“What is it Frank? You’ve been somewhere else all evening.”
Frank looked up from his steak, fork paused halfway to his mouth.
He nodded, then put his fork down, so he could take a sip of wine. “Yes, you’re right,” he said. “Sorry about that, but I had a rather strange text message earlier today.”
Karla leant forward, elbows on the table, her large wine glass cupped between her hands.
“Oh?” she said.
As he picked up his fork again, Frank was struck by how beautiful she looked under the dim restaurant lights. He chewed slowly, taking his time, trying to delay the inevitable, knowing it would probably be a mistake to tell her.
Karla put down her glass and touched her fingertips to the back of his hand. “Tell me,” she said.
He looked at her and smiled, a part of him glad that he had somebody he could share it with, but frightened she would be upset when he told her.
“Well,” he began tentatively, “I was out running this afternoon, up by the loch, you know, that place I like to exercise?”
She nodded, saying nothing.
After taking another sip of wine, he continued: “Well, I got this funny text message from a number I didn’t recognise.” He hesitated again, putting another forkful into his mouth.
Karla didn’t respond, just took slow sips from her glass as she waited for him to carry on. Frank picked up on her mood. He could see that she wasn’t about to try to pry it out of him, but he could tell that she was getting impatient. It was a tacit message, but one he couldn’t afford to ignore.
He sat back with a slight frown. “It said I should ring the number if I wanted to know why Mandy had died,” he finally said.
That got a reaction from Karla and she leant forward, eyes widening as she lowered her glass to the table.
“Yeah, I know,” he said. “Not why she committed suicide, but why she died.”
“And did you ring?”
Frank nodded, spearing a piece of steak and putting it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
Karla kicked his leg under the table. “You really can be the most frustrating man, do you know that Frank Collins? What happened?”
It may have been a small victory, but it was one that lightened Frank’s dark mood a little. He chuckled, taking a large gulp of wine to wash down the steak so he could speak. Wiping his mouth with his napkin he shrugged his agreement.
“Any-wise,” he said, “when I rang the number, a young girl said she couldn’t talk right then. That she’d call me back later, which she did - a couple of hours later. And here’s the strange thing.” Frank leant forward, voice lowered so they couldn’t be overheard. “When she did ring back, she told me that she had proof that Mandy hadn’t committed suicide at all. She warned me not to go to the police yet as it would mean a lot of trouble for her if I did. I got the impression she was terrified of something or somebody. She wouldn’t tell me anything more than that. Said she wanted to meet up with me, and she’d tell me everything about it then.”
Karla took another sip of wine, her gaze locked on his. “And did you agree to meet her?” she asked.
Frank hesitated, knowing that if he said yes, it would lead to further questions he didn’t want to answer right then, but that if he lied, Karla would eventually find out, and that would be the end of their relationship.
Frank decided to go with the truth for once.
Taking both her hands in his, he flicked his tongue over the scar on his lip, looking into her eyes.
“Okay,” he said, “yes I did. She wants money for the information. A lot of it. So she can get away and set up home somewhere else.”
“What’s a lot?”
“Ten thousand.”
Karla gasped, then let out a muted laugh. Dropping his hands, she sat back, her disbelief obvious. “And you believed her?” Karla shook her head. “She’s obviously lying. And anyway, where would you get that kind of money?”
And there it was - the question he knew she’d ask - the question he really didn’t want to answer, because he knew it had the power to tear them apart.
*
Karla watched Frank struggle with her question, her stomach dropping as she realised that she might not want to hear the answer. A coldness seized her and she held up her hand to stop him, but he’d already begun to answer.
“Well there’s something I haven’t told you,” he said.
She sat silently as the person she loved - had so foolishly trusted - explained about the man who’d been waiting for him when he’d got out of prison, and the note from his old boss, trying to buy back Frank’s loyalty with a huge payback. He went on to explain that he’d thrown away the password, vowing never to touch the money that Jeffrey Hunter had offered him.
Karla was stunned, wavering between awe and disbelief that someone could turn their back on such a large amount of money, just toss it away like a piece of trash. But more than that, she was angry that he’d kept this from her, had once again thought it perfectly acceptable to keep such an important part of his life hidden away.
Dropping her napkin on the table, she jumped to her feet, scraping her chair over the tiled floor with such force that other diners turned to look at them.
“Goodbye Frank,” she said, trying to ignore the tears that stung her eyes.
Without a backward glance, Karla stalked from the restaurant; head high, face expressionless, emotions held in check - until she was outside, where she burst into tears.
*
Christ, why isn’t life ever simple? Once, just once, why couldn’t it just go right?
Frank pushed himself to his limit. He’d never run at night before and knew he should be more careful. The last thing he needed right now was a twisted ankle, or to lose an eye to a wayward branch. He pounded along the rough path, only half his mind on what he was doing, while the other half replayed his conversation with Karla back at the restaurant. He’d known it would be a mistake to tell her about the money. So why the hell had he gone ahead and done it anyway?
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Reaching the loch, Frank followed the shoreline for a bit, then cut inland again, entering a part of the forest he wasn’t so familiar with. The sky was clouded, the moonlight dim as it filtered through the thick canopy. He kept up his hectic pace, breathing hard now, heart beating in his chest as he pushed himself even harder.
What did you expect you stupid bastard?
Turning a sharp bend in the path, Frank’s foot hit a damp patch of grass and he went down - hard - landing flat on his back, the breath knocked from his body.
Stunned and hardly able to breathe, he lay where he’d fallen, staring up at a moon that had chosen that very moment to break through the cloud in a shaft of light that picked out his fallen body.
It felt for all the world as though God’s accusing finger was pinning him to the ground.
Chapter 19
Frank’s decision to return to London had been a last minute one. So last minute in fact that he’d not even taken the time to tell Karla where he was going - he’d just jumped on his bike and set off during the night.
Arriving at a hotel in Swiss Cottage after a ten hour ride, Frank parked his bike, checked in and got his head down for a couple of hours.
Now rested, he checked his mobile again, just to make sure that Karla hadn’t phoned, or that the girl he was going to meet hadn’t changed her mind.
Frank was still not convinced that using on-line banking was safe, but didn’t want his face plastered all over the security cameras at the cash machine, so using the password he’d thrown away all those years ago, he logged onto the bank’s website. He was more than a little surprised that the account was still there and open to him.
Checking the balance, Frank felt a little dizzy when he saw the interest it had accrued. Logging out again, he shoved his phone back in his pocket, chuckling to himself at the password his old boss had chosen - Links77.
It was Jeffrey Hunter’s old
nickname, followed by the year of his birth. So bloody predictable.
But then Jeffrey Hunter had always been predictable hadn’t he? Except just that once . . .
Just a bloody accident Frank!
Frank hadn’t seen the double cross coming. But then, why should he have? He’d trusted his old boss, right up to the time the prison door had slammed shut in his face.
Still lost in his thoughts, Frank didn’t notice someone sit down beside him on the park bench. She coughed quietly and he glanced at her. It was a young girl, perhaps fourteen or fifteen, and after a quick check, he went back to his reflections.
“You Frank?” she asked.
He turned to look at her again, eyes narrowing as he checked her out. Leaning forward, he looked up and down the path. Then satisfied that she was on her own, he nodded.
“Name’s Chantelle. I’m the one who phoned you.”
Frank nodded again.
“Got the money?” she asked.
“Not so fast,” he answered.
The girl shifted under his gaze, looking around like a frightened animal. She had scabs on the corners of her mouth, her hair was a mess, and under the dirty hoodie she looked to be stick thin.
Frank was beginning to think that Karla might have been right after all. The girl was obviously on drugs.
“You think I’d be idiot enough to sit here with ten thousand pounds in my pocket?” he said, getting to his feet.
The girl grasped at his arm. “But you promised me. You said you’d bring me the money.”
The desperation in her voice was obvious and Frank wondered what she was on. Grabbing her arm, he yanked up her sleeve, but her skin was smooth, no track marks.
“What you doing, you fuck!” she spat at him.
Sitting down again, Frank gave her a withering look. “Okay luv, I’ll give you fifty quid. Here.” Fishing his wallet out of his back pocket, he extracted the notes and held them out to her. “Take it and go. Just tell me before you do, how the hell you found out about me. Did Mandy’s friend, Rachael tell you?”
The girl took the notes and stuffed them in her pocket, looking around as though she expected to see somebody.
Frank felt edgy, worried that someone might run up and try to mug him at any moment. The girl seemed to pick up on his uneasiness and nodded, as though she suddenly realised what the problem was.
“You think this is all a set-up, don’t you? That I’ve got some mates waiting somewhere to do you over.”
“Well put yourself in my place,” he replied, his gaze darting here and there as he spoke. “Some strange girl tells you to bring ten thousand to a park in the middle of London. What would you think.”
“Okay,” she said. “Fair enough. Here, take a look at this.”
Taking the wrinkled piece of paper the girl held out to him and smoothing it out on his leg, Frank studied it.
The sheet of A4 paper had a couple of photographs printed on it, obviously taken at some kind of orgy. Three men and two girls were having sex. He looked closer, his breath catching in his throat. The girls looked to be no more than twelve or thirteen.
“What the hell is this?” he said, tossing the paper back at her. “What’s this got to do with my Mandy?”
A youth sauntered passed, dragged along by a big Pit Bull terrier on a lead. He gave the girl a hard look and she sat in silence until he’d disappeared down the path before answering.
“Look, it’s dodgy sitting out here in the open like this. Anyone could see us, and if it got back to Marcos that I’ve been talking to someone like you, he’ll make sure I regret it.” Frank started to answer but she cut him short. “No listen. Those pics show what Mandy was involved in. She took them herself. Honest. I’m telling the truth. I’ve got more if you want to see them, but we can’t talk here. We have to go somewhere safer.”
Frank studied the girl closely, not really wanting to believe what she’d said. But there was something about her, a sincerity that made him hesitate.
“Okay,” he finally agreed. At least there would be no harm in listening to what the girl had to say, and he just might learn something. “Here’s what we’ll do. We’ll go back to my hotel so we can talk. If you give me any sensible information about why Mandy killed herself, I’ll give you two thousand pounds. Not a penny more, understand?”
Frank saw the disappointment in her eyes and sat quietly, waiting for her to agree, as he knew she would.
“Okay then,” she finally said.
Pointing at the park gates, he stood up. “Wait for me outside. I want to make sure that no friends of yours are going to follow us. Give me your phone.”
Defiance flickered in the girl’s eyes for a moment, but then she relented. “You really don’t trust me, do you?”
“No,” he shouted, pushing her phone into his back pocket as he sprinted away from her.
Frank spent the next ten minutes jogging along the park’s paths, checking out everyone he passed. Finally satisfied that the girl was on her own, he made his way to the park entrance. The girl was waiting for him on a low stone wall, her face lined with anxiety. It was obvious that she had begun to think he’d done a disappearing act on her.
Frank slowed to a walk, tossing her mobile at her, then hailing a passing taxi to take them back to his hotel.
Chapter 20
Jeffrey Hunter leant back in his comfortable office chair, smiling as he tapped the edged of the keyboard with a manicured fingernail, studying the bank statement on the screen.
Well, well, well. After all these years, Frank had finally made a withdrawal from his payback fund!
Frowning as the memories came flooding back, Jeffrey hit the PC’s ‘Shutdown’ button and watched the screen go blank. He still felt guilty that he’d been forced to betray his close friend all those years ago, but it had been necessary. Family came first - before friendship, no matter how close that friendship might be.
He sighed, wondering what his old friend might be up to these days, and why, after all this time, he’d suddenly decided to withdraw a large amount of cash from the account. The last he’d heard of him, his old bodyguard had left prison and headed for Scotland.
Jeffrey’s office door opened and a sudden blast of loud music dispelled his thoughts. His brother, Conrad, slammed the door shut behind him and sat at the opposite side of the desk.
“What’s it like out there tonight?” he asked Conrad.
“Busy. Got a couple of stag-nights in, along with the usual punters lining up to stuff money down the girl’s thongs.”
“You been keeping an eye out that no dealers are using the place, like I told you to?”
Conrad sighed and nodded.
Jeffrey Hunter knew how much his brother hated being ordered around like the hired help, but he had been given the nod by one of his suppliers that a couple of dealers were using the club to shift their gear - something that could get them closed down, and might even lead to a spell inside prison if the police got to hear about it.
Turning his attention back to the computer, Jeffrey nodded at the screen. “Seems our old friend Frank Collins has succumbed to temptation,” he said thoughtfully.
“Frank Collins?” Connie frowned at the name.
“Never mind,” he said, “Just a blast from the past. So what was it you wanted?”
“Just to let you know that Altaf Chandio’s got his delivery and is sending the cash over with Farris.”
“Okay.”
“You want me to take care of it as usual?”
“Yeah Connie. Thanks.”
Conrad nodded and stood up, looking at the computer. He frowned for a moment, as though he was about to say something, but changed his mind and left.
Jeffrey watched his brother go, then reached for the throw-away mobile he used to contact his money launderer. After arranging for the money to be changed to Euros and moved abroad to another company, he sat back with a smile. He’d only get about a third of its face value, but there would be no comebacks. Ni
ce and safe. No need to be greedy.
Finished making the arrangements, he sat back in his chair and hoped he hadn’t made a mistake saving Conrad from prison all those years ago. As distasteful as he had found his younger brother’s leanings, he was family and needed protecting. His brother had sworn that it had been a stupid mistake, a one-off thing.
Well Connie’s word had been good enough for Jeffrey. And that had been the end of the matter.
*
Con left his brother’s office and made his way across the large dimly lit club, still fuming inside. He hated being called Connie. His brother knew that, so why did he insist on doing it?
He glanced across at one of the dancers as he passed the stage. She’d been trying to come on to him for ages but he had no interest in her. None at all. He preferred his girls to be a little more modest.
Rounding the corner of the bar, he came to an abrupt halt and stared hard at the floor for a few moments, his face twisted in concentration.
Then the name came back to him.
Frank fucking Collins. Frankie boy!
Turning back to the office, he took a step, then changed his mind and turned away again.
While in prison, Frankie boy had threatened to kill Jeff when he got out, but all he’d done was bugger off to Scotland, tail between his legs. Now he knew why. His brother had paid him off.
Well, well well!
Con smiled, filing away the information for future use.
Every little helped, as the TV advert said.
Chapter 21
Frank thanked the waitress and closed the hotel room door, carrying the plate of sandwiches across to the desk, where the makings of two cups of coffee waited.
The girl sat crossed legged in the middle of the big double bed, watching him make the coffee with a slight smile on her lips. She had a confidence far above her years and Frank felt a little uneasy being in the room alone with her.
“Want something to eat with your coffee?” he asked, pouring hot water into the cups.
“Nah, just the coffee.”
Grabbing a sandwich, Frank brought the coffees over to the bed, and sat on the hard, straight backed chair he’d put there earlier. “So,” he said, “you seem to think that Mandy didn’t kill herself. Is that right?”