For Your Own Protection(63)

Gambling really was a game for mugs.

‘Hi,’ Matt said to the suited man sitting next to him. He was in his mid to late thirties, sporting a dark, closely cropped beard. The guy smiled tightly, seemingly irritated at Matt’s attempt at conversation. ‘I was wondering, do you know James Farrah? He’s a regular here.’ The man just glowered at him before turning his attention back to the game, making his response crystal clear – the conversation was not going to happen.

Matt felt himself flush at the blunt rejection, and played again.

Another loss.

At this rate, his money wouldn’t last long.

One of the other players left the table for the bar, and Matt looked at the other remaining person. An older man of Eastern European appearance – he could have been Polish or maybe Russian – he didn’t meet Matt’s smile and merely turned away. There would be no point in engaging him further. Matt looked again at the croupier, opened his mouth to speak, but then thought better of it.

This had been a stupid idea.

Matt headed back to the bar, but on the way an opportunity presented itself. He saw the receptionist. Surely if anyone would know a particular member of the club, it would be the person on reception. It looked as though she was heading for the toilets, so Matt upped his pace to intercept her.

‘Excuse me?’ he said, just as she was reaching for the door handle.

She stopped dead, confused by the interruption. ‘Yes?’

‘I’m looking for someone,’ Matt began, instantly regretting his choice of words – he had meant to say something that came across as more casual, instead of sounding like he was leading a manhunt. She already looked like she was on edge. ‘My friend, James Farrah. He’s gone missing, and I’m just trying to piece together his last movements. I wondered whether you knew him.’

‘Sorry,’ she said, stony-faced. ‘I’m not allowed to discuss other members.’

‘But you do know him?’

‘I’m sorry,’ she repeated. ‘I can’t discuss the business of other members. The company prides itself on its approach to matters of confidentiality. I’m sorry.’ She went to pull at the door, but Matt stopped it with his foot. He saw the look on her face and immediately withdrew it. ‘Thank you,’ she said, pointedly.

‘Is there anyone who could talk to me?’ Matt said, as she opened the door.

‘I’m afraid not,’ she replied, as the door shut behind her.



Despite feeling a deep sense of unease and a realisation that any other attempts at getting information would probably be fruitless, Matt resisted the temptation to quit, and instead got himself another drink. Maybe inspiration would strike.

He retreated to one of the sofas that ran along the edge of the balcony.

‘Are you police?’

Matt turned his head. The croupier from the roulette table was peering over the railing at the gaming area below. ‘Pardon?’

‘Are you police?’

‘No.’

‘Didn’t think so. Listen, I’d leave if I were you. Right now.’

‘Leave? Why?’

But the croupier had already gone. Matt got to his feet, but there was no sign of him. He looked down at his quarter-drunk Coke before deciding to heed the man’s warning. At the very least, his clumsy attempt to find out information had attracted the wrong kind of attention. He headed for the exit.

Just as he neared the archway that led back through to the reception area, he felt a hand grip his left arm from behind, and another hand take hold of his jacket collar. The force of the hold was vice-like. His assailant directed him to the right, and Matt stumbled as the person’s weight bore down on him. For a split second, he considered fighting to break free, but then, in one of the mirrored walls, he caught a glimpse of the hulk of the person who had him in his grasp.

It was obvious that resisting would only make things worse.





CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE


Matt submitted to the man’s pushes and shoves as he was propelled down the corridor. The guy hadn’t said a word – his attention appeared totally focused on the task at hand.

‘I’ll leave,’ Matt said, trying to initiate conversation, his voice cracking with fear and anxiety. ‘If that’s what this is about, I’ll go, right now.’ And that was the truth. If he could have wished himself out of this place, he’d have done so in a heartbeat.

But the man said nothing. He was probably looking forward to launching him out of a back exit. Stomach churning, Matt’s mind flashed back to the terrifying experience with Tyrone in the alleyway – how scared he had been. He felt just as fearful now. Except that this time, Harvey wasn’t there to protect him.

They continued to the foot of a staircase.

‘Up to the top,’ the man instructed. ‘I’ll be right behind you. Don’t try anything funny. It won’t end well.’ He released his grip. ‘Up.’

Matt climbed the stairs, with the man right at his back. It wasn’t clear how he could have tried anything, given the hopeless situation he was in.

‘Knock,’ the man said, when they reached the closed door at the top.

Matt did as instructed. His hand was shaking as he brought his fist up to the wood of the door. The knock was weak and nervous.