Maloney's Law (6 page)

Chapter Five

‘I think you’ve been lucky, that’s all I can say.’

‘I know.’ I open my eyes and smile at Jade. We’re sitting in the brightness of her living room, a place of flowers and soft corners, cotton and lace. Of course, being Jade, the colours of all these objects are red and green, yellow and blue, but somehow the delicacy hasn’t been lost. Just reinterpreted. The armchair, for instance, is shabby, and there’s a hint of lavender polish in the air. In the background, the radio is tuned to Classic FM and someone is requesting “The Lark Ascending”. Why do they always play that? After the Egyptian experience two days ago, it wouldn’t be the piece of music I’d choose, but it’s Saturday afternoon, I’m alive, and there’s nothing I have to do that can’t wait. Here is a good place to be.

‘It never used to be like this,’ she grumbles, collapsing into the sofa opposite me and readjusting one of her long, sapphire earrings. ‘You know, when I first started working for you, it was much more relaxed. None of these knife attacks, derring-do, and swinging from high-up ledges at dead of night. Why can’t you stick to insurance claims and divorce cases? At least then you wouldn’t be shot at, and I know I’ve said it before but I’ll say it now; I’d feel a lot happier if you had someone look at that arm.’

‘It’s fine. Flesh wound, that’s all.’

‘Yes, but—’

‘No. Really. The bullet passed through, there’s no danger. I’ve looked at it, and you’ve looked at it. I’m grateful you’re a genius with the iodine.’

‘And you’re a genius with the clenched teeth and gasping thing. I don’t mind if you swear. I’m a lapsed Baptist, remember?’

‘No way. Can’t have you fainting just when I need you.’

The radio hums and soars its rhythm, and the taste of the Rioja we’ve opened is mellow on my tongue. Not as punchy as whisky or as refreshing as a beer, but it’s a reasonable substitute. Jade’s lived in Stratford for two years, five months, and two weeks now, and it’s not a bad place. Not too far from the main shops and station, and near enough to some essential green space to be desirable. The area is up and coming. As opposed to where I am in Hackney, which is down and out.

‘Paul?’

‘Hmm?’

‘You haven’t told me much about the morning meeting with the CEO. Did you manage to get anything else out of Delta Egypt, apart from a bird’s eye view of The Nile? Mr. Kenzie didn’t let slip any mentions of Bluesky or anything useful?’

I shift in my seat and put down my wine. ‘No time to ask. Blake saw through my feeble disguise in less than thirty seconds, made a series of threats, and then bounced me out of the building.’

‘What sort of threats?’

‘The usual, nothing to worry about.’ Picking up my wine again, I rock it in my hand and watch the liquid undulate ’round the glass. ‘Any plans for tonight at all?’

Jade shakes her head. ‘I don’t know, all these years we’ve known each other and you think I can’t see through you. Don’t bother changing the subject. What threats?’

‘Honestly, nothing I didn’t anticipate.’

‘Except?’

‘Except he knew about Teresa.’

Jade doesn’t reply, and when I look at her, she’s leaning forward, a frown on her face. ‘I didn’t think you talked to anyone about your sister.’

‘I don’t. Not now.’

‘So how did he...?’

‘I don’t know. Look, I’m sorry, but I think he was just trying for a reaction. And he got it. Can we talk about something else?’

Reaching across, she pats my hand, her fingers cool, and then smiles, ‘In answer to your previous question, I don’t have any plans. Nothing social that is, present company excepted. Supper, wine, TV, book, bed. In that order. You?’

‘Same.’

‘Want to join up our action-packed social programmes?’

‘No, sorry, though it sounds tempting. I want to have at least another spin through the Delta Egypt files this evening. See if anything springs out.’

‘We can do that together now if you like.’

‘No, that’s okay. I’d like to look at it on my own first. Let’s leave any brainstorming session ’til Monday. I’m not planning to ring Dominic ’til then. There is one thing you could do for me, though.’

‘Name it.’

Struggling up from the chair, I pad to the set of hooks I put up for her last year, reach inside my jacket, and find the object I’m looking for. ‘Could you keep this for me? Don’t do any work on it. In fact, I forbid it. Leave it to Monday. But it’s just in case—’

‘Sure, no problem.’ Jade takes the CD from my fingers and then wrinkles her nose. ‘Wait a minute. It’s not the one you were carrying when you peed yourself, is it?’

‘Don’t be stupid. Haven’t you heard of gravity? It’s safe enough. Anyway, it’s a copy. The original’s with me. I do have some taste and sense of propriety.’

‘Glad to hear it. Just testing.’

‘Yeah, sure, don’t tell me. I’m easy to tease. And after daring to forbid you to do something, I deserve it.’ I drain my wine and shrug my jacket over my shoulders. Not that I need it in this weather, but Dominic once told me how good I looked in it. ‘I’d best go. Thanks for the afternoon break.’

‘My pleasure.’ She takes a breath and then stops, as if drawing something back that hasn’t yet been spoken.

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’

‘No, go on, if there’s something else on your mind — apart from warnings about jumping out of Egyptian buildings and not going to the doctor — let’s hear it.’

There’s a silence then she says, ‘It wasn’t anything special. All I was going to say was I’m having Sunday lunch with my parents tomorrow. Do you want to come? They’ll be thrilled to see you.’

‘A plan to cheer me up by putting me into a family that works?’

‘No. It’s not like that, I was just—’

‘Yes, I know. I was trying to be light-hearted, but it failed. Sorry. It sounds like my idea of happiness. I’m up for it, thanks.’

At the door, I make arrangements to pick Jade up in the morning. As I drive home, out of all the factors I can puzzle over, I choose to focus again on why someone with her looks and heart doesn’t have a regular partner. Or any kind of partner at all.

In the kitchen, the sunlight is fading. When I get up to turn on the overhead light, my knees creak and my neck aches. Too much time spent peering at the laptop, trying to make sense of the information I’ve uploaded from the Delta Egypt CD. I stretch my muscles in the darkness before heading for the switch. It’s part of my business to spend hours going over and over the same facts or following the same person until suddenly the key will fit or the one tiny piece of the jigsaw will cry out to you and you’ll see something no-one else wanted you to see. That’s the kick, that’s what keeps me going.

It’s not going to happen tonight. Four hours and fifty-two minutes of studying the facts, and I am nowhere near the door, let alone the key. The jigsaw is still just a mass of colours and shapes that make no sense.

Only one thing for it. Time for a whisky. But which one? The glass sparkles in my hand, and I smile. It’s not necessary, but I wash and dry the tumbler. Slowly, as if every centimetre of it counts. The traffic outside is thinning, with just one or two groups of teenagers skulking and smoking at the corners where the shadows begin and two or three women wheeling their prams on the other side of the road to avoid them.

I put the glass on the middle of the table, moving the laptop to one side to allow it room.

I open the kitchen drinks cupboard and study the three choices of whisky currently in the flat, though from preference I’d rather have four. First there’s the Glenfiddich, as light as water in colour, but with a smell to it of barley and honey and the deep taste of malt. A whisky for early summer evenings that promise the full heat of the days to come. It’s not for now. Behind it, the Highland Park glistens amber, and if I open it I know the smell of medicine and smoke will envelop me, and the taste once taken will be full and sweet. It’s the drink for when I’m tired or ill. Not too strong and not too weak; it knows where I am and how to reach me. The perfect answer? No, still it’s not quite right. Last of all is The Macallan, rarely opened, its rich toffee glow hinting of secrets not yet understood, not yet known. Yes, this is the one. As I release it, the smell of new leather and dark Spanish sherry settles around me, and I pour a double measure, more, into my waiting glass. The golden liquid swings round, marking its place, waiting for me, calling. I take one deep breath of it, two, and I could already be swimming in its tempting river. My heart beats faster. My skin feels hot.

I savour the first, the best, sip, and the pungent wave of whisky sweeps me away from all lingering thoughts. I could almost be flying.

It’s too good for the kitchen with its smell of stale cooking and damp. So, anticipating my next sip but holding out just a little longer, just a little, I power down my laptop and take the glass and myself into the living room.

The next sip tastes even more powerful. It reminds me of the man who bought it for me. It takes me back to Dominic and the very beginning of it all.

Friday 12 May, 2000. I’d been working for one of my regular clients, a local insurance company, and had carried out surveillance on a bloke who was suing their insured for tens of thousands of pounds. For alleged injuries caused by non-maintenance of the drills he had to use on the road. Load of old baloney. I’d filmed him at least six times pounding away on the running machines at the gym, the idiot, and the case fell apart. One of my most satisfying moments, work-wise, and one of the most lucrative, too. My client had been grateful enough to wangle me an invite to their posh summer do in the City and, as Jade had been nagging me for ages to get out and meet more people, in the end I’d gone along. Taken her with me, too. I’m not one of those who likes to flaunt his sexuality. What’s private is private.

When we arrived, the party was seething with suits and sparkle, canapés and champagne, and Jade’s eyes shone in the glow.

‘Hey,’ I whispered. ‘Bet you’re glad you’re best friends with this old queen now, aren’t you?’

She giggled, and the next thing I knew we were engulfed in a tide of laughter, glasses, and talking to strangers. Jade disappeared, and I didn’t see her again to talk to until we both left at 1.15am. In the glimpses I had, she was laughing or dancing.

After nearly thirty minutes, I’d said the same things to at least twelve people I’d never meet again and spoken twice to my client. Pushing my way through the crowd and seeing a side door marked “No Exit”, I opened it and slipped out into the clarity of the night air.

At once the heat and brightness of the hotel was cut off, and I breathed in deeply, filling myself with the relative silence you get in the City sometimes. As far as I could tell, I was in a small garden, lavender and rosemary from the faint traces of scent. I’ve always thought that, at times like that, you needed a smoke, even if you were in the early stages of trying to give the demon up, and so I retrieved my emergency pack from my jacket and started to search for the lighter.

No luck.

‘Damn,’ I muttered.

A rustling sound to my left and one of the shadows detached itself from the hedge, fire flashing at its centre.

‘Here,’ said a voice, male, powerful, older. ‘Allow me.’

I lowered my cigarette to the flame he offered and took a quick first drag. ‘Thanks. I’m trying to give them up.’

‘So I see.’

He took out a cigarette of his own, lit it, and we both stood for a minute or two in silence. The smoke warmed my throat like a kiss.

‘Do you like parties?’ he said.

Peering into the gloom, I tried to make out his face, but it was too dark.

‘No. Not my scene. I’m Paul, by the way. Paul Maloney.’

‘I know.’

Something inside me jack-knifed, and I stubbed out my cigarette on the wall behind me. ‘Oh. How?’

‘I asked around. I have my sources.’

‘I’m sure you do. Why would you want to know?’

He didn’t reply at first and I fought the urge to get out. Fast. There was something about him that drew me to stay. Besides, I assumed it was business, and, as always, I needed the cash. His problem would be something domestic: divorce or maybe even fraud. When it came, his answer told me nothing.

‘That’s not important, not yet,’ he said. ‘The important thing is that neither of us wants to be in the hotel right now.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘You’re very curious, aren’t you?’

‘Questions are my business,’ I said and then added, stupidly, ‘No, they’re my life.’

Another silence then, but the quality of it had changed, as if something between us was beginning to ease itself up, out, free, into a form I couldn’t comprehend. My heart was beating fast. And still I couldn’t see his face.

‘There are other ways of communicating, Paul,’ he said at last. ‘Questions don’t always give people what they want.’

‘Maybe. Maybe not,’ I replied, my voice scratchy and strange. ‘Anyway, Mr. Cigarette Lighter Provider, just what is it you want? And, yes, I know that’s a question, but you’ll just have to live with it.’

‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell you what I want, although I would have preferred a little more time to lead us there. I want to have sex with you.’

I couldn’t help it. I laughed. ‘What, here?’

‘Yes, here. It’s quiet, it’s not cold, and it’s dark.’ I stopped laughing. ‘You’re serious.’

‘Indeed.’

Okay, I thought. It was one year, seven months and nine days since I’d played the gay clubbing scene, the Saturday before I set up my company, and it had never been in a place as high-class as this. Not only that but, sexually speaking, things had been dead for a while. Maybe this would be the kick-start I needed to get living again, and at least no-one would find out.

The decision made, I reached out and met the cool flesh of his arm.

‘What do you prefer?’ I asked, tugging him backwards into who knew what, but it would be away from the door. ‘Hand or mouth?’

‘No choice. Mouth,’ he said and kissed me. It was like opening a door to a room filled with spices, but a second later one important fact crystallised, and I pushed him away, ignoring the fizz of blood to my head.