Nightmare City (37 page)

‘
You shouldn’t have used him.’

‘
Point taken. Now, what else do you have to say?’

‘
I want to know if it’s over, your revisit to
gangsterland.’

‘
I hope so. As far as I’m concerned, it is. I made my point,
which considering the hammering he gave me, was fairly muted. I
think - hope - Munrow took it.’

Isa took a deep breath. It was as if a weight had been lifted,
hearing those words.

Rider noticed that her eyes, which were a lovely shade of
hazel, were moist and sparkling. His own eyes narrowed and his brow
creased. He tried to guess what was going on in her
mind.

‘
I’m glad, I’m really glad, John, because I’ve cleaned up my
business too and everything I do now is above board. I was sick of
expecting the next knock on the door to be the cops or the customs
people.’

‘
What about the girls for the club?’

‘
Not a problem, but what I’m trying to say is that. . . I
wanna sound you out about something, if I may?’

‘
Sure - fire away.’ He was intrigued.

She cleared her throat. ‘Don’t know where to begin. I feel all
weak and shaky when I think about it. You know all those years ago
when we made love?’

Oh God, he thought desperately. His face dropped aghast. ‘I
didn’t make you pregnant, did I?’ At the same time he said it, the
idea of being a father gave him a warm glow.

‘
No, no, nothing like that.’ She waved her hands
dismissively.

He was relieved, but yet. . .

‘
So, yeah, we made love and well, even before we did and
certainly afterwards, I was - am - in love with you, John. I know
it’s all silly and stupid and juvenile - me, a woman who runs call
girls - but it’s true. I’ve always wanted to tell you, but never
had the courage and it never seemed the right time. Until
now.’

She stopped abruptly. Whilst speaking she hadn’t had the
bottle to look at him directly and when she did, the look of what
appeared to be abject horror on his face stopped her dead in her
tracks. She gasped, ‘I’m sorry, John! I shouldn’t have said
anything. What an idiot I am! I’ve been holding a torch for you all
these years. . . I’ll go and head back home tonight. We’ll still do
the club, sure. I’m sorry - what a stupid fool I am.’

She stood to leave, tightening the belt on her
robe.

Rider had been lounging back in the bath, laid out full-length
in the deep enamelled tub. Now he rose into a sitting position,
water surging off him like a wreck being recovered from the deep.
He held out a wet hand. ‘No, don’t go,’ he said with a weak
smile.

‘
Don’t laugh at me, John, or I’ll punch your lights out,’ she
warned him.

‘
I’m not laughing,’ he said sincerely. ‘Come here.’ He wiggled
his fingers in an encouraging manner. ‘C’mon.’

She took his hand with a degree of hesitation. He pulled her
gently towards the bath so that she was standing right next to him.
‘Come down here,’ he murmured. Slowly she knelt next to the bath
until their faces were on a level, eye to eye, nose to nose, mouth
to mouth.

‘
This is my last try at getting a normal sort of life,’ she
said hoarsely. ‘At least as normal as it can be for people like
us.’

‘
And you love me?’ he whispered.

She nodded. Her lips parted slightly.
‘Desperately.’

He ran a hand around the back of her neck and eased her face
towards his and kissed her on the mouth. Softly at first.
Tentatively. Then, as their mouths moulded together and both
realised they had found each other at last, the kiss became more
urgent and wanting.

Henry was never completely sure how he achieved it, but by the
time Siobhan hit the landing he was back in the main office,
standing nonchalantly next to a notice board, pretending to read an
intelligence bulletin.

He tried to look surprised when she bounded in through the
door bearing a gift in the form of a covert VIP protection vest,
designed for discreet use. In other words - underneath a shirt.
Henry cringed when he thought how uncomfortable and hot it would
be.

‘
It won’t stop a sniper’s bullet,’ his partner declared, ‘but
according to the manufacturer it will prevent small-arms from
inflicting wounds. It’ll stop knife-slash attacks too.’

‘
Won’t stop anyone blowing your head off either.’

‘
Don’t be picky,’ she said.

He took it from her and held it up between forefinger and
thumb like it was a dirty nappy.

‘
We all wear them.’

‘
Even you?’

‘
Even me - but I wear a specially designed one.’

‘
Like a Basque?’ asked Henry, rather naughtily.

He regretted the comment briefly until she retorted, ‘You’ll
have to wait and see, won’t you?’ and cocked an eyebrow in his
direction. ‘Right - a gun.’

She led him back into the corridor and to a door
marked
Store.
She
unlocked it and behind it was something the size of a broom
cupboard with a squat, grey safe set securely into the back wall.
Siobhan bent down to it and whizzed out a combination on the wheel
which Henry could not follow. It opened easily.

She reached in and removed a revolver with the cylinder hinged
open to show it was empty, and gave it to Henry.

‘
Not much choice, I’m afraid. This is the only one available.
Most of us have Glocks.’

‘
Oh, I’m quite happy with this one,’ he said generously, a
statement which did not tie in with the tremble of his hand. Once
again, he realised just how uncomfortable he was around guns. This
was a Model No. 12 Smith & Wesson Military and Police with a
two-inch barrel, weighing 18oz when empty. A good, reliable
firearm. The .38 special ammunition with which it was loaded could
travel over 1500 metres, and in Henry’s hands was probably accurate
up to about two metres. A trickle of sweat rolled down his spine
and one or two demons stirred ominously in the pit of his
bowels.

Siobhan gave him a box of ammunition and two speed loaders.
She filled in an issue form, then asked Henry to sign it. Again,
like the radio book, it recorded the issue and return of equipment
- this time firearms. Henry scrawled his signature in the required
space. There was another gap after his name for the authorising
officer to countersign - in this case Tony Morton. Siobhan
explained he would do that at a later date.

Henry looked quickly at Saturday’s entries.

Geoff Driffield had signed a gun out. As had four others. 1700
hours. Everything was countersigned and approved by Tony
Morton.

‘
Do you want to load up?’

He went back to the office. With nervous fingers he loaded the
revolver and the speed loaders, fumbling the bullets and dropping
one or two in the process. By the time he had completed the task,
Siobhan had returned with a shoulder holster for him.

He slid his jacket off and eased his arms and shoulders
through the webbing straps. Siobhan moved close to him and assisted
him to adjust it so it fitted snugly. She was only inches away from
him, fussing around like a loving wife might do for a husband who
was getting ready for a special occasion. He could smell her warm
breath.

‘
There you go,’ she declared. ‘How does that feel? Not too
tight?’

‘
Fine.’

He could see the flawless complexion, the finer than fine
silky hairs.

‘
I like webbing,’ she said throatily, a smile playing on her
lips. She eased her fingers around the straps of the holster,
pulled herself onto tiptoe and kissed his mouth quickly, then drew
away.

Henry was dazed into statuesque immobility.

She hoisted herself back up, kissed him again, and whilst
doing so, sunk her teeth into his bottom lip, drawing a small
squeak of pain/pleasure from him. His arms looped around her,
crushing her body into his. Their groins ground together and her
slinky wet tongue slid into his mouth.

It took a few seconds before reason triumphed over
lust.

‘
Whoa ... hold on.’ He pushed her firmly away.

‘
What’s the matter?’

‘
I’m sorry, that shouldn’t have happened.’

‘
Why? Didn’t you enjoy it?’

‘
On the contrary.’ In fact the surge of pleasure he’d
experienced was almost overwhelming.

‘
Because you’re a married man?’

‘
That’s one reason.’

‘
Any other?’

‘
We’re work colleagues. I’m a supervisor. Recipe for disaster.
I don’t want to do anything foolish.’
Like
I’ve done in the past,
he did not hasten
to add.

She looked disappointed, but gave him a rueful smile and
nodded. ‘All right, I accept that.’ Unoffended. But before she
turned away she gave him an eye-to-eye which said, in no uncertain
terms, there was unfinished business here.

Henry picked up the gun and slid it into the holster - only it
didn’t go in as he’d anticipated. He hadn’t realised it was an
upside-down holster - a type he had seen, but never used
before.

He gave himself a mental warning to remember that, if he had
to draw the weapon.

Otherwise he might shoot himself in the heart.

They made love twice in the following hour. The first time was
fast, with little style, completely driven by desire. It lasted
only minutes as they tore desperately at each other, biting,
sucking, pushing, shoving, basically devouring each other in a
frenzy. They came together in a tangled, panting, damp mess, then
picked themselves up from the bathroom floor. Clinging tightly, not
wanting to let go, they stumbled through to the main bedroom where
they simply lay together, holding each other and realising their
love in small murmurings.

When they were ready, the second time was much slower and
considered. They explored each other, caressed, probed, rubbed and
brought each other to the height of ecstasy.

They reached their second orgasm with Isa on top, riding
slowly, her full breasts swinging gracefully above his face, until
she felt him become harder and harder and his thrusts became more
urgent. Then she ground herself onto his pelvic bone, taking him
deep inside, and they both came with a long, deep climax which
shook them to the core.

Exhausted, she collapsed on top of him, head buried in his
chest; he stayed inside her, running his fingers up and down her
spine, making her quiver delightfully.

‘
That was gorgeous,’ she said languidly, breathing in long and
pleasurably through her nose.

‘
Mmm,’ he managed to reply.

They both drifted into a contented sleep until they were
interrupted rudely by the shrill phone next to the bed. She rolled
off him and he answered it.

It was the cops.

Bad news. Could he turn out? Now. The block of bedsits he
owned near to the Pleasure Beach was burning down. People were
trapped. Some could be dead. It looked like arson.

There were four fire-tenders, three police cars, a couple of
ambulances and the road had been cordoned off. The noise of the
engines of the tenders was deafening, a sort of roar and whine
combined. The sound of radios transmitting and receiving, people
shouting to each other and running all over the place simply added
to the cacophony.

By the time Rider arrived the building was a shell. Massive
amounts of fire and smoke damage had been caused to the ones on
either side. The windows were all missing, blown out by heat and
flames, and dense black smoke billowed out into the night,
accompanied by the occasional flash of flame, though generally the
fire was under control.

The fire brigade relentlessly pumped gallons of water into the
building. Two people had been unable to get out.

They had died.

One had burned to a crisp. The other had died through smoke
inhalation.

Rider pushed his way through the crowd of enraptured onlookers
and ducked under the cordon tape. A uniformed cop approached him to
block the way. Above the din of the incident, Rider introduced
himself and asked to be directed to the Chief Fire Officer at the
scene.

The cop pointed. Rider thanked him.

He trod carefully over several layers of hose pipes which lay
across each other like a convention of boa constrictors.

The CFO was removing his breathing apparatus. Rider waited
until he removed his face mask which left a clean area of skin
around his nose, eyes and mouth. The rest of his face and neck was
smoke-charred black.

‘
Deliberate,’ the CFO told Rider confidently.

‘
Can you be sure at this stage?’

‘
Yes,’ he said with authority. ‘There are several seats of
fire throughout the building. It looks like whoever started it
worked his, or her, way down from the upper floors, lighting fires
as they descended. That’s not official yet, by the way, but I can
tell. I’ve been to enough fires to know.’ He wasn’t bragging. ‘Any
clue who might have done this?’