sudden overwhelming vulnerability that I didn't like.
I didn't like it at all.
Eight
By the time I started my stint at the New Adelphi Club that Saturday night, the police had made little progress in tracking down Susie Hollins' killer. According to Clare's contact on the crime desk, at any rate.
I asked her to keep me informed, and she promised to give me an update when I went over to eat lunch with them on the Sunday. I think it was Clare's not-so-subtle way of reminding me to turn up.
I was still smiling to myself at her heavy hints when I pulled into the car park of the New Adelphi Club. I left the bike in a corner. Out of the way, but still covered by the cameras, of course, and ambled round to the back door.
Deciding what I was going to wear had been a difficult one. Marc eventually relented on the black jeans front. Considering my limited wardrobe, he didn't have much choice.
Some discussion had taken place about the rest of me, apparently. The best compromise they could come up with was one of the badged polo shirts worn by the bar staff. It was the only thing they'd got that was something like the right size.
Marc said if it worked out on a longer-term basis, he'd see about getting me something more suitable. He didn't specify what. I had visions of the mini-skirt and stiletto outfits worn by the girls waiting on the tables at the club. My acid comment that putting me in high heels would reduce my agility to that of a kipper had been received in noncommittal silence. Ah well.
I hammered on the back door until it swung open. I was expecting Gary, but it was Len who admitted me, dressed in his usual dinner suit uniform. I could imagine him going to ASDA, or down the launderette in it.
He looked me up and down insultingly, making it clear he didn't think he was looking at much. I kept my expression bland while he played his little game. I've dealt with the Lens of this world before, and this time I didn't want to join in. So I didn't challenge, didn't show fear or irritation. I just stood and waited until he decided I'd had enough.
“Let's just get this straight from the start,” he said at last, bolshy, jabbing a sausage-like finger a millimetre from my nose. I resisted the urge to bite at it. “The boss may have hired you, but I'm in charge of security in this place, see? You got a problem, you come to me. You don't go running to Mr Quinn. Clear?”
“Crystal,” I said, making my voice drawl just because I knew it would wind him up.
He grunted, but said nothing, turning and stamping off down the corridor and leaving me to follow on in his wake.
I sighed. It was going to be a fun evening.
Len eventually led me to one of the bars where the rest of his team were gathering. He didn't bother to introduce me while we waited until the last of them turned up. There were six of us altogether, including me, which proved me right in my own mind about Marc's problems. For a place the size of the New Adelphi, a dozen working security wouldn't have been overdoing it.
They were uniformly big men, who walked with their arms pushed out from their sides because of the amount of time they spent working on their back and chest muscles. It must be a qualification for the job that you have to have your neck shortened. I made an educated guess that their combined police records would make long and interesting reading.
They obviously all knew each other, judging from the friendly jokes and comments that were being tossed back and forth. I was carefully excluded from this display of macho camaraderie.
As opening up time approached, the walkie-talkies came out. Some of the team looked mildly taken aback when Len handed one to me.
“This is never the new lass is it, Len?” one of them asked. “Sorry, love, I thought you were bar staff,” he said to me. “The way Dave described you, I thought you'd be bigger.”
“Has nobody ever told you that size is not important?” I asked dryly. “You do surprise me.”
There were a few jeers at that. Even Len grinned, but he didn't ease up enough to show me how the walkie- talkie worked. He left me to work out the tangle of wires by myself.
Eventually I got it sorted. The main device, about the size of a mobile phone, hooked onto my belt, with a separate earpiece and a clip-on mic. The mic had its own remote transmit button. By leaning over someone's shoulder I gathered the channel we were operating on.
Len's only advice was short and sweet. “Unless it's a real emergency, stay off the air,” he told me, then turned to the others. “We're still spread thin, so you all know your areas. If you get a problem, give us your location first, then what's happening, otherwise we don't know where to come and get you out of the shit, do we?”
“So what's my brief?” I asked as the rest of the team each headed off to their own pitch.
“You can stick with me for tonight, I suppose,” he said grudgingly. “You can make regular checks on all the ladies' loos, and if Angelo needs you to search anyone on the door he'll send for you. He's not allowed to search the birds.”
At risk of appearing stupid, I chanced a question. “What am I looking for?”
He shrugged. “Nobody gets in if they're carrying a weapon,” he said. “If they've got drugs on them, it depends how much. If it's for their own use, we take it off them and let them in. If it's enough to deal, they're banned.”
“Sounds reasonable,” I said, nodding.
He swung round and glared at me unsuccessfully for signs of insubordination. That meaty finger prodded at me again. “They might offer you something to turn a blind eye. Don't take it – and if you do, don't think I won't find out about it,” he advised grimly. “Nothing – but
***
The evening started slowly enough. I shadowed Len for the first couple of hours or so as he made his rounds. It was interesting to take note of the reaction he received from the punters in the club. Most people dived out of his way as he strutted past, anxious not to attract his beady eye.
“So, how long have you been in this game, Len?” I asked when we reached a bit of a lull. He'd stopped pacing and we were leaning on a balcony overlooking one of the dance floors. His eyes never stopped moving over the growing crowd below us.
“Ten years, on and off,” he said shortly.
I waited, but he wasn't going to elaborate without further encouragement. “You must have seen quite a bit of trouble,” I ventured.
He glanced at me sharply, then nodded. “Goes with the territory.” I'd seen people give up teeth with less reluctance, but I thought I detected the faintest loosening.
“How does the New Adelphi compare?”
He shrugged. “No better, no worse,” he said. Just when I thought that was going to be the end of it, he decided to expand on the theme, turning towards me. “You'll always get the Friday night heroes when you open a new place. Want to prove how big a man they are by having a go at the doormen, right? Happens everywhere. That's why Mr Quinn brings his own people in, like me.”
He jabbed a thumb at his own chest. “Me and Angelo, we've been working for him in Manchester for years. He knows we'll stamp out the trouble before it starts. We've had to crack a few heads up here to begin with, but it doesn't take long before your reputation is enough to keep ’em out. You take on local guys and you don't know who they've pissed off and who they've given in to. You just run the risk of long-running feuds being brought into the club.”
It was the longest speech I'd heard him make. I opened my mouth to ask more, but my earpiece crackled. “Len, it's Angelo. Go to seven, mate.”
Len straightened up. “Keep checking for trouble in the loos, then stay round this area,” he ordered, striding away fiddling with the settings on his walkie-talkie and muttering into the mic.
I did much as I was told for the next hour. Nothing untoward appeared to be going on under my nose on the dance floor. I was quite surprised who I saw at the club, though.
