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Fast Fiction: Never Let It Be Said

Toby is receiving cash for the information he passes on. But should he be passing it on? Richard Mallinson reveals a surprising answer to that question.

'I ear you bin lookin for me,' Toby Vinhallen said, looming over me as I ate my egg and bacon in the usual cafe.

'Sit down, Toby,' I said. 'Do you want some food?'

'Naow,' he grunted, lighting a cigarette. 'Wo d'you wan wiv me?'

"Info,I said. 'And I might be prepared to pay for it.'

'Wo you mean migh?'

'Depends what you've got,' I said. 'It might be crap, unadulterated crap.' As if adulterated crap would be any better.

'Gaow on then,' he said and I asked him a specific question.

To my surprise, his reply sounded plausible. I handed over... no, I won't say how much . . . with more to follow on completion.

I saw Toby again a few weeks later, this time in a pub, and
discreetly gave him the rest of the cash.

'Never let it be said,' I said, having bought him a large whisky.

'Naow, never le i be said,' he said, twitching.

'What's wrong?' I asked. 'Nervous about being seen with me? Some of your lot would give their arms and legs to be in with me.'

'Naow, he said, 'jus worried wot you goin to wan nex.'

'Well,' I said, 'I already know about the plan for Monday but what I don't know is the actual time your lot will go in.'

'Ow much sit worf to you?'

'Let's say treble what you've had so far.'

'Waow, tha's big, tha's big.'

Again it worked. I was able to prevent a serious setback to our business. And all thanks to info supplied by detective chief inspector Toby Vinhallen.

Cheers, Toby.


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