a lift to the third floor. I walked up, glad to stretch after a day of driving, found the elegant door.
Before I rang, I unsnapped the shoulder-holster button under my right arm. The door opened instantly.
Anne was wearing a trenchcoat over jeans and a camel-coloured top, hair pulled back, dark-rimmed spectacles. I hadn’t seen her in glasses.
She brushed my lips with the fingertips of her right hand.
‘Suit,’ she said. ‘Sexy in a suit, Mr Faraday.’
Inside, door closed, we looked at each other.
‘Sexy in the glasses,’ I said.
‘Thank you. For driving.’ She took them off, put them in an inside pocket.
I touched her hair. ‘Wet,’ I said.
‘Everywhere. I was in the shower.’
‘Rang and rang. Almost gave up.’
‘Pays to wait the extra second.’
‘Pays like Tattslotto,’ I said.
She took off the trenchcoat, hung it on a hook behind the front door, adjusted the central heating dial on the wall.
She kicked off her shoes, unbuttoned her top at the throat and pulled it over her head.
‘Pays better than Tattslotto,’ she said.
She was naked underneath, nipples alert. She cupped her breasts for me. I bent to kiss them, feverish.
‘Didn’t have time to get dressed properly,’ she said.
‘Like you dressed improperly. Very much.’
Kissing, undressing, touching, we found our way down the passage and into a bedroom. I managed to get my jacket and the shoulder holster off together.
‘First in quick time, I think,’ Anne said, voice blurred. ‘Then in slow. Very slow.’
Later, lying naked, sated, in the warm room, Anne side on to me, head on my chest, my hand between her thighs, she said, ‘Leon tells me you have an unusual background for a blacksmith, Mr Faraday.’
I felt the sweat on my neck chilling. ‘What does Leon know about my background, Ms Karsh?’
She laughed. ‘When you turned down Leon’s job offer, you became an unobtainable object. And therefore an object of interest.’
‘A man with a duck on a string.’
‘Exactly.’ She bit my right nipple gently, worried it, put her fingertips in my pubic hair, scratched gently.
‘And so he made inquiries about me. Is that it?’
‘That’s it. He couldn’t bear not to know.’
‘What did he say about my background?’
‘Unusual. That’s all. Leon never reveals everything he knows. Not at once. He likes you to know he knows and to tell you what he knows when it suits him.’
‘And how does Leon find out what he knows?’
‘Oh, I think Leon could find out what toothpaste the Pope uses.’
‘Would you say,’ I said, ‘that Leon was a jealous man?’
‘No, not jealous. Envious. Of everything he doesn’t have.’
‘If he thought you were having an affair, would he want to know the details?’
‘Probably. Not out of jealousy. Just for the knowledge. Knowledge for its own sake.’ She moved her lips onto my ribs. ‘Talking of knowledge,’ she said, ‘carnal knowledge of you is nice. And not just for its own sake.’
She reached over and got her watch off the bedside table, looked at it with her head on my stomach. ‘Christ!’ She sat upright. ‘Have to postpone the learning for a while. I’m due to represent Leon at this charity thing…’
I lay on the bed and thought while she showered. She came back into the room, unselfconsciously naked, walked around, found clothes.
‘Suspender belt tonight, what do you think? Black or white?’
‘White. I like the virginal associations.’
She was wearing just the suspender belt and stockings, towelling her hair, breasts jiggling, when she said, ‘Leon’s got a man called Bobby who can find out anything. I think he called in Bobby to give the once-over when he decided he fancied me.’
I went cold everywhere now. ‘What’s Bobby’s full name?’
‘Never heard it. Leon calls him Bobby the Wonder Dog.’
I swung my legs off the bed, reached for my clothes.
‘Mac? What? What’s wrong?’ Alarm in her voice.
I said, ‘Anne, it’s complicated. Leon’s Bobby is likely to be a man called Bobby Hill. After I left you last night, two men sent by Bobby tried to kill me.’
‘Kill you? Kill you? Why?’
‘Goes back a long way,’ I said, putting on my shirt. I sat down to put on my shoes. ‘Sordid stuff. Couldn’t work out how they knew where I’d be last night. Now I think I know.’
Anne came around the bed, put her hands on my shoulders, kissed me on the lips. ‘I’m out of my depth here, Mac,’ she said. ‘Who are you?’
I kissed her back. ‘When it’s over,’ I said, ‘tell you the whole sad story. I have to get out of here. The best thing is for you to leave and then I’ll wait a while and go. Is there a back door?’
‘To the building? Yes.’
‘To this flat?’
‘To the fire escape. Yes.’ She sat down next to me, put her hand on my thigh. ‘Going to be all right, isn’t it?’
I kissed her again, soft, hard, hand on her silky neck. ‘Has to be. Haven’t got to the very slow part yet.’
I stood, found the shoulder holster in my jacket and put it on.
Anne looked at the revolver, looked at me, bit her lower lip. ‘Tell me I shouldn’t be regretting this,’ she said.
I touched her lips. ‘No regrets,’ I said. ‘I’m flying with the angels. Scout’s honour.’
While she was putting on lipstick, I said, ‘If I’m right, the flat is being watched. If you leave alone, they’ll wait for me to come out, jump me outside. If I don’t come out and there’s still a light on in the flat, they’ll think I’m planning to stay here overnight and they’ll come to get me later. So I’ll leave a light on when I go.’
She was ready. I took her face in my hands, kissed her. She kissed me back, took a hand and kissed it. ‘It isn’t just lust-you know that, don’t you?’
I nodded. ‘Yes. I know that. This thing, it’s almost over.’
I didn’t believe that. Not for one instant.
Anne went out the front door. In the kitchen, by the light from the passage, I found a dark dishcloth, tied it around my neck like a napkin to hide my white shirt. I went out the door, quietly closed on the latch, stood against the wall on the steel fire escape landing and looked down on the parking area.
It was dark, half moon hidden by cloud, the only light coming from a long open-fronted tenants’ garage at the back of the property. There were only a few lights on in the building, most people not home yet. In this area, they’d all be working fourteen hours a day to pay for the flat and the BMW and the holiday in Tuscany.
Music coming from one of the flats: Miles Davis.
Anne came into sight briefly, long legs, walking briskly towards her car. Moments later, she reversed out, bathing the yard in blood red light, drove around the corner of the building.
Bobby’s boys would not touch Anne, had no reason to. It was me Bobby wanted.
I unclipped the holster, drew the Colt. Time to go.
I took a step towards the stairs, hesitated, moved to the landing rail, back and right cheekbone against the wall, looked down at the landing below.
Nothing. I leaned my head a little further over…
The tip of a shoe, a black running shoe, in the doorway.
Can’t go down. Can’t go back. The man below’s partner would be in the building now, possibly already in the flat.
I opened the back door, thankful that I’d put it on the latch, backed into the kitchen.
