Chapter 47

The black Daimler cruised slowly along the narrow street off Shaftsbury Avenue while George peered from the passenger window trying to spot numbers on the doors between the shops and restaurants.

“That’s it! Bob, can you wait here? Keep the engine running and stay in the car. We’ll be less than five minutes but we may need to leave quickly.”

“I could pull into that gap just down there, sir, then there’s no risk of my being moved on.”

“Better still. Come on Nicholas.” George looked at the buttons on the intercom pad beside the door. After a moment’s study, he pressed one. When the intercom crackled, he said, “Client for Miss Bernadette. Are you free?” The intercom crackled again and the door clicked open.

“Is that what Natasha calls herself,” asked Nicholas in a low voice?

“No. That’s the flat on the floor above. I just want to get in. Natasha’s on the second floor.”

George tapped lightly on the door of the flat, turning his back to avoid showing his face to the spy hole and motioning Nicholas to one side. The door opened almost immediately. A tall thin man in an expensive looking, turtleneck sweater stood in the doorway. He was cleanly shaved, well groomed and smelled strongly of expensive cologne. He raised one eyebrow in enquiry. George had been prepared for this and played his only card.

“I’ve come to get the new girl. Michael wants her.”

The man smiled slightly and without humour. “How interesting. My name is Michael.” George had not been prepared for that and he was not prepared when the man raised his hand revealing that he was holding something black; a gun. He found he was holding the man’s stare, like a gambler who has just bet his pot and had his ace trumped.

He let out the breath he had been holding and heard himself say, “I’m still taking Natasha with me. If you want to stop me, you’ll have to take me out.” He remembered afterwards how naturally the language of TV crime drama came to his lips when someone pointed a gun at him. Afterwards he remembered Nicholas pushing past him but at the time he heard more than saw a kick and a punch, both delivered within less than a second, and the man collapsed to one side, clutching his genitals and retching, the gun clattering away across the floor.

“Shit! I’ve split my trousers. I paid a fortune for these, said Nicholas’ voice.”

George recovered his wits. “Natasha! Where are you?”

“Here, George.”

“Come on; we’re getting out of here!”

“I’ll get dressed.” George noticed for the first time that she was wearing a flimsy lilac slip and high heeled shoes.

“No! There isn’t time. Come as you are.” He peeled off his jacket. “Grab your bag. Quick.” All three thudded down the stairs and raced up the pavement to where the car was waiting. “Let’s go, Bob. Quick as you like.”

“Where to, sir?” The driver gave the impression that he was accustomed to breathless men and half dressed women hurling themselves into the car.

“My flat, please, Bob.” Nicholas turned from the front seat to speak to Natasha. “You’ll be safe there until this is all sorted out.”

“I’ve nothing to wear. And who are you?”

Nicholas twisted further to stretch his hand to Natasha. “I’m Nicholas. I’m your personnel manager. From the bank.”

She took the outstretched hand suspiciously between her fingers and thumb and released it almost immediately. “I’ve still got no clothes.”

“That’s okay. Belle will lend you some.”

George thought he had misheard. “Bill? Who’s Bill?”

“My, er… flatmate. His friends call him Belle.”

“Oh!” There was heavy silence in the car. Then Natasha giggled.

“I shall be perfectly safe, then.”

“You’re a dark horse, Nicholas. And what was all that about back there?”

“Mmm. I rather surprised myself, actually. I’ve never done that in anger. I’m not really allowed to but he did have a gun so I suppose it was self-defence. Kung Fu, George. Two years of Tuesday evenings in the gym. I took it up because I sometimes have problems… well, you know… and I wanted to be able to know I could handle it, so… Anyway, I may be skinny and wiry, but apparently good training works on anybody, eh? Shall I drop you off at the tube?”

“Er… yes please. I’ve just remembered. You said, at the house, you wanted me for something.”

“Oh yes. I’d forgotten too. Actually it’s Sir Alec who wants to talk to you. He’s back tomorrow. I’ll give him your number. Okay if we drop you off here? Pull over please, Bob.”