and took a shuddering breath. ‘Well, it’s kind of—’
I dropped my chip on the plate. ‘Look over there. See that restaurant - the Vietnamese? Do you know him? The black guy at the door, going in? Was he one of them? The guy now inside, taking his coat off, waiting for a seat. You see him? ‘
Kleinmann adjusted his glasses. ‘Who?’
‘The black guy. Talking with the waiter now. You see him?’
‘No …’
‘The suit. The smart guy.’
‘Yes, I see him - but it wasn’t him. They were both white. Sounded like you - that London thing.’
Jules was shown to a table and sat with his back to the door. A waiter appeared. He didn’t bother with a menu. He was a regular. He knew what he wanted.
Kleinmann fidgeted. ‘Can I go now? I promise I won’t—’
I picked up my burger and nodded at his. ‘Better start getting that down you. We’ll be leaving soon.’
He sat there and played with a couple of chips as I cleared my plate. I asked for the bill and watched the top of Jules’s head tilt back as he helped himself to a beer.
I paid with cash from Kleinmann’s wallet, then stood up and pulled on my parka. ‘Remember, don’t mistake kindness for friendship or weakness. Just do what I say, when I say, and all will be well. OK?’
He nodded and stood up.
We turned left towards the tube station, walked about thirty metres and ducked into the doorway of a boarded-up bookshop. It was near a bus stop and a natural place to wait, especially in this weather.
I got hold of Kleinmann. I needed his full attention. ‘When he comes out, he’s going to head for the tube. We’re going to follow him. Then I’m going to make sure he comes with us to your car.’
‘Then what?’
‘Don’t worry about that. All you have to remember is that if you fuck me about I’m going to have to do you. You know that, yeah?’
He nodded.
We waited twenty or so minutes. People got on and off buses. Others huddled in doorways like us. My eyes never left the restaurant door.
I nudged Kleinmann. ‘Here we go, stand by.’
I reached into my parka pocket and grabbed the pliers. Julian was going to come with me whether he liked it or not. And then he was going to tell me what the fuck was going on.
He stood on the pavement, pulling up his collar and looking up at the rain. He turned towards the Underground, and then double-checked behind him, further down the road, away from us. As I followed his eye line, I could see a cab approaching, its bright yellow sign a beacon in the gloom.
He stuck his hand out. Minutes later he was gone.
Kleinmann took it all in but didn’t say a word. He was waiting for my reaction.
‘Back to the car. You should have eaten that burger. Like I said, it’s going to be a long night.’
6
Rain pounded on the Volvo roof. The windows were steamed up and the car stank of my farts. The burger was taking its toll. We were parked in a sixties housing estate somewhere near Baron’s Court. I didn’t know exactly where it was, but I’d seen the name on road signs. All that mattered was that it was near Fulham, and it was out of the way of mainstream roads.
I’d tied Kleinmann’s right hand to the steering-wheel with his belt. He couldn’t get his seat to recline because his arm wasn’t long enough. He’d assumed the position he had in the Cavendish Square car park, head on the wheel, but this time because he was knackered.
I was stretched out on the fully extended passenger seat. There was a slight risk in using the car. It was a known location if someone phoned the police to say Kleinmann hadn’t turned up somewhere tonight, but it was a chance I had to take. It was better for me to control him here. It was better for both of us than having a night out in this shit. He’d probably never slept rough. He’d be more of a drama out there than he was in here, and we wouldn’t look like vagrants when I moved in on Jules tomorrow.
I turned the electrics on to lower my window A couple of inches. Kleinmann was in a world of his own. Sometimes he mumbled.
I wouldn’t sleep with him moaning to himself and the rain hammering on the roof, but I turned my back to him, trying to get comfortable.
He stirred. ‘Can’t we just go back to my apartment? I’ve got food - a shower.’
‘No.’
‘Who are you guys? Drug-dealers? Mafia? What is it?’
He waited for an answer. He didn’t get one.
‘It’s drugs, isn’t it? You guys fighting over drugs?’
I shook my head. ‘Tell you what, you tell me how they got you to work and I’ll tell you what’s happening.’
He looked out of the window and rubbed his hair. ‘I had a practice. Cosmetic surgery. Fat asses, droopy chins. Marlene was cool. Ten years younger than me, but I had everything she wanted.
‘Then three years ago, when she was about to turn thirty-five, she had an affair with a twenty-year-old cowboy.’ He shook his head like he still couldn’t believe it. ‘She went to an all-woman, arm-and-a-leg fancy dude- ranch retreat - on my dime. I say all women - except the young cowboys who were there to run the place. She spreads them for this kid and decides he’s her soul-mate.
‘The affair went on for a few months. Marlene started “volunteering” at this ranch and then she told me, immediately after our tenth wedding anniversary, she wanted out. Know why the tenth anniversary is significant? Because in fucking sunny California, without a pre-nup, a spouse gets half of
‘I fought long and hard for two years to get us in therapy. I promised to change all the things she blamed me for. I was “controlling”, she said, and kept too tight a fist on the money. She couldn’t do all the decorating projects she wanted, for example, because I thought they were too expensive. Hello … I was the only fucking one working to pay for this shit. But she said she was out the door. I think she was even screwing the therapist - on my dime again. She even said, “I have to get out now so I can snag a great guy while I’m still hot.”
‘So I said, “OK, I get it, I understand. We tried and it didn’t work out. No hard feelings. Let me help. A couple of nips and tucks and you’ll be ready for the world.” So I carried out a procedure on her and that was the end of her …’
I sat up. ‘You killed her?’
‘No - I just fucked up her face a bit. Now she looks like she’s sitting in a fucking wind tunnel.’ He pulled back the loose skin on his face to show me. ‘So the bitch divorced me and sued me for malpractice on the same fucking day. How fucking cool is that?’
Big fat tears were rolling down his cheeks. ‘I came here. Used my original family name. Over there I was Klein. This country is great for locum work with hardly any checks. I worked hard to make a few dollars - I’m trying to tuck it all away before her lawyers find me. But I know they will. It’s going to be a nightmare.’
‘So that’s what they’ve got on you?’
‘Yeah. They came into my office one day. They told me my life story and that was it. Two white guys, nice suits.’
‘They gave you the scans?’
‘Yes. And the drugs.’
‘What were they?’
‘I haven’t a clue. Nothing I’d ever come across before.’
‘They might have been specially made?’
‘Why not?’
