11.

Miami was hot. I stepped off the plane, and very briefly, as it wasn't far to the air-conditioned terminal building, I was turned into a sweating wreck. California had been less humid, and there had been a breeze. I was grateful to reach the cool of the building, and we made our way through to collect our luggage.

There was a small contingent of press to meet us, and I was asked to pose and smile. The covert FBI team were conspicuous by their absence, but I was held closely by Simon, and felt safe with his arm around me.

"It is apparent that you and Mr Haddow have a closer relationship than in New

York, is there anything between you now?" asked one reporter.

"Simon and I are quite close, as close as this business allows. There are no plans for marriage, if that answers your question," I said.

"Are you lovers?" came a voice from the back.

I looked at Simon, and he smiled.

"Maybe," I said, and smiled back. The photographs in the papers the next day said it all.

We weren't due to start the show until the next day, so we had the afternoon and evening to ourselves. Simon and I went to the beach, and made love in the rolling surf. As we lay in the sun, I enjoyed being topless for the first time. We actually made a really lovely couple, as he was just so hunky. We just chatted away, and I learned more and more about him. I shared much of my life's little secrets, and he was so accepting, I loved him the more for it.

"I can't see you as a boy."

"I'm not, and never really was. So don't worry about it."

"I'm not worried. I just love you so much."

I smiled and kissed him. I felt good with him close.

I knew that we were under surveillance, so I didn't get too heavy with him.

"Fancy an ice cream?" he asked.

"Yeah, that would be cool."

He got up and wandered of in search of some. I lay back and dozed in the sun.

I became aware of someone blocking my sun. I opened my eyes and saw a complete stranger looking at me. He was wearing a pale suit, but had the jacket over his shoulder. He was in his late fifties I supposed, and he looked pale and rather seedy.

"Hello darlin'. You ain't 'arf a difficult girl to get a hold of." he said, with a very East End London accent.

"Frankie, I presume? I'm quite glad to know what you look like, at long last," I said.

He laughed, and sat on the hot sand next to me.

"You ain't your old man's daughter for nuffin'. Word has it you are as pissed off wiv 'im as I am."

"You could say that. But I don't know how pissed off you are."

"Mightily, darlin', mightily."

"So, why do you keep trying to fuck up my life?"

"It ain't nuffin' personal like, but I need to get a hold of your old man. He owes me a lot of dosh."

"So he says."

"I hear he called you?"

"How did you know?"

"I read the papers, and you are a famous person now."

"Oh."

"Your boyfriend is comin' back. So I'll be brief. Here's me mobile number. If you get a meet wiv yer old man, give us a nod, and I'll make it worth your while."

"How much?"

"Twenty grand."

"Fifty."

"Done," he said, and dropped a card on the sand.

"When will you pay me?"

"Any day, except Tuesday, I'm busy Tuesday."

"Okay."

"Good girl. Now no cops, okay?"

"If I tell them, I don't get the dosh," I said.

"Too true. See ya," he said, and walked off.

Simon returned carrying two rapidly melting ice cream cones.

"Who was that?"

"The opposition."

"Oh."

I took my cone and started to lick it. A dollop of ice cream fell on my bare left breast.

"Allow me." said Simon and licked it off. Then he made a face.

"Urgh. It doesn't go with sun cream."

We walked back to the hotel, and I let the FBI know of the recent meeting on the beach. They already knew, as we had been observed all the time. Robert Garside started to set things in motion.

"Okay we now have a tail on Frankie, and now we can put a tap on his cell phone. Call the man this evening, and let him know that your Dad is meeting you here in the hotel at 11 p.m. tomorrow night."

"Won't he realise I've set him up?" I asked, suddenly worried about consequences.

"Not the way I plan it. What I want to happen is for Frankie to think your dad is dead. Then he will go away, and carry on with the drugs deal. Leaving us to walk in and make the bust."

"Do I get to kill my dad?" I asked, and he smiled.

"No, we'll do that. Hopefully Frankie will see it. We will arrange for your dad to be carrying a briefcase with a substantial amount of cash in it. We want Frankie to get his hands on it, and if caught with that, then we have him by the real shorties."

"Is it dirty money?"

"More than that, each note is UV marked as being DRUG MONEY. It was taken off some Yardies a few weeks ago. The case has a transmitter in it as well."

They all went off, and Simon and I joined Natasha for dinner. At one point in the meal, she leaned over and took my hand.

"Sandi, Honey. I gotta know, are you and Simon lovers?"

"Yes Natasha, we are. Have you a problem with that?"

"Oh, thank God. I was terrified he was going to turn out gay, and I'd never have any grandkids."

"You have other children," I pointed out.

"Sure, Michael is a hairdresser, and as gay as they come, and Rebecca is so tied up with her job as an attorney she has no time for men. She doesn't know that I know she prefers women in any case. No, Simon is my last hope."

"Just as well I am on the bloody pill then," I said, and she roared with laughter.

From then on she treated me like a daughter, and poor Simon was almost ignored. He was actually quite pleased, as it meant he was free from her manipulative control. Simon moved all his stuff into my room, and we were quite open about our relationship. I adored him, and our night was spent exploring a sexual world of delights.

He had changed considerably since that first evening in New York. Gone was the shy and quiet young man, and in his place was a confident and erudite man, who calmly turned round and told his mother what he thought. He treated me like a lady, and I felt cherished and adored. The feeling was mutual, and I knew that no matter what I did, or where I went, Simon would always be there for me. We had breakfast together after our early morning swim, and we made sure we had a table for two.

The show started at 2p.m., and once again was a great success. I strutted my stuff, and Natasha was delighted with the response from the buyers. The press were more interested in me, but the publicity for her clothes was exceptional. I had called Frankie, and told him that my father had called and would be meeting me in the hotel parking lot at 11 p.m. He said nothing, and just rang off.

I had dinner with Simon, and was getting nervous. They had given him a small .38 revolver. Just in case anyone tried to get to me. We went for an evening stroll along the beach, and I just held his arm and took my strength from him. So many things could go wrong. I was imagining all the worst case scenarios. Finally, we were in our room, and I was fitted with some lightweight body armour, and pulled a baggy sweater over the top. I had a wire put under my bra, and was all set. I walked out into the parking lot, and looked about. I couldn't see anyone, yet I knew at least six sets of eyes were on me.

I was standing by a large palm tree, and just when I thought nothing was going to happen, I saw someone walking towards me. It was my father, and he was

carrying a briefcase.

"Hello love," he said.

"Hi Dad, you sod," I said, and he grinned. Suddenly I saw a little of what my mother must have seen in him, for he had a charming smile.

"So, what happens now?" I asked. We were standing about six feet apart.

"Look as if you are pissed off with me," he said.

"So, you selfish, pig headed bastard," I shouted. "Why the hell should I believe you?"

"Brilliant. Keep it up," he said, making it look as if he was pleading with me.

"Bugger off, and leave me alone. You have brought me nothing but misery, and that's the truth!" I screamed.

"Yeah, I know, but it will be over soon."

"Oh yeah, I'll bloody well believe that when it happens," I shouted, I was getting into this now.

A police car pulled up alongside us, and two officers got out.

"Are you okay Miss?" one officer asked me.

"Yes, fine. I am just having a domestic with my father," I said, uncertain whether this was part of the act or not. Then I recognised one of the police officers as being an FBI agent.

"Sir, step back one pace, please, and put the case down," the other officer told Dad.

Dad put the case down, and looked very nervous. He was a good actor.

"Sir, what is your name?"

"William, ah Smith," he said.

Not so good, no Oscar there.

"Do you have any I.D.?"

He patted his pockets, and turned slightly, and started to produce a gun.

I screamed (no act) and one of the officers shouted, "GUN."

The other officer drew his side arm and fired twice, and two holes erupted from my father's chest, and I was covered in blood. I screamed, and my father fell back into the bushes.

One officer held me back, saying, "Its okay, Sandi, really its okay."

The other officer walked towards my father, still pointing the gun, and he bent over the 'body'.

"No pulse, call it in," he said, and I wailed, "No. Daddy!" The officer had to hold onto me really tightly. Reality and pretence had blurred and my tears were for real.

The case was left forgotten on the ground, and as I was placed on the front seat of the cruiser, and the officer marked off the area with tape. I saw Frankie surreptitiously walk through the parking lot, pick up the case, and walk off. An ambulance arrived, and Dad was strapped to a trolley and lifted in. I wasn't allowed to ride with it.

The charade was played to the hilt, and it was not long before reporters arrived, and a photograph of me sitting in the front seat of the cruiser with the door open and covered in fake blood appeared on the front page of the morning's papers.

Superbabe's father gunned down by police

Late last night, in the parking lot of the Hilton Sands hotel, Miami Beach, British underworld figure Jonathon Lake was meeting his daughter, the stunning young model, Sandi Lake (17), nicknamed Superbabe, when a routine police patrol saw them arguing. The officers demanded I.D. from

Lake, who attempted to draw a firearm on the officers. Thirty one year old Officer Bruce McFadden, drew his side arm and shot Lake twice in the chest. The man was pronounced dead on arrival at the Miami General hospital half an hour later.

Lake is connected with various dubious business deals and is currently circulated as being wanted by the British police in connection with three homicides in Sussex. Sandi, over here to promote and model the Kysinski range of clothing, was said by friends to be in shock today.

Seen last night, still with her father's blood on her face and clothes, the young supermodel was almost hysterical, having been only yards away from her father when he was shot. Natasha Kysinski, her current employer and close friend, said, "Sandi is a darling girl, and she has not seen her father for a long time. They were not close, as she hated everything he stood for. They were arguing over his current business deals, which Sandi felt were illegal, and she resented his ruining her life with his activities.

Simon Haddow, Natasha's son, and Sandi's current boyfriend, was said to be deeply hurt by the intrusion into their lives by her father. He told us, "Sandi has achieved everything through her own hard work. This man has brought her nothing but grief and sorrow. Even her mother was forced to leave, and died in tragic circumstances because of this man. She just wants to live her own life, and forget he ever existed." Asked whether she wanted to call off today's fashion show, the plucky English girl was said to have declined, saying, "No, I need to keep going, there is nothing I can do about him now, and I don't blame the officer. He simply protected me and himself. It is just such a tragic end to a tragic life."

More on page 4.

I did what was expected of me, and the press were very much in evidence. I actually didn't feel much like smiling in any case, as everything was so real. I still didn't know whether Dad was alive or dead.

The show went beautifully, and Natasha was wonderful. She had no knowledge of the little charade, and with the exception of Simon was as much in the dark as everyone else. Simon was great, he was next to me at all times, and every time I looked for him, he was there.

After the show, I was picked up by the FBI, and with Simon was taken downtown. We went into a large anonymous building, which I learned later was part of the hospital which housed the mortuary. However, we didn't go to the mortuary. Instead, we went up and into a part of the building which had strict security.

I was shown into a room, Simon and the agent waited outside for me. Deputy Director Garside and my Dad were in the room. Dad had had all his hair shaved off, and looked very different. His hair had always been his particular point of vanity, and he used Grecian 2000 to keep it coloured the nice blonde colour of his youth.

He came over and gave me a huge hug, and I stood there, relieved to actually see him alive. Although I knew it was all a sham, it had been so realistic that I partially believed it to be real.

"Sandi, you should consider taking up acting. That was quite a performance,"

Robert said, and I just smiled.

"You did great, kid."

"I'm not a kid anymore, Dad. In case you hadn't noticed."

"You will always be my kid."

I reached out and touched his chest, which I had seen erupt with blood the last time I had seen him.

"We used the same things they use for the movies, quite realistic, wasn't it?" asked Robert.

"I suppose. But then I've seen too much death already."

"I can't tell you how pleased we were with how it went. You did so well, that even the 'officers' thought you weren't acting."

"I don't think I was. Reality and falsehood seemed to merge for me. It was horrible, and I have had enough," I said.

"That's fine. You are due to fly up to DC tomorrow, so hopefully that will be the end of it."

"What happens next?"

"We take out Frankie, and hopefully seize all the cocaine he is bringing in."

"And my Dad?"

"Your Dad is dead. This is Charles Armitage, a retired British Engineer who is about to settle in Snomish County, Washington State."

"You are an arse Dad, you will just have one more flutter, and someone will shoot you."

"No, it's over, love. I will see this job through, and then I will retire. In a few months, you can come and visit me."

"Why should I?"

He smiled.

"Because, deep down you still love your old Dad."

"Do I? Then why can I find it hard to sleep at nights, I keep seeing what happened on the road that day at home."

"That was to keep you safe."

"Maybe, but I hope you can live with it, because I find it hard."

"Jonathon Lake is dead, it's history."

"God knows, you will be called to account," I said, and Dad looked really shocked.

"I didn't know you were religious?"

"You don't know anything about me. I didn't have a mother, or a father, so all I had left was prayer. I am not very good at it, but I know the difference between right and wrong."

He looked so shocked and hurt, I realised that he actually had a conscience. I felt the anger dissipate, and my face must have softened.

"I'm glad you are alive. You have got another chance. You don't deserve it, but don't screw it up," I said, and kissed his cheek.

"Goodbye, Mr Armitage. I may see you again, sometime," I turned and walked out. Simon was waiting in the corridor with the other FBI agent. They had to run to catch up with me.

"Sandi, wait up," he said, but I kept going, and he had to run to catch me. He took my arm.

"Sandi."

I wrenched my arm free, and ran out of the building. I stopped by the car, and found I was crying. Simon came up to me. I let him hold me and sobbed into his chest.

The FBI agent opened the door and I got in. As we drove away, I saw Frankie sitting on the park bench. He waved at me and smiled.

"Can I use your car phone?" I asked.

"Sure."

I called Frankie's mobile phone.

"It's done. The bastard is dead," I said.

"Not what we planned, but satisfactory none the less. Your dad paid part of his debt, so we'll call it quits. Do you still want your money?"

"No, keep it. I just want to get on with my life."

"Sure?"

"Positive. It is dirty money anyway."

"Nah, it's just money, darlin'. It's people who are dirty."

"Bloody right. So that's it Frankie, we are done."

"Yeah, unless you want to come in as a partner, I could do wiv an intelligent girl like you?"

"No thanks. I've better things to do."

"Okay. Been a pleasure. Bye." He switched off.

I put the phone down, and sighed. Was this the end? I doubted it, but hey, life went on.

We were taken back to the hotel, and I found a huge bunch of flowers in my room. It was from Natasha. I went and thanked her. She surprised me by bursting into tears and hugging me in a vice like embrace. Simon had told her that we had been to view my Dad's body.

"Oh you poor girl, I just can't tell you how I admire your courage. You did that show knowing that only hours before, your father died in a hail of bullets right in front of you. You are the most professional model I have ever worked with."

I managed to get caught up in her mood and managed to squeeze out some tears. It was infectious and soon we were both blubbering away.

"So now you have no one. You poor girl. If ever you need anything, then please don't hesitate, just call me."

"Thanks, but I will do just fine."

"Sandi, don't try to be brave, I want you to think of me as a friend here, I feel responsible for you, so let me help you."

"Natasha, I really appreciate your offer, and I value your friendship, but I need some time and space to think. I have some major decisions to make in my life, and, well, now is just not a good time."

She agreed and smiled at me.

"I also want to thank you," she said.

"Thank me, why?"

"For Simon. You have been the making of that boy."

"No, he has made himself. I just fell for him."

She held my hand, and looked serious for a moment.

"I know that I am a brash and bossy woman. I also am intelligent and sensitive, but no one sees that. Simon was hurt by what happened between me and his father, and in a way he blamed me. The fact his Dad couldn't keep his dick in his trousers, and went through more models than anyone else, is another matter.

But I wanted Simon to take control of his own life, and he showed no inclination of wanting to. Just today he came to me, and told me what he wanted to do. He has changed, and all because of you."

I was curious.

"So, what does he want to do?"

I knew that he had played football through college, and was contemplating going into pro-football. But other than that I hadn't a clue. He had often told me that he hadn't a clue really either, and his time studying Art was just to fill the time. He had no inclination to go into the family business, and was just waiting to see what came along.

Natasha just smiled, and said, "Ah, that is between him and me, for just now." and left me wondering.

I sought him out, he was in the pool.

"Are you coming in?"

I nodded and went and changed. I joined him in the water, and we swam for a bit. I took the stresses out by really swimming hard and fast. Eventually we met at the shallow end, and he took me in his arms.

"How are you now?"

"Better, thanks. I'm sorry about earlier, it was all a bit fraught."

"Your dad?"

"Jonathon Lake is dead," I said.

"Really?"

"He calls himself Charles Armitage now, and they have got him a place in Washington State. But he'll fuck it up, just you watch."

"How come?"

"Because he is a foolish man, and can't leave well enough alone. He will just try one scam too many, and end up upsetting someone again. Or else, Frankie's men will find out, and leave a legacy to end all legacies, and have him bumped off."

"Oh. What do you feel about it all?"

"Oh Simon, I really don't know. It is as if I'm numb to him, and everything to do with him. What I really want is to forget about him and get on with my life."

He took me in his arms, and we cuddled for a moment. Then we went for a sauna.

"Simon?"

"Yeah?"

"Your mother was really odd. She told me you went and told her what you were going to do with your life. So what is that?"

He smiled.

"I can't tell you yet. I have to wait a while."

"Why not?"

"I'm waiting on certain decisions."

"Oh. What do you really want out of life?"

"Simple, you."

"Don't be soppy, I mean really?"

"I am serious, I want you. It is all I want, I just want to have and to hold, for richer for poorer, and in sickness and in health, until death do us part."

"You daft brush," I said, and kissed him.

"How about you?"

"Oh, I don't know anymore. I used to want to finish my A levels, then go to university or college. But now I find I like being a model, although I realise that it is a very shallow lifestyle, and very exhausting. I find I like the international life, yet I yearn for stability and something else. I am very confused."

"Well, I used to be confused, and I'd like to give you some advice."

"Oh, oh mighty oracle, pray enlighten this poor girl," I said, sarcastically.

He laughed.

"Seriously, stay at school, do your A levels, and then see what happens."

"Oh, great! Simon, why the hell should I stay on at school when I can model and be with you?"

"Trust me. I've been there. Your qualifications are a small price to pay for greater advantages later."

"Oh, hark at you. The only pro-football player with a BA in art."

"As it happens I am using that BA in my current job interview."

"No, really?"

"Well, it is more than just a BA in art. I also did my teacher training course too."

"Cool, so you are going to be a teacher?"

"Maybe, we'll see."

"Where?"

"Down south."

"Oh, I wish you were my art teacher."

"That would be something."

"Now I know why you mother was so secretive. You told her about this?"

"Yeah, she is pleased I am doing something constructive. You see, my football training will be good for sports coaching as well."

"That's great Simon, but where does that leave us?"

"Hey, we'll still get together. It won't be for long."

"Maybe. I suppose if I was modelling, I'd see even less of you. Unless I work for or with your mother."

"Has she asked you?"

"Not yet, but I have a feeling she is working up to it."

"She won't. You are good, but she will only want you if you are qualified, and talented. Your talent is not enough on its own."

"How do you know?"

"Trust me, I know my Mom."

We finished our session, and went up and changed for dinner. We were somewhat subdued, as we were setting off for Washington in the morning, and then I would be flying home. I was already sad about leaving Simon, and to make matters worse, I came on.