The Sister(105)

He locked the car and as he walked away, still deep in thought he almost collided with a powerfully built man crammed into an ill-fitting suit. Lynch scowled at him, although he was the one at fault. The man tipped an imaginary cap at him.

For a second, the gangster wondered whose minder he was.





Later, in the club, Tony told his boss about this great idea he’d had. Lynch listened, his eyes narrowing as mumbled his way through a brief outline of his plan.

He clapped Tony on the back. ‘You know what, Tony? I can see you going places with ideas like that, mate!’ They shook hands vigorously. Lynch called out to a waitress who was hovering attentively nearby.

‘Let’s have some more shampoo!’





Chapter 89



Friday night, 23 March





At precisely 8:30, the telephone rang persistently. She was already with Kennedy and remembered the caller had instructed her not to answer it.

Grunting with irritation, he stretched over to pick it up. She’d anticipated he’d do that, and rolled him back, getting herself on top of him.

‘You don’t really want me to take a call right now,’ she said and reached down between her legs, her hand encircling him. ‘Do you?’

‘No, I don’t think I do now.’ He gasped as she manoeuvred herself onto his length. The answer phone seemed to take forever to kick in. She rode him slowly at first, looking deep into his eyes. He stared at her in child-like wonder. Reaching over to the bedside table, she saw a message icon appear on the phone display. Curiosity threatened to get the better of her. The caller had told her she was not to listen to it. Now she was more interested than ever in what it said. Kennedy began thrusting faster, a look of grim determination on his face. She slowed him down.

‘Whoa, you forgot to put this on.’ She waggled the condom she’d just unwrapped.

‘Shit!’ he said, as she withdrew herself from him.

‘We don’t usually?’

‘No, but I lost my pills yesterday. I can’t take the chance, you know that.’

‘Okay,’ he whispered. ‘Put it on with your mouth.’





Just after ten, Melissa rang the telephone number the caller gave her.

‘He’s gone. I did as you asked.’

‘Excellent, then I’ll bring your stuff back to you right away.’

‘Hang on a minute, I’m really tired. Can’t this wait until the morning?’ She wanted her possessions back; she also wanted more time to think. She had toyed with the idea of having a reception committee for him when he came, and she suspected the police would be more than happy to oblige, but she soon dismissed it when she realised she might lose all the money and her dossier on Danny. They’d have a field day and he’d probably kill her. She also thought about having Danny’s men meet him, but that was also out of the question. What could she possibly fabricate to tell him without arousing suspicion? Besides, what would happen if one of his men got hold of the files she’d been keeping?

Melissa realised how tightly wrapped the caller had her.

‘I’ll see you in a couple of minutes.’

If she’d looked through her door viewer, she would have seen him standing there already. Kennedy had left, and he was concerned she hadn’t called him straight away.

He couldn’t risk her listening to the message he’d left; she might delete it. He rang the bell.

She saw the back of him through the security viewer; he had a carrier bag with him, the same Harrods bag she’d stashed the money away into in the first place.

She let him in.

Face to face and fully in the light, although his ugliness scared her; she found herself strangely turned on by the power he held over her.

They moved down to her lounge. He sat uninvited placing her bag and another one he was carrying between his feet. She noticed he was dressed strangely.

He saw her looking at his taped up wrists and ankles. ‘It’s okay; I’m on the job, just diverted round here, no time to change.’ His lips tightened, baring his teeth. His eyes grew colder.

She’d just begun to read the newspaper when he rang. Gasman strikes for the third time.

She was feeling uneasy, bordering on dread; she wanted him out of there as quick as possible.

‘That’s my money and stuff I presume?’ She saw something she was unable to make out in the other bag; it looked floppy the way it laid, reminding her of the deflated armbands she used to carry in a bag to the beach when she was a kid. There was something else in there too, the size of a large tin of beer.

He handed her the money and her files. She looked relieved. ‘You see, I keep my promises. Now what do you have for me?’

‘I’ll get it,’ she said, getting up.

In the kitchen, she opened the fridge; it was one of those huge American-style ones with a drinks dispenser and icemaker on one side. She retrieved the package she put there earlier, double wrapped as instructed, the outer layer wrapped in cling film. She closed the fridge door and turned.

He clamped her with a huge gloved hand, sealing her mouth shut, driving her back into the fridge. Her scream was stifled. She realised who he was for the first time.

Her eyes were wide with terror as he explained.

‘I told you I’m on a job. I’m here to fix a leak.’