Carla was playing with her pasta. Penne Ravello's was fresh pasta tubes with soft rare strips of fillet and a sweet rich herby tomato based sauce. She loved this dish but her mind was elsewhere: Love Island. She would normally be on the sofa watching a bunch of gorgeous people making a mess of their lives while trying to become famous. A perfect combination and the best TV ever, she thought. She was bored and reached her foot towards Diane and rubbed it against her ankle. Diane, ever the professional, ignored her and continued chatting to Edward. She then managed to reach a bit further to just below her knee or so she thought. There was no reaction from Diane but a slight splutter from Mrs. Thomas who was now concentrating on Mr. Thomas. Edward who had been engrossed in conversation with Diane looked at his wife and asked if she was okay and enjoying her food. She was indeed and she grinned more than smiled. It had been a long time since he had rubbed her leg in a restaurant but she knew he had a slightly ‘pervy’ side and the idea of being out with a lesbian couple was possibly a bit of an aphrodisiac, or so she hoped.
Carla withdrew from the accidental flirting and finished her pasta. They remained in the restaurant till 10.45pm and then rather than going home, Diane suggested they all go on somewhere for a nightcap. Before Mr. Thomas could agree, Mrs. Thomas had him by the arm and was leading him off as he had an ‘important meeting’ first thing in the morning and she wanted to get him home to prepare. In the taxi home, Carla explained to Diane what had happened and they both laughed and went through several scenarios on how the night would pan out for Mrs T. Most of them involved Mr. T being naked which didn't help. It was almost 11.30 by the time they got out of the taxi. Diane handed over a tip that the driver would easily remember and they settled in for the night. Danny should have the deal signed and sealed by now she thought.
22
It was still dark for Clark but only because his eyes were covered with gaffer tape which kept his eyelids tightly stuck down. His head hurt in several places and he could taste blood which he was sure was his. On coming round he had felt as if he was in a straight jacket. He couldn't move his legs, arms or torso. He was in fact secured to the beach chair with the same heavy duty tape that was restricting both his sight and speech. The chair was on a raised wooden platform and below there was a plastic sheet. Each of his legs were bound to a leg of the chair and likewise, the length of his forearms and hands were stuck securely to the spindly frame. He could just about move his fingertips. He felt an icy cold in his legs and feet and suspected he was naked from the waist down. He was. Not only that his balls were hanging down through the hole in the chair like two small eggs in a sock. He remembered the hole in the chair and suddenly had an image that made him feel light headed. He instinctively tried to bring his knees together and raise his body upwards but the tape held strong. There was no sound and he had no idea if he was still in the basement. He tried a muffled cry. He started to whimper. ‘Snap!’
“Who’s there?” said Clark.
‘Snap!’ Clark was horrified by the sound which he recognised as garden shears, probably the ones that had been next to the beach chair when he was coming down the stairs.
“You’re making a big mistake; do you know who I work for?” Clark was wishing Blake wasn't out of the country at that moment but his bravado didn’t last long and he quickly changed his tact.
“Please, we can sort this out,” he was now bubbling and tears were stinging his eyes as they built up behind the tape. ‘Snap! Snap!’
“One at a time or both together,” said a voice “Your choice.”
“Please. I’ll go and never come back. I won’t mention any of this to Blake, I promise.”
“You have upset people and you need to make recompense.”
“Please please, I have money. I can pay up.”
“You have terrorised and assaulted my very good friend. I plan to carry out the amputation imminently. It is entirely your choice as to how I progress.”
“I promise I will never contact her again.”
“I do not envisage killing you at this point, only mutilation. If I ever receive another complaint about you I will ensure that you are eradicated.”
“I swear. I swear. Just not my balls.”
Danny took a moment to admire his work. A man conjoined with a buoy, floating on a plastic ocean while isolated from, both, his senses and his manhood. It was a surreal image and one which, Danny was sure, Dali would have approved of. He moved forward and Clark knew someone was now standing immediately in front of him. Clark felt the cold blades pinching his scrotum. He forlornly tried to force his knees together, bit down and held his breath. The man from the van was standing next to Clark. He had been there, silently, throughout the conversation and was holding bolt cutters.
‘Snap!’ Clark was suddenly wracked with pain and he passed out in complete shock without making a sound.
23
It was a week until their third anniversary which both of them were well aware of. Bob had looked at the rules and wasn't impressed with the idea of crystal or leather. He had considered a leather jumpsuit for Zoe but that would have been more of a gift to himself he thought. He also wanted to avoid crystal as that would possibly throw up the diamond dilemma. They had agreed that it would be a quiet night in with Bob being chef and Zoe being the wine taster. A trip to New York was on the cards to make up for it just as soon as the business was settled again.
“I could do with a night out,” Zoe announced in a neglected tone.
“It would need to be Saturday,” replied Bob.
“What about tomorrow night?”
“Sorry, It’s the big game.”
“Cards or football?” Zoe was playing daft even though she was far from it.
“When did I ever watch football? Rugby is the man’s game. And anyway you know fine well I mean poker.”
“Don't go losing my anniversary fund.”
“I won't. I have a good feeling about tomorrow. Luck comes in runs and I'm feeling it.”
“Why don't you take a sick day tomorrow?” Zoe knew that if she got Bob to the shops his poker fund would fall her way rather than end up in the pocket of some fat guy with a cigar.
“I’ve not missed a day in over twenty years. Still, fit as a fiddle.” Bob knew exactly where Zoe was going for once. “So! no! poker tomorrow night and we can do something special on Saturday.”
Zoe’s skulduggery had failed on this occasion but she knew it was only a temporary blip in proceedings.
24
Clark was lying on his back and felt soaked through. He could smell shit and hoped it wasn't his. He was drowsy from the sedatives that Danny had force-fed him. He could see trees and a ghostly moon through clouds and beyond the hedge and farmer’s metal gate there was a stretch of shiny black tar. Beneath him was an old mattress which had taken on the properties of a sponge and squelched as he moved. His left arm ached but then he remembered. He reached for his groin and cupped his manhood which he was relieved to find intact. He forgot the pain for a moment and sobbed quietly in relief. He sat up on his waterbed and he saw that there was a fully loaded ‘pampers’, probably thrown from some passing car, next to where his head had been. There were several black bin bags surrounding him and he could hear critters moving in the undergrowth. He sat quietly wondering where he was. At least his trousers were back on and most but not all of the tape had been removed. Through his drowsiness, the pain began to return. From his shoulder, down through his forearm into his left hand it felt like the worst of toothache. He could see there was a ragged bandage on his fingers and there was a dark stain near his small finger. He wanted to get on the move before they came back for him. He reached into his jacket pocket and found his wallet. There were some notes in it which was a relief but there was a lump of something in the coins section. He opened the zip and removed it. It had a nail and was cold and sticky but almost rubbery to touch. He thought it was the end of someone's finger. Then he realised it was. He walked out of the field and headed downhill
with no idea of where he was going but he knew it wasn't back the way. He walked into a town he had never heard of and flagged down a taxi.
“You ok mate? What happened? D’you get mugged or somethin?” asked the driver.
“Three of them jumped me but I beat them off, they didn't realise who they were messing with.”
“You a martial arts expert or somethin?”
“I was in the SAS.”
“Bet you’ve seen some sights then?” The driver decided to humour him. He had often heard that line but knew it was always nonsense. “That hand looks sore. The hospital is about a tenner from here if you’ve got it?” He had been stung many times before.
Clark showed him the cash. “How far is London?”
“About eighty quid if you pay up front.”
Clark decided on going to hospital and they tidied up the mess. Medical procedures ensured Clark was interviewed by the police but he was completely uncooperative and the report was eventually filed as a hostile witness enquiry. Clark hated the police; he had suffered at their hands on many occasions. He knew that Blake would have something to say when he returned. Blake still owed him and nobody messed with Blake.
Later that morning he sat in the train station cafe and looked at the platforms. He had two hours to wait for the mainline trains. South would mean having to start again and forgetting about what had been done to him, at least temporarily. North would mean he could destroy that whore, even though she reminded him of his mother. He liked the idea of taping the computer freak to a chair and making her watch as he chopped bits off of him.
He got up and walked across the footbridge to the opposite platform. He knew where he was going.
25
Margaret had watched Clark step down onto the cellar stairs. Danny’s buddy appeared silently from nowhere and pointed to the back door which was her signal to get in her car and go. She knew she had to wait for a call before returning home. As she stepped out the back door she heard an almighty crash and ran for the car hoping it was Clark who was heading down those stairs and not the buddy. She leapt into the Porsche and flicked the central locking before speeding off. The next three hours were agonisingly long as she drove around blindly. Each time she thought about stopping she had an image of Clark pulling in behind her as if he had managed to escape and had been following her all along. Eventually, she stopped and booked into the Holiday Inn. Harry wasn't due home till after school so she would get home early once she had heard it was safe. She had, at that moment, realised she didn't have a backup plan if it wasn't.
Margaret watched TV without the volume and in some ways, it was better. It was one of those programs about the funniest dogs ever. It was actually funny for a change and she realised that she normally avoided watching such stuff as the pointless unfunny commentaries and canned laughter ruined the whole idea. As she checked her watch her phone trilled and the initial D was on the screen. It was almost 1 am.
“Your home is suitable for habitation,” said Danny.
“What happened?”
“The relocation was a success; the Boss will be in touch.” Danny then hung up.
Margaret lay awake all night and eventually went home around 6.30am. When she arrived the man was back in the van which had been moved out of the garage and was parked at the back door. She drove adjacent to the van and he gave her the thumbs up before driving off.
The house was just as she had left it. She had thought there would be broken furniture at least: there was always lots of damage during fights in films. She knew she had to look and eventually plucked up the courage to check the cellar. She switched the light on and cautiously climbed down the stairs. It was tidier than she had left it. The garden shears were up on a hook even though she had left them on the floor and the beach chair had been moved to somewhere. She couldn’t find it and eventually forgot it was missing altogether. Within ten minutes of the van driving off, she received a text from Diane asking her to call in at the agency anytime between eight and ten. At 7.45am Margaret walked into the reception. She was shown through and as she went to enter Diane’s office she could hear raucous laughter. Danny and Diane were watching the phone clips of Danny’s latest masterpiece. Diane agreed with him that it had a surreal look.
“Come in, have a seat,” said Diane
Margaret wanted to ask what the laughter was about but she also wanted to know about Clark. Danny provided an update on the accepted proposal. He explained that Clark was safe and well apart from a few bruises after accidentally tripping and falling down the cellar stairs. He added that Clark had agreed to the terms and had been relocated, overnight, much closer to London. He assured her that Clark would not, under any circumstances, contact her again.
“He isn't…?”
“He is fine,” said Danny.
“But..?”
“I can show you some pictures of him being dropped off at his hotel,” offered Diane. She knew how to bluff and was confident Margaret did not want to see Clark’s face ever again.
“No! As long as he’s ok but gone, I’m happy with that.”
“I want you to be my assistant and look after some of the girls,” said Diane.
“My new role?” asked Margaret.
“Exactly, but we can discuss that later in the week. Take a few days to relax.”
Danny stood up and offered his hand; a signal for Margaret to leave. “You did really well last night,” he said with that sinister smile.
Margaret left the office feeling as good as she had in a long time. She felt that she had maybe just gotten her life back and had sight of a better future. She was going to speak to Hugh and find out what was going on.
She drove into the courtyard and looked for the twitching blinds but they remained still. When Hugh answered the door she could see he was surprised but he gave her a look that said it was great to see her. His nose was still bandaged from the attack. She explained that she had recognised his name from the story in the local paper and thought it must have been him. Hugh, real name Hasani Baako had fled to Scotland from Uganda as a child when his family had been forced to escape the Amin regime. On his first day at primary school, one of the kids said to him that Hasani wasn't a real name so they called him Hugh and it stuck. Hugh explained the whole story about the attack. He had opened the door one day to find an old lady standing there looking angry. She had whacked him on the nose with the handle of her umbrella splattering blood across the hall carpet. The poor old lady, who was a touch confused, had been watching his comings and goings from her flat next door. She was sure that he was her husband, who had died over twenty years previously, and that he was living next door and having affairs. The papers had got hold of what had happened and as they normally do, they had made a story out of nothing. Someone had called the Police but Hugh had obviously not pressed charges. His stitches had been removed and he was expected to have a small scar, nothing more. Margaret apologised for laughing when Hugh had finished the story. They then spoke about the 70’s night and why he had ‘blanked’ her at the end of the night. It was simple. Hugh wanted Margaret for himself without Cheryl.
“But I just can’t give up working.” said Margaret.
“I know that, but maybe in the future things could be different,” he replied.
“How do you mean.”
“I know you need to work and I wasn't sure if I could handle what you do, but I can, I’m sure.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I want Margaret and I can cope with Cheryl for now.”
“Ok. I’m so glad I came to see you.”
“And me,” he said as he reached forward and kissed her tentatively. “Let’s take it a day at a time. I think we could have a future together?”
”I do too.”
26
Bob had started disastrously but was still afloat and was slowly re-building a bank which might solve his diamond dilemma. He had purposefully changed his whole style of play: aggressively raising and bluffing. He had be
en sure that his lucky streak was a reality and although his faith had been dented he was determined not to go home ‘potless’. He wasn't just twenty-seven thousand down on the night he had been adding to his bank as it fluctuated and was now on the maximum loan the Management would allow which was forty thousand. He had hoped before the game started that at this point he might be about twenty up, as it was, he had over fifty but was really well behind. There was a massive amount of money on and around the table and they were down to the last four. Two of the others had also taken loans so they were in a similar position. The remainder, who were already out, had either stayed to watch or gone home. Bob knew tonight was going to be a turning point in his life. He just had that feeling only a gambler can sense. He could just fold, pay off his debt to the Management and go home with a portion of his original bank, but he decided not to. An hour passed and there were three still playing. The hand Bob had been waiting for had just fallen into his lap. His cards were an exciting start and he tried to show no sign of his pleasure. This was a no limit game and after ‘The Flop’ his position was much stronger. He had played long enough to be able to roughly calculate the odds and he reckoned his hand had around an eighty percent chance of being the strongest hand based on the cards he could see. After ‘The Turn’ Bob knew he had the hand of a lifetime and a chance to go home with around a hundred thousand profit. He went “All- In.’ Both other players then joined him in a three-way, winner-takes-all. He knew then that no one was bluffing and they all watched as the fifth and final community card was placed on the deck. There were only two possible hands which could beat him and he felt the percentages were in the nineties and in his favour. They all placed their cards face up and they knew their fate.
Bob didn't grudge the winner his prize. If he ever picked up that hand again he would play it exactly the same way and almost certainly win. He stood up and offered his hand to the victor who was raking chips towards him as if he was protecting his children. Bob smiled and congratulated him and walked out like a proper gent. He was about to open the door and a member of the Management team took his arm. Bob wasn't in the mood to be handled but stopped and stared at the individual who reminded him of the terms and conditions he had signed up to. Bob knew the rules and would never welch on a bet. He did suggest that he might need to speak to the Manager. The individual explained that the Manager did not negotiate and the Management team would be in touch in four days to recover the loan plus ten percent. Beyond four days and the conditions became much more complicated in more ways than one. Bob suggested he left his card so that it could be passed to the Manager but it was explained to him that there was no need as the Manager knew each and every player. Only players who had the financial clout to buy into games or borrow from the Management were entitled to be invited into the circle. Bob walked out and stood next to his Range Rover. He suddenly felt a clammy sweat and wiped his brow. A chill crossed his face and he felt his shirt become damp. He wanted to be sick but he suppressed it. He closed his eyes and wished he could go back about seven hours. He decided there and then that he was giving up poker and gambling in general. The sad thing was that he knew he didn't mean it.
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