by Carys Jones
While she was shopping for gifts, she got an alert. There was a new message fromTurtle82. Amanda hastily read it.
To bring down the man you bring down the mainframe. Find out where it is.
T.
She read the message back, cradling her head in her hands as she rested her elbows upon the desk.
The mainframe meant his hard drive. The place where he housed all his most sensitive digital material. That would not be kept on his phone. It would be a computer or laptop somewhere, probably at his house. Amanda groaned and closed her eyes. Turtle wasn’t just asking her to spy on McAllister anymore, he was asking her to get access to the man’s home. And how the hell was she supposed to do that? Flirting with him was one thing, diverting his attention so that she could slip his phone from his pocket and run a cloning scan on it was do-able. Getting an invite back to his place – that was taking things to a whole other level.
Amanda leaned back in her chair, glancing towards the bathroom where she could hear the shower running, the hot water hissing angrily as it helped rinse away some of Shane’s tension. How would he respond to this development? He’d surely be furious. He might even veto Amanda’s plan altogether. Because it was getting dangerous.
The hair on Amanda’s arms rose up as though the air around her had become electrified. She wasn’t just going to meet the wolf, she was going to ask it to take her back to its den. How was she supposed to come out of such a situation alive?
Her fingers started to dance across her laptop’s keyboard, her mind having already arrived at a solution. She remained on the darknet, which was a digital marketplace for anything and everything illegal. Drugs, guns, even murder, could be purchased on there for the right price. And the price was usually bitcoins. They were a digital currency which couldn’t be traced and were extremely high in value. Amanda had bought some two years ago when they were new and going cheap. She was always drawn to any new technology or developments in the online world. The bitcoins that she had she’d intended to save for a rainy day.
Beyond her hotel window the sun was shining and the sky was a clear sea of blue. Amanda didn’t need to get up and check to know that the white van was outside. Each time she caught a glimpse of it in her peripheral vision she felt ice slide down her spine. She couldn’t ignore the crippling unease which told her not to trust its presence there. She tapped her hands against her laptop, drawing herself back in to the moment. Amanda knew she’d need to part with at least some of her coins. She didn’t want to face McAllister unprotected.
Her screen was instantly filled with images of guns – all for sale. There were handguns, discreet enough to fit inside a handbag, assault rifles and even mini guns. All were available for the right price. Amanda felt sick just looking at them. Will had carried a gun when he’d gone on the run, had even aimed it at her when she’d managed to track him down. She swallowed as tears began to silently fall down her cheeks. He’d felt driven to arm himself and now she understood why. McAllister was a dangerous serpent in an expensive suit.
Amanda’s stomach churned as she continued browsing the weapons. There were so many guns. The choice was staggering. Each buyer promised discretion. To buy a gun felt like crossing a line, like she was truly committing herself to this other life, the one she’d created on the darknet, the one that existed outside the usual boundaries of society.
The bathroom door opened and she exited the page and slammed her laptop closed. The weapon would have to wait. For now her focus was to make herself look as pretty as possible. It was time to dangle her bait in front of the King Carp in the hope that he’d bite.
7
‘I just don’t like this.’
It was the fifth time Shane had complained since they’d left the hotel.
‘What’s to like?’ Amanda tottered beside him in her new shoes which were already starting to pinch against her toes.
‘Maybe there’s another way. We just need to think it all through, find an alternative solution.’ He was talking fast, sounding like a man making a desperate final plea on death row. Amanda looked up and saw why his nerves were suddenly jangling like a set of jailor’s keys. Rumours was just up ahead, its name spelt out in neon lights.
‘It’s going to be okay, I’ve got this,’ she rested her hand on Shane’s arm. He looked down at her hand and then slowly raised his gaze to meet hers.
‘I’m just worried it’s going to work too well. You look…’ he sucked in a nervous breath of air. ‘And he’s – he’s the worst kind of criminal. I’m scared for you.’
‘I’ll be fine.’ Amanda gave his arm a gentle squeeze.
‘I’ll be right inside, by the bar, in case you need me.’ Shane was starting to sound like a cop. His features settled into an intense expression. He was pushing back his fear to be brave, to be a pillar of strength she could lean against if she needed to.
‘Got it, thanks.’ Amanda’s lips curled up into a tense smile. She couldn’t believe that she was actually going to do this – to parade herself like a piece of meat within the lion’s den. But what choice did she have? Time was not on her side and it was running out.
Inside, the club was just as busy as the previous night. Beautiful bodies moved in time with the music upon the illuminated dance floor as eyes peered out from the shadows of the surrounding booths. The music invaded her senses from all sides.
Amanda entered alone. It had been her idea, but as she stepped past the heavyset bouncer in black she started to regret it. Shane was back in the queue, still waiting to get inside. Amanda looked around, making sure she kept her shoulders back and her chin held high. She had to look like she belonged, like she was as self-assured as all the other women in there. During her walk across to the bar she knew it wasn’t working. Her whole body had broken out in a cold, nervous sweat and she kept wringing her hands together like she didn’t know what to do with them. She looked more awkward than alluring.
‘What’ll it be?’
The second she placed her hands against the smooth surface of the bar one of the waistcoat-wearing servers was in front of her. A short guy with cropped black hair and the beginnings of an impressive beard was staring at her, waiting on her order.
‘Umm.’
She needed to be tipsy, not drunk. She needed to reach that place where you believe yourself to be infinite.
‘A shot of tequila.’ Then, on reflection, ‘Actually, make it two.’
The guy nodded and briefly turned his back on her. Amanda pulled in a long, uneasy breath and then slowly released it. She kept telling herself that she was fine, that this was just any other club and that there was nothing to fear, but her body didn’t believe a word of it. Her heart thumped louder than the music and kept trying to jump up into her throat. She was afraid. And what was worse was that she wore her fear. Her glamorous dress and expensive shoes couldn’t conceal that she was a sheep in wolf’s clothing. What if her fear was seeping into the air around her, drawing all the sharks close as though it were a drop of blood in the ocean?
‘Two shots of tequila.’ The bearded guy slid two small shot glasses towards her, each adorned with a wedge of lime and salted along the rim. He turned to address his next customer.
‘How much?’ Amanda leaned across the bar and raised her voice to get his attention. She gestured at her two drinks.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ the guy waved a dismissive hand at her. ‘It’s on the house.’
When Amanda frowned at him in confusion, he explained further. He gestured behind her, at a distant purple booth and she felt her stomach drop to the floor.
‘You caught the boss’s eye so you get free drinks all night.’ And then he was on to his next customer.
Amanda straightened and reached for her drinks, not daring to turn around. She hadn’t expected things to be so easy. Or to happen so quickly. She was suddenly aware of the heat against her back, of someone staring. Had McAllister been watching her all along? Was he immediately attuned to the presence of someone
new and glamorous within one of his clubs? Had he seen her anxiously make her way across the club, towards the bar? And as she placed her order had he made some signal to the bar staff that she’d missed? Was there now a huge scarlet letter emblazoned upon her forehead? Her palms felt clammy and Amanda had to remind herself how to breathe, that this was what she’d been hoping to achieve.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Shane leaning up against the far side of the bar. She turned away from him, a drink in each hand. It was too dangerous to even make eye contact with him since McAllister was probably watching.
Amanda downed her first shot. It burned as it slid down her throat. With a grimace she put the glass back down on the bar and then downed her second drink. It went down marginally smoother than the first. With a gasp she returned the glass to its partner and then bit down on one of the wedges of lime. The sharp citrus flavour was a welcome respite from the burn of pure liquor. She waited for the drinks to work their magic, for the alcohol to curdle with her blood and give her some much-needed Dutch courage.
It must have worked because ten minutes later she looked up, turning towards the raised purple booth in which McAllister was sat, surrounded by women as usual. Only he wasn’t looking out towards the dance floor or laughing heartily at some joke, he was staring straight back at her. Amanda tensed under the scrutiny. He kept staring, his mouth widening into a confident grin as he used one hand to beckon her over. She looked into the eyes of the man who had been behind Will’s death and somehow kept her spine straight, her lips pressed together, willing herself to focus even though she just wanted to fall apart.
Amanda’s mind and body disconnected. Whilst her head was screaming at her not to move, to just go over to Shane and leave, her legs drifted over towards the VIP area. With a nod from McAllister, the red velvet rope was moved aside and she was granted access to the most exclusive booth in the club.
‘Well, good evening, gorgeous,’ McAllister spread his arms across the back of the booth and looked up at her, ignoring the other women around him. He was focused only on Amanda and she found the intensity of his attention dizzying.
‘Thank you for the drinks.’
‘Anytime.’ McAllister dropped his gaze for just a second and the brunette beside him knew what it meant. Pouting, she scooted further down the plush purple booth, making space for Amanda. ‘When a beautiful woman walks into my club the least I can do is buy her a drink.’
‘Your club?’ Amanda did her best to sound surprised and, more importantly, impressed.
‘This and a few others,’ McAllister shrugged modestly. ‘Why don’t you sit down and tell me a bit about yourself, like your name?’
Amanda sat, doing her best to avoid the daggers which the other girls in the booth were throwing at her with their steely gazes. McAllister’s suited leg was pressed against her own. A wave of nausea swept over her. She wished she had another drink to push it away, to stoke up her bravado. His arm was still across the back of the booth, just above her shoulders. He smelt good. Amanda hated that he did, and she hated herself for noticing. He smelt of expensive cologne, the kind that you take time selecting to ensure that it complements your body’s PH, and then you expertly spritz it in the places it will be most effective. McAllister wasn’t a man who just doused himself in aftershave bought at the supermarket. His scent had been carefully orchestrated. His suit was also a testament to his meticulous nature. It fitted him like a glove. The fabric was a deep blue that had a sheen to it, like it was crying out to be touched. He also wore a crisp white shirt which was tucked into his trousers and his hair was slicked back with mousse.
‘So, your name?’ He leaned into her, his breath a mixture of whisky and mint.
‘Amanda.’ She wanted to stab herself. There and then she wanted to stab herself firmly in the chest for her outright stupidity. The tequila had made her thoughtless and she’d responded to his question out of instinct. Gathering a hold of her thoughts, she did her best to salvage the situation. ‘Amanda Preston.’
It felt strange to take Shane’s name as her own, especially since she’d dedicated so much of her teenage years daydreaming about doing just that. She’d scrawl Mrs Preston over the back of her exercise books at school, circling the name with pretty hearts. Then, before anyone could see, she’d scribble through it all and paste a sticker over the embarrassing declaration.
‘Amanda Preston.’ McAllister said her name with a smile. ‘Well, Amanda, it’s lovely to meet you. I’m Gregg McAllister.’
I know.
‘Hi,’ Amanda nervously fluttered her eyelashes at him. She didn’t know if she was flirting or just being polite. She’d never been great at seduction. Shane had been a friend who, over many years, moved over from the friend zone, and with Will… well, Will had been a force of nature, like being swept up in a hurricane. She’d been powerless to do anything other than go along with what was happening between them. It was the first time her heart had completely overridden her mind.
‘You’re not from round here, are ya?’ Gregg’s eyes were grey, the colour of early morning mist on a winter’s day. They regarded Amanda with interest, like she was some exotic bird that had just flown into his garden.
‘No,’ Amanda politely clasped her hands in her lap. ‘I’m from down south.’
‘I can tell.’
Her eyes flew open and she held her breath. Was this the part where he said that he knew her? Was the bodyguard close by about to haul her out of the booth and evict her from the club?
‘Your accent,’ Gregg leaned in close to explain, pressing his body up against hers as if they were well acquainted. ‘You’re very well-spoken.’
‘Oh,’ Amanda blushed and her body crumpled with relief. ‘Thank you.’
‘See, thanking me for a compliment,’ Gregg grinned at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners the way Will’s used to. ‘The girls round here should take note of how to be a well-mannered lady. Too many of them look like princesses but then talk like bloody lorry drivers.’
The thought of Will had crept up on Amanda once again. She could feel a downward spiral staircase opening up beneath her. If she went down it she’d descend into endless darkness. This was the man who had hunted her husband, who had ruined her whole life. How was she supposed to sit here and play nice with him?
‘I know that look.’ Gregg lowered his arms from the back of the booth and smacked both palms against the table in the centre of the booth, drawing the attention of a nearby server. ‘This lady needs a drink,’ he deferentially raised a hand in Amanda’s direction.
‘I… um.’ More tequila felt like a bad idea. She’d already made an epic slip-up when she’d blurted half of her real name. It was time to rein it in. ‘Can I have a Diet Coke please?’
‘Diet Coke,’ Gregg mulled this over, pulling his lips into a tight line. ‘So you not only look like a lady but you drink like one too? Bet you never end the night tumbling out of a cab and falling on your arse in the middle of the street.’
‘I save that kind of behaviour for special occasions.’
‘Ha.’ Gregg laughed. It was an annoyingly infectious sound, full of carefree mirth. ‘So, tell me, Amanda.’ He said her name carefully, as if he liked the sound of it. ‘What brings you to my city?’
Revenge.
‘Work.’ It was basically the truth. She had previously worked for Turtle82 and it was partly at their behest that she’d returned to Scotland.
‘So what do you do? Let me guess, you’re a model.’ Gregg’s eyes twinkled at her.
‘No,’ Amanda shyly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘I work in IT, developing websites for companies as a freelancer.’
‘Huh. Beauty and brains. I’m impressed.’
Her Diet Coke arrived and Amanda quickly reached for it, grateful to have something to hold and occupy her hands, even if the glass was almost too cold to touch. She let her gaze flicker over to the bar, trying to locate Shane. She thought she’d almost found him when Gregg cough
ed to get her attention.
‘How long are you here for?’
‘Just a few weeks.’ Amanda took a dainty sip of her drink. ‘So you own nightclubs?’ she enquired sweetly.
‘Amongst other things,’ Gregg replied with a dark chuckle. A chill entered the booth, coming from more than just her cold Coke. Amanda clutched her glass tighter, doing her best not to give in to her hatred. She yearned to thrust her drink into Gregg’s face and call him the monster that he was. But she had to keep it together, stay composed, she was working towards a bigger goal.
‘Other things?’ she arched an eyebrow at him.
‘Property.’ A new drink arrived for Gregg, one that Amanda hadn’t even noticed him order. He took a sip from his Scotch on the rocks and then expanded on his reply, ‘I buy and develop old buildings. It was how I came to own this place.’
‘I see.’
‘It was an abandoned butcher’s when I bought it twenty years ago. Whole place smelt rancid. Took months to air out all the brickwork.’
‘And look at it now,’ Amanda swept her gaze across the darkened nightclub.
‘Are you really impressed?’ Gregg came closer to her, his eyes searching her face. ‘Because something tells me that a girl like you can be mighty difficult to impress.’
His scars were prominent even in the shadows of the booth. They pulled away from the corners of his mouth, eerie extensions to his smile.
‘How does a property developer get such a scar?’ The words were out of her mouth and in the booth before she could bite her tongue and stop them. The tequila had let her down again, had made her lips too loose.
Gregg gave an airless chuckle and stroked his face with one hand. ‘Adds something to my charm don’t you think?’ he wondered cheekily.
Amanda kept her face serious, her eyes never leaving his face.
