Topspin

by Soliman, W.

  Glancing at his watch, he realized there was just enough time. A quick marital fuck couldn’t be described as rape, not in his book. Pushing Stella against the wall, he released himself and dragged up her skirt. She didn’t fight him anymore and just stood there, staring over his shoulder with an expression of blank inaccessibility, taking no active part in the proceedings. She opened her legs when he told her to, obviously wanting to get it over with as quickly as possible. He would have liked to take longer, make her suffer for defying him, but he didn’t have the time. He pushed his hand down her top and pulled one of her breasts out of her bra, bending his head to suckle on the nipple, the feeling of invincibility that went hand in hand with sexual dominance coursing through his body. He could achieve anything he set his mind to, with or without his wife’s help. He knew that now and chastised himself for momentarily doubting it.

  A few deep thrusts and he felt the rush he so craved starting to build. He could hear his breath coming in shorter and shorter bursts, felt the fire lancing through his veins as he fought to delay his piercingly intense climax. But he was too desperate to hold back for long. Grasping Stella’s buttocks tight, he thrust harder still and ejaculated deep inside her.

  “Things have gone wrong between us recently, Stella,” he said, withdrawing and zipping his fly. “We’ve drifted apart and it’s partly my fault. I accept that. I’ve been preoccupied with this business at the club. But if we can pull it off, it’ll make everything right again, you’ll see, and everyone’ll look up to us. We’ll be people of consequence and enjoy everyone’s respect.”

  “Why does that matter to you so much?”

  “All men like to be respected, darling.” He patted her rear but his smile faltered when he clocked her contemptuous expression. “And I recall a time when you used to be my number one fan.”

  “That’s when I thought you were a different person,” she said, casting him a look of pure vitriol as she pushed herself off the wall and headed for the bathroom, slamming the door in his face when he attempted to follow her.

  Angela poured Joe another drink. Was it his third or his fourth? He couldn’t remember and didn’t especially care. He wasn’t sure how Angela came to be in his room, although he thought perhaps Chris, feeling awkward about Joe’s distress, had suggested going to get her when Jack couldn’t be found. He was glad that she was here to act as a buffer between him and Chris. They were attempting to be strong for each other, but were both too shell-shocked to be making much of a fist of it. Having someone in the room who knew what had gone on with Claire, and possessed enough sense not to keep banging on about it, made things a little less torturous all around.

  Poor Chris! He’d loved his mother unconditionally, shared everything with her, and now his illusions had been shattered every bit as much as Joe’s own. He’d have to make a choice now, decide who he wanted to live with, because Joe knew his marriage was over. At the moment Chris was solidly on his side, angry and humiliated by what his mother had become, but that was bound to pass. What would happen then? Joe felt a fresh surge of anger nudging his despondency aside. It wasn’t just Joe’s life that Claire had so casually ruined.

  “Perhaps we ought to get something from room service?” Angela said, filling the awkward silence that had descended when Chris left the room for a reason which hadn’t registered with Joe.

  Joe tried a weak smile out on her. “I don’t feel much like eating right now,” he said.

  “No, I suppose not. That was stupid of me.”

  “Don’t let me stop you, though.”

  “It’s all right. I’m not particularly hungry either.”

  “Where did I go wrong with her, Angie?” Joe suddenly felt an overwhelming need to broach the subject they’d both been at such pains to avoid. He swirled his drink and stared into it as though the answer might be lurking somewhere in its murky depths. “Was there something in life she wanted that I didn’t give her?” He gave a protracted sigh. “I would have moved mountains for her, you know. She was everything to me, and I’m not sure I can face life without her, even after everything she’s done.”

  “It’s definitely over, then?”

  “Yes. Not only did she lie to me, but she would have let Jack take the blame for raping her if she’d thought she could get away with it. And that I could never forgive.” He stood and paced the room. “God, I wish Jack was here now! Where can he have gone? I need to apologize. I don’t suppose he’s too chuffed with me right now, but hopefully I’ll be able to make him understand that I acted in the heat of the moment.”

  “Of course he’ll forgive you.” Angela stood to join him as he stared out of the window. “Jack knows what Claire was. Besides, he doesn’t bear grudges.”

  “Then why has he gone tearing off?”

  “I don’t know, but you can bet your life he had a good reason. Why don’t you try ringing and asking him?”

  “I think I just might.”

  “Ed and his cronies are working the bar,” Chris said, re-joining them. “And they’ve upped their offer to fifteen thousand quid a head.”

  “Desperation must be setting in,” Angela remarked.

  “What can we do to stop them?” Joe asked, just for something to say, not really caring.

  “Jack would know what to do,” Chris said.

  Joe pulled out his mobile. “I’m going to see if I can get hold of him.”

  Jack answered on the first ring.

  “Jack, it’s Joe. Listen, I’m sorry, mate, but I got the wrong end of the stick.”

  “Forget it! Are you all right?”

  “No, but my anger, Jack Daniel’s, and Angie and Chris between them are helping me to keep it together.”

  “I’m sorry you had to find out like that.”

  “Yeah, well, shit happens. I’ve sent her back to the Island, told her to clear herself out of the house before Chris and I get back tomorrow.” He could hear the catch in his own voice. Talking about the practicalities made it more final somehow. “Where are you, Jack?” Joe could hear the sound of traffic in the background.

  “I’m in the car. Something important’s come up. I wouldn’t have left you otherwise. I’ll tell you about it when I get back to the Island.” He paused. “There’re quite a few things I should have told you about myself before now, come to that. I’m sorry I can’t be there for you, mate. Just trust me on this, because I know from personal experience what you’re going through. Hang in there, it does get better eventually.” He sighed. “How’s Chris doing?”

  “We’re bearing up for each other.”

  “That’s the spirit.”

  “He tells me Ed and his cohorts are in the bar and have upped their offer to fifteen thousand.” Joe paused, temporarily losing what Jack said amidst the sound of squealing brakes and a horn blaring.

  “Sorry, mate, an eight-wheeler just swerved into my lane.”

  “Well, it doesn’t seem to matter now, but it looks like Ed’s going to get what he wants. To be honest, we don’t know how to fight back.”

  “There is a way. Do you want to get your own back on Palmer, without deploying that vicious right hook of yours again, tempting though the prospect might be?”

  “What do you think!”

  “All right, listen up. I’ve got a history with the schmuck, and I got suspicious when he turned up on the Island out of the blue like that, so I did a bit of checking. And I’ve just found out something interesting about him.”

  Joe was actually smiling when he cut the connection, something he hadn’t anticipated doing ever again.

  “Come on,” he said to Angela and Chris. “We’re going to spoil that little party in the bar. But before we go down, Angie, can I have a private word with you?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll go and find Sheba and Malik.” Chris had a spring back in his step as he headed for the door.

  Joe told Angela what Jack had just revealed. “I don’t know that it’ll be enough, though,” he said. “It’s one th
ing discrediting Colin, who they don’t know very well. But even though most of them don’t much like Ed, they do trust him. And a lot of them need that money badly, which makes trust even more intuitive.”

  “We don’t need to discredit Ed necessarily,” she said, “but there are a few things I could tell them about his partner that might make them think twice about the whole scheme. Pile on the doubts about the integrity of the individuals putting up the money, and we might get somewhere.”

  “You’d be willing to reveal all that?” Joe stared at her in astonishment when she told him what she intended to do. “It might turn ugly when it gets back to him.”

  “Tough! I’ve had enough of Aston dogging my life. It’s time to make a stand, and the kids are old enough to understand.” She took Joe’s arm. “Come on, let’s get it over with.”

  By the time Jack reached Croydon, he still hadn’t come to terms with the fact that he actually had a son. Another living, breathing being was on this planet only because of him. Sharing his gene-pool and, presumably, some of his mannerisms and characteristics as well. Jack wondered if he’d ever get to meet him and find out which ones, or if, by some cruel twist of fate, he’d only found out about the boy’s existence when it was too late to do anything to protect him. His expression hardened and a slow, burning anger coursed through his body as he contemplated the ordeal his wife and son were now being forced to endure at the hands of those two bastards. His cowardly ex-cohorts could posture all they liked, but they wouldn’t get to harm the child, not while Jack still had breath in his body to prevent it happening. He’d already discovered there was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep his son safe.

  “Hang in there, kid,” he said aloud. “Your dad’s coming to get you.”

  As he waited for Cyril to arrive, he applied his mind to the problem of extracting the boy and his mother from Kevin’s clutches without getting any of them killed in the process. Kevin and Wilf currently held all the aces. He had no idea where they were holding his family. They could be anywhere in this ugly labyrinth of back streets with their rows of tired looking terraced houses and tower blocks. Unless Cyril came up with any bright ideas, then he’d never find them in a month of Sundays. His contacts confirmed the house they’d first headed for belonged to a local thug who was currently banged up. But they were no longer there, and no one was being held hostage in the place.

  Croydon was a concrete jungle, and Jack reluctantly conceded there were worse places to hide hostages than in the middle of a crowd. Jack didn’t have a clue where to start looking and was relying on Cyril’s knowledge of Tania’s living arrangements to kick-start the rescue plan he hadn’t yet formulated.

  He stationed himself in the foyer of the hotel, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for reinforcements to arrive. When Cyril strode through the doors a short time later he was flanked by his minder-come-fixer, universally known as Tyson because of his close physical resemblance to the boxer. Jack had never known him as anything else and didn’t have a clue what his real name was. He was surprised to see Pete, the mathematical whiz who’d cooked Cyril’s accounts for as long as Jack could remember, also in tow. He was fiercely intelligent, and his creative bookkeeping had saved Cyril’s bacon on more than one occasion. But when it came to muscle power, his physique left a lot to be desired. His head fell well short of Tyson’s massive shoulder and he was so thin that he looked as though a strong gust of wind would blow him off his feet.

  Cyril offered Jack his hand. “Although I’m not sure if it’s me hand or me neck you’d rather wring right now.”

  Jack took the proffered hand and grimaced. “I’ll let you know when this is over.” He made do with nodding to Tyson. By popular request Tyson had long ago stopped shaking hands, having a tendency to take the firm handshake thing too literally.

  “Nice to see you again, Pete,” Jack said.

  “You don’t wanna shake that little wanker’s hand, Jack,” Cyril said. “He’s the bastard who gave your number up to Kevin.”

  “What!” Jack stared at him in disbelief. Pete had proved his loyalty to Cyril time without number. He was privy to all Cyril’s private records and the last person Jack would have suspected. “Why, Pete?” he asked.

  “Look, I’m sorry, Jack, but I didn’t know what they were planning to do.”

  “Yeah, you’ll be sorry all right,” Cyril said, “you ungrateful little shit.”

  Their drinks arrived and Cyril stopped talking until the waiter had withdrawn.

  “Okay,” he said, glowering at Pete. “You’d better tell Jack how you landed Tania and Dimitri in this mess.”

  “It was my sister that caused the problem,” Pete said, sounding as miserable as he looked. “You remember Celia, Jack.”

  “Yes, sure.” Jack wondered what the hell she had to do with it all.

  “Well, you know how she practically brought me up and fought hard for me to get an education, what with our ma being on the game, on the bottle, or inside most of the time.”

  “Get on with it!” Cyril growled. “We ain’t got all night.”

  “Well, she’s never had much of a life, our Celia. No sooner did she get me off her hands than she took on the care of our cow of a mother when she got ill. She wouldn’t let me pay for professional help and insisted on doing everything for the old girl herself. Not that Mother was grateful, mind. All she did was complain about everything and pick on Celia something rotten. Anyway, by the time she did us all a favor and turned her toes up last year—Mother, that is—Celia was a bit long in the tooth to start thinking about a social life. She’s dead shy, not exactly an oil painting, and she don’t make friends easily.”

  “What’s that got to do with me?” Jack asked, losing patience.

  “I was getting to that.” He paused and took a sip of his drink, unable to look Jack in the eye. “You see, Celia came to me one day a few weeks ago looking better than I’d ever seen her. She’d had her hair done, put a bit of makeup on, got new clobber, the works. I knew there had to be a man at the back of the transformation and was glad for her.”

  “Until he found out it was that bastard Wilf.”

  “Ah, I see,” Jack said.

  “Yeah, well, I don’t much like Wilf, but have you ever tried telling a woman who’s pushing forty and who’s getting some for the first time in her life that the only man who’s ever looked at her twice ain’t any good?”

  Jack shifted in his seat. “You think Wilf targeted her deliberately?”

  “Must have done, but I didn’t realize it at the time. She said she’d bumped into him by accident one day, and I believed her. He took her for a drink, talked about his recent divorce and stuff, invoking her sympathy, and it went on from there. I reckoned Wilf would ditch her again soon enough and she’d get a broken heart, but you know what they say, better to be a has-been than a never-was. I was glad to see her having a bit of fun for once, but when she told me Wilf wanted to get in touch with you and asked if I knew where you were, I immediately smelt a rat.”

  “Which is when you should have come to me, you dozy bastard!” Cyril growled.

  “Yeah, well, I’m sorry, boss.”

  “You fucking will be!”

  “But you did tell her where to find me?” Jack asked.

  “In the end. She wore me down, Jack. I’m sorry, mate. She just kept on and on, nagging away like women do, reminding me of all the sacrifices she’d made for me and Mum. Was it too much to ask for one little telephone number in return? In the end I told her, just to get her off my back. I figured that if I didn’t, then someone else would, and I knew you could look after yourself.”

  “But that doesn’t explain why you told her about Tania and the boy.”

  “I didn’t realize that I had. No, straight up, Jack,” Pete said in response to Jack’s skeptical expression. “I wouldn’t have done that to you, mate, not knowingly. She asked me casually one day, before I even knew she was seeing Wilf, if I knew where Tania was nowadays and how old the boy
was.” He shrugged. “I didn’t see any harm in telling her, especially as she already knew about Tania and the kid.”

  “Seems like everyone did,” Jack said, glaring at Cyril. “Except me.”

  “I couldn’t know she had a reason for asking.”

  “She played him like a fucking Stradivarius,” Cyril said in a tone that made Jack glad it wasn’t directed at him. “The only reason the little tosser’s still breathing is that when he heard Tania had been taken he had the balls to put his hand up to what he’d done.”

  “Course I did. I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to Tania.”

  “You won’t have to,” Cyril said. “Anyway, I brought him along so he could tell you to your face just what an ungrateful little twat he is and to give him a chance to save his miserable neck. We might need him later. If necessary, he can call his bitch of a sister and see if he can get anything helpful out of her.”

  Jack nodded. “Fair enough. But then, he’s not the only one with a guilty conscience, is he, Cyril? You didn’t think of mentioning to me that Tania was here, when you knew they were bound for this part of the world? It didn’t occur to you that they might think about using her and the kid to get at me?”

  “You’re fucking out of order, Jack, but in view of the circumstances I’ll pretend you never said that.”

  Tyson grunted, the only sound that had escaped his mouth since he’d arrived. Whether it was supposed to intimidate, or was uttered in frustration because it didn’t look as though his services would be required just yet, Jack didn’t care to speculate.

  “Yeah, all right, sorry.” Jack paused. “Where do you think they’re holding them then, Cyril? Any ideas?”

  “I phoned the club on the way here. The manager says her boy’s got something contagious, so she’s holed up with him in the flat she lives in above the club. She won’t let anyone in, hasn’t emerged herself all day, and gives instructions to the restaurant staff over the phone.”