“I think she left before him, maybe he lucked out. He went up that way and then the fight broke out.”
“Was he fighting?”
“It’s hard to tell, it all got a bit mad after a while. Then the cops showed up and I lost sight of him.”
Deany looked down at the bar stool and beneath it the green trench coat, crumpled hat and a beer soaked red scarf. He picked it up.
“He was here alright, the stolen ‘disguise’ from Henry’s.”
“Maybe he started the fight to cover his escape?” Ellie looked around.
“How did he know we were coming?”
“He’s smart. The barman kept looking, he got nervous. Maybe the girl recognised him and walked off threatening to call the police.”
“If he followed her out god help her, is all I can say.”
As they returned to the outside where things had calmed down the police were sending the crowds into the club. Police organised the club goers into groups and began sitting them down. A table was being set up by the door to the outside. Traffic on the road was moving again.
Liam Kershaw, a time served DIC recruit in his early thirties broke away from a group of police and approached Deany and Ellie.
“Nothing to go on, he’s not in the vans and no sightings. It’s going to take hours to interview our way through this lot. Some have left, but we’ve had most sent back in.”
“Interview all of them?”
“Diane’s orders see if he was here to meet anyone.”
“That’s going to take until morning.”
“I know so let’s get started.”
Mason dropped ‘Leash’ at her house and watched her go in. He rode the bike to a back road and parked in a side alley. He walked back to her house and rang the bell. She answered the door with a beer in her hand.
“Welcome. Follow me.” He stepped over the threshold watching her wiggling behind go up the stairs. Duly he followed.
It was a three bed semi detached house and ‘Leash’ had a large room on the second floor. She didn’t turn the light on when they went in. She turned to face him and they stripped each other, unlacing, unzipping and shedding clothes.
Mason’s lust enveloped her and consumed her for over an hour and she drank in his passion and desire. The sex was good and when they finally sank away from each other both were satisfied.
“You want something to eat?” She asked.
“Yeah and a drink.”
They went to the kitchen, she in a short black Kimono style dressing gown and he with a towel around his waist. She got him a beer from the fridge and began making him sandwich.
“Why are the police after you?”
“I’m an assassin.”
“Isn’t that just a posh word for killer?”
“I suppose. You scared?”
She smiled. “A little, but I like danger. How do you become a paid killer?”
He didn’t answer.
“Oh is that one of those you can tell me, but you’d have to kill me questions?”
When he didn’t speak she turned with the bread knife.
“You aren’t going to kill me are you?” She waved the knife in front of her.
Mason’s move was fast, the scissor hands knocked the knife away and he stepped in grabbing the back of her head with his left hand and his right hand sliding between her arms and her back, pinning her suddenly, unable to move due to the edge of the kitchen side against which her arms were held tight. He looked in her eyes and strangely they were defiant, not afraid. He leant in and tenderly kissed her lips.
“No, but make no mistake that I can at any time, that enough danger for you?”
‘Leash’ smiled. “You are a bad boy aren’t you?”
They went back to her room with snacks and drinks. In spite of his reservations Mason was drawn to her. She had, he could tell, reserves of strength and courage. She had spirit and character. Most women he met weakly surrendered to him, but she had bucked and fought back, scratching and pulling.
“I could be your secretary. You know. You on some job somewhere calling me and me watching your back.”
“You’ve seen too many films. It’s not like that. It’s lonely, messy, frightening and you never have anyone you can trust.”
“What if you could trust me, you wouldn’t be alone then.”
Mason got up and walked to the window and looked out of a parted gap. There was a million on this hit, enough for him to retire to a non-extradition country and then what? Whores would take his money or stitch him up and he’d have to work again. With a girl he could trust he could settle. The last few days and how close the security services were at the moment made him feel that it was time to quit. He’d rather taken to ‘Leash’ and he felt he could control her. He turned, dropped his towel and walked over to the bed.
“Let’s talk about what you can be for me in the morning, in the meantime…” He climbed onto the bed and slipped off her robe.
Around midnight ‘Leash’ woke with a strong urge to urinate. She disengaged from Mason’s arm, which pinned her to the bed, and extracted herself from the ‘spoons’ position they had adopted after sex, necessary for them both to sleep in her single bed.
Mason didn’t wake, but he mumbled in his sleep, hand twitching on a fantasy pistol trigger. “Time now Jono…time…priory… at the priory…” His foot kicked out and he shifted slightly. ‘Leash’ watched his face, it was tense. Perhaps that was what it was like for men who lived his way, never relaxed.
She went to the toilet looked in on Leah’s room, the ‘satanic meringue’ girl with whom she shared the house. She was surprised that she hadn’t come home. Maybe she’d scored at last. ‘Leash’ smiled and went back to bed, easing herself onto the bed and pulling Mason’s arm over her. ‘Priory’ she thought, ‘maybe he had killed a priest?’
Chapter 79
Mayfair Rendezvous Casino
11 p.m.
April 18th
The Rendezvous casino in Mayfair on Old Park Lane was as plush and luxurious as it sounded. After the taxi had dropped him off Cobb squared his shoulders and strode in with confidence. He bought four hundred pounds worth of chips and after walking amongst the tables he went for a drink in the up stairs bar. Sitting on a too comfortable spotted seat under multi coloured tile decor he frowned at the somewhat chintzy look of the place. His over expensive bourbon on ice was finished too soon and he was unhappily reminded of the smoking laws. He put away his ‘Luckies’ pack and Zippo and went down stairs.
He chose American Roulette in the end and sat down in a spare seat. A short haired man in a casual suit was making a pile of chips to his left. The blonde casino worker smiled at him as he sat down and he took in her black uniform, tight in the right places and accentuating her curves. Her neat make up and bright blue eyes were the friendly face of the casino.
The man to his left placed one hundred pounds in tens around the black twenty, a lady who must have been in her fifties, low cut dress showing ageing cleavage and mottled neck, followed his lead saying ‘I might as well ride your luck’ and gave the younger man a wink.
He smiled back faintly at the clumsy ‘pass’ and Cobb noted the woman’s accent as American, though, explaining her extrovert bravado, tinged with an alcohol slur. Cobb looked the young man over. The suit was blue grey tonic, the shirt silk and the watch on the hairy wrist was an Omega. The man’s face was tanned and his dark
