how. Rider hadn’t given her the opportunity either because he suspected a potential ear bashing.
‘ Yeah?’ he said gruffly.
‘ I’ve got a couple of warm towels,’ she called back from behind the door.
‘ Just leave’ em outside, thanks.’
‘ Can I come in, John? I want to talk.’
‘ I’m in the bath, Isa.’
‘ I bloody well know you are,’ she replied sharply. ‘I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?’
That was true. A long time ago on a different planet, when he was a hardened criminal with a tough body and conscience to match. ‘Come on then,’ he relented and strategically moved a mass of bubbles so as to hide his pride and joy.
She came in and sat down on the toilet seat, dropping the towels on the floor. She was dressed in a bathrobe which was quite short and showed a good length of leg, reminding Rider how nice they were. Since Rider’s beating; she had moved out of the hotel and into the spare room in his flat.
She looked at him, wondering how to start. ‘I hope you realise you frightened the life out of Jacko,’ she began. ‘He’s not used to that sort of thing, poor soul.’
‘ Nor am I,’ Rider said defensively.
‘ You shouldn’t have used him.’
‘ Point taken. Now, what else do you have to say?’
‘ I want to know if it’s over, your revisit to gangsterland.’
‘ I hope so. As far as I’m concerned, it is. I made my point, which considering the hammering he gave me, was fairly muted. I think — hope — Munrow took it.’
Isa took a deep breath. It was as if a weight had been lifted, hearing those words.
Rider noticed that her eyes, which were a lovely shade of hazel, were moist and sparkling. His own eyes narrowed and his brow creased. He tried to guess what was going on in her mind.
‘ I’m glad, I’m really glad, John, because I’ve cleaned up my business too and everything I do now is above board. I was sick of expecting the next knock on the door to be the cops or the customs people.’
‘ What about the girls for the club?’
‘ Not a problem, but what I’m trying to say is that… I wanna sound you out about something, if I may?’
‘ Sure — fire away.’ He was intrigued.
She cleared her throat. ‘Don’t know where to begin. I feel all weak and shaky when I think about it. You know all those years ago when we made love?’
Oh God, he thought desperately. His face dropped aghast. ‘I didn’t make you pregnant, did I?’ At the same time he said it, the idea of being a father gave him a warm glow.
‘ No, no, nothing like that.’ She waved her hands dismissively.
He was relieved, but yet…
‘ So, yeah, we made love and well, even before we did and certainly afterwards, I was — am — in love with you, John. I know it’s all silly and stupid and juvenile — me, a woman who runs call girls — but it’s true. I’ve always wanted to tell you, but never had the courage and it never seemed the right time. Until now.’
She stopped abruptly. Whilst speaking she hadn’t had the bottle to look at him directly and when she did, the look of what appeared to be abject horror on his face stopped her dead in her tracks. She gasped, ‘I’m sorry, John! I shouldn’t have said anything. What an idiot I am! I’ve been holding a torch for you all these years… I’ll go and head back home tonight. We’ll still do the club, sure. I’m sorry — what a stupid fool I am.’
She stood to leave, tightening the belt on her robe.
Rider had been lounging back in the bath, laid out full-length in the deep enamelled tub. Now he rose into a sitting position, water surging off him like a wreck being recovered from the deep. He held out a wet hand. ‘No, don’t go,’ he said with a weak smile.
‘ Don’t laugh at me, John, or I’ll punch your lights out,’ she warned him.
‘ I’m not laughing,’ he said sincerely. ‘Come here.’ He wiggled his fingers in an encouraging manner. ‘C’mon.’
She took his hand with a degree of hesitation. He pulled her gently towards the bath so that she was standing right next to him. ‘Come down here,’ he murmured. Slowly she knelt next to the bath until their faces were on a level, eye to eye, nose to nose, mouth to mouth.
‘ This is my last try at getting a normal sort of life,’ she said hoarsely. ‘At least as normal as it can be for people like us.’
‘ And you love me?’ he whispered.
She nodded. Her lips parted slightly. ‘Desperately.’
He ran a hand around the back of her neck and eased her face towards his and kissed her on the mouth. Softly at first. Tentatively. Then, as their mouths moulded together and both realised they had found each other at last, the kiss became more urgent and wanting.
Henry was never completely sure how he achieved it, but by the time Siobhan hit the landing he was back in the main office, standing nonchalantly next to a notice board, pretending to read an intelligence bulletin.
He tried to look surprised when she bounded in through the door bearing a gift in the form of a covert VIP protection vest, designed for discreet use. In other words — underneath a shirt. Henry cringed when he thought how uncomfortable and hot it would be.
‘ It won’t stop a sniper’s bullet,’ his partner declared, ‘but according to the manufacturer it will prevent small-arms from inflicting wounds. It’ll stop knife-slash attacks too.’
‘ Won’t stop anyone blowing your head off either.’
‘ Don’t be picky,’ she said.
He took it from her and held it up between forefinger and thumb like it was a dirty nappy.
‘ We all wear them.’
‘ Even you?’
‘ Even me — but I wear a specially designed one.’
‘ Like a Basque?’ asked Henry, rather naughtily.
He regretted the comment briefly until she retorted, ‘You’ll have to wait and see, won’t you?’ and cocked an eyebrow in his direction. ‘Right — a gun.’
She led him back into the corridor and to a door marked Store. She unlocked it and behind it was something the size of a broom cupboard with a squat, grey safe set securely into the back wall. Siobhan bent down to it and whizzed out a combination on the wheel which Henry could not follow. It opened easily.
She reached in and removed a revolver with the cylinder hinged open to show it was empty, and gave it to Henry.
‘ Not much choice, I’m afraid. This is the only one available. Most of us have Glocks.’
‘ Oh, I’m quite happy with this one,’ he said generously, a statement which did not tie in with the tremble of his hand. Once again, he realised just how uncomfortable he was around guns. This was a Model No. 12 Smith amp; Wesson Military and Police with a two-inch barrel, weighing 18oz when empty. A good, reliable firearm. The. 38 special ammunition with which it was loaded could travel over 1500 metres, and in Henry’s hands was probably accurate up to about two metres. A trickle of sweat rolled down his spine and one or two demons stirred ominously in the pit of his bowels.
Siobhan gave him a box of ammunition and two speed loaders. She filled in an issue form, then asked Henry to sign it. Again, like the radio book, it recorded the issue and return of equipment — this time firearms. Henry scrawled his signature in the required space. There was another gap after his name for the authorising officer to countersign — in this case Tony Morton. Siobhan explained he would do that at a later date.
Henry looked quickly at Saturday’s entries.
Geoff Driffield had signed a gun out. As had four others. 1700 hours. Everything was countersigned and approved by Tony Morton.
‘ Do you want to load up?’
He went back to the office. With nervous fingers he loaded the revolver and the speed loaders, fumbling the bullets and dropping one or two in the process. By the time he had completed the task, Siobhan had returned with a shoulder holster for him.
