squeezed with all the force he could muster.
A high-pitched gasp of pain sounded in his ear and the arm at his throat loosened a fraction. Enough for Alex to whirl around, still clutching and twisting the other man's groin in his left hand, and hammer two rock-hard punches into his lower ribs with his right.
Evading a furious, windmilling series of counter-punches Alex staggered back, gagging for breath. He could see the man clearly now, a muscle-bound enforcer with a spider's-web tattoo inked across his thick neck. Alex had vaguely registered him in the bar earlier. The tattoos were certainly prison work.
His face distorted with pain, the gorilla advanced on Alex, who backed away fast. This wasn't about interrogation any more, it was about revenge. At that moment a slender figure rose from the shadows beside the entrance and a jet of spray cut the air.
The enforcer roared with the unaccustomed shock, pain and anger. His hands clamped themselves to his eyes, and Alex took advantage of the moment to kick him as hard as he could in the balls. With an agonised sigh, the man crumpled to the shingle.
'Can't leave you alone for a moment, can I,' said Dawn, stepping into the light from the neon sign and returning the Mace to her bag with a self-satisfied smile.
'I guess not,' said Alex, his heart pounding with adrenalin. He looked down at the groaning figure at his feet.
'Did you follow me out?'
'Put it like this I thought all that traditional East End hospitality was a bit too good to last.'
'Well... Thank you!'
'What the bloody 'ell's goin' on 'ere, then?'
Framed in the bar's entrance was Connolly, drink in one hand, cigarette in the other. From the surprised look on his face the scenario was not at all the one he expected. I was supposed to be the one on the ground, thought Alex. Begging for mercy and admitting to being a police officer, presumably.
Connolly's look of surprise was quickly suppressed and he gave the fallen man a brisk kick in the guts.
'Get up, yer big fuckin' nelly!'
The enforcer writhed and Connolly turned concernedly to Alex.
'Sorry, chum, was Key here being impertinent?'
'He asked me a question and then tried to strangle me before I had a chance to answer.
Connolly shook his head, marched into the bar and returned with a jug of water, which he emptied over Key's head.
'You just can't get decent help for love nor money these days...'
Slowly and unsteadily Key dragged himself to his feet, clutching his groin. His T-shirt was sodden and a dark orange stain covered the left side of his face, where the Mace pepper spray had struck him. He managed a rueful grin, his eyes still streaming, and extended a shaky hand to Alex.
'Sorry, mate, overreacted a bit there!'
'No problem,' said Alex, amazed that the man was able to stand at all. Now that the adrenalin from the fight was ebbing away the stitches on his own face were beginning to throb.
'All friends again?' asked Connolly with a dazzling smile.
'Marvellous. Key, take the lady inside, open a bottle of champagne the Moat, not that dago muck and make her comfortable. And wipe yer boat race while you're about it!'
The gorilla nodded meekly and signed that Dawn precede him through the swing doors.
'I'm sorry about that, mate,' said Connolly, turning back to Alex.
'But you'll understand I've got to keep an eye on the security side of things.'
Alex nodded.
'You're not Old Bill, I know that much. But you're something. That's no sunlamp tan on your hands and neck, any more than those are car crash injuries on your face and arm. And I didn't see the rumble just then, but...'
'Stevo sent me,' said Alex quietly.
'I didn't want to alarm Marie.'
Connolly emptied his glass.
'Stevo? I don't know any Stevo.'
'Jim Stephenson from 'B' Squadron in Hereford. That Stevo. I'm Regiment, Den.'
'Go on.'
'I'm in 'D' Squadron. Seconded to RWW, like you were.
'So when did you join?'
For five minutes Connolly subjected him to a series of questions about Regiment personalities, extracting details that only an insider would have known.
He slipped in a trick
VI
question, asking if that idle short-arse Tosh McClaren was still around and Alex confirmed that yes, Tosh McClaren was still around, and he was still 6 foot 2 tall.
After a time, Connolly appeared satisfied that Alex was who he said he was.
Sensing this, Alex looked him in the eye.
'Listen, Den, I'm not trouble, OK? I just want to talk.'
Connolly stared at him in silence. He looked tired, pufFy-faced and a little sad.
And strangely vulnerable, thought Alex, for a man who had once been known as the SAS's toughest
NCO.
'You're not a talker, son, you're a shooter. It's written all over your face.'
'I'm looking for someone, Den, that's all. Help me and you can rest easy about the Park Royal job. No more cover stories, no more looking over your shoulder for the cops.'
'What the fuck's the Park Royal job?'
'Den, I'm family. Trust me.
'Oh, yeah? So who's the girl? Well handy with the Mace, it looked like.'
'She's just a girl. Nothing to do with anything.'
Den stared at his empty glass in silence, flipped his cigarette into the gathering darkness and nodded. For a moment, behind the flushed features, Alex saw the taut wariness of the Special Forces soldier. Then the dazzling smile returned and a large hand was placed on Alex's shoulder.
'Come on, son, we re wasting good drinking time. Tonight's on the house, yeah?'
He steered Alex back inside and moments later Marie was sliding Alex a glass of champagne and a shot-glass of Irish whiskey. Someone, to applause and laughter, began to sing 'My Yiddisher Momma'.
Some time later Dawn reappeared beside him. Her cheeks were flushed and she seemed to be genuinely enjoying herself Under the circumstances it seemed natural for Alex to slip his arm round her waist, and for her in response to incline herself against him. For a moment he felt the soft pressure of her breast against his side.
'Thank you,' he said again.
'That could have turned nasty, one way or another. How are you getting on with the gangster wives?'
She placed her champagne thoughtfully on the bar.
'They're good fun. I like them. Any progress?'
'I've dropped a name or two. Told him who I really am. Not who you are, though. Far as he's concerned, you're just my girl.'
'Mm. Lucky me.'
'The main problem is that he thinks I'm some sort of hit man. Possibly even come over here to whack him. He's very jumpy. I think the best thing I can do is to tell him the real reason I'm here and hope that calms things down.'
'I agree. And this is looking like a rather serious conversation if I'm supposed to be some no-brain blonde bimbo.' She pouted.
'Which I clearly am!'
He ran a finger down her cheek.
'It's just that you play the part so well.'
'Now why am I suspicious of a compliment like that, I wonder?' she asked.
