The Tale of the Wolf (The Kenino Wolf Series)

by Cyrus Chainey

  Whatever his reasons, it was always worth attending, even more so on this occasion, as Tabatha still hadn’t explained her business proposition; a mystery that wouldn’t be revealed till nightfall. All I knew was she was keen. She phoned me bright and early to make sure I was definitely attending. My confirmation pleased her, but I still had the day free.

  With nothing to do but wait, I decided to carry on like nothing had happened. Like Marisol said, this town doesn’t wait. I had a few errands that had existed prior to Longy’s death. I was still meant to be helping out Puglia and his daughter’s wedding. I would have ditched him if he hadn’t already paid me. I was obligated and had no choice but to do the tasks.

  I flew round the city organising food and alcohol, and all the other little bits that needed doing, including dropping Puglia and Mama round to a tailor friend of mine called Nat the Needle; a truly wondrous master of the art of stitching, a Rembrandt of thread and silk … a man that, in better times, I’d visited often, but now was more friend than tailor.

  I only really mention Nat the Needle because of something he told me while I was standing in the shop passing the time, waiting on Puglia and Mama. Nat informed me that he’d seen my cousin Jeremiah; my Interpol-employed cousin Jeremiah. A man who I must admit, I am not on the most friendly of terms with, but that has more to do with career choices than any real animosity. He works for the police and I generally avoid the police. C’est la vie.

  The only really curious thing was that my uncle usually informed me when Jeremiah was in town, and he hadn’t said anything about his return, but then Jeremiah always was secretive. I finished my remaining errands and then headed to Holland Park.

  Friday 7:00 p.m.

  I was picking up Muzzi and Boom-Boom, to go to Leon’s fancy dress party together. Muzzi was, oddly, considering my circle of friends, rather posh; private school, fancy upbringing. All the luxuries and refinements that a parent could give their child Muzzi had received. He’d turned his back on the whole lot to be a carpenter and hang out with the scummies; said it made him proud to have made his own way in the world, and not live off his parent’s legacy. He still had a fancy house in Holland Park though. He hadn’t gone completely native.

  But in essence what he said was true. He did do it his way and he was a carpenter, and an excellent one at that, he’d done all the work at Leon’s club, which was how we all knew him. A couple of years older than me, but looking well for it, the manual labour keeping him trim. Muzzi was blonde with the requisite pink face and posh accent.

  Muzzi had wanted us to go as the Supremes, but neither Boom-Boom nor I were keen on this intriguing idea, although for differing reasons.

  We strolled into Leon’s club, the place was bouncing: Winston the barman was behind the bar dressed as Shaft, and Leon was schmoozing the throng, dressed in a sleek tight-fitting ball gown slit up to the thigh and four-inch stiletto heels. He had a large blonde bouffant and looked ravishing. Three people had come as the Supremes which made me rather glad that Boom-Boom, Muzzi and I had not.

  Boom-Boom and Muzzi had come as Starsky and Hutch, while I’d come as Superfly: purple suit, hat and heels. I suppose if I’d wanted to keep in with my two companions I should have come as Huggy Bear, but I was on a bit of a solo agenda, didn't really want to be in the group. Plus, I think I looked better as Superfly.

  Leon came across and escorted Muzzi and me to our table. He grabbed Boom-Boom and escorted him somewhere else, which pleased me. I was going to nod Leon the wink anyway concerning Boom-Boom. Get Leon to distract him for a while so I could go and speak to Tabatha. Now I didn’t need to bother.

  Tabatha was near the bar dressed as Wonder Woman.

  ‘Y’oright, Tabs?’

  ‘Wolfy,’ she said clutching my hand.

  ‘I take it you’re ready to tell me something now?’ I responded to her excitement.

  ‘Yeah.’ She smiled excitedly. ‘Come on. We’ll talk in the back.’

  She grabbed my hand and we slid away back to the room where she’d slapped me in the head before. Once the door was closed and she was sure we weren’t being overheard.

  ‘Wolfy, this is big.’ She was giddy.

  ‘What is?’

  ‘I met someone when I was working at that other club. His name’s Colin. He’s a butler in some big country estate.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’

  ‘He says there’s a safe with £4 million in diamonds in it. Untraceable.’ She was trembling.

  ‘And?’

  ‘And he wants us to help him nick ’em.’

  ‘Why you?’

  ‘Why me what?’

  ‘Why did he tell you?’

  ‘He was drunk and I was kind. I was nice to him and he told me his story.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘What’s with the questions? Aren’t you listening? £4 million in untraceable diamonds. It’s the score, the big one. Freedom from all of this shit: work, misery, bills. You never have to worry about money ever again.’

  ‘If it’s true …’

  ‘It’s true. I’ve seen them.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘His boss sent him up to Knightsbridge to get some of the smaller ones valued. He told me he was going to the shop. I didn’t believe him either, but I saw them. I was in the shop pretending to browse when he came in. I saw them on the counter; little black velvet bag and a load of shiny stones. Wolfy, this is it.’ She was shaking.

  ‘His boss lets him run around with a bag of diamonds?’

  ‘No, of course not. Don’t be fucking stupid. He was under armed escort: two big heavies. The three of them came in and I saw what was happening. He knew I didn’t believe him, so he proved it: told me to be in the shop before they arrived so I could see they were real. This is on the up and up, Wolfy.’

  ‘What’s the story? What’s his story?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Why is he robbing his boss, who obviously trusts him?’

  ‘What’s wrong with you? I bring you the best deal of your life and your carrying on like ... like …’

  ‘Like I want to know the motive? Why’s he want to rob his boss?’

  ‘Money, you moron. Why does anybody rob anybody? Money! He wants the money. He can’t do it himself. It’s too obvious. He needs help.’

  ‘And why you?’

  ‘Because I was kind and he fancies me. He was drunk and told me his life story at the bar one night. He’s been a butler for ten years. The boss treats him like shit and he’s had enough. The boss has £4 million in diamonds in a safe in his house, which he got from insider dealing; dodgy money which he can’t report. We do the deed. He tells us how. Easy.’

  ‘Not easy, not simple.’ I didn’t like it, didn’t like it at all.

  ‘Fine, don’t bother then. I’ll find someone else. You stay broke the rest of your life. You keep pinching and scraping. I’m getting rich. I’m going places.’ She was angry.

  ‘I never said I weren’t in. I was just getting the details. Calm down, Tabs. Don’t get all antsy.’

  ‘So you’re in?’

  ‘I need to meet the guy.’

  ‘I knew you’d say that. He’s outside. I’ll get him.’

  ‘Whoah. What you mean he’s outside?’

  ‘I knew you’d want to see him, so I told him to come to the club. He’s at the bar. I’ll get him.’ She was half-way out the staffroom.

  ‘Stop! ... Me and you back here can be explained. A third bod looks well dodgy. Calm down. He ain’t going nowhere.’ She paused. It hurt her to slow down, but she knew I was right. In her rush to escape poverty she was behaving recklessly.

  ‘You’ve turned paranoid, Wolfy.’

  ‘With the amount of bullets flying near my head lately, I think it’s the right mentality.’ I had travelled a bit far down Paranoia Drive. I was so worried by what had happened lately, I was carrying the tranquiliser pistol and ten darts; had put it in my pocket from the morning. I tapped it as she spoke.

  ‘Yeah
well, paranoid or not, I’m doing this, Wolfy. I’m not being broke my whole life.’

  ‘Okay, Tabs, I get the picture. What’s the cut?’

  ‘Four ways: one mill each.’

  ‘Who’s the fourth?’

  ‘Curtis. I knew you’d want to get Curtis.’ Damn, she was good. She was right. I wasn’t going to go near this without Curtis.

  ‘So you knew I’d want Curtis, did ya?’

  ‘Yep.’ She smirked. ‘I ain’t going to fail here. I want this and I’m going to have it.’

  ‘Okay then. This guy’s cool with the split?’

  ‘Yep. He’s more happy his boss is getting the shaft.’

  ‘He’s outside, you said?’ She nodded. ‘Alright then take me to him.’ I didn’t like it. It smelt wrong, but I was holding back for Tabatha’s sake. Maybe she was right. Maybe I was just paranoid. I was packing a tranq gun. I was not exactly thinking straight.

  We walked out of the storeroom. Kenneth, one of the waiters saw us coming out.

  ‘Naughty naughty,’ he sniggered.

  ‘Yes, thank you, Kenneth,’ I replied, helping to enforce his presumption.

  We walked towards the bar.

  ‘Colin, come here.’ She signalled to a man dressed as Elvis. I don’t know what period of Elvis’ career he was meant to be emulating, as I don’t remember Elvis ever having a scrawny matchstick-man period. If he did though, this man had it down pat.

  He was 5’9” with blue eyes and a thin skeletal face.

  ‘Colin Todd. Pleased to meet you.’ His voice was nasal and grated instantly. ‘Are you the one Tabatha was talking about?’

  ‘We’ll talk about that later. I just wanted to meet you for now.’

  This guy instantly antagonised me; it was what his eyes did when he said Tabatha’s name. He was lusting after the woman I was lusting after, and had a voice like a blue bottle trapped in a glass.

  This guy and I were never going to be friends.

  ‘Eh?’ he replied, not understanding why I didn’t want to discuss his proposition out in the open where everyone could hear.

  ‘We’ll talk later, somewhere private. You’re not in any rush, are ya?’

  ‘No,’ he shook his head.

  ‘Okay then. See ya later. See ya, Tabs.’

  ‘Wolfy,’ Tabs said grabbing my arm as I went back to the table.

  ‘Tabs.’

  ‘Why don’t you talk to him now?’

  ‘Because I don’t wash my dirty linen in public. There’s no way I’m gonna talk about anything out in the open where everyman can hear.’

  ‘Why not go somewhere private now?’

  ‘Because it looks dodgy. I’ve been here five minutes and then I disappear off with this geezer, after disappearing off with you? Wait a few hours when people are pissed and don’t know what’s going on.’

  ‘But Wolfy ...’

  ‘But nuthin’, Tabs. This is business. I do things my way. It don’t matter when I talk to him … now, midnight or four in the morning. You can’t do nuthin’ till tomorrow so what’s the rush?’

  ‘There ain’t one. But you will?’

  ‘Course I will. I told you I would.’

  I didn’t tell Tabatha, but I had the full intention of frisking this guy. Something about him was giving off warning signals. If it wasn’t for Tabatha I would’ve dumped him there and then, but lust was driving where brains feared to tread. I didn’t want to let her down and get her pissed off with me again. So I agreed to meet him later, one to one.

  I returned to the table. Muzzi was being chatted up by Kenneth, who was in bodice and suspenders and was looking pretty good. Boom-Boom hadn’t returned yet.

  ‘You want a drink, Wolfy? You must be thirsty after your exertions,’ Kenneth said slyly.

  ‘Thank you, Kenneth. I’ll have a Leffe.’

  ‘Looks like Kenneth‘s keen,’ I said, nudging Muzzi.

  ‘It’s not me, it’s the curly wig.’ Muzzi was Starsky.

  Boom-Boom strolled back over and sat down. Leon had probably informed him of some business venture. I didn’t enquire. He would’ve told me but I couldn’t be bothered. The party was thumping; really starting to pick up. I had planned to get blasted, wash away some sorrows, but because Tabatha had brought Colin, I thought it best to stay on the right side of sober.

  It was about half one in the morning and Leon had just finished a rendition of Gloria Gaynor’s ‘I will survive’. Clichéd I know but Leon likes it and he does do an excellent rendition. Four other drag queens got up on stage and started doing something. Not sure what it was, they were pretty inaudible. As they got on the stage a man with a skinhead and ill-fitting suit — as in too much muscle, too little fabric — sat down in front of the three of us. Looking across at each of us but addressing me, he said:

  ‘Where is Nikos?’ His accent was Russian.

  He was a hard looking guy. Military type; shaved head and big neck.

  ‘No idea what you’re talking about, mate. Think you’ve got the wrong guy.’

  ‘Stand up very slowly,’ the Russian stated, opening his jacket to reveal a holstered pistol.

  ‘What ...? Look, I think you’ve made some mistake. I don’t know what the hell you are going on about. ’ The Russian smiled as he saw our faces clock the pistol.

  ‘Get up very slowly and there won’t be any trouble,’ he commanded calmly.

  He turned round to signal to three other blokes in ill-fitting suits (same reason.) They strode towards us.

  As he turned back round to face us Boom-Boom let loose; two solid connections to the guy’s head. I heard his jaw and his nose crack. His face crumpled like tissue paper under the weight of the onslaught. I saw his eyes roll in his head and then the lights went out. He was out cold, slumped across the table. Boom-Boom was living up to his name.

  His three companions, who were approaching, on seeing their friend get smacked, ripped open their jackets and pulled out a veritable arsenal of hardware: two uzis and another pistol. Boom-Boom reached at the unconscious Russian and tore his pistol from its holster.

  Seeing what was coming, I grabbed for the tranq gun in my pocket and whipped it out. I let loose a shot and got one of the Russians between the eyes. He went cross-eyed and slumped on to the floor. The remaining two let loose a volley of shots. The screams echoed round the club as people dived for cover. It was mayhem.

  Muzzi flipped the table, tipping the Russian on to the floor and we dived behind it. I reloaded the tranq gun, the other two Russians starting spraying the place indiscriminately. I saw Colin tumble behind the bar, as did someone dressed as a Roman. The club was being blown to smithereens.

  I put another dart in the tranq gun and lined up another shot, but Muzzi jogged me, trying to avoid the Uzi fire which was splintering the table and I shot Barry White in the arse. Boom-Boom let off a few more rounds from the pistol and winged one of the Russians. We were still cowering behind the table. How long the table was going to last we had no idea. It was already shredded.

  ‘I’M OUT OF BULLETS,’ Boom-Boom bellowed at me.

  ‘WHAT?’ I bellowed back, trying to shove another dart in the tranq gun, which was being made even more difficult because Muzzi was shaking next to me.

  I saw the four drag queens sneak behind the Russian near the column and leap on him like a pack of bouffant’d wolves. They pummelled him into the ground, his gun skewed across the floor, whereupon one of the queens crunched a four-inch stiletto into his crotch.

  Boom-Boom was still shouting. ‘I’VE GOT NO BULLETS.’

  ‘HOLD ON. I’LL GO TO THE SHOP AND GET YOU SOME MORE.’ I shouted back sarcastically.

  The winged Russian crawled across the stage and let loose another volley. One of the queens got it in the leg, the other in the hair … all three feet of it. They dived for cover. The bloke who they’d been turning into a eunuch hobbled on to his feet and over to his friend.

  The one that Boom-Boom had punched initially was crawling over to the one I’
d tranq’d. He screamed something in Russian and the ‘castrato’ one came over to help Crumple Face grab Sleeping Beauty.

  The fourth one was still shooting. He wasn’t aiming at anything. He just wanted to get out. Crumple face and Castrato dragged the sleeping one through the door, followed closely behind by the other, who, in a final flourish, blew the glitter ball from the ceiling.

  Boom-Boom waited a few moments and then sneaked a look out after them. They’d gone out the fire exit and disappeared down the road, much to his and everyone’s relief.

  People started to rise to their feet, sneaking out slowly from the various hiding places they’d found. It had all happened so quickly. One minute we were enjoying a party the next we were in the battle for Stalingrad.

  ‘Leon?’ Kelly walked into the centre of the dance floor.

  ‘Kelly,’ screamed Leon. ‘Are you okay? Are you hit?’ he checked her for wounds.

  ‘The baby’s coming, Leon.’

  ‘What? Now?’

  ‘YES, NOW! Go get the stuff.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll get it.’ Leon ran to the front of the club.

  ‘Leon, we live upstairs,’ she shouted at him.

  ‘Yes, Kelly. Sorry, Kelly,’ Leon spluttered, forgetting in the mayhem where he actually lived. Luckily for everyone else Kelly hadn’t. With a baby rushing on and unbearable pain gripping her every fibre, she still had the composure to take charge.

  ‘Winston.’

  ‘Yes, Kelly,’ he replied militaristically, picking bits of glass out of his fake afro.

  ‘Call ambulances for these people. When you’ve finished, lock up. Tabatha will help you, won’t you Tabs?’

  ‘Yes, Kelly,’ she replied equally militaristically

  ‘Wolfy.’

  ‘Yes, Kelly,’ I replied, returning my gaze from Tabatha who’d I’d been checking out to make sure she was okay.

  ‘Call me a taxi.’ I had an almost uncontrollable urge to say ‘You’re a taxi’, but I resisted and, like the other good soldiers to our supreme commander answered, ‘Yes, Kelly.’