Summer Holiday/Prequel.
Joe looks at his sister. "He looks promising," he says.
"He'd better be after the last one," Jane replies.
"He's twenty-two and good-looking, but not gay and he's never had a relationship that lasted more than a couple of weeks. When I spotted him eyeing up the little girls at the pool, I was pretty confident, and once I'd hacked his computer and seen what he's been downloading, I knew for sure. He has no idea about security though. Someone might have to give him a few pointers if it works out," Jane says.
A few taps on Joe's keyboard and subject No 47 came up on the screen. "He's looking at some skanky hotel in Alicante," he said. "I have sent him an offer he can't refuse.
Francis yawns. Friday afternoon and the beginning of a fortnight of sun, sea and, hopefully, some scantily clad and unsupervised children. The hotel he found didn't look great but it was the best he could do on his limited budget. He was about to click 'confirm' when his computer chimed the arrival of an email from a holiday company he'd never heard of. It is a bargain offer for a four-star hotel on the Costa Del Sol at a bargain price - all-inclusive and the flights included. Francis is no fool and swiftly checks out the company - it looks okay, with lots of reviews; some terrible and some OTT, but most above-average, so he wastes no more time before clicking OK and sending his details. "Do you want a free taxi to the airport?" the website asks. Again, Francis hit "Yes please.”
"We're on," Joe says. He's not very bright - for all he knows we will take his money and vanish."
The next day Francis is just beginning to worry when his doorbell rings. A smart middle-aged lady in a grey uniform stands there. "Taxi to the airport, she said with an unmistakable American accent."
Jane offered to help with the luggage but a 15 kilo suitcase and a cabin bag are no problem for Francis. “Ouch!” He says, rubbing his thigh as he lifts the bag into the boot. He twists round trying to see what's stung him, but it's on the back of his leg. Jane is sympathetic, but looks at her watch meaningfully as she pockets the small syringe, so Francis, still rubbing, gets into the car and they head for the airport. By the time he gets there, he’s forgotten the sting
“It’s done,” Jane says on the phone. “By the time he gets to Spain the kids will be round him like cats on Catnip. Did you sort out the seats?”
Joe sighs. “Yes of course. I’ve got Bob and the family on one side and him on the other. It’s all down to them now.” He cuts Jane off and dials another number. “Hi Dmitry; it’s all done, “he says. The man on the other end says something in Russian and hangs up.
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