'I asked you a question. Where is it?'
'Where’s what?'
'What are you after? Money?' Montgomery’s voice had lost its coolness. It was still low enough to stay within the bounds of the small room, but its tone was jagged. A spray of spittle landed on my face. 'You know damn well what.'
I hadn’t got round to replacing my drowned mobile yet. I looked towards the toppled bedside table where the hotel phone should be. It was missing, ripped out of the wall, and probably tumbled amongst the rubble of my belongings. Somewhere down the corridor I thought that I heard the lift doors ping open. If I made a rush for it I might be able to get help. I shifted from Montgomery’s shadow and started to get to my feet.
'You’re barking up the wrong tree, pal. Whatever it is you’ve mislaid, it’s nothing to do with me.'
Montgomery smiled, stepped to one side as if he were about to go, then turned suddenly, shoving me square on the chest. I sprawled back onto the bed and the policeman flung himself half astride me, his knee between my legs, hand at my throat, gently pressing the cutting edge of a knife below my Adam’s apple. I felt my flesh shift beneath the blade, not quite ready to yield my blood, but thinking about it. We seemed to lie there for a long time, though the red numbers on the radio alarm glowing from beneath a pile of my shirts stayed at 3.06.
'You are fucking trying my patience, Wilson.'
Montgomery’s breath was warm against my face. My own was stuck deep in my chest, somewhere near my heart. I found it, exhaled slowly and tried to think of something soothing to say, something that might get him to take the knife away.
'You’ve searched the room, there’s nothing of yours here.'
'Not here maybe.' The knife pressed down harder. I could see the blood climbing up Montgomery’s face, but when he spoke the voice behind the whisper was calm. 'Are you a fan of the movies?'
I wondered what soundtrack played in his head while he acted the master villain. This was my cue to bound free, while he described the elaborate tortures in store. It worked in films, but I had Montgomery’s full weight pinning me down, a blade at my throat and there was no unseen orchestra edging its way towards a climax. I swallowed, not liking the way my throat moved against the blade.
'Isn’t everyone?'
'Quite right, they’re a popular pastime. Did you see that film…’ He paused as if searching his memory. 'What was it called now? It was by that young American guy, ugly git, total genius…
Fucking marvellous. They cut a guy’s ear off.'
I stared into his eyes and spoke with as much command as I could muster.
'You won’t cut my ear off.'
The knife regained its pressure and Montgomery leaned in towards me.
'Oh I will, and a lot more besides if I don’t get what’s mine.' He caught me between the legs, cradling my shrinking balls in his hand. 'Not much there but I dare say you’d prefer to hold on to the small portion God granted you.'
We lay there panting, his hand on my vitals, our faces strained, looking like an ugly scene from a very specialist porno movie. There was a slight movement on the right of my peripheral vision. I concentrated my gaze on Montgomery’s and tried to avoid looking towards the not-quite-shut door as it slid slowly open.
Sylvie hadn’t put her shoes back on; she edged silently across the carpet, her gaze on the bed, like a cat stalking a pigeon. I remembered I’d never yet seen a cat get to the kill.
Maybe the thought made my eyes shift towards her after all or maybe the policeman simply felt the atmosphere change, because suddenly Montgomery gasped as if he had felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced towards her. Sylvie kicked the door shut and levelled my gun somewhere near the centre of our huddle.
'Having fun, William?'
For a second I wondered whose side she was on, but then I felt Montgomery’s body tense.
'Not really my idea of a good Saturday night.'
'Hear that you old pervert?' Sylvie moved forward until the gun was squarely aimed at Monty’s torso, still staying far enough away to make it difficult for him to grab her. 'Be a dear and let go of his dick.'
Monty gave the blade another press and I thought he was going to call her bluff. But then Sylvie said, 'Now please.' And maybe he sensed a strain of madness in her voice, because he raised his hands slowly in the air and threw the weapon beyond reach towards the far side of the room. 'Good boy, now kiss him goodbye and get to your feet.'
Monty said, 'You must be joking.'
'Just get off him.'
The policeman eased himself upright. His voice had regained its gentleness.
'It’s not a real gun.'
I stood up holding a hand to my scratched throat, though it was a small wound in a night of pain. 'I’m afraid it is. Real bullets too.'
'We can check if you like.' Sylvie’s voice was light, conversational even. She kept her eyes on Montgomery. 'No? Don’t fancy that idea? Then reach slowly into your pocket and throw your mobile on the bed. Any funny business and I shoot.'
Her dialogue was pure movie gangster, but maybe that appealed to Montgomery because he did as she said.
'William, phone the police.' I looked blankly at her and she said, 'The number’s 110.'
