by L. P. Gibbs
“Don't worry, Sam,” he said with a wink. “Roger doesn't ever say much to anyone so you probably won't hear another word from him all evening.” He turned back and started the engine, pulling out into the light, early evening traffic.
Forty minutes later they were sedately scouring the streets of the Crystal Palace area of South London. They had been driving around for almost an hour when Samantha suddenly caught a glimpse of two tower blocks between some houses and tapped Randall on the shoulder.
“I think I've just spotted the blocks of flats over there, Alan,” she said excitedly. “I'm pretty sure that's the place. I would be certain if we can get closer.” Randall looked to where she was pointing and took the next turning on the right to find the looming blocks of flats right in front of him. He pulled into the car park and stopped the car in the first available slot.
“How are we playing this, Al?” Roger asked.
“Let's see how things go, Rog,” he replied. “Just follow my lead.” The two men got out of the car and Randall beckoned for Samantha to join them. “You say it's on the twenty first floor?”
“That's right,” she answered. “I'm sure it's number two-one-two, but I can't be certain until I see it. When we get out of the lift and I see the door, I'll know.” As they approached the entrance, Roger held his hand up.
“Hang on,” he instructed them. “I'll have a look for cameras.” With that, he went forward cautiously and peered round the corner before pulling his head swiftly back. “One camera above the lift pointing this way,” he said.
On Randall's instructions, the trio bowed their heads and went quickly through the doors and up to the lift. Randall hit the button with his gloved hand and the lift doors rattled noisily open allowing them to enter. On the way up, Randall surveyed the interior, searching for ant other cameras. There were none. He turned to Samantha and touched her arm.
“When we get up there, put your hands into the pockets of your jacket and keep them there until we get back to the car,” he said. “We don't want to leave any fingerprints around when we leave.” She obeyed instantly and slipped both her hands inside her pockets. As soon as they left the lift on the twenty first floor, Samantha indicated a door to their left. It was indeed two-one-two.
“That's the one,” she whispered. Randall stood to one side of the door and Roger on the other. Alan nodded and Samantha took a deep breath and stepped forward as Randall rang the bell with his gloved hand. It sounded from deep inside the flat. She heard a movement behind the door and it opened. Daniel gave her his best smile as he opened the door wider. At that moment, Roger appeared and swung his heavy fist to connect with Daniel's stomach, sending him sprawling along the floor of the hallway with a crash. The two men stepped inside, followed tentatively by Samantha. Randall stepped over the almost unconscious form on the floor and Roger stooped briefly without missing a step to grab Daniel by the shirt collar and drag him along and in to the lounge area where he dropped him on the thick, dark brown carpet. Walking straight into the kitchen, Randall ran cold water into a cup and threw it into Daniel's now frightened face. It brought him back to his senses with a shock and he lay back on the floor, his eyes fearful as he looked from one man to the other.
“This is assault,” he whimpered. “I'll get you arrested for this.” Roger's large foot stamping down on Daniel's chest almost sent him into complete unconsciousness. His eyes flickered but stayed open. Randall turned one of the kitchen chairs the wrong way round and sat down on it, resting his folded arms on the back and peering intently down at the stricken man. Daniel was loudly gasping for breath and Randall just simply sat there, looking down dispassionately at him.
“Now, …. This can be as easy as you like, my son,” Randall told him with a smile but with just the right amount of menace in his voice. “Or we can do things the hard way if you like. I don't really care either way. All we want is the film you took of this young lady and we'll be gone. Now where is it?” His acutely angled eyebrow as he looked fiercely down was enough to make Daniel talk without hesitation. He wasn't a brave man but he was a sensible one.
“It's in the drawer of my bedside cabinet,” he blurted out, pointing towards the bedroom door with a shaking hand. Randall moved off to the bedroom leaving Roger standing over the younger man. He returned a few moments later clutching a bundle of four cassette tapes. He looked at Samantha as he spoke.
“Looks like you weren't the only one being filmed here, Sam. There are some more here too, all labelled and with names on.” He had around seven cassette tapes in his hands and held one up for her to see. “This one's got your name on it.” Randall held them towards her. “You take these and go back downstairs, sweetheart,” he ordered her, handing over the cassettes. “Wait in the car and we'll be down in a minute or two, after we've had a little chat with young Daniel here. Teach him where he's going wrong, so to speak.” She didn't know what Randall had in mind and, if she was honest with herself, she didn't want to know. His expression said it all. She took the cassettes and stowed them beneath her jacket, holding them in place with her arm.
Samantha went back out and entered the lift which seemed to take an age to reach the bottom. Picking up what Randall had said to her, she covered her finger with the hem of her jacket to avoid leaving fingerprints on the lift buttons. Walking back to the car in the darkness, she was filled with a sense of fear. Fear of not knowing what was going on up there on the twenty first floor.
She opened the back door of Randall's unlocked car and settled inside to wait. Just as she was making herself comfortable, she heard a very loud bang, almost like a heavy door being slammed hard and a car alarm went off, piercing the still of the night with its shrill klaxon. In the distance, on the other side of the car park right beside the block of flats, she could see the offending car's yellow indicators and headlights flashing in unison with the alarm. A few moments later she heard a woman persistently screaming and then a shout from a man.
It was only a matter of minutes afterwards that Randall and Roger appeared beside her and got into the car. Randall started up and drove the car smoothly out of the car park without a word. As they passed close to the car with the alarm blaring, a group of people had gathered around it. Through the throng she could make out the form of Daniel's body, broken and bloodied, spread-eagled on his back on the bonnet of the car with his head hanging over the side with eyes wide open, staring at the sky. One of his legs was at an impossible angle across the smashed windscreen, the other one had gone through it. Randall kept his eyes facing forward. Nothing was said by anyone in their car until almost twenty minutes later when they were crossing over the Thames on Waterloo Bridge. Samantha broke the silence.
“What exactly happened back there, Alan?” she asked, staring at his ice cold, blue eyes in the rear-view mirror, not really sure if she really wanted to know or not. He looked briefly back at her in the mirror with an eyebrow raised before returning his eyes to the road ahead.
“We were just sort of talking to him normally, explaining to him the error of his ways, and he accidentally fell over the edge of the balcony,” he eventually replied with a sigh, glancing sideways at Roger. The big man beside him nodded slowly as he responded to Randall's statement.
“That's about right,” was all Roger said. Samantha went back to gazing out of the side window as the car made its way along Tottenham Court Road. The men had obviously decided between them that they would not divulge the events that took place in Daniel's flat but she concluded that they had thrown him off the balcony to land on the car far below, setting off the alarm. After they way he had treated her, she would shed no tears over the man's demise.
They came to a halt outside her house in Camden Town and Randall got out, walking round the car to meet her beside it.
“You really want to know what went on?” he asked her, his eyebrows raised.
“I'm not sure, …. I think so,” she replied, frowning. “I'd like to know what happened just so that I can get my head aro
und it all.” Randall thought about what she had said for a moment and lit a cigarette from his Zippo petrol lighter, blowing blue-grey smoke up into the cool night air. Eventually he closed his eyes for a moment, put his hand on her upper arm and spoke.
“Roger went out on to the balcony and unscrewed the light that was on the wall there,” he told her. “He dropped the bulb on to the floor then turned the chair on to its side so that it will look as though Daniel was trying to change the bulb, the chair slipped and he went over the edge. Tragic accident. Roger actually lifted him bodily and threw him over.” Samantha looked back into Alan's cold blue eyes, searching for some kind of emotion. There was none.
“He was a pig,” she eventually said. “As far as I'm concerned, he deserved to go that way for what he did.” Randall nodded in agreement then bent forward and kissed the top of her head and brushed her long black hair back over her shoulder. He looked down and gave her a comforting smile.
“These things happen, love,” he said. She took comfort in his words and the feel of his hand on her shoulder. “I'll see you tomorrow night.” With that he kissed her before getting back behind the wheel and pulling away, leaving her to climb the stairs with her deep thoughts, alone once more in her tiny room.
The following evening, she went to work at Silk's as normal. Randall was already there at the door when she arrived. He smiled at her as she walked up the road and squeezed past him to enter the club. Randall caught her hand and stopped her as he leaned forward and put his mouth to her ear.
“You look fabulous,” he whispered so that no-one else could hear. “Want to come home with me tonight?” Samantha's moist lips smiled back at him, her eyes sparkling with delight.
“I think that's a great idea,” she informed him and twisted out of his grip with a giggle to go through the curtain and down the stairs to the club floor. Carla was seated at the bar and waved as she reached the bottom stair.
“How was your day off?” Carla asked Samantha, sucking her Coke through a paper straw. She had no intention of mentioning her excursion to Crystal Palace with Randall and so let an easy lie fall from her lips.
“Oh, nothing out of the ordinary,” she replied. “Just sat at home and watched a bit of television, had a bit of a rest, that's all. Had a bit of a wander round the shops and went to a pub on Camden High Street for a while.” Carla eyed her with suspicion as she asked a question that had been on her mind for nearly a week.
“One of the girls downstairs reckons that Alan has the glad eye for you, you know?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye, one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised in a questioning manner.
“What do you mean?” Samantha stammered. “Alan? …. You mean Alan who works on the door? Oh, I don't think so,” she replied with a forced laugh. Randall had warned her not to let their association become public knowledge as it may cause jealousy among the girls and accusations of favouritism. Besides, Lenny Harris didn't like fraternisation among the ranks.
“Are you sure you're not seeing him on the quiet?” Carla annoyingly persisted, her eyes never leaving her friend's face, searching for tell-tale signs that might betray her and reveal the truth. She had caught exchanged glances between the pair and knew the tell-tale signs. She had once caught Samantha touching Randall's hand as she sat in the foyer of the club.
“Don't be silly. I think he's already got a girlfriend and he wouldn't be interested in me, anyway.”
“Hmm..... I'm not so sure,” Carla responded. “I've noticed him looking you up and down a few times when you're not looking and so have some of the others. Charmaine mentioned it to me only last week.” Samantha averted her eyes and continued sipping her drink.
“Well, he hasn't said anything to me,” Samantha stated firmly and turned away to open another can of Coke. She would tell Randall of their suspicions later on. When she went up later in the evening to take her stint, lounging behind the desk on the red sofa she mentioned it to him. He simply smiled and shrugged his shoulders at the suggestion. Very little worried Alan Randall.
“Don't worry about it,” he told her with a wink. “Let them all think whatever they like, just deny it. If Lenny asks me, I'll tell him the truth, though. He's as good as gold. He'll be alright, you'll see. In any case, most of the girls like a bit of gossip. You must have heard them.”
He turned his attention to a couple of businessmen ambling up the street. Prey within his sights, as he called them. After a couple of minutes chatting to them, they came in, paying their 'entrance fee' to Randall. Samantha escorted them downstairs. They were good punters and over the course of the evening she made a little more than forty pounds from their visit.
She happily went home with Randall again that night. His love-making was out of this world as far as she was concerned. She had never experienced orgasms like the ones she got from him. They made love for over an hour this time.
“Come inside me again,” she whispered into his ear.
* * * *
TROUBLE UP NORTH
On one of Samantha's Tuesday morning telephone calls to Sandra in Newcastle, her friend's voice sounded different, almost muffled.
“What's wrong with your voice, Sarn?”
“Oh, it's nowt, pet. Just a toothache that's made my jaw swell up a little, that's all,” she replied. Samantha knew Sandra well enough to instinctively know that something was very wrong indeed.
“Sandra!” she said forcefully, “I know you too well. What's going on up there? Is there some kind of trouble?” The line went quiet for some time and Samantha had to ask again. “Well, Sandra?” Eventually her friend started to sob and blurted out everything. Her boyfriend had started to become violent towards her whenever he came home drunk which was most nights of the week and, on this occasion, had punched her extremely hard in the face, splitting both of her lips which had resulted in her jaw swelling up, making it hard for her to speak.
“Why don't you just leave him and go back home or come back down here and stay with me again?”
“I can't go back home because he said that if I ever leave him, he'll come and find me and make me wish I'd never been born. If I came back to London, he'd find me and make it bad for you as well.” Samantha was fuming with rage. She knew that Sandra was a little weak at the best of times so vowed to herself that something would have to be done about this Barry.
That evening at Silk's she spoke to Alan Randall and told him of the situation, asking if he could help.
“Sorry, love,” he told her with genuine remorse. “I hate that sort of thing as you know and would be straight round there if it was in London, but I can't go swanning off up North just like that without any notice. I need to be here every night and it sounds like a two or three day job to me. Besides, I've got some special work to do for Lenny.” She nodded her understanding and knew he was right. It would probably take time to get to know the man's habits, she thought. Unless she could glean some more information from Sandra, that is. She dare not ask what Lenny's 'special job' was but had more than a slight inkling. Randall often disappeared for a few hours, sometimes days after confidential chats with Harris in his downstairs office.
“I think I'll go up to Newcastle myself and see if I can do something to help her,” she said. “I'm sure there's something seriously wrong with her fella. He may need to be dealt with.” He looked at her with a thoughtful expression on his face, his blue eyes smiling. He slowly nodded his head and lit one of his king-sized cigarettes before responding to her suggestion.
“I reckon you could do it, too,” he told her. “Don't make any important decisions just yet though. Give me a day or two to have a word round. I'll try to sort out something that might help you.” Samantha agreed.
The following Saturday morning as she was finishing work at three forty-five, Randall caught her arm as she passed him in the doorway.
“Wait for me tonight,” he whispered, “I'll give you a lift home with a little present. Know what I mean?” He gave her a knowing wink and she understood i
mmediately. She sat back in the red leather sofa in the foyer until he was ready to lock up and leave. They left the club just after four o'clock and nothing was said until they were crossing Euston Road in Randall's car.
“There's a bag pushed under your seat,” he said, his eyes never leaving the road as he drove. “There's something inside that might help you if things get a bit tasty.” She reached down and pulled out an orange Sainsburys plastic carrier bag. “Not now!” he said urgently. “Wait till we get to your place. You never know who's looking in our direction.” She let the bag fall back into the foot-well between her ankles. On arriving in Royal College Street, they got out and she lifted the bag. Realising that it was a lot heavier than it looked, she tucked it under her arm. They went upstairs to her room and she placed the bag on the bed. He leaned over it and opened it up, pulling a cloth bundle from inside. He carefully unwrapped the cloth to reveal a black gun resting on it. Randall picked it up and held it out to her.
“Hold this,” he instructed her. “Get used to the weight and the feel of it. This will get you out of any sticky situation.” Samantha was reluctant to touch the weapon. She was a little shocked.
“Where did you get that?”
“From Dave Perrett, one of my old contacts. An old school pal. Lives way out in the sticks in Essex. He's a well respected gun dealer that I've known for a long time. Used to do some work for Lenny some time in the past. He now runs a greengrocer's shop in Saffron Walden as a front for his dealing.”
“I don't know, Alan,” she said hesitantly. “I've never held a gun before, let alone fired one.” He pushed it into her hand and clasped his own hands around hers looking straight into her eyes.
“Listen to me,” he said. “If someone is going to try to cause you serious harm or worse, you should have no hesitation in using this. But first, you need to know not just how to use it but everything about it.” He sat on the bed and she followed suit. Taking the gun from her, he took it in his right hand and hefted it.
