Risky Business

by W. Soliman

  “Let me help you.” She went to the sink in the corner of the room, wet some paper towels and attacked my bloody face with them. “You’re going to have a right shiner tomorrow,” she said, playing to the camera.

  If I live that long. “You should see the other guy. Ouch!” I’d taken too deep a breath and my ribs protested.

  “Sorry.”

  She unfastened the handkerchief from my hand. “Can you walk to the sink?”

  “I’ll try.”

  She supported my arm and I made a big deal out of shuffling across the room, my movements clumsy and stiff. When we reached the sink she washed off the blood. I let her fuss over me whilst I waited for inspiration to strike but it appeared to be taking a vacation.

  “This probably needs a stitch,” she said. “The cut’s quite deep.”

  “Tell that to Garnet. He’s a compassionate man. I’m sure he’ll let us pop out to the local A&E.”

  “Why do you always crack jokes when you’re in trouble?”

  “Defence mechanism,” I said, winking at her. “And we’re not finished yet,” I added with more confidence than I felt. No point in us both stressing.

  “Take your shirt off. I want to see what they’ve done to your chest.”

  I shook my head. “No you don’t. Trust me,” I hissed. She looked set to argue but something in my expression made her snap her mouth closed. “Not now.”

  “Oh all right, if you’re sure. But at least lie down again.” She dropped her voice. “How are we going to get out of here?”

  Another good question. “I’m more comfortable standing,” I said, avoiding giving her a straight answer. “Garnet wants the book that Paul gave me,” I added in an undertone. “He doesn’t want it to surface later and embarrass him. Personally, I think he’s being a bit paranoid.” I cautiously lifted my shoulders to emphasise my scepticism. Even that small gesture sent pain waves ricocheting through my rib cage. “Unless it falls into the hands of someone who knows what it was, what harm would it do? I mean, we did know but still couldn’t figure it all out.”

  “He’s a control freak. Hates to think there might be something out there to incriminate him, however obscure.”

  I made a loud complaint about my ribs, not entirely for the benefit of the eavesdroppers. “The assistant chief constable,” I said slowly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Instead of getting him to put up money, he bought the man himself.” I expelled a long breath. “What an idiot. I thought Bennett had more sense. If that book falls into police hands and the A.C.C. gets to hear about it, then this house of cards really will come crashing down. Perhaps Garnet’s not being quite so paranoid after all.”

  “I repeat my earlier question that you so skilfully dodged,” she said. “How the hell are we going to get out of here?” She glanced round the windowless box. “It seems hopeless.”

  “These partitions are pretty flimsy.”

  “But even if we had something to break the wall down with, which we don’t, we’re being watched. We’d never get away.”

  “Which leaves the door. If we could pick that lock, we’d have a fighting chance.”

  “Wouldn’t they see us?”

  “No, the camera points straight at the massage table. There are lots of blind spots in the room but if we disappear out of view for too long someone will come running.”

  “Are you any good at picking locks, Charlie?”

  “Afraid not. It’s not something they teach at police college.”

  “The English are so good at not equipping their officers for the real world.”

  “That’s what I tried to tell them.”

  “They always make it look so easy in films. A credit card slid into the right place and Bob’s your uncle.”

  “I assume Andrea took your bag from you.”

  “Yes, just as I came through the door. I was so shocked to see you in such a state that I didn’t give it a thought.”

  “It was too much to hope that they’d let you keep your phone.”

  “Bugger it! I’ve been a bit of an idiot, haven’t I?”

  I smiled because…well because Kara could make me smile, even under such dire circumstances. It cracked open my lip again and I felt the warm trickle of blood dripping down my chin.

  “Charlie, you’re—”

  “Leave it,” I said, grabbing a plastic drinking cup and allowing the blood to drip into it. I also opened up my cut hand as far as it would go, tearing the wound open.

  “Fuck it!” I said between clenched teeth, clasping my wrist as I waited for the stinging pain to subside.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I have an idea. Keep up the concerned chatter, stay out of range of the camera and search this room.”

  “What am I looking for?”

  “Anything that could be used as a weapon. And bandages.”

  “Bandages?”

  “I’ll explain in a moment.”

  But there was little that would help us. This was a massage room, not a doctor’s surgery.

  “There’s this.” Kara held up a jar of what looked like massage oil.

  “Now’s not the time,” I said, waggling my brows at her.

  “So tell me all about this brilliant plan of yours,” she said, rolling her eyes at me.

  “Shush, I’m listening.”

  The voices coming from the locked room continued to drone on. One of them was Garnet’s and his tone was respectful. Whoever had come to see him, Garnet was definitely in awe of him. That had been apparent when his wife told him his visitors had arrived. He’d been anxious to see them, to reassure them about something by the sounds of things. And all the time he was talking to those people he wasn’t watching us. I doubted if anyone else was continually doing so either. He wouldn’t want his visitors to know he had problems. Garnet’s type never did.

  That meant there was an outside chance that my crazy plan might work, but we couldn’t afford to wait. As soon as Garnet’s visitors left he’d be straight back in here and this time he’d be all out of patience.

  I made sure we were well out of range of the camera and told her what I planned.

  “We’ll only get one shot at it though,” I said after she’d heard me out in stunned silence, “so we need to make it convincing.”

  “But you’re hurt. Are you sure you can do it?”

  I wasn’t sure about anything but now didn’t seem like the right time to mention it. “It looks worse than it feels,” I lied. “Shame I’m wearing black though. It would be more dramatic if I had blood all over a white shirt.”

  “You’re doing it again,” she said in a peevish voice. “Making jokes. This isn’t funny.”

  I could see that she was seriously afraid. Sensible girl, she had good reason to be. “Come on,” I said, trying to sound upbeat and confident. “It’s now or never.”

  “Go on then. You’re the star.”

  “I just want you to know that I’ve enjoyed our exclusive relationship.” I allowed myself a moment’s seriousness. “I’m glad I found you, Kara Webb.” I held her against me for a second and immediately released her again. It was that or never let her go.

  “I’m glad you found me too,” she said, tears in her eyes. “Now, get on with it! We are getting out of this, and when we do I shall beat you to a pulp myself for getting us into it in the first place.”

  “Now there’s something to look forward to.”

  “Come on, Charlie! Quit stalling.”

  “Right, here goes.” I took as deep a breath as my protesting ribs would permit and let it out in a long screech. “Christ!” I said loudly, clutching my stomach and doubling over right in view of the camera. “That hurts.”

  “Charlie, what is it?” Kara rushed to
my side looking suitably concerned. “Oh my god, you’ve got blood pouring out of your mouth.” Well, pouring was stretching it but I’d done the best I could with the raw material available. I didn’t fancy inflicting further punishment on myself to obtain a fresh supply, especially since our captors might well do the honours before this night was out. “Where does it hurt?”

  “My gut,” I said, staggering toward the bed.

  “You missed your vocation,” Kara whispered as she pretended to help me up. “You should have trod the boards.”

  “Arghhh!” I crumpled to the floor, still clutching my stomach, well out of range of the camera.

  Kara hovered over me, close enough to the magic eye for her Oscar-winning performance to take centre stage. “Charlie? Charlie, talk to me.”

  I blew her a kiss.

  “Help!” she yelled. “We need help in here.”

  “Okay,” I said, crawling farther toward the door. “Get ready. Stay behind me and be ready to run like hell.”

  I took the jar of massage oil and spread a liberal amount over the floor immediately in front of the door. The voices next door had stalled when Kara screamed but it seemed like an age before anyone came to investigate. It was now a matter of how many people actually showed up. If it was more than one we were stuffed, but I reckoned that Garnet wouldn’t want his visitor to see what was going on in here so wouldn’t leave him alone. He thought I was out of it, and how many men did it take to subdue one hysterical female?

  “What’s taking them so long?” Kara whispered.

  “I reckon the camera monitoring point isn’t next door so they would have heard your shout but nothing else. Whoever’s watching us will have to tell Garnet because I’m betting no one’s allowed in here without his say-so. Just be patient,” I said as much to myself as to her.

  Eventually one set of footsteps sounded in the corridor. I breathed a sigh of relief and flashed a brief grin at Kara. The steps were too light to belong to Glover, which was an added bonus. We exchanged a speaking look as the key turned in the lock. Now that the time had come for action I was feeling deathly calm. I slumped on the floor again, eyes closed. I opened one—well, that was all I could open since Glover had half closed the other one for me. It hurt like a bitch. It was Mallet’s head that poked round the door. He saw me out for the count and Kara flapping over me, yelling at him to do something.

  Clearly satisfied that we weren’t faking it, he stepped into the room, let out a surprised yelp and went arse over tit on the oily floor. He did that windmill thing with his arms, attempting to retain his balance but it was never going to happen. With a stifled oath he hit the floor hard. Kara and I were on our feet in seconds, staying well out of range of the camera as Kara kept up loud demands that Mallet do something to help me.

  “Your boss won’t be best pleased if he dies,” she said. “He’s got something he wants.”

  Mallet groaned and tried to scrabble to his feet. The fall hadn’t knocked him out, that would have been too much to ask for. I had nothing to tie him up with and no way to keep him quiet for long enough to give us a fighting chance.

  “Give me that empty oil jar,” I said to Kara. “And a towel.”

  “What are you going to do with it?”

  I grimaced. “What has to be done.”

  I wrapped the jar in the towel to lessen the possibility of it smashing against his skull and leaving him with glass embedded in it. I then gave Mallet a whack across the back of the head. Hard enough to knock him out, much as Glover had done to me earlier, but not hard enough to do any permanent damage. Like I gave a shit. I searched the unconscious man’s pockets and came up with the key to the room. And, pay dirt, his mobile phone.

  “Come on!”

  I reached out a hand to Kara. We carefully skirted the oily patch of floor and I opened the door, looking both ways to ensure the corridor was empty.

  “We’ve got two minutes, maximum,” I told her as I locked the door from the outside, and we headed toward the exit.

  “Why don’t you call reinforcement now?” she asked.

  “No, we just need to get out of here. If we can get outside, that’ll be the time.”

  “Just hit 999.” She reached for the phone. “I’ll do it.”

  “And tell them what?”

  “That we’ve been attacked and…oh yes.” Her face fell. “Garnet will get to us before the cavalry arrives and claim that we broke in.”

  “Exactly!”

  We moved fast, still walking, but even that was enough to make my world spin. I didn’t tell Kara I was suffering. She needed to think I was in control, not fighting concussion and struggling to remain upright. We’d almost made it to the reception area. Kara was smiling with triumph but something told me we weren’t out of the woods yet. This was too easy.

  My worst fears were realised when we turned the final corner and ran smack bang into a brick wall. A brick wall with tree-trunk legs planted apart and massive arms folded across a solid chest. Glover.

  “Going somewhere?” he asked, grinning.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I still had Mallet’s phone in my hand and passed it to Kara, hoping she’d have the sense to put it somewhere other than her pocket. When she slid it down the front of her jeans I mentally applauded. Hopefully Mallet wasn’t expecting a call. It would give her a hell of a shock if it started to ring inside her knickers, but I hadn’t risked switching it off, just in case it needed a code to fire it up again. I turned my attention back to Glover, who was salivating like a hungry Rottweiler. He obviously thought this was going to be pretty one-sided. He was probably right.

  He never should have gloated. It gave me just enough time to take stock of the situation. Even so, he still managed to land a massive punch in my solar plexus that knocked me sideways. I managed to get an awkward one back, down low. There was little strength behind it but my aim was good and I caught him right in the balls. He howled but recovered far too quickly. He was coming for me again, a murderous expression on his ugly face. Kara was hopping about, tugging at my arm, trying to get me out of his path. But that wouldn’t help. Even if we reached the door we couldn’t outrun him unless we first disabled him. This thing had to be settled, here and now.

  I remained doubled over, causing Glover’s grin to widen. The cocky bastard thought it was all over, just as he was supposed to. There was an elaborate flower arrangement on a side table in a heavy crystal vase. Ideal for my purposes. As I straightened up, I knocked the flowers to the floor and grabbed the vase.

  Before I could do anything more, his massive fist caught me squarely in the gut. Again. I folded in half, feeling such intense pain that I thought I might pass out. I’d never known anything like it but forced myself to ignore the nausea and concentrate on surviving. Kara screamed and I could see her in the periphery of my one-eyed vision casting wildly about for something to use as a weapon. I could have told her she was wasting her time.

  Glover could easily have finished me off then and there, but I guess he didn’t want to explain to the boss how an injured man and slip of a girl had managed to escape. Rational thought clearly didn’t come naturally to him and he had to mull it over at his own pace. I used his momentary distraction to straighten up, smash the vase against the table to break it in half and thrust the jagged edge toward his face. He dodged it but not quickly enough. He screamed as blood gushed from his cheek and raised a hand as though trying to hold the jagged flesh in place.

  “Move!” I yelled to Kara, dodging round the quickly recovering Glover.

  The newspaper-reading security guard had finally reacted to the ruckus and sauntered over to investigate. Just before he reached us we pushed open the fire escape and rushed into the welcome night air.

  “You’re a dead man, Hunter,” Glover growled, his heavy footsteps following us into the night.
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  But now we had the advantage. We were lighter and, in spite of my injuries, quicker on our feet. And we were running for our lives. That tended to make a person focus.

  “Head to the left, away from the car park lights,” I said to Kara, taking her hand and dragging her toward the meditation park.

  The area didn’t offer nearly enough cover but if we could get there ahead of Glover, I figured we’d buy ourselves a few precious minutes’ respite. We almost tripped over something—probably a tree root. Yet again my battered body screamed in protest at the jolt it took but I ignored it, running on adrenaline and good old-fashioned fear as we plunged into the blessed darkness. We fell behind a sturdy tree trunk, both of us breathing heavily. I was having trouble focusing. Sweat and blood mingled on my face and I could feel my heart racing at twice its normal rate.

  “The phone,” I said as soon as I could find enough breath to speak.

  She unzipped her jeans and rooted about, presumably inside her knickers. “Want a hand?” I asked.

  “What does it take to get your mind off sex?” But her grouch lacked teeth and I could hear the jubilation in her voice. She thought we were home and clear.

  I wished I could share her optimism as I took a moment to think about our situation. It all came down to whether or not they realised Mallet’s phone was missing. If they didn’t, we still had a chance. They knew we couldn’t get to Kara’s car. I could see it parked directly under a light, right outside the front door to the club. Besides, the keys were in her bag and I’d never have time to hot-wire it before they closed in on us. We couldn’t use Mallet’s phone to call a cab either. They’d be watching for any vehicles in the vicinity once they knew we’d escaped. If we were stupid enough to call the police, by the time they arrived at the club—always supposing they were willing to raid it on such flimsy evidence—they’d be no sign of illegal drugs. And even if we did somehow managed to slip this net, Garnet knew where we both lived and would assume he’d be able to pick us up again at any time of his choosing.