this wasn’t the drama they had thought at first. Dee explained.

“Someone apparently thought it would be amusing to shoot you with a paint gun. You’re not hurt, Josh, just winded.”

The neighbours were already speculating amongst themselves, something about it probably being kids from the council flats up the road, but I was totally bemused. I voiced my thoughts.

“I’ve been paintballing a dozen times and nothing hurt like that. I thought I was dying.” Dee helped me to my feet.

“Josh, the paintball guns used for those games are toys. This gun was probably the army version. High velocity paintball guns are used in the Middle East, mainly by the Israelis, for controlling violent crowds. I suspect that’s what was used here.”

“Don’t wear your best suit.” I quoted Bob’s email out loud.

“My thoughts exactly,” Dee replied. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

Chapter 6

Ashburnham Mews, Greenwich, London: Wednesday, 9pm.

Dee stood up and stretched, walking across the room to draw the heavy damask curtains against the darkening summer sky. The two of us had shared a pasta meal and Dee had asked a colleague to bring around an overnight bag for her. She informed me that as a result of the paintballing incident she had no intention of leaving my side before noon on Friday. I found myself thinking for a brief moment that maybe it had been worth it, after all.

The last three hours had been amongst the most enjoyable of my tenure in Greenwich. The two of us had eaten in companionable silence. Afterwards, Dee had rubbed salve into my bruised back and then we had written a long and laborious statement for the police, covering the day’s events. Dee guessed that, after this evening’s attack, a continuous police presence would be pretty much guaranteed.