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Read the second extract from the new Felix Hart wine novel
Novelist Peter Stafford-Bow’s character Felix Hart, the ‘heroic head of wine’ at the country’s largest supermarket chain, has returned for another adventure. db offers the second extract to his new novel, Eastern Promise.
Extract two
Felix Hart, our morally flexible hero, is introduced to the mysterious Inspector Ma, and is made an offer he can’t refuse.
“I believe you’ve met Inspector Ma of the Hong Kong Police Force,” said Sandra.
The man didn’t offer his hand. In these germ-ravaged days, many didn’t, of course. He sat down beside Sandra, placed his elbows on the table and stared at me over his clasped palms.
“Ah. It’s you,” I said. “Yes, the inspector and I share the same taste in wine. No mask today, then?”
Ma didn’t respond, just continued to stare at me over his hands.
“Inspector Ma is on secondment to Paris-Blois Brands International,” explained the lawyer, “to gather intelligence on the trade in counterfeit luxury goods.”
“Just top Bordeaux? Or does he cover overpriced handbags too?”
“Our business is based on consumer trust in the integrity of our brands,” said Sandra. “Whether they be fashion, perfume, spirits, fine wine or indeed, as your glib comment alludes, luxury leather goods. Unfortunately, as global demand for an aspirational lifestyle has increased so has the market for fakes.”
“So, this chap’s in charge of supressing Chinese knock-offs, is he? Big job, I imagine.”
Ma’s eyes narrowed slightly. So you do have a pulse, I thought.
“Our board has declared the trade in counterfeit Paris-Blois brands an existential threat to our business,” said Sandra. “My CEO has placed me in charge of our efforts to suppress it.”
“And is the inspector here working hand in hand with our dynamic Arts and Antiques Unit?” I asked.
Sandra glanced at Ma.
“Regrettably, relations between the British authorities and the Hong Kong Police Force are no longer on such a friendly footing,” said Ma.
His voice was soft and precise. “Sometimes politics and law make uneasy bedfellows.” He smiled.
The lawyer cleared his throat and pushed back his chair.
“If you’ll excuse me, I may be required to recuse myself.”
He rose and headed for the door. I noticed his nervous face of last night had returned. Once he’d shut the door behind him, Sandra continued.
“We need your help with another tasting, Felix.”
“What, like last night’s little soirée? No, thanks. I’ve had enough of being throttled half to death by psychotic doormen.”
“I thought you were extremely effective, Mr Hart,” said Ma.
Sandra raised her eyebrows.
“Thank you, Inspector. I’m glad somebody appreciates my efforts.”
“Your description of the fake wine was very forensic. Most impressive.”
“Well, of course, I’m trained in that kind of thing. I’m a qualified Minstrel of Wine, you see.”
“So I understand. But what a shame you made a violent and unprovoked assault on that doorman.”
“It was hardly unprovoked. The man was strangling me to death! You saw it!”
“Indeed, I was watching very closely. You hit the man when his guard was down. Not exactly Queensbury Rules, wouldn’t you say? I’m sure the British police would be most interested to learn of your identity.”
“What nonsense is this?” I said, looking at Sandra.
“Why don’t you just help us, Felix?” she said.
“Or you’ll dob me in? I don’t think so. Your risk-averse legal colleague gave a dodgy statement to the police last night that omitted to mention I was working with him.”
“So what?” said Sandra. “He didn’t lie, not explicitly. And I very much doubt the police are going to give Paris-Blois’s Principal Legal Counsel a hard time, given that we pay their wages.”
“They might when I tell them you bribed me to attend the tasting, so you could falsely claim the wines were fake.”
“Here we go,” said Sandra, folding her arms and rolling her eyes. “And why would we have done that?”
“Perhaps you had a commercial dispute with the organisers of Magnum Club Platine and were blackmailing them into a price increase, with help from a rogue Chinese policeman.”
“Perhaps you’re a horrible little thug who likes putting doormen in hospital,” Sandra replied.
“I didn’t even touch the man. It was him, I saw it.” I pointed at Ma.
“I think you’ll find there were many witnesses who would disagree, Mr Hart,” said Ma, also folding his arms.
“Not that many. Most of the guests were attempting to flee the premises, just like Sandra’s brave colleague. Difficult to tell who was doing what during all that chaos, I imagine.”
“I’m sure enough of our fellow guests saw what happened.”
“Well, good luck persuading any of those arrogant schmucks to admit they paid thousands of pounds for the privilege of discovering they can’t tell the difference between First Growth Bordeaux and supermarket Côtes du Rhône.”
That shut them up. Half a minute went by and no-one spoke. Ma stared at me without expression, Sandra with undisguised contempt. I didn’t really mind. I’d given up attempting to insert myself into her good books years ago. To be honest, I should have stopped trying immediately after we first met. But we’re all wiser with experience, aren’t we?
“I give him his due, he thinks on his feet,” said Ma, at last.
“I’ll concede he has a certain peasant cunning,” replied Sandra. “Though he’s still a bloody liability.”
“Hello?” I said. “I am actually here, you know. And, in case you hadn’t quite got the message, I’m not participating in any more of your dodgy dégustations.”
“Oh, I think you will, Mr Hart,” said Ma.
I stood up.
“Do you now? Well, I’m afraid my day rate’s just gone up, quite dramatically, and I suspect I mayvexceed Paris-Blois’s expenses policy. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m required back at Gatesave head office. I have a fascinating third-quarter budget meeting with my boss, and I’d hate to miss a moment of it.”
“One million US dollars,” said Ma.
I sat back down.
“On the other hand,” I said, “I’m sure my boss can muddle through without me.”
Eastern Promise by Peter Stafford-Bow is available from all good bookshops and Amazon. (ISBN 978-1-7393999-0-0). See www.PeterStaffordBow.com for more details.
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