Page 1 of The Unlikely Spare

Chapter One

Eoin

I’m not sure if it’s the stink of cheap booze or cheaper aftershave that’s making my eyes water.

Probably both.

In the five months I’ve been working this case, I’ve had to rely on my strong stomach because the places I’ve been doing business in don’t exactly feature in London’s tourist brochures.

Unless they’ve started a new campaign calledSee Where Health Inspectors Fear to Tread.

“Another round?” Donny asks, raising his empty glass to the barkeep.

I nod, keeping my posture loose, my eyes half-lidded like I’ve nowhere else to be.

Patience is everything in this job.

“So, these diamonds.” My voice is low, so it doesn’t carry past our corner of the pub. “Your source is solid, yeah?”

Donny’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Pure as fucking snow, mate. Fletcher collection, just like you asked. Top quality.”

I take a pull of my beer, which tastes like someone’s wrung out a dishcloth into a glass. “My buyer’s particular. If these aren’t the real deal…”

“These are the real deal. Nicked from a penthouse in Mayfair.”

“You nick ’em yourself, did you?” I ask, knowing full well he didn’t. Donny’s a fence, not a burglar.

“Nah, got a new supplier.” His chest puffs up. “Moving up in the world, ain’t I?”

“Let’s see the goods, then.”

He glances around the pub, then reaches inside his grimy jacket. My instincts have my hand drifting toward the concealed weapon at my hip. If anything goes south, I’m ready.

Donny produces a small velvet pouch and drops it on the table between us with a soft thud.

I take my time, keeping my movements casual as I loosen the drawstring. Inside, the six Fletcher diamonds glitter even in this dim light. Each one is worth more than I’ll make in five years.

I plaster on an underwhelmed expression. “Not bad. Mind if I check ’em?”

Without waiting for an answer, I fish out a jeweler’s loupe from my pocket. Donny fidgets as I examine each stone, though I already know they’re genuine.

“They’ll do,” I finally say, tucking the pouch into my jacket. “The usual price?”

“Nah, these are premium. Twenty percent more.”

I snort. “Ten. And that’s generous.”

“Fifteen,” he counters, looking offended. “I got expenses.”

“Like what? Better aftershave? Because you should consider it.”

He grins, revealing teeth that could star in a dental hygiene horror film. “Twelve and a half. Final offer.”

“Fine,” I say, reaching for my wallet. “Twelve and a?—”

The pub door bangs open. Two uniformed officers step inside.

Donny’s eyes go wide. “You fucking rat?—”