Boris was currently one of Mr Blanc’s most trusted henchmen; his loyalty was unquestionable even though they had never met.
There were now only two people in the world who could tell Boris what to do, one was Mr Blanc of course and Boris had been totally loyal in the 4 weeks he’d been employed by him and would as long as he was continued to be paid.
The other was the reason why he was waiting at Gare du Nord railway station. Boris feared no man and only one woman – his mum.
When Boris’ mum called to say she may have to stay an extra night in Paris because of a travel agency oversight Boris rushed to meet and collect her.
Having her fill his life with grief because things weren’t going as expected was something he just didn’t need right now, especially with the current personal protection contract they were involved in.
The band he was paid an obscene amount of money to supervise were the most passive and well behaved rock stars he’d even experienced, well maybe not that David, he didn’t mind a drop or two. But the fans, they were rabid and sometimes Boris felt if they told the crowds to jump off the stands he felt like they crowd would just go ahead and do it.
It was all very strange.
On the way to meet his mother Boris walked through the rest areas as he walked passed rows of lockers one inexplicably thrust itself open. Boris – who in normal circumstances would have punched the door off its hinges with his lightening reflexes but this time he just stopped and looked inside the open locker.
Inside were a collection of glittering diamonds and propped on top was a beautiful smooth red stone the size of a golf ball.
It was beautiful.
“Finders Keepers” thought Boris and stuffed everything into his trouser pockets all except the red stone which he placed into his shirt breast pocket. It felt so warm next to his heart.
Boris went off to meet his mum thinking:
“she’d wouldn’t half like these diamonds in me pocket”