Hearts of Stone (5 page)

10

O
f course I was late for work. I'd gone back to bed when I got home, and set the alarm for ten, and then missed it. I woke up with a start at a couple of minutes past eleven. I shaved, washed and dressed in two minutes flat, and hit the road. Normally I walk to work. But that day I took the Ford. As I'd locked up the bar the night before, I had the keys, and when I arrived the cleaner and two draymen with a beer delivery were waiting. ‘Sorry,' I said. ‘Overslept.' None of them looked particularly impressed. They all had the air of people who had been around since the sun rose, and had nothing but contempt for anyone who couldn't get to work by ten-thirty. I opened up and took in the delivery. The cleaner started swabbing the floor with a damp mop.

‘Anything I can do?' I asked.

‘Keep out of my way,' the cleaner replied tartly. I left her to it and went out into the kitchen to make some tea.

When the delivery was in, and checked and signed for, and the draymen had drunk a conciliatory bottle of beer each, and the cleaner had cleaned and gone, and the place was ready to open, JJ arrived.

‘OK?' he asked.

‘Perfect,' I replied.

‘Who's the flash motor belong to?' he asked, referring to the Cosworth parked outside on the double yellow lines in front of the bus stop. Sitting there amongst the usual West Norwood junkers it looked like a thoroughbred in a knacker's yard. It just had
that
look about it, you know.

‘Me,' I said.

‘You?'

‘Yeah.'

‘You come into money?'

I shrugged.

‘That's a thirty-grand motor.'

‘Is it?' I said. Which probably wasn't the best thing to say if I was supposed to own the thing.

‘Have you sold the E-Type?'

‘No.'

‘So what's going on?'

‘Nothing,' I said.

‘Nick…'

We were interrupted by the arrival of the first customer of the day. An old boy who wanted a pot of Earl Grey and a croissant with jam. I did the business for him. And then a few more punters started rolling in, and JJ had no chance to question me further.

Brady pulled up outside in his black Porsche, top down, with the stereo blaring BB King, just after one. JJ and I were behind the bar.

‘This place is getting like the Royal Automobile Club,' said JJ.

Brady parked opposite, and got out of the car without opening the door. A real athlete. He crossed the street, came in and sat on a bar stool. ‘Hi, Nick,' he said.

‘I had a hunch you'd know him,' said JJ.

‘Hi, Brady,' I said. ‘What'll you have?'

‘Give me a beer and a burger. Medium rare with French fries. No onion in the salad.'

I got the beer, and JJ took the food order through to the kitchen.

‘So what's up, Nick?' asked Brady.

‘Not a lot. I was late for work, thanks to you.'

‘This is not the Nick Sharman I heard about. Working in a dump like this for a few quid an hour, and worrying about being late. That sounds like a normal citizen.'

‘It suits me.'

‘You must be losing your touch.'

‘Brady, why don't you back off. I told you those two guys don't come in here during the day. If they come in at all, it's Friday or Saturday evening. Now you've seen me at work, so just get lost.'

‘I've seen you at work before, Nick. This isn't the first time I've been here.' Now I knew why he looked familiar. ‘I believe in knowing the territory,' he went on.

‘Good for you.'

‘Do you think they'll be in tonight?' he asked.

‘God knows. It's Friday. Maybe.'

‘And?'

‘And I finish at six-thirty. I'll stick around. I'm not working 'til tomorrow evening. I'll see what's cooking.'

‘My burger would be good.'

‘Be patient, Brady. Everything comes to him who waits.'

He took a sip of his beer. ‘I have waited,' he said. ‘Too long. I want these people. Through them we can get the importers. The fat cats sitting in their offices in the city. The ones with all the money, who never get their hands dirty on the stuff. I want those bastards, Nicky my boy, and I want them bad.'

The bell in the kitchen rang. ‘This'll be yours now,' I said.

‘Well run along and get it then, like a good waiter.'

‘I could learn to dislike you,' I said. ‘Easily.'

He twisted up his face in a leer. ‘I think you're getting me confused with someone that might worry about it,' he said.

I shrugged and went and got his food. JJ grabbed my arm as I picked up the plate. ‘You do know him?' he said.

‘Slightly,' I replied.

‘Watch him, mate. He's bad news.'

You don't know the half of it, I thought. ‘He's harmless,' I said.

JJ didn't look convinced. Nor did I, to tell you the truth.

11

B
rady took the hint. He ate his burger and drank his beer and left. Being Friday lunchtime, it was busy in the bar and I didn't have time for conversation anyway. Good job. All afternoon I felt JJ watching me, but he didn't say anything. At six-thirty when the two barmaids who were doing the evening shift turned up, I took off my apron and sat at the bar.

‘Not going?' asked JJ.

‘No, I've got tomorrow off. I think I'll stick around for a bit.'

‘I would have thought you'd've had enough of this place for one day.'

‘No,' I said. ‘You know I love it. Give us a beer, for God's sake. I'm spitting feathers here.'

‘You're driving, don't forget,' he said, giving me a bottle of Rolling Rock.

‘It's got right up your nose, that motor, hasn't it?' I said.

‘No.'

‘Yes, it has. What's the problem?'

‘How can you afford it?'

‘What? On what you pay me, you mean?'

‘Yeah, if you must know.'

‘You know I've got a little dough put away. Relax, for Christ's sake.'

‘And what about that geezer?'

‘Who?'

‘Who? You know very well. Him in the Porsche.'

‘What about him?'

‘Where does he fit in?'

‘He doesn't. He's a customer. He's been in before.'

‘Not talking to
you
, he hasn't.'

‘So he's talking to me now. Things change. What about it?'

‘He smells bad.'

‘I'll get him some aftershave for Christmas.'

‘Don't get funny, Nick.'

‘I don't understand what the problem is.'

‘Just don't bring trouble here.'

‘The last time there was trouble here, you were pleased to see me.'

‘Those two were nothing. That guy's different.'

‘No trouble, JJ, I promise. All right?'

‘All right,' he said. But it was grudging.

I stayed around, dawdling over two beers until about nine. I chatted to the staff and a couple of customers, and it was really no hardship. Then about ten past, Hughes and Seeley came by. I saw them outside. As they passed the Ford, Seeley grabbed Hughes by the sleeve, and they stopped and gave it a good screw. I pretended not to notice. Then they came in and went up to the other end of the bar and ordered a couple of beers. Then Seeley called JJ over. I saw JJ point at me, and a minute or two later they moved in my direction. They were dressed for their summer holidays or a winter cruise. Baggy lightweight suits. Seeley's was beige, Hughes's olive green. Both wore button-down cotton shirts: the kind that looked like they'd never seen an iron, you know. Tan for Seeley, white for Hughes, teamed with colourful ties. On their feet were light loafers, like boat shoes. I guessed these two went shopping together. Hughes was carrying a small portable phone. I knew one of them would have to.

‘Your motor?' said Seeley, pointing at the Cosworth parked outside. He had a London accent. Not cockney, just anonymous London.

‘Yeah,' I said.

‘Nice,' he said.

‘Yeah,' I said again.

‘Had it long?'

‘No.'

The other one, Hughes, just stood there looking at me. I hadn't liked them before, and being close didn't make things better. ‘I've got one too,' said Seeley.

‘That's nice.'

‘What made you get one?'

‘They're fast, and anonymous, and they piss off fuckers in BMWs,' I said.

He laughed at that, and showed his mouthful of white teeth just like in the photos I'd seen. ‘That's right,' he said. ‘Want a drink?'

I didn't, but I'd told Endesleigh I was in, so I grinned back. ‘Lovely,' I said. ‘A Rock'll do.'

Seeley ordered three, and we all introduced ourselves, although I already knew who everybody was.

‘You work here don't you?' said Hughes, speaking for the first time. His voice was surprisingly cultured for someone who looked so rough.

‘Yeah,' I said.

‘You must have a private income to have a motor like that.'

It's funny how everyone was getting interested in the state of my finances all of a sudden.

‘Something like that,' I said. ‘I couldn't afford it on what I earn here, that's for sure.'

‘Come into money, have you?'

‘Not really. I do a bit of this and that on the side.'

‘Like?'

‘It's none of your business, Pat,' said Seeley, but real friendly like, so no one could possibly take offence.

‘That's all right,' I said. ‘No worries. It's not a secret. Anything that comes up, you know.' I could be coy with the best of them.

They knew all right.

‘So what do you two do?' I asked.

‘The same,' said Hughes. ‘This and that.'

They were being coy, too.

We drank our beer, and chatted about cars and clothes and women, like real men do, until just after ten Seeley said, ‘What you doing later?'

‘Going home to bed,' I said. ‘I didn't get much kip last night, and I've been working all day. I'm knackered.'

‘Want to come out, have a laugh?'

‘Not tonight,' I said. ‘I'm fucked.'

‘We've got something that'll wake you up.' He touched his nose and winked.

I knew I might never get another chance so easy. ‘Is that right?' I said.

Seeley grinned and nodded. I said goodbye to my bed for another night.

‘All right, you're on,' I said.

‘We'll do some in the motor,' said Hughes.

‘Do we need two cars?' I said.

‘Where do you live?' asked Seeley.

‘Local. Just round the corner.'

‘No, you're all right. I'm close by. We'll go in mine. I'll drop you off after.'

‘Come round my place, then,' I said. ‘I'll have to change. I feel like a right scruff next to you two.'

‘Sounds good,' said Seeley.

So we all left. JJ gave me a dirty look as we went, but I couldn't help all that.

12

T
heir car was parked about a hundred yards down the street. I watched them walk towards it, then got into mine, started it, indicated, pulled out, and flashed them as I went past. I looked in the mirror and saw them pull out behind me, and I kept going slowly until they caught up. I took it easy on the short run to my place. I parked at the kerb outside, and the black Cosworth slid to a halt behind me. I got out and walked back to their car.

‘In there,' I said, pointing at the house when they joined me on the pavement.

Hughes looked at my Jag parked up in front. ‘Whose is that?' he asked.

‘Mine,' I said.

‘How many cars have you got, for Christ's sake?'

‘Just the two.'

I think he was impressed, and I enjoyed that.

We all went inside, and up to my flat. ‘I'm going to take a quick shower,' I said.

‘Got a mirror?' asked Seeley. I went into the bathroom and hauled my shaving mirror off the wall, wiped it off with a towel, and took it out to him. I grabbed the strides from a dark blue suit, a shirt, some clean socks and shorts, and dived back for a quick splash. I towelled down and put on the clothes and went back into the living room. I wondered if they'd gone through my stuff in my absence. I didn't care. There was nothing for them to find.

When I got back, Seeley had cut out three lines, each as thick as my little finger, on the mirror. I was going to have to go for it whether I liked it or not.

‘You didn't waste much time,' said Hughes.

‘Didn't want to miss out on the goodies,' I said.

‘Spoken like a real junkie,' said Seeley, rolling up a new fifty into a tube.

I watched them scarf up a line each, then I took my turn. It was primo gear. I felt the familiar rush, and tasted metal at the back of my throat. ‘Good stuff,' I said.

‘Only the best for friends of ours,' said Seeley.

‘Thanks,' I said. ‘I'll remember that.'

I went and chose a tie equally as colourful as the ones they were wearing, and knotted it, then tugged on my suit jacket, slipped my feet into a pair of soft, black leather loafers, fetched my wallet from the bathroom, and I was ready.

‘OK, then,' I said. ‘Let's go if we're going.'

‘Where do you fancy, Pat?' asked Seeley as we went downstairs.

‘There's only one place to go when we're carrying,' said Hughes.

‘Sonny's?' asked Seeley.

‘In one.'

‘Where's that?' I said.

‘You've never been to Sonny's?' said Seeley. ‘You've never lived.'

‘Then I haven't lived. So where is it?' I asked again.

‘Round the back of Beak Street. You're going to like it there.'

We drove up to town in Seeley's Cosworth. Inside, it was the twin of mine, black leather and all. He was proud of his driving, you could tell, but he drove too close, and at every set of lights he ended up in the wrong lane. I didn't say anything.

Sonny's was the kind of place I didn't think existed anymore – I don't know why, I just didn't. It was in an old crooked house squeezed in between two modern office buildings in a street off Beak Street. The place was quiet when we arrived, with the windows curtained tightly. There was no nameplate or sign to indicate that there was anything unusual inside, just a plain black painted wooden door at the top of three whitewashed stone steps. Seeley rang the doorbell. When an almost invisible shutter opened, I half expected him to say, ‘Joe sent me.' He didn't. He said nothing, but the door opened immediately.

Inside was an entrance hall decorated with the same flock wallpaper that they had in my local Indian restaurant. The door had been opened by a big geezer in a tuxedo, who accepted Seeley's fiver tip like it was his right, and said, ‘You know the way, gents.'

Seeley and Hughes obviously did. I just followed, still buzzing from the coke, along the hall, down two steps, and we were there.

The club itself had been formed by knocking through all the rooms on the ground floor. There was more flock wallpaper, a dark red carpet, Burgundy leather furniture, a small stage, and a dark wooden bar along one wall. George Shearing was playing
Honeysuckle Rose
softly through the speakers at each side of the stage, and draped across a lot of the furniture were the real attractions of the place. Half a dozen or so women ranging in age from their teens to their early thirties, in various stages of undress. As we entered the room they recognised Hughes and Seeley, and we were suddenly surrounded by a crowd of the friendliest whores I've ever seen, all saying hello and rubbing themselves up against our heroes like they'd just liberated Soho from the German army.

One of the girls, a big blonde cruelly corseted in a black basque with a leather micro-skirt and black fishnets on a pair of legs that seemed to go on forever and a day, said, ‘Who's your friend, Roy?' Giving me the once over like I was a fish on a slab.

‘This is Nick,' said Seeley. ‘You want to take care of him, Kylie?'

‘If you'll take care of me first,' she said with a flutter of false eyelashes.

‘Get behind the bar and get us all a drink and I'll see what I can do,' he said.

‘What'll it be?' asked Kylie.

‘The usual, please, darlin'. We've had a good week. We're celebrating. And give us a dry cloth while you're there, there's a love.'

He took a plastic baggie of coke from his jacket pocket. There was enough to get a coach party high – and then some. Just as well, I thought, as I saw the girls' eyes light up at the sight of it. The blonde did as she was told, and went behind the bar and handed Seeley a folded Irish-linen glass cloth, then lined up enough champagne glasses for everyone, took three bottles of Moët from the fridge at the back, and expertly removed the corks without flooding the place. She filled the glasses, and everyone helped themselves.

Meanwhile Seeley wiped the bar top with the cloth to make sure it was dry, then poured out a pile of charlie from the bag, and crushed down the rocks with the edge of a credit card, and pulled out a line about a yard long across the polished surface. Then the trusty fifty came out again.

‘There you go Steph,' he said, and handed it to a dark girl in a red miniskirt and a red see-through blouse which made her breasts look like they were covered in blood, and which turned her nipples the colour of raspberries, and she hoovered about six inches off the line up her nose.

‘Me next,' insisted Kylie, and she took the note from Steph and bent down to snort up her share, and showed a cleavage deep enough to lose your car keys in. She took her hit, and stood back and said, ‘Champagne and coke make me
so
horny.' And gave me a look that could have blistered paint, and dived into her champagne again.

‘You've had a result, mate,' said Ray. ‘That Kylie's a great fuck. Believe me, I know.'

Terrific, I thought. The
Good Housekeeping
Seal of Approval. That's all I need.

We all took our turns at snorting the coke. Afterwards I grabbed Seeley and said, ‘What's this place all about, then?'

‘It's all about tarts, mate. What does it look like?'

‘Are we the only ones here?'

‘It's early yet. It doesn't really get going 'til one or two in the morning. Then it'll be buzzing, you'll see. Are you going off with Kylie, or what?'

‘I don't know yet. What's the deal?'

‘They've got rooms upstairs. It ain't the Ritz, but it does.'

‘How much?' I asked.

‘If you've got to ask, you can't afford.'

‘Bollocks, Roy,' I said. ‘How much?'

‘A couple of hundred, two-fifty. But it's worth it, believe me. Especially with her.'

‘I'll think about it.'

‘Don't think about it too long. She's a popular girl. I'd go case with her myself, but I fancy that Steph something strong. Anyway, don't worry about money. Just have a good time.'

‘I'm not worried about the money,' I said. I wasn't. I just wanted to know the score. Old habits die hard.

I took a sip from my glass and lit a cigarette.

Kylie came out from behind the bar and joined us.

‘Got one for me?' she asked.

‘I'll just bet he has,' said Seeley with a leer.

‘I meant a cigarette, Roy.'

‘Course you did, sweetheart. Only joking. Now I'm going to leave you two alone to get acquainted while I go and have a word with Steph.'

‘Go on, then,' said Kylie. ‘I want to find out all about your friend Nick.'

‘See you then,' said Seeley, and took his glass, and made tracks for the girl with the red see-through blouse.

‘I meant it, you know,' said Kylie. ‘I do want to know everything about you.'

‘No you don't,' I said.

‘You'd be surprised.'

‘No, I wouldn't.'

‘Don't you like me?'

‘Sure I do.'

‘Then let's have another drink.' She stretched over and hooked an open bottle of champagne. As she did so her leather skirt stretched tightly over her buttocks. One up to Kylie. She knew exactly what she was doing. She topped up my glass, and then hers. ‘Cheers,' she said.

‘Cheers,' I replied, and we touched glasses. She looked at me over the rim of hers as she drank. A long bedroom look through wide, cornflower-blue eyes. She stroked her other hand slowly down her body from breast to thigh, feeling every curve, and licked her lips.

‘You remember what I said about coke and champagne?' she said.

‘I remember.'

‘It was true, every word of it.'

‘I guessed it was.'

‘And now I've had both.'

‘So you have.'

‘And now I've got an itch in my cunt that needs scratching.'

‘Any candidate for the scratcher,' I asked.

‘Yes,' she said. ‘You. You look like you might be good at it.'

‘I'm flattered.'

‘I bet you could scratch me raw.'

‘I could try.'

‘Come on, then.'

‘What,
now
?'

‘Yes.'

‘I hate to break up the party.'

‘It'll still be going on when we get back.'

‘OK, let's go then,' I said.

So we did.

I grabbed the champagne bottle, and Kylie took our glasses and her handbag from where she'd been sitting and we made for the exit. On the way I caught Seeley's eye and held up the bottle and pointed at it. He gave me a letter O with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand. I flipped him a wave of thanks, then Kylie and I went out into the front hall, through a door halfway along, then up two flights of steep, narrow stairs, along a dimly-lit corridor, until Kylie opened a door on our left, leaned in, and switched on a light.

‘Come on in,' she said. ‘Be it ever so humble…'