Morningstar Manor

Things were coming together.

Not only had the insurance paid up, Mirko had also sent a nice big envelop of large used bills by way of compensation and peace offering. Not that Urquhart would let up his caution; but that was par for the course.

So he was about to finalise deals on both a new motorcycle and a new garage/workspace, ready to get on with his life.

Of course, the alternative would have been to up and leave, set up shop somewhere else, to avoid the twin dangers of being traced down by somebody else and actually becoming what he was making people believe he was.

Sometimes, he suspected he had become somewhat addicted to this place -- the amenities and discretion of the Manor, all the casual acquaintances to chat with, women to flirt with, the excellent tarte au citron at the Auberge, which he was presently enjoying while his phone lay on the table, waiting for people to ring back about the bike, or the place.

A little while longer. He got to enjoy this a little while longer until he'd finally have to pull up roots and start moving again.-