match her dress. Mann and Miriam had a thing going which went back a few years. They understood one another, or so he thought.
‘Where you been, Johnny?’ she said as she turned on her stool and watched him approach. He leant down to kiss her. She turned her face and he kissed her cheek. It was then that he realized he was in trouble. ‘You look wrecked.’
‘I’ve been to hell and back, Miriam. I could do with some intensive nursing.’
‘I left you a few messages.’ She tried not to smile.
‘I’m sorry, Miriam.’
The barman glanced over and batted his eyelashes. Mann smiled back. What was it with gays? They always fancied him. He brought him over a vodka on the rocks. Mann thanked him and took a large swig.
‘I was worried. I heard you got ill.’
‘I got malaria. I’m fine now. I just can’t sleep. I need a bedtime story and a glass of milk. Let me buy you dinner, I’ll tell you all about it.’ Mann realized he was getting drunker than he meant to. He needed to eat. But not in the Cantina – the food was a variation on tapas and Mann needed a proper meal. He kissed her hand and followed it as it went back to her lap. Beneath his palm he felt the slide of silk stocking. There was a smile creeping in, a curl of soft red lips. But it wasn’t yet the smile that she gave him which meant he wouldn’t be sleeping that night, not yet.
‘I was really worried, Johnny.’
He smiled, looked into her eyes. ‘I’ve missed you, Miriam. I’ve missed the way you laugh. I’ve missed the way you pretend to be angry at me. I’ve so missed feeling you fall asleep in my arms. But, work has had me running around like a headless chicken and, to be honest, I haven’t been good company.’
She stood and stepped closer to him. Mann could smell her perfume. He touched the curve of her waist, the smoothness of her dress as it rounded her hip. She was relenting. She was giving in. She brushed her breast against his arm and touched the side of his face with her soft hand. She smiled, her eyes full of mischief. ‘Let me pick up my nurse’s kit on the way.’
Back at his flat, Mann stood back to allow Miriam through. She was a few paces in the room when she turned.
‘It’s been a while since we did this.’
He pulled her close. ‘Too long.’ He kissed her neck. She drew back.
‘But you haven’t been lonely.’
He pulled back at looked in her eyes. They were searching his.
‘You’re the only woman who comes here, Miriam, honest.’
‘Really? Since when have you been wearing perfume?’
Mann turned his head and smelt the air. Miriam was right; there was a smell of perfume and it was one that he knew very well. The smell of Miss Dior was in the air; the scent of Helen.
Chapter 11
‘Gin and tonic, right, Steve?’
Ruby was working fast to put him at ease. She could see by his face as he looked around her room that he was wondering if he’d made the right decision. He was wondering why they hadn’t just gone to his hotel room or straight to the restaurant. You hungry, big man? You want some fun? Spend the evening with me? Now he wasn’t so sure.
‘Yes, Ruby. I thought we were going for something to eat? Is this where you live?’ He looked around the tiny apartment. ‘Jesus, what a shithole. Sorry – no offence. Is this it? Everything in this room: kitchen, bathroom? What’s in there?’ He pointed to the curtain.
‘That is my bedroom.’
He got up, pulled back the curtain and tried the handle. ‘You keep it locked?’
Ruby giggled. ‘Maybe I let you see my bedroom.’
He squinted at the shadows. ‘Plastic flowers…roses…and what are they? Dolls? Fuck, they’re everywhere.’ He laughed but at the same time he spun round and peered into the dark corners. Hundreds of pairs of eyes looked back. ‘Fuck…what is this place?’
‘Hey, big man,’ Ruby tried to distract him, ‘have a drink. Sit down. Make yourself comfortable.’ She handed him the glass.
He took a big slug of it. ‘Jesus, that’s strong.’ He wiped his burning mouth.
Ruby lifted her glass against his. She pressed him backwards. ‘Cheers. Sit. Sit.’
He sat on the sofa. ‘Drink. Drink…’ She drank her water down and poured him another gin.
She began to strip for him; he drank as he watched. He undid his shirt. Stripped to the waist, he eased back on the sofa, propped up on an elbow. She whirled around the room like a spinning top, laughing as she went. He laughed and tried to grab her as she danced around him. Ruby was down to her knickers. She straddled his lap and grabbed his hair. She ran her hands down over his arms. She looked at the tattoo he had on his upper arm.
MUM
She made a pouting face. ‘Ahhh. You a mummy’s boy?’
‘Of course.’ He grinned. ‘Safer than putting a girl’s name. It’s hard to rub off when it’s over.’
She stood and pulled his mouth to her sex. He drew away.
‘Hey, shouldn’t we use something? Ouch…go easy. You’re pulling my hair out.’ He laughed. He stood. ‘Come on then, you dirty girl, let’s go into your bedroom.’ He lurched sideways. ‘Jesus – I feel pissed.’
She eased him towards the locked bedroom door. She had the key ready in her hand.
‘You just need to relax. You need to lie down.’
‘Good idea.’ He grabbed her bottom and squeezed it hard. ‘Fucking hell!’ He lost his balance and crashed into the wall.
Ruby looped his arm around her shoulder as she unlocked the door and pushed it gently open. It was complete darkness inside. He stumbled forwards and hit his shoulder on the doorframe. ‘Where are we going? Through the secret door?’ He laughed.
‘You’ll see…’ She giggled and guided him inside, half dragging him now as his legs had started to buckle. ‘Time to lie down, big man.’
Ruby steered him forwards. ‘Lie down now. You’re okay, big man. Just lie back.’
He resisted for a second and then with a half laugh, half sigh, he gave in and lay back heavily on the mattress. Ruby ran her fingers through his hair, soothing him as he slipped further into unconsciousness and she moved around in the darkness tightening the restraints.
Chapter 12
In the morning Mann dropped Miriam back at the Cantina and he drove to Tammy’s school to give his talk.
The hall was darkened for the slide show projecting onto a screen behind him. He stood to one side. Three hundred children sat in front of him, in rows. A sea of white shirts and blue ties. They were hushed as the first ten images flashed up one after the other. Each image stayed up for three seconds unless he clicked to halt it: a girl dying with a needle in her arm, a boy whose face was badly disfigured from a chopping.
‘Triads deal in death,’ Mann continued. ‘In some form or another, it’s all about death. Whether its drugs, people trafficking, robbery, kidnapping. They aren’t fussy. They will make money any way they can. They don’t care who gets killed along the way. They use their members to fight battles just because they can. They don’t care how many get killed. Why should they?’
Mann stopped at the eleventh.
A young woman lay face down, a rope around her neck. Her hands were tied behind her back. ‘This is Zheng,’
