Why Pick On Me?
Milly Lawes a Piccadilly streetwalker, found a strange ring in her room one day. An hour later she was dead, and the ring gone. Scotland Yard knew all about the ring though; so did the Secret Service - and so before very long, did Martin Corridon, ex-Commando, ex-MI5, ex-ethics of any kind...Corridon didn't really want to know, didn't want to work with the service again - but Milly had been a sort of friend, and the thought of her cut throat and blood soaked bed was enough to send him off on a trail of sobotage and murder. A trail that had him running as a hunter-and hunted..
‘You can be a bastard at times, can’t you?’ Corridon said, and laughed. ‘You know what you can do with your dreary little savings. I don’t want your money, and I don’t want your job.’
Ritchie smiled.
‘Well, I’m glad to hear you don’t want my money,’ he said. ‘Pity about the job. Perhaps I can appeal to your sense of patriotism?’ Corridon pushed his chair and stood up.
‘You’re wasting your breath.
Why pick on me?
Ritchie said evenly, ‘ I picked on you, Martin, because the job can only be done by a man without honour; a man who is a twister, a liar and a cheat.’

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