Zero Alternative (11 page)

‘
Yes
.’
The Englishman paused for a heartbeat
. ‘
Have it look like a real drug bust-up. And make sure Walker pans out, or…
’

‘
Of course
.’

The apartment door slammed shut as Walker searched blindly for the light switch, his mouth tangled with Layla’s. She was already shrugging out of her overcoat when she stepped away from him and turned around, studying the room. Dropping the heavy jacket on his couch, she walked past one of the thin metal columns that speckled the open space and glided towards the large triple windows, her eyes fixed on the London night outside. The City buildings shone across the river, a skyline dotted with thousands of artificial fireflies.

‘It’s beautiful here.’

Walker joined her, his arms embracing her slim frame from behind, hands coming to a stop just below her breasts. He inhaled her perfume and nuzzled her neck, keeping his eyes open to avoid the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. His head ached, a throbbing pain just behind his temples that had been made worse by the short taxi ride, but a weird sort of energy seemed to burn through his muscles.

Layla twisted in his arms, her mouth coming up to meet his, and they kissed hard. His hands went to her back, searching for the zip of the dark velvet dress she had changed into. She unbuttoned his shirt while still kissing him and pulled it off his head, kneeling to caress his bruises. ‘How did you get these?’ she said.

‘Boxing. I guess I’m becoming too slow.’

Layla straightened and stepped away from him, her back against the windowpane. She looked him up and down with a smile. ‘It keeps you in good shape though, especially for a banker.’

‘How did you…’

She raised her index finger in front of her full lips. ‘Shush, it’s a trade secret. Do you have any music?’

Walker nodded and went to his stereo, fumbling with the dials. His headache was fading a bit now, as waves of heat came up from his loins into his neck and face. He brushed away a few droplets of sweat from his forehead and managed to switch the radio on just as Layla slid up behind him, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders.

He turned and saw she was already naked, wearing only stockings and a satin suspender. Walker bent and kissed her deeply, her mouth opening to swallow his tongue. Her skin felt cool against him, or maybe he was just burning up.

Layla’s hands dropped to his waist and fumbled with his trousers, pulling them off to reveal his hard erection. She caressed his cock, gently, then gave him a little shove and pushed him to the couch.

Unbalanced, Walker fell backwards onto the leather cushions and lay unmoving, his head spinning. The semi-dark room seemed to shift and twist impossibly, and bright spots of colour flashed across his eyes. Then Layla was on top of him, straddling his hips with her legs.

She leaned down and kissed his forehead and eyes, her full breasts just below his mouth. He tried to reach them and suck at her nipples but she forced him back, her mouth licking his nose and moving down to wet his lips. She readjusted herself and slid lower, nuzzling his neck and biting his skin, then lower again to his abdomen.

Walker laid back and closed his eyes as her hands reached his groin, cupping his testicles. He could hear his own breathing become more ragged, like a massive fever had broken through the barriers and was now raging across his body. His legs were leaden, and he could hardly feel his feet and hands.

Layla’s tongue flicked around the base of his cock, teasing, then she gave him a soft bite higher along the shaft, working her way towards the tip. He sighed, a deep rumble in his ears. She played with his foreskin and gave him another little nuzzle, then her mouth opened and she swallowed him, just an inch or two at first, then out, before taking him deeper, again, and again. And again.

The heat in Walker’s head became a searing fireball, imploding as a sudden wave of ice came from nowhere to grip his brain.

Darkness
.

Chapter Eight

The Morning After

Walker woke up with a splitting headache, nausea engulfing his senses like some dark tide. He climbed up from the couch unsteadily, feet tangling in an old blanket, and rushed to the bathroom. He almost didn’t make it, vomit burning at the back of his throat just as he dived for the toilet to throw up, his chest heaving and shaking.

After a minute or so he managed to stand and splashed some cold water on his face. His head shrieked, and when he checked himself in the mirror his eyes were bloodshot and sunken, the skin blotched red. All the bruises on his naked body seemed to be turning a nasty shade of violet.

Water – he needed water. He stumbled out of the toilet and shuffled to the fridge, trying to recall the events of the previous night. He could remember returning home from the Dancing Snake, hard kisses, a warm body and sudden blackness…

Layla
. The bitch must have slipped something in his drink. Walker grabbed a bottle of water and gulped it down, eyes scanning the living room. Dozens of his books lay scattered on the floor and a few drawers in the ancient oak desk he kept near the kitchen were open, papers strewn around. His computer had been ransacked, only the monitor and keyboard remaining, while the mainframe and hard drives had disappeared.

Walker finished the water, fighting a second wave of nausea. His brain threatened to explode and he almost threw up again, the room swaying about him. He reached the window and steadied himself, glancing around the open space as if his custom Sony double-tower could magically reappear somewhere else. DM was going to be monumentally pissed off. Walker had kept some bits of DeepOmega on his machine at home, even though it had made his friend uncomfortable. And now they were gone, because of the Mexican whore. If she was even Mexican at all. Probably not.

His mind flashed back to the private suite at the Snake, and the weird aftertaste of the vodka she had prepared for him in there. He could still taste the metallic flavour at the back of his throat, and almost gagged again. Screwed by some sort of date-rape pill, like a fucking idiot. Many nights of
hard work were gone but – knowing DM – his friend would be a lot more concerned about the security of their precious Omega version. They needed to talk before he called the police.

Hurrying across the living room, Walker searched for his jacket. He found it near the entrance and picked it up, going through the inside pockets. His own phone had disappeared but the bank’s BlackBerry was still there. Small blessings.

He sighed and checked the time before unlocking it. 8.14 a.m. – DM should already have arrived at the office. He tried the mathematician’s mobiles first, but both were switched off. Then he dialled the Automated Trading secretary but she told him that DM hadn’t shown up yet. It was odd, but he was probably on his way.

Another stab of pain skewered Walker’s brain and he downed a handful of aspirins, suddenly remembering the cash hidden in his bedroom. He rushed to check the underwear drawer, not expecting much.
You clever fucking bitch
. The wardrobe was open, clothes lying on the floor. And his money had disappeared, over ten thousand in Pounds and Euros he kept for emergencies. A bloody expensive night.

Cursing his own stupidity, he headed for the shower and prayed the paracetamol would kick in quickly, before an entire side of his head dropped off.

Walker left the elevator and crossed Dorfmann’s entrance hall, rushing past the security guards and their metal detectors. DM had not arrived or called yet, and half past nine was too late even for his standards. Walker wondered what to do – he could head to his friend’s house, but would risk missing him if the mathematician was making his way to the bank. Or he could wait a while longer, but he was getting seriously spooked after what had happened the previous night.

Stepping into the crisp morning air, he lit a cigarette and almost threw up again. His head still hurt but it was now a milder, deeper ache somewhere at the base of his skull, instead of the blinding flashes of pain he had suffered earlier. He started pacing around the plaza, trying to make up his mind, when a hand burrowed itself in his side, taking his arm and squeezing it hard.

‘We need to talk. Keep smiling and walk on.’

Walker turned and gasped: Layla was snuggled against him, almost unrecognisable underneath a broad felt hat and enormous sunglasses.

‘You… what the fuck are you doing here?’

‘I have a small gun up my sleeve, and I told you to smile. Just keep going and give me a kiss.’

Without waiting for a reply she nudged him towards one of the side roads that would take them to Liverpool Street Station. They ducked into a tiny alley behind an older office building and she twisted, forcing him into a long, lingering kiss as they disappeared from the Circle’s view. Walker struggled free and pushed her back, holding onto her arms.

‘Are you going to shoot me now?’

She stared at him, her eyes glinting with amusement. ‘No. I could prick you with my steak knife, though,’ she shrugged. ‘A little lie, just to get your attention.’

Walker swore and took a step back, his shoulders brushing the wall. The surprise had passed and now he was just angry. ‘What the hell do you want? Are you after more money to return –’

‘Listen to me,’ she cut him short. ‘There’s something nasty going on and you’re deep into it.’

Walker paused and studied her face: she looked nervous, her eyes dancing around and checking their surroundings. He decided to let her talk for a few seconds. The bitch really was gorgeous.

‘Look, I was just hired to do a job,’ she hissed.

‘What job?’

‘You. I had to get inside your flat and take some files, without triggering any alarms that might spoil the data.’

‘Jesus. Who are you?’ DM had installed a series of smart failsafes in Walker’s PC: if someone tampered with the machine they would burn his hard drives. How the hell could she have known that the alarms would only be deactivated by his fingerprints?

Layla waved a hand. ‘That’s not important. Someone has set the entire thing up, given me your profile and placed me into the Dancing Snake. Very thoroughly organized, real pros.’

Walker shook his head, incredulous.
This is insane. She’s after something else, don’t believe a word she says
. He found a cigarette and lit it. Layla took it from his hands and gave the Marlboro a long pull before returning it.

Walker thought hard, exhaled and decided to play along with the story, see where it was going. ‘Who hired you?’

‘Probably one of those private security firms, like they use in Iraq or wherever. No real idea though, that’s not the type of question I ask.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m an independent contractor. Someone gets in touch with my agent, a fee is agreed for the job and I’m given the information on the target. If I can deliver whatever is asked for, I get paid. I don’t want to know who or what hires me – it could turn complicated.’

Astonishing. He just didn’t have a clue if it might be true. ‘So my computer…’

‘It’s gone. But when I went to drop it off early this morning, the courier guys tried to force me to tag along.’

‘Where?’

‘Somewhere unpleasant, I’d guess. There was a man, a big Australian with a nasty scar and a couple of thugs. He said I needed to follow him to get my fee. That’s not the way it’s usually done, so I refused. One of the thugs tried to grab me but I got away. Barely. They took your stuff, though.’

‘And you expect me to believe all this?’

‘Believe what you will. But I told you, the sting was set up perfectly, someone must have worked on this for months. They knew everything about you. If they suddenly turned weird and tried to take me out…’ Layla’s voice trailed off.

‘What?’

‘It must be because something has gone seriously wrong in some other part of the operation. What the hell was on your hard drives anyway?’

Walker’s world lurched.
Oh shit. DM
. ‘I need to go.’ He dropped her arm and turned away.

Layla grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. She was a lot stronger than he expected, and quick. ‘Where are you going?’

‘To a friend of mine. He has a lot more stuff than I did on his computers, and he hasn’t showed up at the office yet. He might be in danger.’

She nodded slowly. ‘That could be true. But I’m coming with you.’

‘No, you’re not. You’re a fucking criminal, and I should take you to the police first.’

Layla stepped sideways, her eyes angry. ‘Don’t overestimate yourself.’

‘Why are you here?’

‘There’s no time for this. Look, your friend might be in serious trouble, and I’m the only one who can get in touch with these guys. If I get away now, you’ll never see me again.’

Walker considered it for a second. He didn’t have anything to lose, and she probably knew a lot more than she’d been telling him. ‘Okay, let’s go.’

They jumped into the nearest black cab and Walker gave the driver DM’s address – the mathematician lived in a rundown part of Shoreditch, less than ten minutes away. Walker’s heart accelerated in his chest, his palms sweaty. He took out his phone and dialled.

Come on, come on…

The answering machine came up and he swore. Taking a deep breath, he checked that the taxi’s mute button was on before turning to Layla. ‘I’ll ask you once more, and if you don’t give me a straight answer I’ll drop you off, right now. Why are you here?’

‘I wasn’t paid, and I want my money. To get it, I have to find out what the hell is going on.’

Walker’s head spun with possibilities. Was this real? Was he truly sitting in a cab with a hot honey-trap who’d just robbed him? Everything just felt wrong. Very wrong. The London streets flashed by as they travelled against the flow of traffic. City skyscrapers gave way to rundown council houses, depressing husks populated by the unemployed just a few minutes outside the largest financial centre in the world.

Walker wondered whether DM was all right. Maybe they’d drugged him as well… He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Who were
they
– Frankel? Another bank? Perhaps someone had really been following the mathematician, keeping him under surveillance.