The Clown Service Read Online Free

be
better than this.
    Checking the map on his phone to make sure he knew where he was going, with a deep breath, Toby pushed on. He moved back to the bustling street, like a deep-sea diver leaving the air-filled surface far behind him.
    Past the mobile-phone shops and fast-food restaurants, the shopping precinct and the market, Toby worked his way along the main road. He grew more accustomed to the noise as he walked and was almost his old self by the time he reached the nondescript door that led to the offices of Section 37. It stood to the left of a cluttered window offering cheap international call minutes, phone-unlocking and cheque-cashing.
    ‘Lovely,’ he muttered, trying to decide between the two buttons mounted next to the flaking, purple-painted door. Neither was marked. He jabbed the upper one.
    Inside the shop an angry Turkish man began hurling abuse at children loitering by the racks of cheap mobile-phone covers. If nothing else, Toby thought, his career had taught him to understand curses in most languages.
    The door was opened by a jaded young woman in a silk dressing gown. It had been slung on in a casual manner, like a serviette draped over a nice slice of cake to dissuade flies.
    ‘What?’ she asked. ‘You woke me up.’ Most people would have registered a Russian accent, but Toby could be more precise. It was Armenian.
    ‘Oh,’ Toby said, ‘I’m sorry, I was after Mr Shining.’
    Her shoulders sagged but she gave a soft, sleepy smile. ‘Wrong bell,’ she said, pointing at where he had pressed the upper, rather than lower button.
    ‘So sorry,’ Toby said, ‘do you think I might come in anyway?’
    At that, the smile vanished and she held her hand out in flat-palmed denial. ‘Nobody visits August unless they are approved,’ she said. For a moment he thought her English was off and had been about to insist that it was actually May. Then he realised that his new boss must be called August. August Shining. It was not the most inconspicuous name a spy could wish for.
    ‘I’m expected,’ he assured her.
    She settled a suspicious look on him and pressed the correct button. The buzzer could be heard going off up the stairs behind her.
    ‘Yes?’ asked a voice.
    ‘August,’ said the girl, ‘I have a man here who says you expect him.’
    ‘Well,’ said the man who sounded much older than Toby had envisaged, ‘what’s he like?’
    Toby sighed as he was given a thorough once-over by the Armenian girl.
    He looked over her shoulder at the dingy hall and the stairs that climbed towards the pale light of a window shrouded in yellowing dust and cobwebs. It certainly didn’t look worth the effort it was taking to gain access.
    ‘He’s late in his twenties,’ the girl said, ‘probably eleven and a half stone, maybe twelve. Spent a lot of time abroad, his skin shows too much tan for the weather here these last months.’
    ‘Sunbed?’ asked the voice.
    ‘Not the type,’ she replied. ‘He is alone and has been for long time, I think. He wears his clothes and hair like they are habits. He deals with them because he has to, not because he wants to be handsome.’
    ‘He sounds charming.’
    ‘And he’s stood right here,’ Toby reminded them both.
    ‘Oh, let him in,’ said Shining. ‘If he wants to kill me you can soon come to my rescue.’
    ‘Is damn right,’ she said, stepping back to let Toby pass. ‘I break his neck if he hurt my August.’
    There was the sound of a door opening from above and Toby climbed around a corner in the stairway to come face to face with August Shining.
    The man looked even older than his voice had suggested, with thin hair combed perfectly over a liver-spotted scalp. A white beard helped to hide some of the wrinkles, but his eyes were sharp – watching Toby from behind thin, designer wire-framed glasses. Wearing a fawn three-piece suit with a thick, dark-green checkedshirt, Shining looked something between an old-fashioned country gentlemen and a fold-out