For Your Own Protection(37)

Harvey turned his back on the group. ‘Just wait here a few seconds, hope they move on. You don’t want them to come over. If they start to cross the road, I got a plan. Just pray you never find out what it is.’

Matt was terrified, while Harvey looked like he was enjoying the brush with danger.

‘Don’t look at them,’ Harvey instructed, as Matt’s eyes darted across to the group. They’d drawn level now, still looking uninterested in anything but their own business. ‘Get your wallet out.’

‘What?’

‘Your wallet, get it out, bruv.’

Matt hesitated. ‘You’re . . .’

Harvey’s eyes were insistent.

‘Okay,’ Matt said, taking out his wallet.

‘Pass me across some notes. It don’t matter how much.’

Matt picked out a twenty and handed it to Harvey.

‘Good man. Here you go.’ Harvey placed a bag of white powder into Matt’s hand, closing his palm over it before Matt could reject the swap.

Matt looked at Harvey for further instructions, shocked at what he had been left holding. Matt had never taken drugs, although he had seen cocaine more times than he cared to remember. Smoking and drinking to excess were frowned upon at UGT, but cocaine use was more than tolerated.

‘Put the bag in your pocket,’ Harvey said, his back still to the group. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll swap back in a few minutes. Just as soon as those guys go. Are they movin’ away?’

Matt ventured a look across. ‘Yes. They’re walking off now.’

Harvey smiled. ‘Excellent. Now you continue off down the road. The club is just on the right: the Underground. I’ll be along in a minute.’





CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE


Michael Thornbury stood in his flat, staring at the ringing phone.

Unknown number.

He let it ring another ten times before answering. He held the phone to his ear, not saying a word.

‘Check out the news,’ the voice said.

The call cut off.

That voice. It was him . . .

His hands shaking, Michael opened up the BBC News app on his phone.

The breaking-news headline was chilling.

‘Please, God, no.’

He clicked on the story, then sank to his knees, and burst into tears.





CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX


Matt continued along the road, leaving Harvey standing on the pavement. Despite himself, he ventured another quick glance at the gang of youths, who had stopped again, some way back along the road. None of them seemed to be looking in his direction. He already felt under threat, just being here, dressed like the City banker he used to be. It shocked him just how uncomfortable he could feel in the city he called home. This place certainly seemed like another world to the one he knew: unfamiliar and threatening.

The club was guarded by a doorman, a big black guy with a scrutinising stare. Matt smiled self-consciously at him, expecting to be challenged, but the bouncer pulled open the door without question, letting the throbbing music out into the street.

Inside the club, Matt looked around. If he had felt uncomfortable on the streets, that feeling was magnified several times in here. Off to the right was a smallish raised dance floor, crammed with gyrating men and women, with lights pulsing to the beat.

Matt couldn’t see any other white faces. Or anyone else dressed like a banker. But no one seemed to care.

‘What can I get you?’

Matt turned to the woman who had shouted the question. For a split second, he thought he was being propositioned, but then he noticed the ‘Underground’ motif on her black T-shirt. She watched for a response through unfeasibly long, jet-black eyelashes.

Matt peered over towards the bar area. Except there was no bar. It was just a counter.

‘We don’t have no bar,’ she explained. ‘Drinks are in the back. Orders are from the floor.’

Without any of the usual visual clues – beer pumps, bottles of spirits stacked along the back wall – his mind was a blank. Then he noticed that nearly all of the revellers were drinking the same – something from a yellow-and-black-striped bottle.

‘I’ll have one of those.’

She nodded. ‘You know what it is, yeah?’

‘Not a clue.’

She smiled. ‘We’ve got lager too. Bud.’

‘No, I’ll have one of those.’

She slapped him on the arm. ‘Good man. I’ll be right back.’

Matt waited self-consciously, alone in the energetic crowd as a river of people flowed past him on either side. He glanced over at the door, wishing Harvey would appear and rescue him from his social discomfort. But there was no sign of him. Matt wondered why Harvey had stayed outside. Was he planning to challenge the gang, to tell them to get off his turf?

The music seemed to increase in volume as a new track kicked in. The dancers were really going for it, and the dance floor itself was spreading out as people joined in.

‘Here you go,’ the woman said, handing Matt the bottle. ‘That’ll be five pounds.’

Matt delved into his pocket, only then remembering he was in possession of a bag of Class A drugs. A wave of anxiety washed through him as he imagined an imminent police raid – being caught with cocaine would stop any teaching career dead in its tracks. He couldn’t get rid of that bag soon enough.