A mobile phone sat on a neighbouring desk. Bored, feeling a little mischievous, Amy reached over and gently pressed a few clicks to redial the last number called.The bitch’s body language reeked with smugness. She needed to be taught a lesson.Time for a bit of fun.
“I can help you…just sayin’,” Dartagnia rested a deceit-ridden hand on Sal’s shoulder.
“But I don’t want your help, Tania.” Sally brushed Tania’s hand away as if it were contaminated. “I just want you to leave us all alone. Stop bossing us around. OK. So you’re shagging Simon. But hey, that doesn’t mean you’re suddenly our boss, we’ve all had enough.”
“It’s Dartagnia darhling, D a r..t a g n ..i a,” she spoke slowly, condescending, as if explaining to a child, hiding her annoyance. “I think you’re just a little bit jealous. You know I can make your life difficult if I want to, because I have Simple Simon’s ear.”
“His dick more like it. You don’t seriously believe he promoted you for your marketing skills. He promoted you for your cock-sucking skills, and as soon as he tires of you, you’ll be out. Lucky if you get a reference. And I will be promoted on merit, not dick work.”
Amy dipped her hand into Dartagnia’s open designer hand bag. Pulled out a bottle of bright coral nail varnish, unscrewed the lid and placed it back into the bag. Looking around making sure no one was looking.
“Tut-tut, Sally. Such language, so offensive.”
“Quite honestly, Tania, with all the fucking, sucking, ’n’ licking going on across these office desks, I’m surprised you find my language offensive. And can you not use my desk for fucks sake… I have to bleach it every morning, use your own desk Tania… such a slag.”
“Dartagnia,” she shouted, losing her patience. “You really ought to be nicer to me, Sal.” Her long territorial nails rapped Sally’s desk. “I can cause soooo much trouble.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No, just advising you. I know you want to keep your job.”
“Does Simon know you’re also shagging David in Accounts, and Olivia in Sales?”
“I can’t help it if people find me attractive. Simon is a pussy, and he’s led by my pussy… he has no balls… no way is he enough for me.” She laughed with a grating voice. “He won’t believe you. I’ve got him wrapped around my little finger, and that haggard wife of his.” She clicked her fingers. “Her days are numbered. It’s only a matter of time before I ditch my hubby and become the new improved version of Mrs. Simon Hogarth… Dartagnia Hogarth,” she boasted, flicking high maintenance hair over her shoulder. “It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
“And then what?”
“And then you’ll be out of a job, and as soon as is practical, I’ll kick Simon into touch and take half his money. It’s a win-win, darhling.”
“Hello…hello?” A shrill voice hailed from the mobile phone.
The bitch looked back at her desk in horror, recognising her boss’s number on the screen. “Fuck!”
“Hello…hello?” the voice continued, calling for attention.
“I think that’s for you, Tania.” Sally couldn’t hold back the huge grin taking over her face.
Dartagnia grabbed the phone and with smooth, honeyed words, purred into its mouthpiece.
“Simon, darhling, I soooo miss you. Where…”
“In my office now!” He barked so loudly Sally could hear. The bitch jumped with a squeal, not recognising the venom in his voice.
He’d heard everything.
As Dartagnia scampered down the corridor to Simon’s office, Sal broke into hysterical laughter, shouting after her. “Karma, baby, karma.” She hadn’t laughed in ages, not since her best friend Amy had died.
She thought of Amy as she watched the bitch run. She reached for her own phone to call her, to tell her the gossip, but then recoiled, realising she couldn’t.
Amy was dead. When would old habits break? She looked up to the heavens and smiled.
“Amy, you would’ve loved this. I love you and miss you terribly. You’ll be pleased to know the witch is finally dead…and your stone stuff works.” She leaned over and stroked the lump of crystal. “My secret weapon.”
She punched the air with a “yes,” and got back to shutting down her computer, ready for the journey home. She would leave the love birds to it.
As Sally packed up, Amy crept over to her chair, leaned over, and gently kissed her head.
“I miss you, too,” she whispered, walking away with a tear in her eye.
As Sally stood up to leave, she picked up her bag and noticed a small white feather on the ground near her feet. How did that get in here?
She picked it up and smiled. “Is that you, Ames?”
Looking around the room, excitedly searching for a sign of her friend, she stuffed the feather into her handbag, then felt a little foolish.
A door flung open. Dartagnia stomped out of Simon’s office and headed for the exit, grabbing her designer bag and jacket on the way, unaware of nail varnish bottle empting itself over the contents of her bag. With a toss of her mane, she flounced out of the office, shouting, “Your loss! You’ll be hearing from my lawyers.”
Sally watched, open mouthed.
“Bye, Tania,” she shouted after her. Good riddance.
Simon popped his head sheepishly around the door of his office and summoned Sally to his office.
“I’ve been a plonker, Sal.” He shrugged his shoulders in apology. “Get all the files from her desk and read up on them. They’re now your clients…and you’ll be happy to know, I won’t expect any cock-sucking.”
“Phew, thank god for that,” she smiled. “Mixing business with pleasure is soooo not classy…and nine times out of ten, the bird ends up having to leave. Have I just been promoted?”
“Yep, and you deserve it. I should have dismissed that one months ago. All that frantic furtive sneaking around has affected sales figures. I vow never to shag anyone from the office ever again, or at least I’ll try my best.” His mouth tilted with a half-grin.
He picked up his phone and stared at it.
“How the hell did that happen? I must have turned it on somehow.” He shrugged and popped the phone into his breast pocket. “I’d better get back to the wife. I’m sure Dartagnia is on the phone to her stirring trouble as we speak. She’s not going to move on that easily. I suspect I’ll have a fight on my hands. I can leave you to lock up, yeah?”
He threw her his keys and walked out of the office.
Sally dumped her bag back onto the floor and took a deep breath. Her promotion was unexpected, but just what she needed, and the rest of the office would be ecstatic. The bully has left the building.
She looked up to the ceiling and gave a quick wink.
“Thank you, Ames. You’re a star,” she whispered under breath, retrieving the white feather from her purse and tucking the memento into her pocket to have it much closer.
But Amy had already left.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Porto Antonio Piazza,
San Remo, Italy
Amy stepped between three young boys dressed in rags, huddling on the Casino’s grand pillared entrance steps. The mix of poor and wealth pulled on her heartstrings, leaving a bad taste in her mouth. She shook her head in disgust.
She plodded up the steps, passed security personnel, and entered the Casino’s large ballroom to scout around for Jack and Mr. Black. Pyke had sent her images of Zagan and his associates. She scanned the room, checking faces.
The ballroom bulged with hopeful gamblers, their overexcited chatter rumbling above slot machine noises, their pinging and whistles setting off shouts of joy from winners and gasps of sadness from losers. A large glitter ball hung over the tables, slowly turning, sending sparkles across the decadent room giving it a fake glamourous glimmer.
Casinos spread a gloominess she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but she’d never felt comfortable in them. She’d tried her luck a few times, as her frien
ds had, but an undercurrent one might experience in a funeral parlour kept her away. She found no comfort watching people’s livelihoods, hopes, and dreams drain away with the roll of a dice, the turn of a card, or the spin of a wheel. It was depressing; she’d never quite understood the appeal.
She glanced about the decadent pillars, plush red carpets, shiny one-armed bandits, neatly dressed croupiers, and skimpily dressed waitresses; marketing tricks to encourage patrons to part with their money. Along with offering watered down drinks, salty food nibbles, and room upgrades. With not a clock anywhere inside the windowless premises—devoid of daylight or night shadows—the casino operators deceived punters, hoping the longer they stayed the more they’d lose.
ATM machines dotted the room for easy access to cash for purchasing additional chips. These tricksters understood the psychology behind handing over money, the emotional connection it instilled, and that using chips was less painful. When a punter hits a winning streak, the buzz creates so much excitement, he nearly always ploughs his winnings back into the pot. With every loss, the need and desire to win money back keeps the gambler playing.
In the old days, casinos could get away with sleight of hand dealing, removing cards from packs, selective reshuffling, altering the element of chance, and countering against card counting, which lost them money. But nowadays, strict conditions had been implemented. Authorities regulated and monitored casinos, enforcing them with diligence.
Some still cheated, but generally didn’t need to. No matter what strategy gamblers tried, the casino always had the mathematical edge for guaranteed profits. Looking around the room at the desperate people, the waste made her feel sick.
She stood by a blackjack table and watched an old man, dressed in a suit that had seen better days, throw away his last bit of money. She guessed he was connected to the three boys sitting on the steps. He had the same proud jaw and huge brown eyes. His demeanour lacked pride now as he glanced toward the doorway, knowing they patiently waited for him, and that he had just spent all his money. He put his head to his hands and slid off his chair, leaving a space for the next eager player.
He shuffled towards the one-arm bandits and sat down, gathering his courage to face the boys.
Amy looked up and spotted Jack watching her from a balcony. Her heart fluttered at the sight of him.
Behind him stood double doors to a private gaming room, a very important room by the looks of it. Security guards lined the palatial steps leading up to it.
Jack’s brooding eyes followed her as she flew up through the air and landed at his side.
“So, what do we have here?”
“Zagan Black is in the VIP area behind us. I was waiting until you got here. Where were you?”
“I popped down to see a friend who needed help, so I sorted it.” She didn’t make eye contact with him. Two could play at being moody.
Jack sighed. “Was it authorised?”
“No…but it was nothing. I just hit a redial button on a phone. No big deal. No one will notice.”
“The smallest things have consequences. There’s always a ripple effect. You know that.”
She ignored him.
“Fuck it. I’m not your keeper. Do what the hell you wish.” He turned away from her.
“I will.”
They stood staring out over the Casino floor, watching the money men make money and the punters lose it. Amy saw the old man reach into his pocket and pull out four 100 euro chips. His eyes lit up. He glanced around to see if it was a joke, but no one noticed him. He stared at the chips in awe, turning them over and over with his fingers.
He had come in with 50 euros. He hadn’t held this kind of money in a long time. He looked to the door where the boys still waited and then turned his gaze to a nearby roulette table, his eyes wide with anticipation. He should leave now, before someone discovered the mistake, or he could place it all on his lucky number.
Amy pondered hope, one of humans’ strongest emotions, an unfathomable force that kept them alive. You only live once, old man.
“OK. So, what does Pyke want us to do with this guy?” Amy broke the icy silence. “It’s not illegal to own a casino. Why are we here?”
“Mr. Black and his partners own this place. He makes a good living here, but the bulk of his money is made through online casinos, where gamblers are more vulnerable than these guys.” Jack waved his hand across the room and continued.
“Mr. Black sets up online sites with rigged software, fake licences, hidden terms, and deceptive marketing tactics. Where punters place a lump sum into their account and place bets, he uses insider card readers and holds gamblers’ progressive winnings by asking for notarised proof of the winner’s identity, therefore delaying payments to winners for as long as possible, until he gets caught. Then he quickly siphons off the dosh, closes the site, and moves on to a new one, with a similar name and MO. It’s big business.”
“Why are we here?”
“Pyke is working on the software, but meanwhile, he has come across information that shows Mr. Black is planning an insurance scam. He’s going to blow this place up, make it look like terrorists did it, and then claim on the insurance.”
“Gosh, what a nice man.”
“A gang of would-be-terrorists are due to come in through the back entrance in about 65 seconds, and we’re going to stop them. It will put a dent in Mr. Black’s business affairs.”
“I’m just in the mood for a punch up,” Amy said, rubbing her hands together.
The thumping of fireworks came from the piazza outside, a weekly occurrence for the Casino’s clientele. The three boys nestled together, their hunger forgotten for the moment whilst they stared in awe at the display.
Jack and Amy walked down the staircase and passed the old man as he reached across a roulette table and put the 400 euro on number six.
They strode through the main kitchen to the back scullery just as five masked men stormed in through the supply store entrance. Jack took three. Amy took two.
Pots, pans, and hot fat flew everywhere. Later, kitchen staff couldn’t report how it started, but it seemed like the men slipped on oil on the floor, knocking each other over in their haste, with pots and pans landing on them as they fell.
Shots rang out. The men were hit. A bloody mess turned the kitchen into a disaster. It had been unbelievably lucky none of the cowering kitchen staff suffered injuries or gunshot wounds. Someone had dialled for police and they descended upon the scene in moments. The fake terrorists sang like canaries, revealing the truth, that Zagan Black had hired them. Amid fireworks blasting in beautiful explosions over the piazza and the punters working in the main ballroom, Erthfolk went about their business totally oblivious.
Jack and Amy sauntered out of the kitchen towards the entrance. Jack insisted on viewing the fireworks. As Amy passed the old man’s roulette table, she gave the ball a quick nudge. It landed on number six with a plop. The old chap gave a whooping, joyful holler loud enough for the boys outside to hear him over the fireworks. They sprang to their feet and peered through windows, trying to see into the room. Grandpa had hit a lucky streak. They would eat tonight.
Jack stood on the steps and stared up into the night sky. Amy joined him.
“Did you want to make a fool of me or were you just caught out?”
“You mean Mara?”
“For someone who doesn’t do anything remotely fun, then to bed two women back to back in the same venue, probably up against the same wall, it was pretty cruel. What is it? A game? Are you bored or something? I know…let’s fuck Amy up. She’d be easy.”
Jack’s gaze didn’t deviate from the show in the sky, his face showing no emotion, the colourful glow of fireworks lighting up his face. Amy waited for a response.
Silence.
“You’re screwed up, Jack. I don’t want to work with you anymore; I’m asking to change Units.”
“Mara is my ex. She means nothing,” Jack finally answered, his voice cold and eeril
y monotone. “Whatever she tells you, or insinuates, don’t believe her. She’s a master manipulator; I don’t know how she got here. There is not a good bone in her body. If I could, I’d kill her…again.”
“You’re a shit, Jack. Stop blaming your problems on everyone else.”
Amy peered back into the Casino. The old boy still sat at his stool, staring at the numbers on the table. For fuck’s sake.
She swooped in by his side, grabbed his hands, scooped up his winnings, and frogmarched him to the cashier’s booth. He looked like a puppet without strings. Onlookers assumed he was drunk.
“Don’t push Lady Luck, old boy. You’re wise to know when your time is up. You’ve three kids out there who need feeding,” Amy muttered into his ear.
Shaken, the old boy couldn’t explain what was happening to him. He moved through thin air as if a ghost manhandled him. A strange force carried him out of the casino with such force and speed, he muttered frightful guttural noises, unable to form intelligible words. Amy deposited him out on the steps directly in front of the three boys, his hands full of money. They jumped up at him, wrapping their hands around his neck with joy.
He looked nervously over both shoulders, wondering if the weird feeling had gone. It had. He looked to the ground; a small white dove’s feather lay at his feet. He looked at the sky and blessed himself; he’d been given another chance.
He vowed never to enter the casino again. This money would give him the step he needed to get a job and take care of the boys.
Amy walked off into the piazza. Jack followed a few feet behind. They soon lost themselves in the crowd of partygoers.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Alice
Brighton, UK
She should have walked away and not fallen for his persuasive invitation to accompany him to his offices. Why the hell did she think she could ever find this girl in a town she didn’t know with a person she’d never met? It seemed so easy at the time—just go to Brighton, speak to the person mentioned on the piece of paper, and find the daughter Eva fretted about. Bingo, easy.
The Deal (The Fallen Angel Series Book 1) Page 13
