Victoria line to Euston then switched to the Northern Line to Camden Town.
The Underworld night club was opposite the tube station. He popped across the road and walked straight in through the bright blue doorway and paid his dues in the stolen cash.
It was early, but a crowd was gathering. He’d dropped his chasers for sure. He noted that band called the Falconers was live that night and was amused by the early smattering of Goth styled revellers. There was black leather, fish nets, dark hair and heavy eye make up. It was going to be interesting seeing how Aliesha dressed, unless of course she’d been winding him up. He couldn’t see himself scoring at this gig unless she did turn up. He ordered a beer and sat in the bar. Loud heavy metal came from further into the building.
He was on his third beer when a perfumed arm curled around his neck and Aliesha’s voice alcohol slurred his false name.
“Hi Marc. You took the hint.”
Mason turned on his stool and was delighted at the sight. She wore a lace up black Basque, layers of black net skirt and leather boots. Her hair was spiked and her eye make up was heavy. The crowd with her were disappointed.
A tall twenty something lad, thin and dressed head to foot in black and clearly jealous spoke first.
“Invite your uncle ‘Leash’?”
He withered under Mason’s stare. A plump girl not quite carrying off the wan look and for all the world looking like a satanic meringue picked up the hat.
“Very dandy!”
Aliesha put her head to one side.
“Why the hat?”
“Stolen disguise…” Mason shrugged.
“Don’t say you’re a secret agent?” They all laughed.
“You didn’t fall for that line ‘Leash’?” The thin lad said.
Mason was rescued by the sound of Falconer’s ‘Man Of The Hour’ pumping from the stage room. The gang rushed off and Aliesha grabbed his hand and pulled him.
“Come on the music’s great.”
“I don’t dance.”
“Neither do I, but it’s dark in there and music turns me on.”
“Well why didn’t you say?” He dropped off the stool and followed her in.
The wall of noise hit them and ‘Leash’ dragged him into a dark corner. She was a little drunk, but knew what she was doing. Her hands ran down his back and stopped. Her kiss broke off and her eyes wide and sober stared into his. The music pounded on. He gripped her around the waist and spun her to the wall, bent in and shouted in her ear.
“Yes it’s a gun. I’m a bad man ‘Leash’. Still want to play?”
The answering smile and tongue into the mouth kiss told him all he needed to know. The dark side, girl’s loved a bad boy, thought they could tame them and she had sensed his danger and flew to it moth like. It only remained to be seen how ‘burnt’ she’d be by the end of the night. If she’d passed off the gun that quickly she was already ‘blind’.
At DIC centre in Euston Diane Peters, sitting in Jack Fulton’s office, sipped a late night coffee, which she needed, but knew she shouldn’t be drinking. Mason had dropped off the map again. She checked traffic, multi- screen on his computer and banner information feed showing nothing as the teams converged near the Green Park tube station.
The phone rang and she set it to speaker phone.
“Diane, get the teams looking for a hat and trench coat on the tubes from Green Park in the last hour.”
“Will do.”
After two songs, music he couldn’t stand, to escape the noise and give ‘Leash’ a chance to breathe Mason took her to the bar for a drink and saw a look of quizzical comprehension and recognition pass over the barman’s face when Mason ordered their drinks. Behind him on the side, near the raised bar access Mason saw the red top of The Sun newspaper. It was a quick click in his mind to the conclusion he was about to be grassed up.
“We have to go now.” Mason said with sudden harshness.
“What? The night is young, I want a drink.”
“Then I have to go now, you stay.” He was abrupt and business like.
Aliesha caught the tone in his voice.
“Okay. Back to my place, a movie and a pizza?”
“Fine which way?”
“It’s on Fortress Road at the top of Kentish Town Road, maybe two miles away.”
“Meet me out front I’ll rustle up some transport.”
Mason scanned the bar quickly and spotted a motorbike helmet. Amongst all the black clothing and the leather there had to be a biker and sure enough there was. At a crowded table a worn black leather jacket was draped over a chair, underneath which was a gaudy coloured helmet. Sitting on the chair was the muscled body of a black haired boy in a ripped T-shirt. Behind him on a ledge, next to a door, was the full pint glass of a thick bodied man talking to a lean and rather sexy looking girl with black bunches, mini skirt and knee length striped socks. Mason walked around the table, pushed the swing door open with his right hand and with his left swept the pint onto the biker’s neck and carried on through the door. He did a U turn in the corridor beyond and walked back to an angry scene, both men facing each other, friends shouting. Security was on the way over. Mason walked past the chair, all their backs to him, pulled the jacket off the chair as he passed and on his way to the door. He slipped out the keys and dumped the jacket on the floor. Behind him a full blooded furious fight broke out in the bar.
At the tower Jack Fulton’s phone rang and the speaker phone declared to Diane Peters that a bar man at the Underworld had spotted Mason. The banner stream declared the club security had called police to the same location. She set the teams on their way. Traffic slowed them.
Outside the bar Mason scanned the surrounding roads and pavement for a parked bike. Across the road by the tube station was a blue and white Suzuki GSX-R600, checking it was the right make on the key fob, he grabbed ‘Leash’s hand and dragged her across the busy road.
Sirens sounded in the distance, people were being thrown out of the club behind them. In the street light he found the lock key, unlocked the chain, straddled the bike and put the key in.
He twisted, revved and put his foot on the clutch.
“Get on.”
“We’ve no helmets!”
“Let’s live dangerously. Get on ‘Leash’.”
She ungraciously swung a leg over the bike, grabbed his midriff with both arms and felt the acceleration of the bike nearly pull her off the back. She leant forward as the bike blurted like a blue comma across the pavement and slammed its way up the Kentish Town Road. ‘Leash’ whooped as the fast moving air streamed around her, the leather seat between her thighs coldly pressing against her sheer lace thong. She felt the lump of the hand gun in the back of his trousers pressing against her abdomen and thrilled to the itch it gave her lower down.
Behind them at the club the police arrived in numbers to a full scale riot at the Underworld. Police Vans and thirty policemen struggled with crowds coming out. Bloodied security, glass cut men and crying girls filled the road, stopping traffic. The vans were filling as police wrestled fighters, two or three cops to a struggler, pinning them down and cuffing them.
The DIC cars were waved through a make shift cordon made of police bikes, as was an ambulance. When the teams got out it was hard to find anyone to talk to. They scoured the crowds. Tony Deany made his way against the flow into the bar. His feet crunched on glass and heavy looking policemen and women stood around waving batons, some taking notes. He waved his badge as a police woman tried to stop him. Ellie followed in his wake to the bar.
“Which barman recognised the face from today’s Sun?”
“It was me.” An Australian, lean and tanned moved forward.
“Was he with anyone?”
“Some Asian Goth girl, looked nice too.”
“Did you see them leave?”
