Risky Business

by W. Soliman

  A minute or so after the door closed behind him I was about to leap from the table but stopped myself just in time. I was probably on candid camera. I opened one eye and glanced up at the alarm sensor blinking away in the top right-hand corner of the room. Well, that was what it looked like but I was pretty sure it served another purpose too. I lay where I was, facedown, and didn’t move. But I listened. The walls were thin—plywood partitioning was my guess—and I could distinctly hear voices coming from the room behind the locked door. Frustratingly I couldn’t quite make out what was being said. There was a lot of grunting and shuffling noises, as though something heavy was being moved.

  The room I was in was a windowless cubicle so I couldn’t look outside and get my bearings. All I could do was commit the layout of the place to memory as best I could. Garnet had coerced his partners into financing whatever he was up to. Presumably it was a room like this one where their sordid antics were recorded. Perhaps this very room. If Garnet knew I was here, he was probably keeping an eye on me. He trusted me about as much as I trusted him.

  The door opened and my friendly masseur returned. I pretended to be asleep and let him touch my shoulder before I stirred. But when I opened my eyes I looked directly into the face of one of the girls I’d seen on those swings the other night.

  “What happened to Boris?” I asked.

  “Boris?”

  “The guy who gave me a rubdown.”

  “I give better rubdowns.”

  I’ll just bet you do.

  She swiped the towel off my arse and I was completely naked. She didn’t seem to mind but I did. Garnet had sent her, obviously. But why? He knew I wasn’t married but perhaps he thought he could embarrass me by showing the pictures to Kara. Whatever, I needed to play along, purely for professional reasons and see if I could get the woman to…er, open up for me. She put some cream on her hands and started rubbing my shoulders.

  “Relax,” she said.

  Oh lady, that would be too easy for you. “I am relaxed,” I said.

  “Hmm, I don’t think so.”

  “Didn’t I see you here at the party the other night? You were on one of those swings.”

  “Yes, I was here. I saw you too.” Her hands were working their way toward my waist. In spite of my best efforts to remain immune, I reacted to her touch. That was not good. “Are you going to be a member here?”

  “Perhaps. How long have you worked here?”

  “About a year.”

  “Where are you from? You don’t sound English.”

  “I’m from Estonia.” She leaned over me and her long hair brushed against my bare arse. Christ, she was killing me! “But it is better here.”

  “How did you get the job?”

  We played this game of cat and mouse for quite a while, asking each other questions, neither of us answering truthfully.

  “Does that feel good?”

  “Mmm, sure.”

  “Turn over. I must do your front.”

  I don’t think so. I leapt off the table and grabbed the towel, draping round my hips to preserve my modesty. God knows why. She’d already seen all there was to see. “Sorry, love, can’t stop any longer. I have to be somewhere.”

  “Oh, but you can’t go!” She looked surprised and a little frightened by my determination. I guess she wasn’t used to rejection. “You haven’t had the full treatment yet.”

  I skedaddled, blurting out a halfhearted apology as I headed for the men’s room. An hour later I was back at the boat, not a lot wiser. Far from being relaxed after the massage, the girl’s expert ministrations had left me feeling wound up and frustrated. I briefly considered paying a visit to my exclusive girlfriend but dismissed the idea. She’d want to know why I was in such a state so soon after she’d left me. She’d get the truth out of me and probably insist upon helping me get to the bottom of Garnet’s little scheme. A cold shower seemed like the more sensible option.

  The following morning I logged on to the Land Registry. Since 1990 it’s been possible for anyone to look at the title deeds of any property in the country. I stumped up a modest fee and was soon examining all the data in respect of Garnet’s health club, including a very useful floor plan. As I already knew, the car park at the front was flanked by his own private country park. The flashy entrance area with relaxation salons on either side of it fronted the building. Directly behind that was the famous atrium which occupied the entire width of the building. Beyond was the gym and swimming pool, both windowless structures backing on to the staff car park. The building had spurs going off on either side, with windowless treatment rooms, offices that did boast a bit of daylight but with windows that looked onto the park. There were staff restrooms, kitchens, stores and whatever else it took to run a club of that magnitude.

  What stood out was the fact that the staff car park wasn’t overlooked by a single window from any of the public rooms. In fact, as I looked closer, I could see that only one small room had the luxury of a window facing in that direction. How weird was that? The entrance to that car park was from a narrow side road through solid gates that only opened if you had a zapper or pressed a button and spoke to a guard. The walls surrounding it were high, and there were an astonishing number of security lights for such a low-key area. The building came right to the edge of the corner plot on one side, providing no access to the area that interested me. On the opposite side there was a path, about the width of a car, presumably a service access.

  And my only way in.

  I had a good memory for layouts, and after studying the plans I was pretty sure the room with the locked door backed on to the car park as well. And it had an external door that let straight on to it. Very convenient for moving things you didn’t want other people to see. Things that had to be kept under lock and key. It was either stolen goods or, more likely, drugs. That would explain why Garnet had needed a large amount of ready cash and resorted to blackmail to obtain it. He’d bought his way into the drugs market, using his base here on the south coast as a distribution centre. His nightclubs supplied a ready market for his merchandise but it would be almost impossible to trace the supply chain back to him unless a warrant was obtained to search his premises.

  The Drug Squad had no reason to go after him. Drugs were sold in clubs all the time, everyone knew that. Garnet was now a pillar of the local community, high-profile in charitable causes and a close friend of the assistant chief constable. He was untouchable. It made perfect sense and I wondered why it hadn’t occurred to me before now. The gear probably came in on the cargo ships that docked in Dover or Ramsgate. Busy ports where merchandise wasn’t always properly documented and where customs officials could be paid to look the other way. Odds on the stuff came through Afghanistan’s infamous Golden Crescent, via Pakistan. The drugs were most likely transferred here on one of Garnet’s supply trucks, hidden amongst all the oils, lotions and cosmetics needed to keep his adoring lady clientele looking eternally youthful. Simple and hard to detect, like the best scams usually are.

  Of course, I could be miles off base. I’d never get Slater, or anyone else, to come take a look-see unless I had something more than my own half-baked suspicions to go on. Which meant I’d have to go back and have a closer look for myself. I was counting on them moving stuff in and out after the club shut for the night. There’d be too many comings and goings, too many pairs of curious eyes, to make it safe during the day. For starters, any staff members who smoked probably nipped out to that car park to get their regular nicotine fixes.

  Not knowing what sort of drugs he was shifting, it was hard for me to be sure but I was guessing that no cutting took place there. Garnet wouldn’t want to have anything on the premises that couldn’t be hidden at a moment’s notice. This was just distribution headquarters, and that distributing would be done under the cover of darkness.

  I sighed. It was
going to be a long night.

  * * *

  I called Kara, just to hear the sound of her voice, only to remember that she was going to something at the children’s school that evening. I left a message on her voice mail instead, promising that I’d see her soon, hoping I wasn’t making promises I wouldn’t live to fulfil. I gave Gil his evening run and dropped him off with my fellow live-aboards on the adjoining pontoon. They often minded him when I was going places where he wouldn’t be welcome.

  Before heading for the club, I went in the opposite direction and called on an acquaintance who owed me a favour. I’d phoned him earlier in the day and he knew what I needed. I took the stuff he gave me and listened carefully to his rundown on how to work it.

  “Are you sure it will function?” I asked.

  “Have a little faith, Mr. Hunter,” he said adopting a wounded expression. “I’m a professional. I have a reputation to protect.”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s just that it looks so insignificant.”

  He chuckled. “That’s the whole point.”

  “Right.”

  I gave him a few bob for his trouble and trudged down the street toward the parked bike. I had a bad feeling about this whole escapade. But suicidal missions based on nothing more substantial than a hunch had never stopped me in the past. Why change the habits of a lifetime?

  I pointed the bike toward Hove and parked it in a pub car park about half a mile short of my destination. As soon as it was completely dark, I set off on foot and reached the club without anyone slowing their cars to ask me what the fuck I thought I was doing. I took that as a good sign. I mean, no one wearing biking gear walked by choice down the side of a country road after dark, did they? It would be just my luck to be intercepted by Garnet. Or have a public-spirited citizen insist on offering me a lift.

  Fortunately that didn’t happen. There were still lights on in the reception area of the club but only a few cars parked out front. It was gone ten o’clock and I couldn’t help wondering what sort of person worked out at that time of night. Not that I really cared. I was more concerned with getting round the back without being detected.

  I moved across the car park, not even trying to hide, mainly because there was no cover. If I looked like a man on a mission perhaps I wouldn’t be challenged. I could see a security guard sitting behind a desk in the foyer, reading a paper. He hadn’t once glanced up. I used his preoccupation with page three to get to the side of the building with the walkway.

  Unfortunately there was also an eight-foot wall with glass embedded in the top to discourage opportunistic intruders. The plans forgot to mention that little detail. I studied it for a moment, wondering how best to tackle it. The height wasn’t a problem but the glass most definitely would be. Fortunately I’d stuffed my biking gauntlets into my pockets rather than leaving them with the bike. I pulled them on. Hopefully they were thick enough to keep my hands from getting cut but I was already resigned to ruining a perfectly good, very expensive pair of gloves.

  A swift examination of the area confirmed what I’d already feared, prompting a string of muttered oaths. It was scrupulously tidy and there was nothing lying about in front of the wall to help me. No bins, boxes, broken chairs, absolutely nothing I could stand on to make my life easier. I interrupted my swearing to take a deep breath, replaying the layout of the club in my head. There had to be an easier way.

  But short of strolling in through the front door there absolutely wasn’t. I was going to have to do this the hard way, and I was going to have to do it now. That security guard might actually remember what he got paid for and patrol the perimeter occasionally. If he did, he’d have to be blind not to see me in such an exposed place.

  Sighing, I placed my gloved hands on the glass fragments on top of the wall and moved them about until I had a firm grip. Before I could change my mind, I hoisted myself to the top of the wall, using my feet against the vertical surface to gain momentum and ease some of the weight off my hands. But as soon as I made the final push with my arms, I felt the gloves rip. A sharp pain shot through one palm but I didn’t let it slow me down. I placed my feet, encased in strong biking boots, on the embedded glass. Then I bent my knees to absorb the shock and dropped to the other side, rolling as soon as I hit the ground. I landed harder than I’d anticipated and swore under my breath as I jolted my shoulder.

  I couldn’t control my sideways momentum and went with the roll, hoping I wouldn’t crash into anything that made a noise. Fortunately that didn’t happen. I came to a stop against the wall, sat up with my back against it and caught my breath. Then I pulled off my gauntlets and assessed the damage. A nasty cut on my left palm but otherwise I appeared to be more or less intact. I wrapped a handkerchief round the injury and tied it tight, rotated my shoulder and winced. It hurt like hell but wasn’t dislocated. I’d live.

  I turned my attention to the room that interested me. The blinds were closed but there was light coming from the gap at the bottom where they didn’t quite meet the windowsill. Bent double to avoid presenting a shadow on those blinds or from triggering any automatic security lights, I walked like a crab until I was beneath the window. I waited there for several minutes, giving my heartbeat time to slow and wiped away the sweat running into my eyes with the back of my hand.

  I couldn’t afford to linger. The area was in darkness, but if a car came in through the locked gates I’d be trapped like a rabbit in its headlights. Still, since I was here… Slowly, I pulled myself up until I could see over the window ledge and peered through the gap. Inside the room was a long table. Glover and another guy I didn’t recognise were making up parcels. It didn’t take a brainiac to figure out what was in them.

  I was trying to decide what to do next when I heard the gates opening. Using the sound as cover, I dived behind a line of wheelie bins seconds before a combination of car and security lights illuminated the entire area. I was pretty sure I’d made it in the nick of time but it had been a close-run thing. The 4x4 that drove in flashed its lights, the door opened, several boxes were loaded into the wheel recess in the boot, and the car drove off again. It took less than a minute, not one word was spoken, and I didn’t get a proper look at the two men in the car.

  But at least my suspicions had been more or less confirmed. Did I wait to see if another car arrived and sneak out the open gates to save myself the grief of climbing that wall again? Or did I hang about to see what else happened? I crawled back to the window and took another peek. They appeared to be packing it in for the night so I might as well do the same.

  I was about to move when I sensed a presence behind me. I half turned, but before I could see who was there, something came down on the back on my head. Lights danced behind my eyes and an excruciating pain exploded inside my brain. The last thing I remembered was crumpling to the floor like a deflated balloon.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Charlie, you disappoint me.”

  A voice brought me back to consciousness.

  It needn’t have bothered. It felt as though someone was pounding at my head with a claw hammer from the inside. I ached everywhere, felt physically sick and would much prefer to remain in oblivion. My eyes were reluctant to open, as if they knew what was coming and would just as soon not witness it. The room spun as I forced my eyelids upwards.

  Peter Garnet’s face swam in and out of focus, and for a few blissful minutes I couldn’t remember where the hell I was. Garnet was sitting in a canvas chair, shaking his head as though I were a recalcitrant pupil who’d failed an easy test. I probably had. I ran a hand through my hair, wincing as I touched a lump the size of a duck egg at the back of my skull. My fingers came away sticky with blood. I also had a blood-soaked handkerchief tied round my hand.

  Slowly it came back to me. I’d tried to spy on Garnet’s drug operation and hadn’t got past first base. Either I’d tripped an alarm somewhere or t
hey’d been expecting me. I was on the floor and tried to sit up. A large booted foot pushed me down again with considerable force. I didn’t have the strength to argue with it. Instead I needed to get my mind in gear and decide how to talk my way out of this hole. Not that I was too optimistic about my chances.

  “Nothing to say for yourself, Charlie?”

  Nothing he’d want to hear.

  “What were you doing, breaking in?”

  “Just checking out the employee benefits.”

  Glover’s massive fist descended so fast that I was never going to get out of its path. All I could do was turn my face away. Even so, he hit me so hard that pyrotechnics exploded inside my skull. Again. I felt my lip split and the tangy taste of blood trickling inside my mouth. My left eye felt as though it had come out of its socket, and a ringing sound echoed in my ears.

  “Don’t get smart, Charlie. It’s really not in your best interests.”

  “No health insurance perks then?”

  This time Glover kicked me in the ribs, hard enough to crack them. Shit, it hurt! I groaned aloud and gave up on the tough guy act. Instead I curled into a ball and hugged my torso to nurture the pain.

  Out of the periphery of my vision I saw Glover smiling. He’d got a reaction out of me and that obviously made his day. I reminded huddled up, taking more time than I needed to recover, assessing my chances. I wasn’t tied up but then we all knew I wasn’t going anywhere. The security in this place could teach Fort Knox a thing or two. I was in one of the treatment rooms, probably the same one I’d been in for the massage. I saw the sensor still winking away in the corner. Glover most likely had a whole collection of his finest moments kicking the crap out of Garnet’s enemies recorded for posterity, thanks to that little techno gadget. Each to their own.

  It was hard to string together more than a few coherent thoughts. Given my situation, that probably wasn’t such a bad thing. But I did have one ace up my sleeve. I had something Garnet wanted. Something I could bargain with. Miller’s notebook. I didn’t know if he knew and if so how he’d found out.