Page 237 of The Black Trilogy

“I have to start work early, I’m afraid.”

“Oh.” Tia’s face fell, but only for a moment. Then she smiled again. “I found the pool. And the cinema in the basement. We’re gonna watch a film.”

“Have some popcorn for me.”

Tonight’s job was simple. All I had to do was break into a house belonging to a trio of suspected terrorists and see if there was any evidence that might confirm my client’s suspicions. I did a quick recce of the three-bed detached and studied the photos and movement logs while I waited for the surveillance team on duty to confirm the suspects had gone out.

Once satisfied the property was empty, I slipped inside and spent an hour or so going through the contents, coming to the conclusion that there was nothing to worry about. The suspects just had really bad taste in YouTube videos. At least the organisation that contracted us to do the job could now concentrate their efforts in other areas.

The next morning, Mack and Tia arrived back from the gym before I got up. When I shuffled downstairs with every atom in me crying out for caffeine, I found the kitchen island resembled a chemistry lab and the place stank. The pair of them stood there in goggles, watching something bubble away in a conical flask.

I wrinkled my nose at the acrid smell. “Dare I ask?”

“We’re finding out the concentration of ethanoic acid in white wine vinegar,” Tia explained.

“Is it supposed to stink like that?”

“I think so.”

“In that case, I’ll leave you to it and get breakfast at the office.”

On my return, the dining room resembled an art shop. The table was stacked high with pads of paper, canvases, pens, pencils, paints, and brushes. As I wondered whether Tia planned to do her own coursework or perhaps the entire country’s, Bradley bustled in with yet more bags.

“Got enough stuff?”

“Perhaps I did get a bit carried away,” he admitted.

Tia came in behind him and stared at the mountain of supplies. “I only asked for some acrylics and a couple of canvases. Plus a box of pastels and a pad. I don’t need all that.” She waved her arm at the stacks on the table.

“Don’t worry about it. I asked Bradley to buy me a dress once, and he came back with nine different ones and the designer herself in tow.”

“Hey, she offered!”

“I know. I’m just trying to demonstrate your lack of restraint to Tia.”

“Oh.” He turned to Tia. “Restraint. She’s right. I have none.”

“I take it you’re going to be painting something next, then?” I asked.

Tia pointed at what looked like half a greengrocer’s, stacked in boxes on the sideboard.

“The teacher wants us to do a twist on the traditional still life bowl of fruit. We have to copy a modern artist’s style.”

“Sounds fun. Which artist have you picked?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“How about Damien Hirst?” Mack asked, wandering in. She picked up an apple and started munching. “If you pickled the fruit, we could spend the rest of the time shopping.”

Tia looked at me, questioning. I glared at Mack.

“No pickling. You have to do it properly. I’m sure your art teacher doesn’t want you lugging a tankful of formaldehyde into the classroom.”

“I need inspiration. Can I use the internet? And a printer?”

“Sure.”

“Or do you think I could go to a gallery? If I arranged my hair over my face, it would cover most of the bruising.”

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