Chapter 17

 

The smell of barbecued food that filled his nostrils was indication enough that Milton had reached the correct destination for the party.

His taxi driver had put on the usual tiresome act of not knowing where he was going despite the help of Stardust’s map, but Milton had been in Dubai long enough now to know the general direction.

He could hear the music coming over the high walls of the compound as he opened the narrow gate and walked through. Inside there were six bungalow villas that encircled a large kidney-shaped swimming pool, which in turn was surrounded by plenty of grass that extended to the villa porches.

“Milton!” Jacks called from behind a large picnic table covered in meats of all shapes and sizes. Milton could just about make him out through the smoke.

He placed down an extended fork and licked his fingers before shaking Milton’s hand.

“Glad you could make it. We’re in for a hell of day,” he said.

Jacks was playing the part of the perfect host. He was wearing a bright yellow Hawaiin shirt and was ensuring everyone had a beer in their hand and had placed an order for food.

“We’ve got steaks, hot dogs, burgers, prawns, baked potatoes. It’s the smorgasbord of all smorgasbords. What do you fancy?” He turned to Milton who was in awe by what he could see.

“You sure know how to throw a party, Carson,” said Milton as two bikini-laden beauties walked past and jumped into the pool. “Beer’s fine, Carson.”

“I just like to call it a gathering of beautiful people. It’s the Middle East’s version of MTV’s The Grind,” replied Jacks as he cracked open a beer and handed it to Milton.

“Make yourself at home, John. That’s my pad over there. Living either side of me are Chalky and Stardust and the others belong to Lenny, JT and Kirk. It’s quite a neighbourhood eh?”

That had to be the understatement of the year. Not only did these guys work and socialise together, they also lived in their own compound.

Stardust came out of the front door of his villa assisted by Pups as the two struggled with a huge bin full of ice. They parked it next to the table which acted as the bar and started throwing cans of beer into the bin.

“Milton, my ol’ pal. Great to see you here,” said Stardust. “My home is your home, mate. If you need anything like a toilet or a lie down - if you know what I mean - just help yourself.” Then he leaned closer and whispered, “the rubbers are in the top drawer by the side of the bed.”

There was indeed as fine a spread of women as there was food. Kirk was already in the pool chatting to a couple of top-heavy beauties and Pups stripped off to his trunks and jumped in to join him.

But Milton hadn’t come here to party; well, at least that wasn’t his prime reason. He needed to find out more about Jacks and he had to choose his moment well. He felt there must be a treasure trove of secrets hidden in that villa of his. However, he couldn’t just go and snoop around. He had to be patient and wait for his chance.

The party gathered pace under the blistering sun as the beers flowed and the food gradually disappeared. There were over 100 people there at its peak, many of whom Milton had never seen before, but they were all well aware of who Jacks was.

Jacks had the women drooling over him and the men wanting to be seen in his company. He had seen this scenario before during his first encounter in the Carter’s Bar. Jacks played everyone off perfectly and was slapping high fives with anyone who offered the palm of a hand and he kissed more female cheeks than a newly wed.

The guy was sheer class. He could easily see how the man had commanded so much respect. During the whole time he had been in Dubai, he had not heard a bad word said against him and, should there ever be, that person would have to face the wrath of a loyal militia.

Towards late afternoon, Milton saw Jacks walk into his villa so he grabbed his chance. He left it a couple of minutes before walking through the same front door and calling out with a drunken slur, “Stardust, are you here?”

Jacks came into the hallway sporting a change of clothes.

“Sorry, John boy, you’ve got the wrong house. Come in anyway.”

Milton gladly accepted and walked through the hallway and into the living area. Inside there was a huge television flanked by speakers. Modern art pictures adorned the walls and the furniture was jet black leather.

In the corner of the room there was what looked like a shrine.

“Cracking place this, Carson,” Milton said as he walked towards the corner.

“Not bad at all, mate. Beer?”

Milton accepted and caught a can thrown from the door by Jacks.

Milton meandered towards the corner of the room and could make out a dozen or so pictures of Carson in military uniform: some of him in desert terrain, some as part of a group and some in various other landscapes.

“The military is what brought me here in the first place, John. If it weren’t for the military I would probably be working in some shop or factory back in the UK.”

Milton caught sight of a couple of medals, probably from tours of duty, before Jacks placed an arm on his shoulder and ushered him away from the corner.

“There are a dozen beautiful women out there and you are in here looking at my army pictures. C’mon, John, let’s go and rejoin the party.”

Milton agreed and they walked back outside into the dimming late afternoon sunshine.

The party was indeed in full swing but Milton was unable to get in the mood. He talked to girls and joined in the swimming pool games just to keep his cover, but he had other things on his mind now. He knew that Jacks had moved him away from that corner of his house quickly for a reason. Somewhere among that pile of memorabilia was the story of Carson Jacks and Milton knew he had to get back in there somehow.