The Pact

by Roberta Kray

  ‘Martin’s bit,’ Amber finally explained. ‘His … you know, the blonde cow, the one with the—’

  ‘God!’ Eve almost dropped her cup in surprise. She hadn’t even considered that Cavelli might be out on a visit too. How awkward was this? Apart from the fact that she had absolutely no wish to see him, weren’t they supposed to be pretending to be some kind of an item? That was why she’d written the letter, wasn’t it, so …

  Fortunately, Amber took her exclamation as an affirmation of her own bad opinion on the matter of his taste. As if she herself had just stepped out of the pages of Vogue, she wrinkled her nose and gave a contemptuous sniff. ‘Yeah, hardly classy, is it?’

  Eve made a vague but hopefully acceptable noise – she hadn’t quite recovered her wits – while she turned again to scrutinize the girl. She was in her early twenties. Dressed in a low-cut lacy blouse, her ample and no doubt much-admired cleavage was on full view. Between her generous breasts lay a long gold chain with an oval medallion. She had numerous gold bracelets adorning her wrists as well as two thin chains around her ankle. Skintight three-quarter-length satin trousers and a pair of four-inch high heels completed the outfit.

  Subtlety was not this woman’s middle name.

  Eve glanced down at her own casual attire – faded blue jeans, a simple navy jumper and trainers. She was hardly looking her best and couldn’t even begin to compete in the glamour stakes. Not that she wanted to. She hadn’t been expecting to see Cavelli today and didn’t give a damn about what he thought of her. Except – and there was that word wriggling its way into her thoughts again – when push came to shove, she was relying on him to maintain some level of interest in their deal …

  She took a comb from her bag and ran it quickly through her hair. ‘Amber, could you spare me some of that lip gloss?’

  Eve had managed to get across the room without looking at him once. Well, okay, that wasn’t quite true. She had glanced at him briefly as she walked in – and seen that sly familiar smirk – but from that point onward she’d been careful to keep her gaze averted. If she was going to get through this visit the best thing, the only thing, she could do was to ignore him, to pretend he wasn’t there.

  Which wasn’t too arduous a task. Terry had proved to be a big enough distraction for the first hour. She’d expected him to be down, depressed, but he was the complete opposite – high as a kite and clearly on something more potent than the tea he was drinking. His eyes were dancing, his head on some other distant planet.

  ‘Hey Evie, this is funny. Did I tell you about …’

  And every other minute he was off on another tangent, relating some new story that had a vague beginning, a rambling middle, and always ended up in a mass of uncontrolled giggles.

  ‘We need to talk,’ she said softly.

  He grinned at her. ‘You mean you want to talk.’

  ‘Seriously’

  ‘I am being serious,’ he said, putting his face momentarily straight before he started laughing again. ‘What? What’s the problem?’

  The problem was that there was slim chance of getting any sense out of him – but still she smiled and persevered. ‘I need you to tell me something.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘The truth,’ she said.

  As if the truth was equivalent to requesting Einstein’s Theory of Relativity, he stared blankly back at her. Then he lifted his skinny shoulders. ‘Oh, okay. Go for it!’

  She leaned forward, placing her hand on his arm and lowered her voice. ‘About what happened,’ she said. ‘About the robbery.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I need to know, Terry. Please. Be straight with me. You were there, at the warehouse, weren’t you? You were a part of it. You were there with the Rowans.’

  She had caught him off guard. He only paused for a second, a fraction of a second, but it was enough. The look in his eyes was enough to tell her everything.

  ‘Jesus,’ she murmured.

  ‘No—’ he began, but then abruptly stopped again. ‘I mean …’

  So it was true. She felt her heart plummet. And before his fuddled brain could come up with anything even approximating a convincing lie, she pressed home the advantage. ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me?’

  Hearing the anger in her voice, he shifted uneasily in his seat and stared down at the floor. ‘I’m sorry, okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t know he had a shooter, Evie. I swear.’

  But there was time enough for that conversation. There were other matters to sort out first. Now she’d got his attention, she couldn’t afford to let it drift. ‘You took something when you were there. What was it?’

  ‘You know, the watches and stuff.’

  ‘And the rest,’ she persisted. ‘What didn’t the cops find when they picked you up?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Something that’s gone missing, something that a friend of the Rowans might want back?’

  He raised his wide grey eyes and stared at her. They were filled with confusion. ‘What?’ he said again.

  She saw his expression and faltered. ‘So the Rowans aren’t connected to anyone called Joe?’

  ‘Who?’ He shook his head. ‘I dunno. Who? No. Why?’

  She didn’t think he was lying. No, he wasn’t. He definitely wasn’t. Although she felt some relief – at least her recent experiences were nothing to do with him – she felt a brief rush of dismay too. If you knew what you were facing, no matter how bad, you could usually find some way of dealing with it – but when you were left in the dark …

  But she’d think about that later. For now she still had to establish if there was any truth in those other ‘rumours’ of Cavelli’s. What if Terry had made a deal with the cops? She tried to keep her voice calm. ‘So how come they only got you for handling?’

  Terry’s mouth, annoyingly, slid back into that familiar cocky grin. ‘Didn’t have the evidence, did they? Couldn’t prove I was there.’

  Revealing that the Rowans were claiming he was a grass would wipe the smile off his face – but was it wise? He might panic, do something stupid. ‘And no other reason?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  She couldn’t bring herself to come straight out with it and ask. If it wasn’t true – and she was almost certain that it wasn’t – he’d never forgive her for even suggesting it. ‘Nothing. Forget it. I’m just trying to make sense of it all.’

  As if he guessed there was something more behind the question, his delicate forehead puckered into a frown. He tilted his head to one side. Fortunately his brain was too mashed for any logical thought and, try as he might, he couldn’t figure it out. Producing a sorrowful smile, he fell back instead on the well-worn technique of empty excuses and plaintive apology.

  ‘Ah, I’m sorry, Sis. I’m really sorry. I wanted to tell you. I meant to. It was just …’

  She had heard it all before. While he embarked on yet another of his self-justifying rambles she automatically tuned out and glanced instead across the room towards Cavelli. Their eyes met, locked for a few vital seconds, and an understanding passed between them. She watched as he leaned over to whisper something in the ear of his visitor. The blonde immediately got to her feet and tottered off towards the refreshment counter.

  Eve inwardly snarled. Blind obedience! That was probably what Cavelli liked in his women. But now wasn’t the moment to be dissecting his possibly endless personality defects. She’d just got the opportunity she wanted. Quickly, she stood up. ‘Hang on. I need a drink.’

  She tried not to rush across the room but knew she couldn’t afford to waste any time; the queue at the counter was short and she had to make sure that she had a few minutes of his undivided attention before Ms Cleavage came back on the scene. Weaving her way smoothly between the tables, aware of the screws and their constant scrutiny, she attempted to make the meeting look casual. ‘Hey,’ she said, stopping by his chair and smiling.

  ‘Hello, darling,’ he said. ‘Nice to see you again.’

  She
saw his dark dirty eyes make their usual uninvited sweep of her body and felt every muscle in her body tighten. But she maintained the smile, the appearance of a friendly exchange, while she leaned forward and hissed, ‘I thought you were supposed to be taking care of him.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘So how come he’s off his head?’

  Cavelli shrugged. ‘I’m not his keeper.’

  She battled to keep her expression benign – and lost. The smile quickly dissolved as she glared at him. ‘I thought we had a deal.’

  He stared smugly back at her. ‘He’s still alive, isn’t he?’

  And there wasn’t much she could say to that – at least not without losing her temper. She took a couple of deep breaths. Cavelli’s sly, mocking expression was enough to expel any rational response. Just walk away, her sensible inner voice advised. Don’t make this any worse. But that inner voice had been nagging her all day. She’d had enough of it. And she still wanted some answers. ‘Why didn’t you let me know you’d be out on a visit?’

  ‘Why didn’t you?’

  ‘I thought we were supposed to be … well, pretending that—’

  He leaned back and folded his arms. ‘Oh, right … that. Yes. Thanks for your touching letter.’

  And there was something about the way he said it, about the way he looked at her, that triggered a deep subconscious alarm. It bubbled slowly to the surface. Oh God, the letter! Was that the reason why he’d chosen to have a visit on the same day she was seeing Terry – a chance to get his revenge, a pathetic kickback for some of the things she’d written?

  ‘I presumed you’d see the lighter side,’ she said. ‘It’s not as if we’re actually—’

  ‘No man likes getting a knockback when he’s inside.’

  Jesus. Was he being serious?

  He shook his head. ‘You think it isn’t bad enough being locked up without all that extra grief?’

  What? Talk about turning things on their head. She’d come over to have a go at him and now he was accusing her of … of what? Surely he hadn’t, couldn’t have thought that there was anything between them, that they were … But the expression on his face was deadly serious. His dark eyes stared angrily into hers. ‘Hardly a knockback,’ she retorted. ‘We agreed. It was … I was only …’

  But even as she started to stutter out an explanation, his mouth was breaking into a grin.

  Damn! He was just winding her up – and she’d fallen for it. What was the matter with her? Over the past few weeks she’d turned into a nervous wreck. Perhaps it was time to regain some lost ground. She glanced down at the plastic cup on the table. There were still a few inches of cold tea left in it. All she had to do was pick it up and …

  It didn’t take him long to grasp her intention. ‘You do that, sweetheart, and they’ll throw you out.’

  ‘Could be worth it.’

  As if daring her to go through with it, his grin grew even wider.

  Which was like a red rag to a bull. Her hand instinctively reached forward but she managed to restrain herself. She couldn’t create a scene. She was here to try and sort out her problems, not to create even more. And even though she was tempted, sorely tempted, she was prevented from doing anything irretrievably stupid by the return of the Playboy blonde.

  ‘Ah, Kimberley, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘This is Evie.’ He paused. ‘Have you met? She’s an old friend of mine.’

  She didn’t seem impressed. Pushing rudely past, she slammed the tray down on the table.

  ‘Nice to meet you,’ Eve said.

  Kimberley turned and looked her up and down. Her eyes narrowed in that suspicious way that women’s often do when they think there might be a hint of competition. ‘Oh yeah?’

  Courtesy clearly wasn’t in this woman’s repertoire. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Don’t let me keep you. Shouldn’t you be somewhere?’

  Eve felt her hackles rise. She really wasn’t in the mood for anyone, never mind some bleached blonde tart, telling her where she should be or what she should be doing. ‘And that’s your business because …?’

  ‘We’re busy,’ she said, shifting a wad of gum from one side of her mouth to the other. ‘Why don’t you just piss off.’

  Eve looked at Cavelli but he clearly wasn’t going to intervene: he was enjoying himself too much – having two women fight for the pleasure of his company was probably a dream come true. Well, it was a dream she had no intention of prolonging.

  She smiled sweetly at the girl. ‘And here was me thinking it was just a rumour.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘That artificial blondes are even more stupid than the real thing.’ Then, before Kimberley’s tiny pea-sized brain could manage to send a message to that gaping scarlet mouth, Eve smartly turned and walked away.

  ‘You see,’ Amber murmured, as they waited for the doors to open and release them. ‘I told you. I said she was a bitch.’

  Cavelli’s girl, a few yards in front, had turned to glare again. She’d been looking daggers ever since the visit had ended. Eve shrugged. She had more important things to worry about than some daft tart’s insecurity. ‘Don’t worry about it. Ignore her.’

  But Amber wasn’t the type to let things rest. Out of some misguided sense of loyalty, or maybe because she simply fancied a scrap, she raised her voice and said, ‘So what do you think you’re staring at?’

  Which gave Kimberley the perfect opportunity for some playground retaliation. She put a hand on her hip, and looked her up and down. ‘Not a lot,’ she replied.

  Eve was close enough to feel Amber bristle. She was also aware of the faint frisson of excitement that ran through the other visitors. The doors had opened but instead of moving swiftly out as they usually did, they all stopped to listen. No matter how good or bad their day there was nothing like an old-fashioned cat fight to round off the experience. She saw the screw who was escorting them glance back over his shoulder. He was a fifty-something male with a weary expression – the kind of expression that had it been translated into words would have read, quite clearly, Bloody women!

  ‘Come on,’ he said curtly. ‘Let’s move it along.’

  She didn’t want the grief either. ‘Leave it,’ she insisted, taking hold of Amber’s arm and heading for the exit. ‘She’s not worth the bother.’

  A faint sigh of disappointment accompanied their departure.

  And that might have been it if Kimberley hadn’t decided otherwise.

  They were almost at the car park when Eve was caught hard on the shoulder and sent reeling. ‘Hey!’ she protested, stumbling forward.

  The blonde swung round defiantly. ‘Oh, sorry. Did you say something?’

  ‘God, what is your problem?’

  ‘You cow!’ Amber said, just to add fuel to the fire. ‘You did that deliberately.’

  ‘Piss off!’ Kimberley said, glaring at her. ‘Shut your gob. This has nothing to do with you.’

  As Amber automatically opened her mouth, Eve quickly intervened. ‘Don’t,’ she said, pushing her gently aside. She didn’t want this turning into anything nastier than it already was. ‘It’s okay. I can deal with it. It’s me she’s got the issue with.’

  A small crowd had started to gather again. A few of the women rooted in their handbags, pretending they were searching for fags or keys, but most just blatantly stood around waiting for it all to kick off.

  ‘Too fucking true.’ Kimberley took a step closer and pushed her face into Eve’s. ‘Let’s get one thing clear, bitch. Martin’s not interested.’

  Now there were lots of things that wound Eve up – like having someone else’s chewing gum breath in her face – but being accused of pursuing a man she would rather walk over red hot coals to avoid wasn’t one them. She pulled away and gave a derisive snort. ‘Are you kidding? You think I’m interested in him? Help yourself,’ she said. ‘He’s all yours.’

  But as if she’d just admitted to some sordid affair, Kimberley’s eyes flashed into rage. ‘Fuck you! Keep your
filthy hands off him.’

  ‘It’ll be a pleasure.’

  Up to now Eve hadn’t taken the confrontation that seriously. This was just a girl with a big mouth and an even bigger inferiority complex. ‘Well, if you’ve quite finished …’ she said.

  But as she went to walk away Kimberley launched herself forward again. ‘You stay away from him,’ she snarled.

  It was the speed of the attack that caught Eve off guard. One moment she was standing there and the next … Astonishment quickly gave way to a searing pain as her head was yanked brutally to the side. A large clump of hair, wound around her assailant’s fist, strained at its roots. As her knees began to buckle, she could feel the tears coming into her eyes. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew her response was all wrong – she should be going with the pull, not fighting against it – but still she struggled instinctively to get free. Reaching out for the long blonde locks, she grabbed a reciprocal handful and wrenched it as hard as she could. Kimberley gave a satisfying yelp but didn’t let go. Within a few seconds it had turned into an undignified scuffle, the two of them joined in a bizarre circular shuffle around the gravel forecourt, slapping and kicking, arms flailing, their breath emerging in short fast bursts interspersed with abuse.

  ‘Bitch!’

  ‘Maniac!’

  Eve knew it was pathetic, ridiculous, but she couldn’t let go. Kimberley had a wild expression on her face; she was out of control. Given the opportunity, she was crazy enough to scratch out her eyes. No sooner had Eve thought it, than she felt those sharp red talons rip viciously into the back of her hand. She cried out at the stinging pain and looked down to see three brutal stripes of blood. Damn her! Cursing the fact that she was only wearing trainers, she drew back her foot and kicked as hard as she could against the bare skin of her opponent’s shin, a resounding thump that produced a thoroughly gratifying howl. Kimberley doubled over and sank to the ground.

  With her hair now free, Eve was able to step aside. But not fast or far enough. She had barely drawn breath before Kimberley snatched at her ankle, caught her off balance and sent her toppling. She crashed down on to the gravel, the tiny stones grazing her palms as she tried to break her fall. The next thing she knew, she was rolling across the forecourt with the mad witch spitting and clawing at her again.