Dark Seduction (2 page)

The two sidekicks lumbered towards Zen, grinning in anticipation.

“Look, Hasif, you know I'm good for it. I've got a tip and when it comes in, I'll pay you it all back, with interest. You know that. Come on, don't be stupid.” Zen backed away, his hands held up in surrender.

“Too little, too late.” Hasif motioned to his men with a flick of the wrist.

Zen looked around for a way out. Then he saw the three men sitting around the table. The large man pushed the manila envelope towards him and grinned.

Zen felt the panic coursing through his body. What could he do? He knew Hasif and his men were serious about mutilating him. They would do it without a second thought, using him as a warning to other non-payers.

He glanced at the envelope, swallowed to wet his dry throat and reached for it. He felt as though this whole episode had been staged for his benefit.

The albino man grabbed his wrist. The tattoo across his knuckles read, '
debt
'. “Do you accept the bet?”

“Yes, yes, just give me the fuckin’ money.”

The albino man smiled and let go.

“Here. It's all here. Take it.” He thrust the envelope into the hands of the nearest man who then passed it to Hasif. The loan shark slowly counted the money and eventually nodded his head.

“It's your lucky day,” Hasif said, motioning his men back.

Zen sighed with relief and his pulse slowed to something unlikely to give him a heart attack. He turned to look at the card players and his pulse raced back up.

Impossible as it seemed, they’d disappeared.

CHAPTER 2

Zen wasn't stupid and after the strange bet he stayed away from the Rod and Sceptre pub. The men didn’t know his name, never mind where he lived so he felt safe in the knowledge that he was on a winning streak.

Although out of his territory, The Ferret pub felt safe. Despite being a back street dive where your feet stuck to the ground, the drinks were cold. He couldn't ask for much more as he sipped his beer and twiddled the ring in his eyebrow. Things were looking up.

He’d paid Hasif off, wiped the slate clean, and the men who’d foolishly given him the money could go whistle. Christ, there were millions of people in the city. What were they thinking giving him twenty thousand pounds and then disappearing? He grinned to himself. Did they really think he would hang around and wait for them? There was a sucker born every minute.

He shook his head and laughed. How they managed to disappear from the pub without him seeing still vexed him, but what the hell. Out of sight, out of mind.

Across the bar room, he saw a young girl standing in the smoking area just outside the back door.
She looked about sixteen, but with the vacant, dispossessed look of a bored call girl waiting to venture out to find her next trick.

Dressed in a short, black leather skirt, high heeled shoes, and a pink boob tube top that barely covered her modesty, she looked provocative; even more so as she readjusted her position, making her braless boobs bounce.

With her brown hair tied back in a ponytail and her cheeks daubed with too much rouge, accentuating her paleness, she looked cheap. She pouted her sensuous, full lips and put a cigarette between them.

He watched as she searched her handbag for a light, shaking her head when she failed to find one, her gold, dangling earrings glinting in the meagre radiance. Zen strolled over and struck a match down the wall. The girl eyed him warily, the flame reflected in her sad, blue eyes before she lowered her head to light the cigarette.

“Thanks,” she muttered.

“No problem.”

She exhaled a stream of smoke, her lips a sneer, left eye half closed as though afraid of getting smoke in it.

“I haven't seen you in here before,” she said, taking another draw on the cigarette, her hoarse voice an indicator that she smoked too much.

“Perhaps you haven't been looking hard enough.”

The girl snorted. “Don't flatter yourself.”

“What can I say, me mother told me to be careful because I'll break hearts.”

“Mirrors, more like.”

Zen feigned mock disappointment.

The girl stubbed her cigarette out with the toe of her shoe and shook her head. “Sorry, just had a shitty night.”

“Was that before or after you met me?”

She shrugged, noncommittal, and smiled.

Zen liked her smile. Fresh faced, he could tell that underneath the makeup, she was good looking. The makeup made her look like a tart. Perhaps that was the point. A cosmetic mask behind which to hide. He knew how she felt as his tattoos served the same purpose.

“My name’s, Chastity.”

“Zen.”

She stared at him. “Cool name.”

The door to the bar burst open and Chastity visibly shrank, looking like the little girl she was as a tall, wiry man entered. He scowled and looked around the bar. When he spotted Chastity, he jerked a thumb towards the door as though hitching a lift.

“Sorry, I'm going to have to go.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

The wiry man at the door looked agitated.

Chastity wiped her eyes, smearing cheap mascara. Then she teetered across the room without looking back.

When she reached the door, the wiry man grabbed her wrist with one hand and slapped her face with the other, making her wince.

He dragged her towards the door, and her boob tube came down slightly and she pulled it back up, as though to maintain a sense of dignity.

Zen chewed at the skin around one of his fingers then stood and followed the pair outside in time to see the man dragging Chastity down an alley at the side of the pub.

A scream pierced the night and Zen flinched. The sound chilled him to the core. He didn't need to guess where it originated.

A single streetlamp with a flickering bulb created a subtle, stroboscopic effect. Chastity and the man stood underneath the light, struggling. The man slapped Chastity's face and she screamed again.

“Hey, leave her alone,” Zen shouted.

“This is none of your business,” the man replied, spittle flying from his lips.

“Well, I’m making it my business.”

“Then you’re dafter than you look.”

Zen started down the alley, his heart racing.

“Look, get the fuck out of here,” the man said.

“No can do. If you want to slap someone around, why not try it with me?” He stood in front of the man, fists clenched almost as tight as his sphincter.

“Zen, just leave it.” Chastity wiped her eyes.

“Zen, what stupid sort of name is that?”

Before Zen could reply, a police car screeched into the alley, its headlights scything the dark. He shielded his eyes. Heard a car door open.

“What’s going on here?” the figure that exited the vehicle asked.

“What’s it got to do with you?” the wiry man snarled.

“We had a report of a disturbance.”

Zen relaxed his stance and put his hand in his pocket, nervously fingering the hashish he scored earlier. “There’s no problem here.”

The police officer stepped in front of the car headlights, a silhouette whose shadow bled across the ground. “It doesn’t look like nothing to me. Miss, are you okay?”

Chastity nodded.

The car engine ticked over like a purring lion. “Well can you step over here.” It wasn’t a question.

The wiry man grabbed Chastity’s arm. “What do you want her for?”

“Let the girl go, sir.”

“Look, she’s my daughter. I’m just looking out for her. What do you want her for?”

The police officer stepped away from the vehicle. No longer a silhouette, he became a physical presence. “Sir, let the girl go.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

The wiry man chewed his lip.

“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. I’d prefer the hard way, but I don’t think you would.”

“You can’t threaten me.”

“Who said anything about threats?”

Zen didn’t like the look of this. Something wasn’t quite right, the copper too bolshy.

“The girl isn’t going anywhere with you. Now just fuck off and leave us alone.”

The police officer pulled his baton out. “So you’ve picked the hard way. Good.” He smiled, his teeth luminous and predatory, then without warning, he charged towards the wiry man.

A syringe full of fear injected Zen’s system.

The wiry man let go of Chastity’s arm and tried to protect himself as the police officer attacked, raining down blows with the baton.

Unsure what to do, Zen heard the police car door open and another man stepped out.

This didn’t look good at all. Zen grabbed Chastity from behind. She struggled, squirmed, and tried to stamp on his foot.

“Hey,” Zen hissed. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

“I can’t leave him.”

Chastity’s father lay unconscious on the ground, curled up in a ball as the police officer continued his onslaught.

“Yes, you can.”

The police officer looked at Zen. “Now it’s your turn,” he snarled, his face awash with shadows.

Zen heard the other police officer running up behind him. He released Chastity’s waist, grabbed her hand and tried to pull her along.

“Run goddamn it,” Zen said.

Finally realising the seriousness of the situation, Chastity stopped struggling and with one hand holding up her boob tube and the other gripped by Zen, she ran.

Zen had no idea where the dark, dismal alley led. He was in strange territory, the buildings drab and decaying. His heart pounded as though about to burst. Footfalls echoed like hard slaps, prompting him to run faster. The aroma of Chinese food filled the air and a pile of rubbish from the Chinese restaurant blocked the alley: bin bags and cardboard boxes in various stages of decay. Zen charged through the rotten containers, disturbing a couple of rats that scurried along the wall. Half-chewed spare ribs scattered across the ground – at least he hoped they were spare ribs.

Behind him, the police officer growled like a rabid dog and Zen ran faster. At his side, Chastity wheezed.

The alley twisted and turned like a maze. He ran down a short flight of well-worn steps that looked like a giant thumb had pressed down on them, and followed the alley to the right. At a T-junction, Zen took the left path. A streetlamp at his rear cast his shadow before him. As he approached the next light, his shadow shortened until the light sat directly overhead. The bulb flickered, bathing Zen in a baleful orange radiance.

He felt strangely buoyant and giddy. Then the curious orange light flashed over him again and he saw a weird, intermittent light in the distance – for one ridiculous moment, it looked like a lighthouse. Strange as it seemed, the buildings now seemed different, almost predatory as they leaned over. He didn’t know why, but he thought he’d been here before; he remembered it like a bad dream, but he didn’t have time to stand and stare.