Sowerbutt's Enemy

Madame Komarovski.smiled: “You ask me because Vershinin has crossed your path? It cannot be Augustine as a drunken Lett guard stabbed him to death, I’m pleased to say. Eugenie would be with the NKVD which succeeded Dzerzhinsky’s Cheka. A double-dealing inadequate, always after himself. Is he here?”

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Sowerbutt's Sparklers

“Business, Nero,” Bozo said. “I’ve got two pounds of uncut sparklers. The lads have got scales if you want to check the weight.”  He nodded at two big men by the bar. “You’ve brought protection with you, Bozo? I thought we were friends,” Nero said. “Like your friends outside in the Ford,” the man beamed.

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Sowerbutt's Notes

Enjoying more of his pie, Nero glanced at the Gladstone bag, wedged between his feet. It was full of bundles of five-pound notes that Sowerbutt had collected from one of the Family’s hiding places.

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Sowerbutt's Secret

Churchill said: “The die is cast, dear boy. Your Argies in Edinburgh know about our visitor.” “Yes, sir,” Brendan Bracken smiled. “We’ve recorded two telephone conversations with their Embassy and the Foreign Office has been notified a diplomatic bag is going out on the next Lisbon clipper. We’ll check it, of course.”

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Sowerbutt's Make-Up

“Yes, Prime Minister, I so love that look,” the slim photographer said, glancing through his camera. “A little more powder, a little more light and we are ready for you, sir.” Churchill growled: “You see what I have to put up with, dear Brendan, for your publicity photographs. Mr Beaton powdering my nose.”

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Sowerbutt's Lady

Sowerbutt gulped his whiskey. He could deal with the worst of the East End thugs or a fight-to-the-finish with the Reds, but he was never sure about Polly’s reactions. He felt shivers up his spine.

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Sowerbutt's Son

“He’s our son, Polly. We’ve got to do the right thing by him; give him the start in life that we never had. I’ve got it all planned. Some good schools around here, I’ll put his name down. Later he can go to college, get a qualification. What do you think?”

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