Parkins.'
'That's very kind of you, sir. You will be quite satisfied with Jackson.'
Daz Jackson arrived ten minutes after the hour. He was ushered into Burnett's vast office by Burnett's secretary. She had worked so long for Burnett that nothing surprised her . . . not even Daz Jackson.
Burnett regarded the young man as he lounged into the big room, a supercilious grin on his face. He wore mustard-coloured hipsters, a dark-blue frilled shirt and a gilt chain around his neck from which hung a small bell that tinkled as he moved.
What a specimen Burnett thought, but, at least, he is clean.
Without being asked, Jackson lowered his lean frame into a chair, crossed one leg over the other and regarded Burnett with an insolent lift of his eyebrow.
'The ex-bogey said you had a job. What's the pay?' he asked. 'And listen, I don't dig to work in this graveyard. Catch?
Burnett was used to dealing with all kinds of people and he was adaptable. Although he would have liked to have kicked this young beatnik out, he saw he could be the man he was looking for.
'I'm not asking you to work here Mr. Jackson,' he said. 'I have a
special job which you could handle and which pays well.'
Jackson raised a languid hand in mock protest.
'Skip the mister and all that jazz,' he said. 'Call me Daz.'
Burnett's insincere smile became a little stiff.
'Certainly . . . but why Daz?'
'The chicks call me that . . . I dazzle them.'
'Splendid.' Burnett leaned back in his executive chair. 'What I want you to do is this . . .' He explained.
Daz Jackson lolled in his chair and listened. His ice grey eyes searched Burnett's face while Burnett talked. Finally, when Burnett said, 'Well, that's it . . . do you think you can handle it for me?' Daz grimaced.
'Let's get it nice and straight,' he said, stretching out his long legs. 'This piece wants to be laid . . . right?' When Burnett nodded, he went on, 'Once I've given it to her, she'll want more right?' Again Burnett nodded. 'Then she has to pay for it . . . you want me to squeeze her dry . . . right?'
'Yes . . . that is the situation.'
'You will pay me a hundred nicker for doing the job and what I get out of her I keep . . . right?'
Burnett inclined his head. Dealing with a man like this made him feel slightly soiled.
Jackson leaned back in his chair and stared at Burnett. 'Well, for God's sake, and they call me delinquent!'
Burnett's eyes turned frosty.
'Do you want the job or don't you?'
They stared at each other for a long moment, then Daz shrugged.
'Oh sure . . . what have I to lose? What's this piece like?'
'Plain but adequate,' Burnett returned, unconsciously using the phrase in the Michelin Guide to France to describe a third rate hotel.
'Okay, so where do I find her?'
Burnett gave him Natalie's home and business addresses typed on a blank card.
'I want quick action.'
Daz grinned.
'If you say she's thirsting for it, she'll have it and once she has had it from me, she'll want it again and again.' Daz regarded Burnett, his eyes calculating. 'The cops won't come into this?'
'There's no question of that.'
