Best of British Crime 3 E-Book Bundle. Paul Finch

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СКАЧАТЬ said nothing, merely nodded to another of his goons, a black guy in a t-shirt and wraparound shades, with a physique that suggested he bench-pressed with heavy machinery. The black guy ambled away, and the gangsters resumed their game. There was muted conversation as more cards were placed and the money pile in the middle grew larger. One of the trainee strippers approached with a tray, to collect the empties and take orders for another round. She was dressed only in a thong and heels, but she was thin and pale, and had a vaguely Eastern European look – she was sixteen years old at the most. Heck caught Lauren’s eye. Neither felt sufficiently comfortable to even imply what they were thinking about their new ‘ally’. Heck glanced towards the bar, where the black guy chatted briefly with Lennie Asquith before lumbering back over. He handed Heck two mobile phones, a red one and a blue one.

      ‘Thanks,’ Heck said.

      ‘You’re welcome,’ Ballamara replied without looking up. ‘Goodnight.’

      More sniggers followed. Heck beckoned to Lauren, who hurriedly joined him. Asquith was now waiting beside an open door, beyond which stairs led upward.

      ‘Oh … Heckenburg!’ Ballamara called after them when they were halfway there. They looked back. He continued to lay cards. ‘Do not be fucking me around.’ He took a slug of Scotch. ‘Never make that mistake, Heckenburg. I don’t forget things and I don’t forgive them. You shit on me and I will seriously shit on you.’

      And that was the end of the conversation.

      Asquith led them up the stairs to a first-floor passage that was lit, rather suspiciously, by a crimson light. Numerous doors led off it, but he took them to the one at the end. When he opened it, the room beyond, though plain, was not as seedy as they’d expected. There was one bed, a double – complete with an iron bedstead and duck-down duvet, a writing desk with a chair drawn under it, a sideboard on which a portable television sat, a closet with a slatted door and, besides that, the entrance to a small en suite. The décor was dull – all beige and brown, but at least it was clean. The window looked down on a dismal alley, but they were able to close the blinds and block that out.

      ‘There’s no hidden camera in here, is there?’ Heck asked Asquith. ‘We don’t want to end up for sale in one of your gaffer’s backstreet DVD shops.’

      Asquith almost looked offended. ‘Like we could make money out of you two.’

      He banged the door closed as he went out.

      Lauren shook her head. ‘Heck, you’re not serious about …’

      Heck put a finger to his lips, moved across the room and switched the television on, making sure to turn the volume up. ‘No cameras, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a mike,’ he said quietly.

      ‘You let someone like Ballamara into this investigation, and he’ll ruin the whole …’

      ‘Don’t worry. I’ll feed him some fictional bullshit. All I needed to do was buy us a night.’ He got undressed, stripping down to his boxers.

      ‘Heck, this is a dangerous game we’re playing.’

      ‘This firm’s like a women’s church group compared to the one we’re after.’

      ‘That why, five minutes ago, you looked like you were about to cack your pants?’

      ‘Don’t worry, I’ve got it sorted.’

      He went through to the bathroom, to wash. Lauren wasn’t far wrong though. Despite his bravado, this was a risky strategy. He again considered calling Gemma, not just because the guilt he felt about keeping her in the dark was burning a hole through him, but because her support – in fact any kind of support – would be more than useful. But he was now so far out on a limb that just getting in touch with her would be exactly the wrong thing to do. Even if she believed his theories, she would insist that he came in. She’d probably send units to arrest him. It would be career suicide for her to do otherwise. It didn’t matter if the trail went cold as a result of him being taken off the streets. That could never be her priority now.

      ‘In which case I’m still on my tod,’ he muttered, as he stared at his battered reflection in the mirror. ‘Sorry, Gemm.’

      When he returned to the bedroom, Lauren had stripped to her bra and knickers. It struck him as strange how informal they already were with each other after such a short period of time. Of course, Lauren, being ex-army, was probably well used to being undressed in the company of men. Despite this, she was caught on the hop when Asquith barged back in without knocking.

      ‘Bob says there’s some sandwiches downstairs if you’re hungry.’ His eyes rolled appreciatively over Lauren’s athletic form.

      ‘We’re fine, thanks,’ Heck replied, taking a break from checking the two mobiles, to stare pointedly at him.

      Asquith shrugged and withdrew. The door clicked shut.

      ‘If I’ve got a choice, I’ll take the red one,’ Lauren said, indicating the phones.

      ‘Neither of these are for you, I’m afraid.’

      She looked surprised.

      Heck was about to explain, when he heard a creak from the passage. He moved to the door, yanking it open. Asquith was still there, but immediately headed off towards the top of the staircase. He glanced back innocently.

      ‘Just keep walking, pal,’ Heck said. ‘Or the deal’s off. And you’ll be the one who has to tell your boss why.’

      Asquith curled his lip in a sneer, but vanished down the stairs. Heck closed the door, just as laughter exploded from below. Immediately, the music changed and became louder. The easy melodies of the 1940s were replaced by black metal – thumping, dark-hearted, the vocals shrieked as if by a madman in a cage.

      ‘We’d have been better on a park bench,’ Lauren said, sitting on the bed.

      ‘No we wouldn’t.’ Heck slid under the duvet on the window side. ‘Even if we don’t sleep, we need rest. You don’t mind sharing, by the way? I don’t take up much room.’

      She shook her head, switching the light and TV off before climbing in alongside him. It wasn’t particularly dark; from outside, an on-off neon glow, green one minute and yellow the next, penetrated the thin curtains.

      Lauren chuckled, but there was no humour there. ‘Like a movie, isn’t it?’

      ‘A bit,’ he agreed.

      The tone of her voice changed. ‘Only you’re not much like the cops we see on telly.’

      ‘You mean I’m not as good looking?’

      ‘No, I didn’t say that. I mean … you’ve not got some detective buddy who’s still on the right side of the fence and is now doing everything he can to get you out of the shit.’

      Heck felt her hand on his thigh. He became aware of her proximity. Her trim but feminine curves fitted snugly with his more angular, masculine shape.

      He rolled onto his side so that his back was to her. ‘We should try to sleep, Lauren.’

      In response, she knelt up and reached behind her to loosen the СКАЧАТЬ