Final Justice (Lorne Simpkins thriller (Book Three)) Read Online Free Page B

Wow! A full hour and a quarter sleep!
    She tried to stretch out the knots resulting from sleeping in a strange bed, but her body refused to respond, it creaked and groaned as much as the bed itself. She slapped herself around the face a few times. ‘Come on Lorne, wake up, there’s places to go and people to see.’ She threw back the duvet and headed for the bathroom.
    Half an hour later, dressed in jeans and a jumper she entered the hotel’s dining-room. Tony was already tucking into his breakfast at a table in the centre of the room. She pulled out the chair opposite and sat down, when she looked at his plate and noticed the size of his breakfast her stomach clenched uneasily.
    ‘Sleep well?’
    ‘Does it look as though I have?’
    He looked up, took a brief look at her, shook his head, and tucked into his meal again. ‘Sorry. Anyway, I’ve ordered you a full-English. Hope you don’t mind, there’s no telling when we’ll get to eat again, and, as this is on Interpol’s expense account I thought we should make the most of it.’
    ‘Thanks, but no thanks. For a start, I don’t over-indulge first thing, and for another, aren’t you in the wrong country for a full-English?’ she asked, looking around the pleasantly decorated dining room, purposefully avoiding watching Tony stuff his face faster than some people can finish a glass of water.
    ‘You could do with fattening up, Lorne,’ he said, through a mouthful of sausage.
    ‘Meaning?’
    ‘Meaning, that you’ve lost a hell of a lot of weight since I last saw you.’
    ‘And?’ She scowled.
    ‘And, it ain’t healthy. Dare I say you look scrawny, borderline anorexic even.’
    ‘Don’t be so ridiculous, Tony. You’re talking out of your backside. It’s called hard work and exercise. You want to try it sometime, might help get rid of your double chin.’ She reached across the table and tickled him under the chin and made the excess flesh wobble, emphasising her point.
    ‘Really, Lorne, joking aside, you need to put some pounds back on, hon.’
    A waitress appeared at the table and placed a plate in front of her that was stacked as high as the Eiffel Tower they’d passed the day before. Lorne’s eyes grew wide, almost popping out of her head at the amount of food she was expected to eat. She looked up at the girl and said, ‘I’m sorry, I just can’t eat this. Can I have a croissant and orange juice instead?’
    The waitress smiled, shrugged her shoulders and left the table empty-handed. Lorne wondered if she’d seen amusement in the woman’s eyes. ‘Um, excuse me. Just a minute…’
    ‘Waste of time, Lorne, they don’t speak the lingo. Just eat what you can, there’s a good girl.’
    ‘Oh, is that right, well you seem to have found a way of being understood. Or maybe someone had a word with her, bribed her into pretending she didn’t understand English. I recall seeing a documentary about France last year that reported the French people, both young and old alike, revel in showing off how much of our language they know. Funny that!’ She poured herself a coffee from the cafetière sitting in the middle of the table and waited for him to answer.
    ‘Whatever. Now, are you going to eat that breakfast, or am I going to have to force feed it to you? The punters round here won’t mind, they’re used to seeing that kind of thing, instead of duck or goose foie gras, it’ll be human, that’s all.’
    ‘That’s disgusting, and you wouldn’t dare.’
    ‘The choice, as they say, is yours. Do I, or do you ?’
    She picked up her knife and fork and reluctantly began tearing at a piece of overcooked, shrivelled, bacon.
    ‘That’s, my girl. When we met last year, I knew you were a woman crying out to be handled firmly.’
    ‘Believe what you like, bully boy. What time are we due to meet with the Interpol agents?’
    ‘At nine.Just enough time for another helping.’
    ‘You’re kidding.’ Lorne said horrified, she looked down at her bulging