Quintin Jardine - Alarm Call

‘Maybe. I know you and your sister: you’re a bloody coven, the pair of you.’

I beamed back at her. ‘No. She’s the witch: I’m a mere imp.’

‘Don’t sell yourself short. You’ll meet him, though?’

‘Okay, if you’re asking nicely.’

‘I am, really.’

‘Fine. Want to watch some telly?’

‘If you can find anything worth watching, okay.’ She paused. ‘Oh, shit, I nearly forgot. There was one other thing. You had a call from Everett Davis.’

That was another one I hadn’t been expecting, but it was welcome nonetheless. Everett, also known as Daze, is the president of the Global Wrestling Alliance, which he founded and built, from its original European base in Glasgow, into one of the world’s top sports entertainment companies. He’s a great friend, and I owe him a lot, because he, along with Miles Grayson, was responsible for getting me into the movie business.

‘That’s magic,’ I said. ‘Is he in town?’

‘No, he’s in the US, but he didn’t tell me which part. All he said was that he’s upset with you, and he wants to talk to you about it.’

I felt a cold shiver run through me. Everett Davis is seven feet two inches tall and is, when he wants to be, just about the most dangerous man on the planet.

And he was upset: with me.

I shouldn’t have slept on it: I should have called him there and then. But I didn’t. Instead, I spent a good part of the night tossing and turning and wondering what the hell I had done to rattle the big man’s enormous cage. Hard as I tried, I couldn’t come up with any answers.

The last time I’d seen him had been in London during the studio work on the third Skinner movie. He’d called to say that his wrestling circus was in town, and he, Liam Matthews, Jerry ‘The Behemoth’ Gradi and I all had dinner in Passione, a seriously good restaurant off Euston Road. He’d been in good form that night: his business was booming and his stock-market listing was making him (and me too) even richer by the day. I hadn’t heard from him since.

I couldn’t call him next morning either. As Susie had said, all he’d told her was that he was in the States, without naming one of the fifty. That meant a time difference of between five and nine hours. . more if he happened to be in Hawaii. . and I didn’t fancy making him even grumpier by waking him in the middle of the night.

So instead, after my morning work-out, swim and breakfast, and after I’d spent some time playing with Janet in her tree-house for gardens without trees, I sat down behind my desk and called Primavera’s mobile number. It took her a while to answer; when she did, she sounded as if she’d just woken up.

‘Yes,’ she grumbled.

‘Where the hell are you?’ I asked her.

‘Oz? Is that you?’

‘No, this is an Internet service which wakes people using the voices of famous movie stars. Your meter is running, and you have three minutes and seventeen seconds left.’

‘You’re crazy. What do you want?’

‘Why did you go to see my old man?’

‘I was in Anstruther. I decided that I couldn’t possibly leave without calling in on him, so I did.’

‘Are the Enster fish suppers really so good that you drove all the way from Perthshire for one?’

‘Don’t be daft.’

‘Are you having problems with your teeth?’

‘No.’

‘What other reason did you have to be in my home town, other than to call in on my father?’

‘I told him. I was bored, so I got into Dad’s car and went for a run.’

‘Shite. When you get bored you go out and pick up a guy. I’ll credit you with not trying to pull him, so what was it about?’

She sighed. ‘Okay, I admit it. I wanted to get in touch with you, or rather, I wanted you to get in touch with me. But you knew that all along, didn’t you?’

‘Of course I did, but you can thank Susie for my taking the bait.’ I glanced at my wife across the huge desk.

‘Susie?’

‘She insisted that I call you, otherwise, girlie, you’d still be sound asleep. Look, why the charade? Why didn’t you just ring me?’

‘I don’t have your number any more.’

‘You’ve got my mobile number. I never changed it.’

‘I thought you’d have been bound to by now. But even if I’d known that, I wouldn’t have done it. I’d have expected you to hang up on me.’

‘Do you think I hate you? Last time we saw each other, going on for four years ago, did we or did we not part as friends?’

‘I suppose we did, although you thumping my boyfriend wasn’t very friendly.’

‘I didn’t thump him!’ I protested. ‘Miles did.’

‘He beat you to the punch, that was all. He didn’t want you breaking your hand on poor Nicky’s head and ruining his precious filming schedule.’

‘Poor Nicky, is it? He’s not still around, is he?’

‘No, not since just after Miles thumped him.’

‘So who is?’

‘Nobody at the moment.’ Her voice seemed to change as she said it.

‘But there was?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you get hurt again?’

‘Worse than that: oh, my dear Oz, much worse than just plain hurt.’

I had known Primavera happy, sad, angry, triumphant, hurt, indignant, sober and on occasion drunk. We had shared some very traumatic times, and a few pretty decent moments too. But in the seven or eight years since we had first met, I had never heard such desolation in her voice.

‘When did all this happen?’

‘It’s a long story.’

‘Prim, why the hell didn’t you just call me and tell me you were in trouble?’

‘Because it’s got nothing to do with you! And because I feel so stupid and betrayed, and damned ashamed.’

‘So you staged that charade with my dad to smoke me out?’

‘Yes, I suppose, although I wasn’t thinking very clearly at the time. Not that I am now.’

‘Where are you?’ I asked her.

‘At home.’

‘Auchterarder? Are you still at your parents’ place?’

‘No, my home. I have a riverside flat in London.’

‘Are you alone?’

‘Am I ever.’

I looked at Susie. I raised my eyebrows, that was all, but she understood, and she nodded.

‘I’ll book you a flight to Glasgow, this afternoon. Pack some kit, and I’ll call you back and give you the time.’

‘I can’t.’ She sighed.

‘Why not?’

‘What would Susie say?’

‘Susie’s here and she says it’s okay.’

‘I’m hung over, Oz.’

‘Take a couple of paracetamol tablets and drink plenty of orange juice: that always used to work for you. Go on, get your arse out of bed and get ready. What name are you using these days?’

‘It still says Mrs Blackstone on my passport: I got a new one as soon as we got married, remember.’

‘Sure. You were an optimist back then.’

She hadn’t actually answered my question, but I let that pass. I hung up on her, then looked at Susie. ‘Are you all right with that?’ I asked her. She and Prim have a back story as well.

‘If you think it’s necessary.’

‘I do. I’ve never heard her like that before. She’s been hurt in some way and she can’t handle it, hence the gauche cry for help.’

‘But why cry to you? What about her sister and brother-in-law, Dawn and Miles?’

‘Dunno.’ I told Audrey, who was sitting at her desk, near ours, to book Prim’s flight. Then I glanced at my watch; it was just short of ten. I knew that the Graysons were in Sydney. I did a quick calculation and worked out that it would be evening there. I retrieved Miles’s mobile number from my computer and called it.

‘Hiya, sport,’ he boomed, as he picked up; I could hear party sounds in the background. He always slips into Aussie mode when he’s home, whereas in California he can sound as American as the next guy. ‘How did you know I was going to call you? I’ve had a couple of television stations asking me if I can get you out here. Any chance?’