FOURTEEN

Over the years, Chief Rudlow had spent a lot of time in the Penny Dreadful whorehouse, chasing leads, pressing suspects, working the joint over. A place like this represented everything he hated; every bad smell that crept up his nose and lingered for days; every speck of dirt that embedded itself into his skin, no matter how hard he scrubbed in the shower.

Yet after his wife had left him, Rudlow found himself here in a different capacity: he found comfort in the arms of a forty-something chain-smoker called Dolly Bird.

Tonight, Dolly was working the desk.

A typical throwback, she wore a dark wire corset, elbow length satin gloves and a black lace skirt. Bright red hair hung shoulder length. Her make-up was heavy, an ever-present cigarette dangling from royal blue lips.

‘Chief Rudlow,’ she said. ‘Business or pleasure?’

 

He dressed as he always did after the sex: swiftly and with a familiar sense of regret. From somewhere close, a single beep sounded, a reminder that his hour was up, that Dolly needed to get back downstairs, maybe relieve that twelve year old that was covering front desk for her.

But Rudlow wasn’t done.

‘New shipment got through,’ he said, pulling his vest on, still with his back to her. ‘Probably hitting the streets tonight. You can expect trouble.’

He could hear Dolly patting the pillow down, rolling the spent plastic off the bed and binning it in a tub at the door.

‘I’ll keep an eye out,’ she said

Rudlow slipped his shirt on, started to button it.

Dolly came behind him, reaching around his waist, her long, slender fingers moving his hands away and finishing the last few buttons.

Rudlow shrugged Dolly away, reaching for his holster, retrieving the charge gun, checking then sheathing it.

He reached for his cell. Waited for his money to transfer. Found his coat, slipped it on.

‘McBride,’ he said. ‘If I can get McBride, I’ve got Lark’s central source. And I’m on to him, Dolly. Closer than ever.’

Dolly laughed.

‘You’ll never get McBride, sweetheart.’

‘But I’ve got this deal going. Some guy named Garçon.’

‘No matter how many leads or deals you have, or how many men you post at the docks, or the airports or the border.’ Dolly smiled, reaching her hand to his face. ‘Sweet stuff, McBride will always find a way in. Hell, he wouldn’t think twice before paying your men a year’s wage, just to let one shipment through. You can’t compete with that kind of maths and you know it.’

Rudlow felt his fists clench.

‘There was a murder. Geordie Mac, McBride’s main man. Seems drug-related. Killer got away with Geordie’s stash and they’ll be running the streets. So I want to know about any new blood coming in, Dolly, spending money like there’s no tomorrow. Or maybe someone scared. Real scared. God knows, they should be.’

Dolly finished with one cigarette, lit another from its end.

‘I hear anything, babe, you’ll be the first I call,’ she said.

Rudlow looked at her. It was a lingering look and she shifted uncomfortably.

‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Just . . . well, just be careful, hear?’

‘You know it, babe.’

Her words were confident yet the voice was anything but.