Paul had nothing left. He was finished. The croupier looked at him and he shook his head and turned to walk away. He felt he might as well jump in the Thames, for he had no other means of escape, no money, nothing left to sell. He had enough money in his pocket for one more drink and then he would go and jump.
“Yes, Sir?”
“Isle of Islay, single malt, please.”
“Right away, Sir.”
Paul thought that this was the last time he would ever savour a posh whiskey, and he made the most of it, enjoying the taste and the burning as it slithered down his throat. He drained the last drop and turned to go. As he did so, a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He looked up in surprise to see one of the club’s heavies behind him. Beside him stood another, arms folded, standing akimbo, gazing intently at Paul. His heart dropped to his stomach. He shouldn’t have stayed for that drink.
“The boss requests your presence, Mr Engledow,” said the man with the heavy hand. Paul gave a deep sigh of regret; he had no choice. He straightened up and bowed his head slightly.
“Lead on, gentlemen.”
His legs felt as if they were dissolving into jelly as he tried to look nonchalant, walking between the two burly men. They left the gaming room and took him up an elegant flight of stairs, along a hallway and knocked on a door in front of them.
“Come.”
When the door opened, Paul saw a sumptuously furnished room, manly but comfortable and elegant.
“Come in, Paul, take a seat.”
The man who extended the greeting looked about in his late forties. Slim and neat with black hair and dark brown eyes, he was handsome in a smarmy sort of way. He was sitting in a black leather armchair and beside him was a small table.
When Paul hesitated, the man said. “Don’t worry, I just want to have a little chat with you. Come, sit down. I understand you’re partial to Isle of Islay, you have good taste. I always have some up here. Toby?”
A man Paul had not noticed, dressed in black, came forward with a tray, holding a crystal decanter and two whiskey glasses. He set it on the table beside his boss and poured it out, each with an ice cube and handed it one to the man in charge and then one to Paul, who took it gingerly as if it would bite him.
The man raised his glass to his companion and held it up in a ‘cheers’ motion towards Paul, who half-heartedly held his up too and gulped down a mouthful.
“You can go,” said The Boss to the two heavies and Paul heard the door shut softly behind him. The other man, Toby, was nowhere to be seen.
“So, Paul. You’ve got yourself in a bit of a mess, haven’t you, old fellow?”
Paul nodded miserably and looked down at his glass.
“You know what I should be doing, don’t you?”
More sweat broke out on Paul’s forehead as he looked into the expressionless eyes of the man before him. The Boss had a Reputation. He called all the shots and people had been known to disappear before turning up dead somewhere a long time later.
“Oh yes, I should be doing that, Paul. I’ve let you get away with things for far too long, because I’m kind, see?”
‘Kind, my bottom’ thought Paul.
“I am calling in my debt, Paul. I don’t think you have anything left except your home, do you? I’ve always quite fancied that house, nice little pile it is, the ancestral home. Pity about the old woman though, she’d have to go.”
Paul thought about his mother and feared what would happen to her. Would they kill her? Would they kill them both?
As much as he loved Isle of Islay, he couldn’t seem to make his arm work to bring it to his mouth.
“What would you do with my mother? She’s an old woman, she deserves to live in peace.”
The Boss laughed, quite an unpleasant sound really.
“You should have thought about that before, shouldn’t you, lad? Before you let your ‘illness’ get the better of you.”
Paul nodded miserably.
“You can have everything I have left, only please don’t hurt my mother.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that you care about something other than your habit. I’m not into hurting old ladies, even rich ones. But oh my, Paul, haven’t you let her down? Does she know about your gambling and your –erm, energetic lifestyle?”
Paul shook his head. His other all-consuming vice was women. Lots of them, the more the merrier. He thought about how his mother kept asking him when he was going to settle down. But why should he, when he was having so much fun? Although that was all over now, wasn’t it? If he had no money to flash around, the women wouldn’t come either.
“Well, Paul, because I’m kind, I’m going to wipe out your debt.”
Paul’s head shot up – had he heard right? No, the whiskey must be going to his head. The Boss never wiped out debts, especially as big as his.
“Yes, you heard right. I will wipe out your debt. Not only that, I will give you five grand. But I want you to do a little job for me.”
Fear trickled down Paul’s neck. “A job? What sort of job?”
Although he was not above doing illegal stuff, he hated violence and hoped he wasn’t being asked to hurt someone.
“I need someone with your particular – uh- talent, shall we say?”
“What talent is that? Not gambling”
He cringed when The Boss laughed heartily.
“No, lad. That’s not your talent, that’s your downfall. No, it’s your talent with the ladies I’m talking about.”
“I won’t have to hurt a woman, will I? Or bait her so your heavies can get her? I can’t do that.”
“No, nothing like that. I want you to find a particular woman and give her a good night, you know what I mean?”
Paul brightened. Yes, he knew and it was definitely right up his street. The Boss was going to wipe out his debt and pay him for sleeping with a woman? Paul thought the gods must be smiling upon him, his ship had come in at last! Hang on, there had to be a catch, didn’t there?
The man sitting before him was watching him intently, as if he could follow the thought processes running through his head.
“The only thing is, you’ll have to disappear afterwards for quite a while.”
Paul was confused and frowned into his glass. What could be so bad about the job? He raised a questioning look at the intimidating man in front of him.
“It’s better you don’t know. But I can assure you that no-one is going to get hurt. You have to go to Hereford but not in your own car. A vehicle will be provided. You will be booked into a hotel. When you arrive, you will be handed a package and you will then follow the instructions in that package. You must follow them exactly. Do not allow yourself to be distracted by any other attractive women you may see. You only deal with the target woman, and then you disappear. Instructions for that will also be in the package. Make sure you take it with you when you leave and then destroy it at the first opportunity. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You will receive your travel instructions in the morning. Your mother will be looked after during your – erm – prolonged absence, so don’t worry about her. You will leave tomorrow for Hereford. You will like it up there, it’s very pretty. Pity you won’t be able to stay long.”
Paul shrugged. The Boss stood up and Paul took it as a sign he was being dismissed. The door opened and the heavy stood there, waiting to escort him away. As he turned towards the door, The Boss said,
“By the way, Paul, stay away from the tables until you’ve seen this job through, otherwise you may well end up in the Thames. Singleness of mind, one track vision, Paul, until you have done the job and left the country. Understand?”
Paul nodded. “I understand.”
“Good.” The man nodded to Paul’s escort. Before Paul turned, he caught a look of amusement on The Boss’s face and wondered why.
Chapter 21
Paul sat at a table in the bar of The Kerry Arms. It was busy, conversation hummed and mus
ic played. The door opened and in walked a woman on impossibly high heels. He noted her shapely legs, couldn’t help noticing, because her leather skirt was tight and short. Her blonde hair curled down her back and she had a chest that would make a ship’s figurehead feel insignificant. His eyes followed her, interested but not interested. He had a job to do and he was waiting for a woman called Ruby. How much longer she would be? It had been made clear that she would be hereas she came to this pub every night without fail. He sipped his drink and watched the woman in a detached manner. One of the men at the bar hailed her.
“Hey Wiggy! Someone’s been asking for you!”
“Oh yeah? Oo’s that then?”
“Bloke over yonder.” The man speaking indicated with his thumb behind him, in Paul’s direction. Good looking chap – he might buy you a drink if you’re lucky! The man roared with laughter and his mates did too, all three turning round to watch her walk towards him. Paul finally saw her face.
‘Oh goodness, she’s at least fifty!’ he thought, taking in the blood-red lips on a heavily made-up face. Now he understood the reason behind The Boss’s smile. He’d really been dropped in it.
“Yew bin askin’ fer me?” she asked when she reached his table. “Oo are yer? I aint never seen yew afore.”
“If you are Ruby Wiggington, yes, I’ve been asking for you. You don’t know me but I’ve been told about you, from a good friend who passes this way sometimes. Travelling salesman.” Mentally, he crossed his fingers. Had he hit on the right sort of story?
“Ooh, is it Arfur Smif? ’E’ were one o’ my reg’lers, like, but I hant seen ’im fer ages.” She sat down on the bench next to Paul and he shimmied along to let her in. She crossed her legs with difficulty, allowing her skirt to rise so it only just covered her modesty. She leaned towards him, and he couldn’t help seeing down her deep cleavage. His head spun and he pretended to cough, turning away, hand to mouth. When he turned back to her, he made himself keep his eyes on her face.
“Yes. Arthur, that’s right. I met him at a roadside café and when I told him where I was going, he winked at me and told me to look for you. He said that you were special and he always had the best times with you.”
She preened a little at his story. “Did ’e really say that?”
“Oh yes indeed,” said Paul, warming to his story. “And he said to tell you he’s really sorry he hasn’t seen you for so long but his firm has sent him to work in a different area. But he assured me that you would see me right. ‘Treat her like a lady,’ he said, ‘And she will treat you like nothing you’ve had before. She knows a thing or two and you won’t get anyone finer.’”
She brightened even more. “I knew that Arfur would be back fer me if ’e could. ’E’s right, ’cos ’e always treated me like a lady, bought me drinks an’ stuff.”
Her face glowed so much at the thought of the unknown Arthur’s fabricated praise, that Paul realised she was probably younger than he’d first thought and he was surprised to feel a pang of pity for her. She had probably been attractive in her younger days. He thought she would look much nicer if she didn’t wear clothes more suited to a teenager but she probably saw her outfit as a tool for her trade.
He was acutely aware of the curious stares of the men at the bar, so he said suddenly,
“Look, shall we go?”
“Already? Yer aint even bought me a drink yet. Yer ’as ter git me at least one drink afore we goes inter the alley.”
‘Into the alley?’ he thought, realisation coming to him. The thought made him feel nauseous. Paul had a voracious sexual appetite and he’d had many women, but the thought of what she was suggesting was sordid to him. He told his stomach and throat to behave and made himself take her hand.
“You don’t understand, Ruby. I don’t do alleys. I do hotel rooms, champagne and luxury. You’re worth more than a quick one in an alley. Will you come with me?”
Her eyes opened wider as she comprehended what he was saying. In spite of himself, he admitted she had beautiful eyes.
“Champagne? You want to give me champagne?”
“Yes, and any other drink you want.”
“Lead on!” She got up and unsteadily tottered on her red high heels towards the bar.
“I’ve landed on me feet wi’ this ’un. ’Ee’s goin’ ter give me champagne!”
“Way to go, Wiggy!”
Paul felt a slap on his back and, giving a sickly smile, he took her arm and the pair exited the pub to wolf whistles and jeers.
**********
When they went into the hotel room, her eyes had widened with wonder at the sumptuousness. It was, after all, a high-class hotel. Give The Boss his due, he hadn’t stinted on the expenses; he’d been booked into this hotel, The Grafton, which was gorgeous and he’d been given plenty of money to spend.
When Ruby saw the bathroom, her eyes widened. “Wow, just look at that bathroom! I’d give me eye-teeth to ’ave a bath in there.”
“Why don’t you then?” he’d said and her beautiful eyes opened wider.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, go ahead, enjoy yourself while you can. Make the most of it.”
He’d showered and changed upon arrival and already there were clean towels in place of the one he’d used.
While she was having her bath, he took a glass of champagne in to her and she smiled and held it up above the bubbles, which were doing a valiant job of hiding her voluptuous figure. The bath was very full!
“I en’t never had champagne in a bubble-bath before – erm, what’s yer name, by the way?”
“Peter. Peter Edwards,” Paul made up the name hurriedly.
“Well, Petey-boy, you’re makin’ me feel really posh! This is wonderful.”
“I’m glad you’re happy, Ruby.” He held up his own glass. “Cheers!”
She held up a soapy arm and mirrored his action and sipped at her glass daintily, trying to act like she thought a lady would. She wrinkled her nose when the bubbles went up it and laughed.
Paul couldn’t help thinking that she reminded him of a child experiencing something she’d not been allowed before and smiled. In spite of his misgivings, he was quite enjoying it. ‘You thought I was going to hate it but you’re so wrong. Up yours,’ he mentally told The Boss.’
“What you smilin’ at, Petey?”
“Oh nothing, just something someone said to me. Sometimes things come into your head that have nothing to do with what you’re doing at the time, don’t they?”
“Oh yeah.”
“It was one of those times. Nothing to do with us. Have you finished your glass? Time to get out then, or you’ll end up all wrinkly. There’s more champagne in the bedroom. You can put this lovely robe on. It looks cosy. And it’ll make things easier later.” He winked.
“Oh yeah – yer wicked boy! ’And me that towel, would yer?”
He held out the towel and tried not to look as she stood up and wrapped it around herself.
“I’ll go pour us out another glass. It’ll be ready for when you come out.” Making a quick exit, he couldn’t make up his mind whether he was simply going to get her drunk and leave her to sleep it off, or to take advantage of her generous nature, it depended on how things went. Although fully aware of how potent champagne was, but he’d heard she was a hardened drinker of spirits and he might have to resort to them later. He poured her another glass, still having his because he’d only taken a small sip. He couldn’t afford to drink because he would soon be driving.
When he had reached the hotel, there was a package for him. He’d taken it up to his room and found a wad of money and the instructions for finding Ruby. Once he’d found her, he had to keep her with him all night. That bit had been underlined and was the most important thing. ‘It’s up to you what you do,’ the note had said, ‘She is a pro, but as long as you keep her all night, you could just make her drunk, or do what you fancy.’
Another set of instructions told him to leave early in the morning a
nd drive south towards a house in Monmouthshire, where he would be given tickets for travel and further instructions. It had all seemed simple enough.
When Ruby emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in the lovely, cosy gown, he handed her the full glass and, taking her hand, led her to the bed. They both sat on the bed, leaning against the pillows. He took off his jacket and tie and undid the buttons on his shirt. She drank her drink and he filled it again. She giggled.
“You’re a naughty boy, spending all this on me! This is the first time someone has taken me to a place like this. I love it!” Her speech was beginning to slur. She was on her fourth glass of champagne. She sat up further and peered at him.
“You’re an ’andsome man, Petey. You’re very young too, aren’t yer? How old are yer?”
“I’m twenty eight.”
“Oh, yer older than yer look. Old enough to know what yer want, I daresay?” she giggled again and let the gown open more at the front. “Yes, you’re very handsome. How old do yer fink I am?”
“Oh, about thirty…five?”
Again the giggle came. “You silly boy! I’m forty five! Do yer think I look forty-five, Petey?”
She leaned towards him and fluttered her eyelashes at him.
“Absolutely not, Ruby. As I said, you don’t look a day over thirty five. If you wore more floaty dresses, you could look younger still.”
“Don’t yer like ma clothes then?” she pouted.
“They’re fine, but they’re not very lady-like, Ruby. I bet, if you wore something different, you’d look like a lady.”
Her mood suddenly changed, and she laid back on her pillows again.
“I’ll never be no lady. But I ’ope me dawta will.”
“You have a daughter?”
“Yes, my Gloria. She is beautiful and clever, not like me, I ent clever.”
“How old is Gloria?”
“Fourteen.”
“Where is she now?”
“At ’ome. She’s a good girl, she gets me breakfast when I come in of a mornin’.”
“Who is her father? Are you married?”
“Noo,” she giggled. “Although I was married once. ’E were a beast, used ter knock me about. ’Ee got banged up, fank God, fer armed robbery. I divorced ’im.”
Fear Has Long Fingers Page 9
