Amy walked down the corridor, hearing his door close behind her, and gave a little punch in the air. Yes! Oh my god, oh my god, he’s gorge.
She had the choice of using the circular staircase spiralling around the central lift or taking the lift. With her shoes squeezing tight, she hobbled over to the lift and pressed the button. Urrgh, must have done a lot of dancing last night. My feet are killing me.
Stepping into the lift, she pressed the button for the ground floor and leaned back against one of the mirrored walls, her bedraggled image shone back at her from the opposite wall. As the lift descended, she quickly licked her fingers, and used them to wipe away mascara smears from her cheeks. She smoothed down her dishevelled hair and crumpled dress.
As the doors opened onto the reception area’s opulent marble floor, she felt a faint vibration ringing in her bag. Her phone was on silent. She dipped into her bag and pulled it out. Sally’s name lit up.
She answered the phone and squealed.
“Sal, I’ve just met the most amazing man. Oh, my god, oh my god, oh my god,” she squealed again.
Sally’s delightful squeal shrieked out of the phone as Amy performed a little stamp-foot rain dance in front of the lift’s closing doors. The reception security guard looked over and smiled. She glanced up, saw him staring and mouthed a sheepish “sorry,” as she sprinted past his reception desk to the front double doors, giving him a little wave. Four Policemen barged past her; she stood back, giving them the right-of-way.
“Excuse me, miss,” an Officer said, glancing over his shoulder and giving her an appreciative grin of approval. Amy blushed. Was it that obvious she had been at it all night?
The Officer joined his colleagues pooling at to the reception desk. Amy saw one of the men pass the bemused guard a piece of paper.
“We have a warrant to search Dio Buchannan’s apartment. Do you have a visitor’s book? How long does your CCTV keep for? We need copies of whatever you have.” Another Officer reached over and gave the guard a mobile phone, saying “DC DeAngelo would like to speak to you sir.”
She didn’t bother to wait and see what the fuss was about; her boss would be going crazy. She skipped out onto the street, skirted around the badly parked police cars, and speed walked towards the tube train station, ignoring her aching feet.
Watching her from the apartment window, Jack took a deep breath, closed his eyes, put his hands to the side of his forehead and massaged his temples. It broke him to see her with another man, he felt sick. With a heavy heart, he walked towards the door. James could be heard singing in the shower.
He couldn’t bear it. This man would now be a part of her life, hold her the way he wanted, make love to her the way he had. And she didn’t remember a thing about him, about their time together. She didn’t know he existed.
“For fuck’s sake.” He threw a punch at the door with such force it threw him back across the room. Blood seeped from his knuckles. The pain made him feel alive.
He leaned on the hallway table to catch his breath. A newspaper lay open, showing the main storyline. With bloodied fingers, he wiped his hand against the front page to flatten out the creases. He bent to read it.
Their tramp-burning job had been reported. Demands for the government to increase the funding for shelter projects had been issued. He sighed. All this good work and she wouldn’t remember a thing, and wouldn’t have the slightest idea she’d played a key role in exposing the bastards they dealt with.
A female presenter shouted with animation from the television screen. He turned to look at what the commotion was about. He held his bloodied hand as he stood quietly and watched filmed images of Dio Buchannan being stretchered to an ambulance. The reporter talked loudly over noisy sirens and squawking seagulls.
“An international VIP abuse scandal has been discovered in the home of a doctor in Brighton, West Sussex. Twenty-five victims and twelve bodies have been removed from the property. It is reported that, at this stage, Officers are investigating his connections to eighteen MP’s, three Crown Court Judges, a Bishop, and six Hollywood stars.”
Outside Dio’s apartment, a Police Liaison Officer, who had positioned himself on a stand behind a row of microphones, faced a barrage of sporadic flashing lights, cameras and questions.
“Investigations are ongoing. We are working with other forces, searching further premises in London, LA, New York, Durban, Warsaw, and Manila. We believe this is just the tip of the iceberg.”
“We did good, Amy,” Jack said, sighing, wishing he could talk to her.
He turned to hear raised voices outside the apartment. Police were shouting orders back and forth in the communal hallway. He walked through the wall and watched as armed Officers searched the corridor and ran up the stairway to the penthouse above, he heard the name Dio Buchanan mentioned. Pyke had obviously managed to forward intel. The relevant Authorities had been dispatched to ransack all Dio’s addresses. Jack touched his ear to connect with Pyke.
“I’m at Amy’s return point. Did you know before she came to us she’d spent her last night in an apartment block where Dio had a place?”
“No, but Gregori organised that death, so nothing surprises me.”
“We should have dropped her back in another time layer. Weeks in the skies can be nanoseconds on earth. Or maybe we should have waited a bit until the Dio saga was over. I don’t like it. She may have landed in a nightmare. She’s hitching up with a guy who lives a few floors beneath Dio, James Smythson. Will you check him out for me?”
“On it, mon petit chou.”
“Check out who her boss is as well, will you. They’re connected.”
“Are you OK, Jack?” Pyke asked, softly. “You know it’s OK to take some time off if you need it.”
“No, that’s the last thing I need…time to think. That’d be worse. Besides, we’ve got a job on our hands getting Amy back with us.”
“Maggie is a bit broken up. Can you give her one or your charm offensive cuddles when you get here?”
“Yes, as long as she doesn’t start crying. I’m not good with the crying thing.” Jack hesitated.
“Hey, in another world, she may have ended up being your mother in law,” Pyke giggled. “I didn’t see that one coming.”
“Me neither, but that would’ve been cool. She’s one special lady,” Jack smiled, Pyke always had a way of calming him. “Pyke, are you allowed to extend your stay and wait with me for Amy? It could be a long haul, and as much as it pains me to admit it, I may need your help to get me through it.”
“Sorted, my friend. Maggie’s getting me an extension with you. Besides, I’m waiting for Alice. Now that you’ve saved her from Dio, she could up here one day, she’s the type to have requested the deal.”
“What are we like…a couple of old romantics?”
“Do you realise we talk more on these calls than in person.”
“I guess it’s a man thing.”
“I love you, Jack.”
Silence.
“Did you hear me? I love you,” Pyke persisted.
Silence.
“I’m going now,” Jack replied curtly. “This is getting awkward.”
“But I love you.”
“Stop with the Brokeback Mountain shit.”
He could hear Pyke chuckle.
“But I lo…”
“Shut the fuck up, you moron, and put the kettle on,” he grinned, clicking the call off, glad Pyke would be waiting with him. The little shit will get me through this.
Jack exited the building and trudged out onto the street, passing the mounting number of police cars and vans. He spotted Amy’s blonde head amongst the scurrying pedestrians heading for the tube station. She suddenly stopped and turned. Something had caught her attention. Momentarily, he wondered if she could see him, if she remembered him and would come running into his arms. He caught his breath and waited, staring at her.
But no.
She was looking up into the air, watching a tiny white fea
ther cascade to the ground, tumbling and twisting through the air. She reached out with a cupped hand and caught it. She looked up to the sky and smiled, popped it in her pocket, and stepped into the station entrance, becoming lost in the crowd.
He didn’t follow her.
He let her go.
“Later’s babe.”
Chapter Sixty-Two
James stepped out of his invigorating shower and heard a disturbance coming from the corridor outside his apartment. He wrapped a towel around his waist, opened his front door, and peered into the hallway. What the hell?
Armed Police lined the hallway. Forensic teams scurried up and down the communal stairway. Those coming up were puffing with exhaustion. Those going down carried sealed forensics bags, boxes, and computer equipment. One Police Officer caught his eye, running down the stairs, clutching four bulging paper bags in each hand. The word Exhibit had been stamped across them in red ink.
“Please go back into your apartment, sir, until we are finished.”
“What’s going on?” asked James, eyeing the passing traffic.
“They closed down the lift. We have to walk.”
“No, I mean, why are you here?”
“We have a warrant to search one of the premises above you, sir.”
“Dio Buchannan’s place?”
“Yes, do you know him?”
“I’ve seen him in the lobby a few times, but that’s about it. What’s happened? Is he all right?”
“We will be sending Officers to conduct house to house enquiries; they will be contacting you in a short while to ask a few questions. Please make yourself available to them, sir.”
“Yes, yes, of course. But what’s happened? Is he ok? Has he done something?”
“For the moment, we’re not allowed to discuss details with you as we are conducting an ongoing investigation. But if you could be of help, it would be much appreciated. Even the smallest, seemingly insignificant piece of information can be valuable in an investigation. Meanwhile, it’s best you stay inside your apartment for the time being. I’ll be on my way. Thank you, sir.”
“Yes, yes, of course. Thank you, Officer.”
“One more thing. We may be asking for DNA swabs from residents in the block, to delete them from our enquiries. It’s painless and shouldn’t take long.”
“OK, if it’s necessary.”
“And why did you know we were looking at Mr Buchanan’s apartment?”
“Err… I… err…heard his name mentioned on the news channel.”
“Thank you sir.”
James closed his door and leaned back hard against it, thinking for a moment before he reached for his phone.
Chapter Sixty-Three
Foxtrot Union Bar,
Kensington, London, UK
“You’re late,” chided Sally as Amy plonked herself down on the bar stool.
Sally had already ordered. A large glass of cool white wine awaited Amy. She dumped her bag on the floor and grabbed at it hungrily.
“God, do I need this,” she whispered, flashing Sally a look of gratitude.
The cool liquid filled her mouth and soothed her throat as she swallowed back the first sip. She let her body stop for a few seconds whilst she calmed. Sally waited patiently for her to relax.
“And breathe,” she said softly, eager for her friend to fill her in on the night’s excursions.
Being a couple of old romantics, they didn’t shag around. Nights of naughtiness didn’t happen often, and every delicious detail needed to be gone over and savoured. For Amy to have spent the night with a guy, he must have been uber gorgeous, uber charming, witty, and intelligent, with a cheeky touch of naughty rogue.
The two girls sat at the bar of their favourite Kensington drinking haunt, the ‘Foxtrot Union Bar’. It was equidistant from their offices and a convenient meeting destination on their way home. Not too pretentious, it didn’t have many hooray henrys lording it about. The staff were welcoming and the owner often treated them to a complimentary glass or two. They were beautiful women, and beautiful women attracted men who spent money.
“Well?”
“Oh, my god, Sal. He’s gorgeous, tall, blonde, blue-eyed, and perfectly put together. And he’s got those V shaped muscle things going on, that I like.” She drew a large V in the air, with her two pointed index fingers falling and meeting at a point. “You know.”
“Urrghhhh, I’m well, jel.” Giggled Sally. “That’s brilliant. About time you got laid, and out of your dry patch. It’s good to see you all sparkly. Does he have any good-looking friends?” she asked with a hopeful glint in her eye.
“I’ve got to get you a Rose Quartz. It’s your turn to get loved up,” replied Amy. “You can pop it in your bra.”
“Shuuuut upppp about the blinkin’ stones, for god’s sake. I’ll sort myself out.” Sally nudged Amy in the ribs.
“Sorry, I’m late. The boss was not that happy. I arrived two hours late this morning. But I think James—”
Sally interrupted. “Is that lover boy’s name?”
“Yep, James.”
“Very posh.”
“James Smythson.”
“Oh dear, Amy Smythson. You’ll sound like a headmistress. Very la de da,” mimicked Sally in her snootiest of accents.
“He’s not anal like that. He’s quite sweet, really. No airs and graces. I think he put it right with the boss for me. Cos whatever he said, it wasn’t mentioned. I just cracked on with my work and the boss left me alone. The rest of the office grilled me, though. They saw me leave the party with him. Velma isn’t talking to me.”
“She always has been a bit funny, that girl,” Sal replied, shaking her head. “Do you remember when she followed you home from the office, an hour out of her way, to give you a pen you’d dropped on your way out of reception? Weird.”
The girls chatted for hours. They ordered a few dips, some olives, and pitta bread, and munched on the tasty snacks while dissecting the previous night’s events. The bar owner sent them a free large glass of vino, which kept them there another spell. They agreed that Sally would do some stalking work on James, a bit of google research to check him out. Amy felt bad about doing it herself, but someone else doing it for her seemed less sordid, desperate, stalker-esque.
“So, how’s you?” asked Amy. It was Sal’s turn to have her life put to rights.
“Oh, same old, same old. Dartagnia’s getting on my tits still. I’m seriously thinking of leaving. She has her nails well and truly into the boss. It’s embarrassing.”
“You can’t leave, Sal. Speak to your boss about it.”
“Can’t. He’s blinded to her and can’t see her doing anything wrong. He’s led by his cock.”
“What about his wife?”
“She joins them.”
“Ohhh! What about Dartagnia’s husband?”
“He’s invited.”
“Bloody hell does anyone do any work in that office?” Amy took a sip of her drink.
“Maybe I should join in with them,” pondered Sally. “I might get promotion.” She shook her head and scrunched her face at the thought of it. “Nah. Second thoughts. I so couldn’t go anywhere near the bitch. I’d gag.”
“Have you been with a woman before?” asked Amy.
“No.”
“Me neither.”
“It’s on my bucket list to try, though. Just not with Dartagnia. Urrgh! Surely the boss should just promote me for my good work, for my sales figures, not whether I give good head or not,” whined Sally.
“What’s her work like? Is she any good?”
“Well, she is good. Seems to know everything, but she doesn’t have people skills. She thrusts her knowledge down people’s throats, so they back off. She loves stirring up trouble and dumping people in the shit, so no one trusts her. And if we do a good job, she takes the credit. Fuck! Don’t get me started.”
At the end of the bar Jack nursed a tumbler of whiskey, watching them as they sat there oblivious to his
presence. He nudged his half empty whiskey bottle aside to make room for his elbows, and cradled his face in his hands, watching his love carry on without him, enjoying life.
He’d followed Amy all day. He couldn’t leave. Nor could he give her up. Hearing her talk about Smythson with giddiness and enchantment made his skin crawl. But she had done nothing wrong. She couldn’t remember anything they’d done together or anything about her time in the sky on Cloud 9. How could she be unfaithful when he didn’t exist?
Jack saw a dark figure standing at the other end of the long bar. He had unwanted company. Gregori beamed back at him.
“Fuck.” Jack hissed under his breath.
The evil creature was spying on Amy and her friend. How dare he, the bastard? Jack would like nothing more than to dispose of the rancid knob-end once and for all.
“I thought I could smell something rotten. What the fuck are you doing here?” Jack shouted across the room. No one could hear him except Gregori.
“Just keeping an eye on my daughter, making sure Maggie keeps her promise.”
“You can see she has, so you can fuck off. Crawl back under your rock, daddy dearest,” he spat, knocking back his whiskey. “What kind of father are you anyway?” He slammed the empty glass on the bar.
“Well, at least I’ve fathered something. More than you can say, you dear barren boy.”
Gregori hopped off his bar stool and sauntered along the bar, passing drinkers, walking slowly towards Amy and Sal while the bartender replenished their drinks. They were smiling and chatty, slightly tipsy, oblivious to the volcanic energy in the room.
“Get away from her.” Jack snapped, flying off his stool to intercept Gregori face-to-face.
“What? You afraid I’m going to hurt her? Have her killed like last time?”
“You? Get your hands dirty? We all know you get others to do your dirty work. Men like you are cowards, traitors.”
Jack looked around nervously, searching for Mara, wondering if Gregori had brought his evil daughter with him.
“I will kill her. But this time I’ll take her straight down with me. There’ll be no sitting on a cloud doing good shit.”
The Deal (The Fallen Angel Series Book 1) Page 26