You're Only Dead

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You're Only Dead Page 10

by Jack Parker


  "It's a camera," Victor replied.

  Georgie quickly snatched up a few photos and raked them over with her eyes. "Bloody hell…"

  Victor clucked his tongue. "He has different colors, but they're all the same. Either he's keeping a record of what he does or someone else is. That would explain why he's so careful, ah?"

  Emery examined the device with awe and leaned over next to Georgie to see the pictures for himself. "Do you think it captures everything?"

  "Sure," Victor said. "If we're lucky. These things store hours of video. From the meals he eats to the girls he drools on to the dirty dealers he meets in the dark…"

  Georgie looked up, staring across the room. "That's it, then. All we'd have to do is get to his camera."

  "He might know right away it was missing if someone took it," Emery pointed out as he gripped the camera in his hand. "It has a weight. It's not much, but it's enough."

  Victor reached forward and took it back, using his thumb to pop out a tiny square disc. "Nah. We're gonna pull an Indiana Jones on this one. If we can just get it away from him for a minute I can lift the SD card and replace it with a specialized one of my own. That way I can grab the video footage through wi-fi and record on here," he pointed to his computer, "whatever he records on here." He shook the black stick. "Between the old card we lift and the new one we plant, we should be able to cover at least a few days' worth of secrets."

  Georgie looked over at Victor with a deeply impressed face. "That's quite good, Mr. Scott."

  Emery grinned and picked up his tea, toasting it to Victor. "Get used to it, Georgie. The man's a genius."

  Victor said nothing, pretending to be indifferent but puffing out his chest slightly.

  Chapter 9

  "There's one."

  Emery followed Georgie's indication, leaning out slightly from the shadowed wall they stood against to peer at a young woman with long brown hair and a fur vest. Her face was done up like a doll's, all long black lashes and white skin, and her outfit was much too sheer to provide her any sort of protection from the night's crisp autumn air. He frowned and shook his head. "Too obvious, isn't she?"

  "Malcom likes obvious."

  They watched her for a few moments as she strolled along the same street back and forth. "I dunno. She looks very young. I don't think innocent is the right route to go."

  Georgie shrugged and leaned back into the shadows. "Perhaps not."

  There was a long moment of quiet between them as they continued to scan the populated street for suitable candidates. Hiring out for this job was a little dubious in Emery's opinion, but he didn't see much of a way around it. Georgie was out of the running and Malcom was doubtfully going to be distracted by his or Victor's charms. They needed a bit of eye candy to make this plan work, even if the idea of dealing with a prostitute just made Emery feel sad.

  Georgie looked over to him and then back to the street. "Can your man really do what he says?" she asked.

  "Victor?" Emery glanced at her. "Of course. There's almost nothing he can't do. I've never seen him fail."

  She hummed. "Are you two friends, then?"

  "Yeah. I guess I'd say that. Dunno if he would, though." Emery gave a humorless smile and tucked his hands into his jacket pockets.

  "I reckon you wouldn't with that temper of his."

  Emery paused. "It's warranted. I've…put him through quite a lot. Selfishly. But he's a good man. One of the best."

  "He's clever, I'll say that much," Georgie offered.

  "He'll grow on you," Emery decided. He gazed out, eyes trailing after a leggy blonde chatting up some bloke near a lamppost outside a hole in the wall type pub. She looked about right. "Have you got an inkling as to where Malcom might be tomorrow night?"

  "No, but I've got two scouts with his scent. They should be able to tip us off."

  "Mm." Emery continued to watch, throwing her a glance over his shoulder. "So what's your story, Georgie?"

  She stared for a moment before answering. "Why do you ask?"

  "Just making conversation."

  She studied him warily. "I suppose that's fair. Don't take offense if I keep certain details to myself."

  "Of course," Emery obliged. "I'm just curious as to why you're working with Ludkov. You said he's mostly recruiting a lot of dumb muscle around these parts and you don't fit the bill."

  "I've worked under Aleksei for years, off and on."

  "Off and on?"

  Georgie looked over his shoulder at the women on the streets. "Yes, well, there are always times when you think you can get out, aren't there? Shirk this life, try another. Something respectable perhaps. But this business has a strange way of sucking you back in, time after time."

  Emery bit his inner cheek and fondled the cracked watch on his wrist. "Yeah…"

  "Either way, Aleksei's always been willing to accept me into the fold each time I come crawling back. I owe him a great deal for that."

  "…Do you think you'll ever try again? To get out, I mean."

  Georgie shook her head. "I've accepted it for what it is. I'm in this life until it kills me."

  Emery gently pushed his watch up his arm to keep it out of view and turned back around to size up his current target again. "I think this is our girl."

  Georgie leaned out beside him. "She should do alright. Shall we?"

  "Let's," Emery agreed. They walked out into the lights of the street towards the blonde woman, who was now standing alone near a lamppost and tying up one of her shoes. Emery went first and Georgie hung back, but as soon as the woman straightened up and caught sight of him she looked a tad suspicious. "Hi there," Emery greeted with a friendly smile.

  The woman looked from side to side and crossed her arms. "Hi."

  She was a bit taller than Emery, looking down at him like she thought he might bite. Emery wondered what about him could possibly be so intimidating to her. "Cold night. I think with that outfit you'd be more suited for the indoors, don't you?"

  She shifted from foot to foot and glanced at Georgie before lowering her voice. "I don't work with couples," she said stiffly.

  Emery looked over at Georgie and smirked. "That's not what I had in mind."

  "Look, I'll be frank, love," she said, stepping back. "Men who look like you don't go after us professionals, understand? They got no problem gettin' proper women free of charge. You types only come after us when you got somethin' really sick in mind and I don't want no part of it."

  Emery blinked. "I can assure you, I'm not interested in hurting you. I'm not even interested in sex with you. I just need your help."

  The woman looked around, chewing her lip and scanning him up and down contemplatively. "What, then? You got some sort of fetish? Just need someone to watch in order to get your rocks off? I do that. Sure. Twenty quid."

  "It's nothing like that," Emery chuffed. "Listen, what's your name?"

  "Loretta."

  "Loretta," he repeated. "The job I have in mind is something unusual, I'll admit, but all it requires is a bit of acting."

  "Well I ain't no actress…"

  "Not even when it comes to convincing some wanker he's a stud when he isn't? I'll bet you can do that."

  She turned her head. "This sounds dodgy."

  "It's worth two thousand pounds to me."

  Loretta perked up. "…Two thousand?"

  "Plus a few free drinks, if I know our man," Georgie added.

  She suddenly became vastly less reticent. "Yeah? Just for convincin' some bloke he's all that for the night? Why? What's your angle?"

  Emery nodded. "He's got something I need. In order to get it I've got to provide him with a distraction, and lovely as you are, you are…plenty distracting."

  Loretta smiled haughtily, straightening her top. "Yeah I reckon I look alright. What would I have to do?"

  Emery shared a look with Georgie and smiled brightly. "That's simple, darling. All you've got to do is get his tie off."

  ____________________________________
____

  Victor looked up briefly as the door clicked open and his two associates made their way in. Emery was chuckling slightly and Georgie had a smile on her face, but he wasn't able to quite catch what it was they'd been muttering at one another. As soon as they saw him seated at the table they stopped and Emery put on a casual face. "How's it coming, then?"

  Victor's eyes lingered suspiciously on Georgie before returning to him. "This'll work," he said. "The only problem is that it's possible to catch Malcom on an off day. We'll only get a small window of footage with this trick. If he doesn't do any of his business while we've got him tagged then this'll all be for nothing."

  "At least he'll be none the wiser," Emery said. "He won't recognize your card once it's removed, will he?"

  Victor held it up. "Doubtful. I doctored it up to look exactly like the model this spycam takes. Did you get the hooker?"

  Emery frowned. "She has a name. And she was quite cooperative, yes. Especially after we fed the poor thing."

  "Jesus. You mind backing up a little so your bleeding heart doesn't short out my computer?" Victor said with a shooing motion. "Those people make hundreds a night. It's dirty and it's dangerous but don't go feeling sorry for 'em. That'd be like feeling sorry for…hell, us."

  "Whatever the case, Loretta is an employee now and deserves a little respect. Plus I really think she can pull this off."

  "What, distracting a guy with her tits? You'd be hard pressed to find a woman who couldn't."

  "She'll be ready tomorrow night," Emery said. "Georgie says we should be able to pinpoint Malcom's location within any given hour. Will you be finished by then?"

  Victor shrugged. "I'm finished now."

  Emery smiled and gripped his shoulder as he moved past him. "Thanks for this. Really."

  Victor looked up at him with a thin frown. He didn't care too much for the exuberance Emery was showing. It hinted at his hopes being too high for something as crazy as this overall plan was. He was roughly ninety-five percent sure that they were not going to find Kurt, and he really didn't want to witness that realization firsthand. "Yeah, man. Sure," he replied quietly. He watched Emery wander off towards the bathroom.

  "Sure you don't want some tea? I may even have coffee if I really look," Georgie said, sitting across from him with a cup in hand.

  Victor turned to her with a straight face. He really didn't like that Emery seemed to be getting suddenly chummy with her, either. It was time to cut the bullshit. "You recognized Emery when you first saw him. Why?" he demanded outright.

  Georgie's cheeks suddenly flushed slightly pink, lips parting in surprise. Yeah, he was definitely onto something there. She took a drink of her tea and recomposed. "Shouldn't I recognize Hunter Eaton's heir? You remember who I work for, don't you?"

  "Why were you so shocked to see him, then?"

  Georgie shrugged. "Because I'd never seen him in person before. Only in pictures."

  "Yeah? What pictures?" Victor leaned back, crossing his arms. "Because two years ago it took my crew a week of stalking the kid just to get a clear shot of him. Eaton kept him pretty well under wraps. Not to mention the fact that he's been abroad for the past two years, so when and where exactly did you ever see his face?"

  "He was living in London for over a decade. There are records, you realize. I don't see where this suspicion is coming from, Mr. Scott. Would you mind telling me what you're accusing me of?"

  "I don't know yet," Victor replied. "I just want you to know I'm not as dumb as I look."

  "Clearly."

  He stared at her hard another moment before going back to his computer. He was clacking away silently for a minute or two, noting that she was still sitting there when she spoke again.

  "I'm not going to hurt him, Victor."

  His eyes snapped back to her.

  "I'm just here to help. This circumstance is every bit as fortunate for me as it is for the two of you. If this business with Malcom is finished then I can finally be reassigned to something of greater importance."

  "Right," Victor snorted. "I'm sure Ludkov's chomping at the bit to give you more responsibility when you can't even handle this one on your own."

  She narrowed her eyes at him with clear agitation. "So that's still a 'no' on the tea, then."

  Victor ignored her and went back to work, feeling a little like his namesake as she stood and walked away.

  * * *

  Emery decided not to sleep that night. Not after what had happened last time. He couldn't possibly expect his current associates to abide by his condition and he was every bit sure that those floodgates remained permanently opened. He sat on his bed in nothing but his shorts and stared at the burgundy walls of Georgie's second bedroom for hours on end. How he hated staying up. There was nothing to do, no one to talk to, no reprieve from his thoughts whatsoever. For a moment he almost felt like he was sitting in a flat above some shop in Chester, handcuffed to a bed and waiting for his captors to come fetch him. He smirked slightly but it was quick to fade. No point reminiscing. Kurt was not going to come through that door and save him from this nightmare. He'd learned that well by this point…

  * * *

  Emery slowly opened his eyes to the blue light of early morning. It was a particularly peaceful time of day. Everything was quiet and slow and there was usually time to appreciate how warm the bed had gotten before being forced to crawl out of it. He sat up groggily at the sound of a door opening.

  "I'm getting up…be out in just a bit," he yawned, rubbing his face.

  Kurt looked over at him from where he stood at the dresser, a toothbrush clenched between his teeth and wearing only a towel around his waist as he dug through a drawer. His only response was a soft grunt. Emery stood and stumbled his way into the bathroom, narrowly avoiding Kurt's clumsy attempt to grab his rear as he did so.

  A few minutes later and he was standing in the kitchen pouring too much cereal into a bowl. Usually he liked to cook a proper breakfast, but he was feeling especially lazy this morning and had forgotten to do dishes the night before anyway. He sat down at the table and began to eat as Kurt moved around him, drinking the tea Emery had put on and devouring an apple while he read from the newspaper. He was sort of looking forward to today. Fridays were busier than other weekdays, naturally, and Emery rather liked the shop when it was bustling. It made him feel like he was really doing something other than sitting around watching the paint peel and listening to his boss swear from the backroom as he pored over his inventory. Not that those days didn't have their moments, but doing some actual business was a grand change of pace. All in all he wasn't totally sure how the place kept itself afloat.

  Emery was pulled out of his musings by a hand that took his chin as lips kissed the side of his head firmly. "I'm gone," Kurt said.

  Emery smiled tiredly. "Might be a bit late getting back. I think I've refused Bill a drink about every night this week. Can't put it off forever."

  "Suppose not." Kurt drew back, leaving one last touch on his neck. "Just don't overdo it."

  "Me? Never," Emery dismissed with a wink.

  Kurt smirked and headed out the door, leaving Emery to finish his breakfast and walk to work.

  The day went on as expected. Bill seemed greatly relieved when Emery arrived, claiming that there was a disaster at hand. This disaster came in the form of a shipment shortage. For the whole weekend the shop would have to survive on only four pairs of some Italian designer's knee high women's boots and Bill was positively scandalized. Emery tried to reassure him, but didn't feel right about speaking his opinion that the shoes were terribly overpriced to begin with and looked a little like something only a lady of the night would adorn. His mild suggestion that they probably wouldn't sell out was met with scorn and a lengthy lecture about the importance of a quality shoe—a rant Emery had heard many a time before but always managed to smile through.

  Sure enough, the boots did not sell out by Friday's end, and in fact didn't even garner a shred of interest. Emery
knew better than to rub it in Bill's face, who postulated that this was divine intervention as opposed to a lack of consumer demand. "Count your blessings, Emery lad," he said as they closed up, shutting the register before him with wrinkled hands. "Because they damn well don't come around often. In fact they almost never do."

  "I dunno about that," Emery chuckled. "I've gotten plenty."

  Bill mumbled and swiped a hand at him. "Yes, well, wait 'til you're my age. I think you'll find the ratio of blessings to misfortunes a bit crueler."

  "Come on, today wasn't so bad."

  "Mm. All the same, I'm absolutely knackered. You mind finishing up here? I'm due for a long sleep."

  Emery nodded. "Yeah, Bill. You go on."

  "I'll owe you a pint," Bill said, pulling on his jacket. "You want to head down to the pub tomorrow night? It'll just be the two of us, I think. Oh, and Roger. Probably Mark…and he might bring that boorish brother of his."

  "Sounds lovely," Emery snorted. "Goodnight, Bill."

  "Mm."

  Emery had the routine down by now. He dropped the day's profits into the safe and dusted everything down, turning off all the lights and locking both doors before he went on his way. Home was only a ten minute walk but he somewhat regretted that he hadn't driven, as it was beginning to get colder already. Summers seemed shorter and shorter. He wrapped his coat tightly around his figure and was damn glad to be sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea for the next hour. Kurt was unusually late getting home. It was already an hour past the end of his shift and he was still nowhere to be seen. He tried calling his mobile, but there was no answer. Emery was instantly disheartened. This must mean that he'd had to stay late. Sometimes it seemed like the forge was intent on exhausting him completely. At least it was the weekend, though, and he would have a few days to recuperate. Likely he'd have some gripes when he got home, so Emery tried his hand at making a nice dinner for him to get back to.

  Dinner had been finished for an hour and there was still no sign of him. Emery tapped his fingers idly on the couch before picking up his phone again. He hated to seem like a nag…but still, where was he? He always called if he was going to be late. His phone must've died—that was all. Probably just couldn't slip away long enough to make the call elsewhere. Emery called again and sighed, setting the phone up to his ear as it went to voicemail. "Hello darling, uh…listen, I didn't end up going out tonight after all. Just calling to see where you're at. Ring me back." He hung up the phone and tried to focus on the news program he was watching.

 

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