by KJ Charles
“My man, of course. Peacock. You haven’t met him, I think? Very discreet. He, ah, lurked in the kitchen and, may I say, finished my Times crossword while he waited, piling humiliation on top of embarrassment.”
“Good,” Will said. “I hope you never get a seven across again. Arsehole.”
Kim grinned at him. He looked entirely as if they were playing a game and he was enjoying it, and the damn fool thing was that Will felt that way too. Of course Kim would turn up after two months with some bizarre story; of course he wouldn’t tell it like a normal person. He was up to something, and he’d come round here to be up to it. A prickle of interesting possibilities ran up Will’s spine.
He pulled himself together. “So you paid this toe rag because...?”
“I wanted to find out what would happen next. It seemed to me that my little blackmailer might provide a useful lead, so I gave him a tenner and had Peacock follow him when he left.”
“And? Where did he go?”
“The High-Low Club on Maddox Street.”
“You’re joking. I was just there the...other...” Will sat up straight, his absurd enjoyment evaporating like spit on a stove. “Did you know that? You knew that, didn’t you? Is that why you’re here?”
“You were indeed there, with Maisie,” Kim said calmly. “And then today you met one of the waiters for dinner. I wondered why.”
Will didn’t realise he’d propelled himself off the bed until his stockinged feet hit the floor. “What the fuck does that mean? Are you accusing me of something? What the hell?” He was staggeringly hurt, he realised, somewhere under the anger, horrified and appalled that Kim might be regarding him as the enemy.
Kim wasn’t, though. Rather, he was rolling his eyes as though Will was the unreasonable one. “I’m not accusing you of anything, you idiot. The very opposite. Apart from anything else, if you wanted to hurt me, I have absolute faith you’d do it yourself and in person.”
That was a very Kim sort of compliment, but it did smooth Will’s ruffled feathers a little. “I do want to hurt you. Frequently. Damned if I know why I haven’t.”
“Your restraint is astonishing. Sit down, for heaven’s sake. I have not been spying on you, but I have been keeping an eye on the High-Low for my own reasons. Imagine my delight when you turned up.”
He said that with his usual light irony. Will had no idea how to take it. He glowered, as an all-purpose response. “What reasons?”
“What did you think of the High-Low?”
“Good band. Overpriced drinks. The manager and her second in command are a right nasty pair, they have gangs in, and there’s a regular dope dealer on the top balcony.”
“An excellent summary,” Kim said. “It’s a very dubious proposition indeed and I need to find a trustworthy inside man, which brings me here. How do you know the waiter? Or are you getting to know him?” He raised a suggestive brow.
Will returned a deeply unfriendly look. “I served with him, since you ask. Lieutenant Beaumont. I met him the other night when I took Maisie there, and we had dinner tonight to catch up.”
“I see. How was it?”
Will shrugged. “Awkward. You know.” Of course Kim didn’t know; he hadn’t served. “He’s changed a lot since Flanders, but haven’t we all.”
Kim nodded. “What are his circumstances? I assume he isn’t well off, if he’s waiting on tables. Is he in need of money?”
“I am not putting you in touch with Beaumont so you can bribe him,” Will said flatly. “We might not be bosom friends but he doesn’t deserve that.”
“Throw a dog a bone. I’ve got to get into this blasted place.”
“Why? What is it exactly that you’re after? What’s this job you have on?”
Kim contemplated him for a long moment, as if weighing something up. At last he said, “How did you come to visit the High-Low? Were you invited? An advertisement, a recommendation?”
“Maisie picked it.”
“And you didn’t know this waiter chap worked there?”
“Of course not. I haven’t thought of him since 1918.”
“Was he surprised to see you?”
“Almost dropped his tray. Mind you, that was because I’d bumped into him. Are you trying to get at something? I went to this place because I’d promised to take Maisie dancing and she named it. Do I need more reason than that?”
Kim sighed. “Fate, then. Our wills and fates do so contrary run, and you are the most contrary of Wills.”
“What?”
“The High-Low,” Kim said, dropping the airiness. “It’s linked to Zodiac.”
They looked at each other. Will could feel his muscles tensing, readying for action. “Zodiac,” he repeated. “What would they want with a night-club?”
“Consider the convenience of a night-club for a criminal enterprise. Vast sums in cash wash in and out regularly, making it impossible to trace the path of money. The most ill-assorted people can meet in a highly casual fashion. It’s a notorious trade, and the High-Low attracted the attention of a colleague of mine, one Leinster, who specialised in following financial trails. He identified some profitable and highly illegal sidelines operating out of the High-Low and suspected it was being used by Zodiac to accumulate working capital. He had more suspicion than evidence, but he was a genius in his way. If he thought the High-Low smelled, I believe something there is off.”
“You’re talking in the past tense,” Will said.
“Yes. Leinster is dead. He fell under a train on a miserable night in January. The platform was icy; he could very well have slipped.”
Will’s hairs prickled on his skin, not pleasantly this time. “But you don’t think he did.”
“No, I don’t. He was working on linking the High-Low and Zodiac, and he fell under a train, and when I started attempting to retrace his steps, I contracted a nasty dose of blackmail. I’m not chalking both of those up to chance.”
“No. Damn.”
“Problem?”
Will made a face. “This might be just imagination, or an inflated idea of my own importance, but...” He told Kim briefly about his visit to the higher balcony, and the odd conversations with Fuller and Mrs. Skyrme. “I felt as if they were getting at something, trying to find out what I was up to—which was nothing. Maisie thought the same. And now you’re saying they might be Zodiac, and they might be after you—”
“And you wonder if, knowing Kim Secretan was in the picture, they recognised the name Will Darling. As you say, damn.”
“I was hoping you’d say ‘nonsense’.”
“Sadly, no. You made your presence felt to Zodiac last year. If someone in the High-Low is sufficiently high up, they will know your name, and they might very well have wondered what you were doing there.”
“Mrs. Skyrme was wearing long gloves.” Will didn’t need to fill that in. Zodiac’s inner circle sported little wrist tattoos, a brand of loyalty.
“She usually does. I don’t suppose you saw Fuller’s wrists?”
“Didn’t look. I thought I was having a night out, not sticking my head into the lion’s mouth. Hell’s teeth, Kim. You said Zodiac would leave me alone if I left them alone, and now I’ve turned up at their place and they clearly thought I was asking questions. Mrs. Skyrme even said something about me telling my friends about the place. That meant you, didn’t it?”
“Probably. You said she was trying to find out what you were up to. Any specifics?”
“She gave me a list of names, people I might know. I think she was watching for a reaction. I hadn’t heard of any of them.”
Kim frowned. “Can you remember the names?”
“Tommy someone. Teller? Brilliant Chang, I remember that, and Wally Bunker, who Beaumont said was a racecourse terrorist.”
“He’s behind any amount of illegal gambling, and wears a check coat that should be on the statute books as a serious offence.”
“He was on the top balcony. Nasty-looking piece of work.”
&nbs
p; “Brilliant Chang is a dope merchant,” Kim went on. “A very pleasant and cultivated one, at least if you meet him socially, and does not operate from the High-Low, which suggests she didn’t want to name her own people. Might the third have been Tommy Telford?”
“Rings a bell.”
“Ask not for whom the bell rings,” Kim said. “Damn, and also blast.”
“Who is he?”
“A professional purveyor of violence and intimidation. If you’d recognised his name, you’d have understood you were being threatened. Your visit was clearly seen as an act of aggression. I’m extremely sorry, Will.”
“It’s hardly your fault.”
“The link between your name and mine is what puts you at risk. That looks like my fault from here.”
“Oi,” Will said. “I made Zodiac dislike me all by myself, thanks. So should I expect blackmailers?”
“It probably depends what you’ve been up to.”
“Is that up to with you, or up to in the two months since you buggered off without a word?”
Kim’s eyes snapped wide. Will felt fairly startled himself: he hadn’t meant to say that. “Never mind,” he muttered.
“Not at all, it’s a valid question.” Kim sounded smooth and urbane, as if he was discussing something that didn’t matter at all. On the other hand, he was a liar. “I don’t know what Zodiac know about your personal life but any association with me tends to stain reputations. What you’ve done in the last two months is your own business, but I hope it was discreet.”
“Jesus Christ.” Will found himself briefly speechless. “You come round here, suck me off, disappear for months, and now you’re telling me how I should have been behaving?”
“Purely as a practical matter.”
“Practical matter!”
“You’d prefer a moral judgement?”
“I’d prefer you not to be an arsehole, but apparently—”
“I don’t claim any say over what you do,” Kim said over him. “I apologise if I gave you that impression.”
“That isn’t an apology, and it’s not what you should be apologising for!” Will caught himself there before he said something really stupid, like, What happened? What went wrong? What did I do?
He hadn’t done anything. Kim was a rich man with a fashionable fiancée and a background of eye-watering privilege, and five names plus the title, and beautiful manners when he chose to use them, and elegant hands unmarred by calluses and scars. Of course Will had no place in that glittering world. Their lives had intersected because of Zodiac; there had been nothing to keep them in the same orbit without that threat. Kim was back here now because of Zodiac.
And that was his right, and Will had no more say over what Kim chose to do than vice versa. Not to mention he’d already refused the offer of an apology, so he oughtn’t bang on about it. Kim might be an arsehole but that didn’t mean Will should become one in his company.
He put a hand up. “Forget I said that. I’m pissed off but this High-Low business isn’t your fault. No, I have not done anything indiscreet, as if it’s any of your business, but I don’t suppose that’ll stop Zodiac if they want to get at me.”
“Indeed not. You might want to watch your back.”
“So should you.”
“The best defence is a good offence,” Kim said. “And I am nothing if not offensive. I’m going to have a look at what Mrs. Skyrme is up to, and if I find links to Zodiac, things will become interesting. Leinster always said we’d get them by following the money.”
“Was he a friend?”
“I worked with him several times. He didn’t give a damn for my past as long as I did my job. He was a good man, and I owe Zodiac something on his behalf.”
“I owe them a kicking on my own,” Will said. “Do you want your back watched?”
He realised too late that he really could have phrased that better. He’d had a bloody good look at Kim’s back that long night locked together in his bed, and he was pretty sure Kim had the same memory now from the way his eyes widened.
Or not, because when Kim spoke he sounded as smooth as ever. “I thought your score with Zodiac was settled.”
“You keep your scores, I’ll keep mine.”
“Fair. Are you sure you want to be involved, though? You might do better to continue living the life of an innocent bookseller and hoping they conclude you’re harmless.”
“Did you just call me harmless?”
“If it’s convenient for them to think so—”
“No,” Will said flatly. “I am not going to roll over and play dead, or sit around and wait to see what they’re going to do to me. I had enough of that last time.”
“You’re simply forced to take pre-emptive action. I quite understand.”
Kim’s voice rippled with amusement. That was probably fair because Will wasn’t fooling anyone, including himself.
The fact was, he was bored. He bought and sold books, sometimes read them; he shifted stock around, did repairs, went to the pub or the football or the cinema. He had no projects, no horizons, no plans, just a comfortable life doing the same sort of thing every day. It would have sounded like paradise back in the trenches, but he had a knife slowly losing its edge and a worrying sense he was doing the same, and the placidity was starting to scrape his nerves.
He liked action, that was the problem. He’d spent his formative years at war, and he’d got used to it as a man got used to cigarettes. You could stop, for years even, and then you remembered how it felt and you found yourself reaching for it all over again.
“I’m not going to sit and wait,” he said. “So if you think you can strike a blow at the bastards via the High-Low, I’m in if you want me. By the way, the floor manager is a vicious piece of work.” He repeated what Beaumont had told him. “If you’re planning to get in there, you’ll need backup. Me, the War Office, whoever.”
“I’m not working for the War Office and there is nobody I’d rather have with me than you,” Kim said. “I would very much like you at my back, please. And by back I probably mean front.”
Will blinked. Kim tipped his head. “You needn’t look so startled. You can look out for yourself, you’re quick on the uptake, and I trust you. I hope I haven’t made you think otherwise.”
“I’m not even going to answer that,” Will said with feeling.
Kim gave a quick smile, there and gone. “Fair warning: I will tell you now that this won’t be clean. I’m going to be very unpleasant to people who deserve it, and probably to a few who don’t.”
“What about Beaumont?”
Kim shrugged. “I’d be most grateful if we could use him to get into the High-Low.”
“What would you need from him?”
“Any information he has on the people who run the place. A layout, weak points—it’s not obvious how one would break in, and I don’t want to show my face there while casing the joint, as the Americans say. Assistance, if he feels so inclined. If we can’t use him I’ll find another way, but since you have the connection—”
“I’ll see if he wants to talk to you. No more than that.”
“That would be marvellous. Don’t tell him I’m official, will you? Tell him you’ve a pal in a spot of bother and ask if he can help, perhaps.”
“Do you think it’s safe?” Will asked. “Him being seen with me, I mean. I wouldn’t want to get him in trouble.”
Kim considered. “Did you have any sense he was pumping you for information when you met?”
“No. He mostly talked about himself.”
“And I take it you don’t feel you’ve been followed or watched? Nothing suspicious since you met him?”
“Well, there’s this dodgy bastard who broke into my shop...”
Kim grinned at that. “Then it doesn’t sound as though there’s a problem. You might tell him to be discreet, but better he meets you here than at my flat.”
“Fair enough.”
Kim rose. “Let me know when to pitch up.
I like the room, by the way.”
It was an improvement on the crowded back-room of the shop where he’d lived for months but that was about all you could say for it. Kim had stained-glass lamps and original Pre-Raphaelites. Will had whitewashed walls and second-hand furniture. “It’s not much.”
“It’s bare and efficient. Just how I think of you,” Kim said, and slipped off down the stairs without a farewell before Will could think of anything to say in reply.
Chapter Four
Will had an arrangement to meet Phoebe for lunch the next day. He hadn’t mentioned that to Kim. Some might think it was a bit much to be lunching with a man’s fiancée without telling him; Will was of the opinion that Kim could go whistle.
The Honourable Phoebe Stephens-Prince was a strikingly lovely blonde, tall and slender and wildly out of Will’s class. She dressed in the most dashingly modern fashions, smoked cigarettes in an ebony holder, painted her face, called everyone ‘darling’, and seemed to be exactly the sort of empty-headed Bright Young Person who got in the newspapers unless you listened to her.
They met at their usual place, a small French restaurant on the Charing Cross Road. She had arrived before him, and Will was unsurprised to see her deep in conversation with the proprietor. All the staff were hopelessly in love with her, and looked at him with a mixture of envy and bewilderment that he fully understood. He found it hard to believe he got to lunch with Phoebe too.
“How absolutely lovely to see you,” Phoebe said, once they’d ordered. “You must tell me everything about how you’ve been and what you’ve done. How did you like the High-Low?”
“We had a good time, but it’s a funny sort of place.”
“Isn’t it? And the proprietress, too dreadful.”
“When did you go?”
Phoebe raised a brow. “Oh, goodness, months ago. I was there with—now, who was I there with? Binkie Huckaback and Gloria Glade, so it was summer, of course. A little party for Binkie’s birthday, which to be honest isn’t entirely something one would expect him to celebrate, being a juvenile.”