Night In London (Night Series Book 2)

by Casey Christie

  “Good, now where is that note?”

  The detective constable produced the hand written note and gave it to his superior.

  The Warrant Officer read it one last time before he walked outside and burnt the letter that had been found on the couch next to the bodies of the van der Westhuizen’s. He watched it burn slowly into a pile of ash before burying the vestiges under some dirt.

  “Boss!”

  The Detective turned towards the entrance of the flat and saw Prince standing there in a panicked state.

  “She swallowed something, the madam, I think she’s killed herself!”

  “Oh fok man! The General is going to fokken kill me!”

  Chapter Thirty

  West India Quay, near Canary Wharf, London.

  Michael Night and Freddie Le Roux stood on the West India quay footbridge in their wrinkled suits. Both men were smoking, on the insistence of Le Roux and were leaning on the floating bridge’s railing while looking at the dozens of city workers sitting outside the restaurants and bars. Both men were paying particular attention to Brown’s Brasserie and Bar. The bridge had a constant flow of pedestrian traffic causing it to vibrate non-stop from all of the footfalls. Night and Le Roux were just two suits amongst the dozens of faceless money- making drones of the Square Mile.

  Le Roux spoke to Night while taking a long drag of his Marlboro cigarette.

  “See the table in the centre under the second umbrella, up against the greenery. Whisky Mike with the slight beard and spectacles?”

  Night took only a moment to pick out the man described by Le Roux, his police and bodyguard training of scanning a crowd for suspects and potential threats coming to him as easily as breathing. The bespectacled man was in a heated conversation with someone on his mobile.

  Night put the cigarette to his lips and took a drag, although he did not inhale.

  “Yeah, I see him, I remember seeing him fleetingly at the Radium Beerhall in Joburg. He’s sitting alone, although the two gorillas at the table behind him are obviously his minders, or intend him harm.”

  “His minders indeed, Mikey. Russian. Not very subtle are they, and that’s exactly the way that Mann likes it. And he’s not what you expected I bet, seeing him again, properly?”

  Night shook his head as he took in the sight of the man that had caused him and his friends so much grief.

  “Not at all what I had envisioned; he looks soft, wafer thin and totally insignificant. To think he made it in the army and reached the rank of Major is.. well almost absurd.”

  “Ah, yes, but aren’t they the most dangerous of men, Michael? The ones you would never suspect at all because of the way they look.”

  Night shrugged his shoulders and took another drag of his smoke and involuntarily inhaled some of the toxin causing him to cough violently.

  “Jesus, man! Have you never had a cigarette before?”

  Le Roux walked over to Night and slapped him harder on the back than was necessary. Night recovered quickly enough.

  “I have, I used to smoke this toxin. Anyway, what’s the plan, I’ve seen him and the sight of him makes me pity the man, not want to kill him.”

  “Pity a man that tries to have you killed? Are you really as soft as that?”

  “I’m not soft, Le Roux. I’m just not vengeful. Now what’s the plan?”

  “He has a drink or two there and then retires to the Marriott Hotel you can see… there. It’s his ‘home away from home’ as he tells those close to him. You’ll make your move the day after tomorrow when he’s in Royal Victoria seeing his special friend.”

  “Royal Victoria, where my hotel is?”

  “Your hotel?” Le Roux laughed at his own joke before continuing. “Yes, where the Crowne Plaza is situated, the hotel where you are briefly staying, but he goes to the Sunborn… just down the road from where you are. On the water and engages the services of a very special woman.”

  “That super yacht?”

  “That’s the one, ah, speak of the devil herself.”

  Night didn’t need Freddie to point out the high class escort as she turned a corner and made for Major Mann’s table. She literally took Night’s breath away as he caught sight of her athletic figure – her legs were long and her thighs strong, the shape of them perfectly captured by the tight leather pants she wore. And where her legs were powerful her upper body was feminine and nimble, her breasts while not obviously fake were too large for such a lean body. A leather jacket scarcely covered the black satin top she wore. Her outfit was completed by knee high boots and dark gloves. Her eyes seemed to glow out of her sculptured face that had high cheekbones and a small nose. Her olive and well tanned skin completed her dark and striking looks. Night preferred blondes and had done so his entire life but this brunette was the most striking woman he had ever laid eyes on. And for a split second Night thought he had locked eyes with the femme fatale and noticed an almost imperceptible smile as though she had just read his mind. Night looked away in embarrassment and guilt in equal measure.

  “She makes my day, everyday that I see her! But I tell you what, boet, I wouldn’t touch that with your cock! She’s bloody deadly. A man-eater if ever I’ve seen one!”

  Night didn’t reply, partly because he didn’t know what to say, and mostly because he couldn’t take his eyes off the woman. He watched her walk towards Mann and was surprised as he noticed one of Mann’s bodyguards stand up and intercept her and lead her away by the arm before she reached her intended destination.

  “What the?”

  “Oh-oh, now we have a real problem. Notice the older woman, about the same age as our mate Mann. Two kids, one either side?”

  Night saw the woman and children walk in front of him and enter the restaurant as the bodyguard led the escort away.

  “That’s his wife and kids! You may not have to kill him after all!”

  “They must have walked right past us?”

  “Ya, well. What do they know, they’re only civilians. We better get out of here, you’ve seen him and I know where he’ll be the day after tomorrow with that man-eater.”

  “The Sunborn?”

  “Exactly, he meets her here just for a drink and perhaps to tease himself but has his way with her on that yacht. Don’t ask me what the hell the wife is doing here today but she looks ready to explode. Come on, Mike. Let’s get out of here, I need a drink anyway.”

  Night stayed a moment longer than he needed to and watched as one of the young children holding onto his mother, a boy of no more than ten, ran up to his father, Mann, and squealed in delight. It was at that moment that Night made up his mind – he could not kill the man, not a father and a husband, even if he was a cheating husband. He would have to find another solution and made a note to call the General and reached for his mobile phone only to feel its absence and recalled he had left it back at the hotel on the insistence of Le Roux: “Leave your mobile here, you won’t want to leave any digital trace of where you’ve been.”

  As the two men crossed the bridge and made their way to Freddie’s favourite bar in Canary Wharf, Night put a hand on his former police colleague and looked him in the eyes.

  “I wont kill that man, Freddie. I won’t murder a father of two innocent children. There must be another way.”

  Le Roux met Night’s gaze for an uncomfortable amount of time before finally replying.

  “I believe that you mean what you say, Michael. But sometimes life forces us to do things that we may actually not want to do.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Le Roux turned up his suit collar against his neck and blew warm air into his cold hands.

  “Ag, don’t mind me, Michael. We’ll have to let the General know of your decision. But before we get back to your hotel let’s have a couple of drinks, eh, while we’re here and all. It’s the perfect place to do some people-watching.”

  Le Roux turned and led the way to his favourite Canary Wharf haunt. Night followed on and let out a
deep breath as he felt a substantial weight lift from his shoulders at finally coming to the iron clad decision not to murder a man in cold blood, even an enemy and even a man who had tried to orchestrate Night’s death. And then he smiled as, in his mind’s eye, his saw the face of that escort.

  “Freddie, tell me more about that woman, what’s her name?”

  Le Roux laughed without mirth.

  “That man-eater, you mean. Her name’s Alexis and she’s a killer, Mike. Pure and simple. Better keep all thoughts of her out of your mind.”

  “There’s only room for one woman in my mind, Freddie. And she’s in Cape Town and I plan on making her my wife so don’t you worry about me. I just find that… Alexis… intriguing. Now, I too feel it’s about time for a drink, or two, eh?”

  Crowne Plaza, Royal Victoria Docks, London.

  Night stirred with a splitting headache. He opened his eyes slowly and took a moment to realise he was back in his hotel room. He looked down at his body and realised he was still fully clothed, suited and booted, and then the intense dryness of his mouth made him search frantically for a bottle of water which he found on the bedside table next to one other empty bottle of still water he must have taken from the mini bar late last night. He downed the water quickly and got to his feet still struggling to remember what happened the night before. He remembered leaving West India Quay and then entering another bar…

  “A jazz bar?”

  “A jazz bar indeed, my friend! And what a night we had, eh?”

  Night turned slowly to find Freddie Le Roux sitting at the small writing table in the hotel room while looking out at the Royal Victoria water and enjoying what was obviously the second last beer of a six pack sitting on the table.

  “Freddie, you’re still here?”

  “Of course boet! Where else would I be? I had to wait for you to wake up so we could phone the General and call this whole thing off, well, your involvement in it anyway…”

  Night rubbed his temples and ran a hand through his hair.

  “Here, Mike, take these…”

  Freddie threw Night a blister pack of tablets.

  “Ibuprofen, take four and down another bottle of water and you should be right as rain in no time.”

  Night popped two of the pills and another half bottle of water.

  “Why didn’t you tell me, you old fox!”

  Night looked at his guest perplexed.

  “Tell you what?”

  “That you were such a hit with the ladies, of course! I saw more action with the ladies last night than I have done in years, in London at least.”

  Night searched his memory and it slowly all started to come back to him. The jazz bar, the shots of tequila, the wine, the food, more shots, a few pints, dancing, the ladies, none of which Night did anything more with than flirt, though he did enjoy it and then he smiled to himself. Night then also remembered Le Roux revealing much of the real story of how and why he was removed from the police: he was spotted by an ANC spy and taken in, trained and mentored in the dark arts of espionage.

  “Ah, now I remember, and as far as I can remember it’s you that’s the old fox, Le Roux. You went missing a couple of times throughout the night, didn’t you?”

  Le Roux got to his feet and had to steady himself on the back of the chair. He then walked over to Night, smiled and put a hand on his shoulder.

  “You’re always welcome in London as far as I am concerned, old colleague, you’re by far the best wingman I’ve ever had.”

  “Thanks, I guess. And to tell you the truth I enjoyed myself immensely last night as well. As you well know we don’t have such a diverse night life in Johannesburg anymore. I mean I must have met and chatted to people from all over the world last night!”

  “Ja, boet and the local ladies seem to like your style, eh!”

  “It was more the Americans though, I thought, seemed more positive to me.”

  “Ja, there’s a whole world out there for London sharks… like you.”

  “London shark? I’ll take that, since it’s true.”

  “Not for long though I’ll bet if you have many more nights like last. Next I’ll take you into Shoreditch, now that’ll be an education!”

  Le Roux offered Night a beer which Night took far too long to decline, for his own liking.

  “No thanks. What time did we get in? And where is this Shoreditch?”

  Le Roux reached the door to the bathroom and turned to face Night.

  “We got in just after four, cost you an arm and a leg in taxi fare too. And Shoreditch is in Hackney… but don’t worry it’s different, complicated, easier to show you. Now I’m going for a long overdue morning shit and piss, if you wouldn’t mind getting the General on the phone so that we can clear your exit from this particular action so that I may get home to my shithole and get some sleep!”

  Le Roux shut the door behind him.

  Night searched himself for his phone before recollecting that he had left it in his bedside drawer. He moved over to it, opened it and stared at the screen before fully realising that it said he had 18 missed calls and three voicemails. His heart skipped a beat and he sat on the edge of the bed.

  “This can’t be good.”

  Night then got back to his feet and picked up the last remaining beer of the six pack, looked at it for a while and then shook his head before putting the can down.

  “Not strong enough.”

  He then moved to the mini bar and took out the last remaining miniature bottle of whisky, opened it and drained it before looking at the missed calls list:

  Lisa 1 missed call.

  Amos 6 missed calls.

  Zulu 8 missed calls.

  Norwood Police Station 1 missed call.

  Kalahari 1 missed call.

  Ermelo Wamba 1 missed call.

  “Oh Jesus Christ, what the hell has happened there?”

  “Where boet, what’s wrong?”

  Night started at Freddie’s voice and looked up to see the man standing there fixing his belt.

  “A shit ton of missed calls, can’t be good.”

  Le Roux did not reply but stared straight at Night and froze.

  “Well what are you waiting for, man?”

  Night knew the answer to that question if only subconsciously. He knew that the news he would hear would be life changing and absolutely brutal. Ever since Night was a child he would know if a caller was bringing him good or bad news before he answered it. But Night didn’t need that particular gift to work out from the amount of missed calls and more importantly from who they were from to know that something very bad had happened in his absence from the country of his birth.

  Night went numb as he dialed his voice mail and put the phone to his ear.

  Beep

  ‘You have three new voicemails,

  Received yesterday,

  Beep

  “Mikey, it’s me. I won’t be long as I know this call will cost you a fortune with roaming charges. But I just… I just wanted to say that I love you, Michael Night, and I can’t bare to be away from you. I want to come back… but now you’re in England and I’m here. Oh, I don’t know, Michael, I just can’t stand to be away from you so I’ll do whatever it takes to be with you… If you’ll take me back, of course? Will you, Michael? Will you take me back? I’ve spoken to my parents and they totally understand, in fact they encouraged me to return to you. And you’ll be happy to know that their place is lovely. It’s small but very safe in a guarded security complex and perfect for the two of them. Please call me as soon as you get this, my love. I miss you! Oh, and I hope you’re enjoying England. Call me, as soon as you can.”

  Beep

  Received yesterday,

  Beep

  “Mike, it’s Amos, call me as soon as you can.”

  Beep

  Received today,

  Beep

  “Mike, my brother, it’s Zulu… please call me as soon as you get this… it’s Lisa… and her family. It’s not good news
, I’m sorry, please call me my brother, as soon as you get this.”

  Beep

  End of messages’

  Night ended the call and flung the phone onto the bed next to him.

  “What is it, Michael?”

  Night looked up into the eyes of Le Roux and Freddie recoiled at the look in Night’s eyes, he looked possessed.

  Night didn’t recognise his own voice as he answered Le Roux.

  “She’s dead, my fiancée and her family are all dead. I know it. I can feel it.”

  “Wait just a second Night, is that what someone said on a voicemail? I don’t believe it!?”

  At that moment Night’s phone began to ring once more but Night didn’t move.

  Freddie moved across and picked it up and looked at the screen.

  “It says it’s Amos? As in the General, Arosi?”

  Night didn’t answer and Le Roux looked at Night quizzically obviously surprised by the informal reference to the General on Night’s phone.

  “May I answer it?” without waiting for a response Le Roux answered the call.

  “Le Roux here, hello?”

  “Yes, General, he’s here with me, but he’s in shock..”

  Suddenly Night got to his feet and grabbed the phone from Le Roux.

  “Tell me, Amos, are Lisa and her family dead, killed by this bastard?”

  “Mike, is that really you?”

  “Yes, Amos, it’s me.”

  “You sound very different, Mike?”

  “It’s me. Now tell me.”

  There was a long pause before the General finally spoke.

  “Lisa is in a coma. Her parents have passed.”

  Night involuntarily let out a long draw of breath.

  “Who did it? What happened?”

  “It was Mann, his man. A professional, a shot to the head and two to the body for both of Lisa’s parents.”

  “And Lisa?”

  “She wasn’t there when the hit took place, she arrived later, and overdosed on her mother’s sleeping tablets and anti-depressants and anything else she could find in that bathroom.”

  “But why? Why Mr and Mrs van der Westhuizen? They are… were… good people, innocent people.”