By Peter O'Donnell
The rugged staff of Modesty Blaise and her unswerving lieutenant, Willie Garvin, tackle most unlikely odds as they battle Simon Delicta, a guy with a style for loss of life, and Swordmaster Wenczel in a duel to the loss of life. because the experience unfolds, and so they go back and forth from London to Panama to the depths of the Sahara barren region, the pair will desire all their killing abilities to outlive.
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Extra resources for A Taste for Death (Modesty Blaise, Book 4)
He gave a sigh. ‘You’d think that was enough to put me off going into the police, wouldn’t you? Guess I must have liked the uniform. ’ scoffed Horton. Dead Man’s Wharf 47 Trueman smiled. ’ If Trueman discovered the connection with Jennifer, then Horton knew he could trust him not to blab about it. He recognized that this decision marked a step forward for him. Until now he’d been almost paranoid about anyone at the station discovering even the remotest scrap of information about his mother. ‘But I wouldn’t want to get you into trouble with your boss,’ Horton said sarcastically, nodding towards Dennings’ office and stifling his feelings of resentment, not without difficulty.
No, he didn’t think so. Probably more like Colin Anston or Geoffrey Welton from the prison. Dead Man’s Wharf 41 Knocking first, then entering her office, he drew up startled. She was clearing her desk. Her usually pale skin was flushed, but it wasn’t with anger because Horton could see that under her crisp exterior she was secretly very pleased with herself. ‘I’ve been seconded to the Performance and Review Team,’ she said without preamble. ’ God help us all, thought Horton, but took care not to let his feelings show.
He wondered what crimes Uckfield was slaving over as Trueman had said it was exceptionally quiet. ’ He could see instantly that Uckfield hadn’t, and that he was annoyed he hadn’t been told. Although Bliss’s temporary transfer didn’t directly concern Uckfield, Horton knew the big man would see it as a personal slight that he hadn’t been informed. ‘You’ve probably got an e-mail about it,’ Horton added. ‘Along with five hundred others and most of them junk. ’He gestured at the paperwork on his desk, which looked even greater than that languishing on Horton’s desk.
A Taste for Death (Modesty Blaise, Book 4) by Peter O'Donnell