Adrian Magson - No Peace For The Wicked

“I’m so pleased.” Lottie took a sip of her juice and tapped a painted fingernail on the side of her glass. “Such a pity about your man’s accident with my dog. Did I tell you I have another one on order?”

Segassa was momentarily taken aback by the bleakness of her words. Where he came from, life was cheap and liable to be snatched away on the whim of man or nature. Yet he could not recall having ever come across a woman before who seemed to value a dog higher than a man… and in the end rate neither of them as anything more than a commodity to be replaced like a broken light-bulb.

He sipped his juice and wondered if it was all an act. Fear sometimes made weak people puff themselves out like cockerels. Yet there was something different about this woman. Something indefinable. Maybe she was just crazy. Crazy people, in his experience, were the very worst to deal with.

“Hello, John.” Riley walked past Mitcheson into the room, wondering if this had been a good idea. She wasn’t expecting any heavies to leap out of the wardrobe, but she knew Palmer was partly right in his suspicions, and that Mitcheson was more involved than she would have liked.

“Riley.” He closed the door behind her. “Care for a drink?”

His eyes briefly scanned her figure in the sun-dress she had put on before leaving the hotel, and she remembered with a warm blush how he had seen in her in much less.

She sat down in a club chair away from the window. It seemed safer somehow, even this far above the street. “Please.” She watched him pour two glasses of white wine. He had an economy of movement, as if he didn’t wish to waste energy unecessarily. He handed her a glass and lifted his own.

“Are we celebrating something?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I wish we were. But it’s not like that. I…” he gestured with a vague wave of his hand and ran out of words.

“So why don’t you tell me how it is, then?” Riley was surprised by her own calmness. Was it foolishness on her part or did she feel deep down that this man meant her no harm? “Like, why has this man — McManus? — been told to kill me?” Her voice stuttered on the final words. She hadn’t realised how difficult it would be to say it.

“Because you got involved, and the business in London.”

“What business?”

“McManus was the one who broke into your flat. He’d picked up your business card from one of the men you visited. Cook, was it? Anyway, he must have seen a photo of you. When he saw us together he started to make connections. He couldn’t be sure if you and I were working together, so he made do with putting the poison in with his bosses. I tried to head them off, but they weren’t having it. In their line of work, they tend to see things in black and white.”

“They?”

“Lottie Grossman and her husband, Ray. And McManus.” He stared into his glass. “I think one of my men has been dragged in, too. Maybe all of them.”

“Your men?”

He shrugged. “It’s a long story. It’ll keep.”

“So what are they getting into? Drugs? Is that why Bignell was murdered — to get him out of the way so they can take over?”

Mitcheson put his glass down and walked across to the window, shaking his head. “You’ve got to stay out of this, Riley,” he said quietly. “It’s dangerous and getting worse… and not just from the Grossmans. There are others involved now.”

“What others? Bignell’s Moroccan contacts?”

He turned and looked at her, clearly surprised by how much she knew. He didn't deny it, she noticed.

“McManus will soon find out you’re not in London, and when he does he’ll come back looking for you. It won’t take him long to track you down. He’s no Einstein, believe me, but he’s got strong instincts and he uses them. It makes him very good at what he does.”

“And what’s that, exactly?”

“He hurts people. And he kills them if he has to.”

Riley felt a shiver of apprehension. “Like that Rottweiler.” Riley could have bitten her lip the moment she uttered the words, but Mitcheson didn’t react. He must have already worked out that she’d been out to the villa.

“Like the Rottweiler,” he agreed eventually, with an expression of distaste. “The only difference between them is, I don’t think the dog enjoyed its job quite as much.”

He spoke of the dog in the past tense, Riley noted. She hoped it had managed to get a bite or two in before the gunman had killed it. With Lottie Grossman as its owner, the poor animal hadn’t had much of a life.

“What do they hope to gain by the killings?” Riley asked. “Most people would know it would draw too much attention.”

Mitcheson turned back to the window and shrugged. “You’re talking about normal rules,” he said grimly. “Normal rules don’t apply to this lot. There’s a ton of money out there waiting to be grabbed, and they want their share. In fact, the way Lottie sees it, it’s essential.”

“What for?”

“Ray Grossman’s dying. I don’t know how he’s hung on so long. They were advised to get him to a warmer climate, which is why they bought the villa. But with a visiting nurse and the medicines, they need more money to keep him out here. If he goes home he’ll be dead within a week.”

Riley’s mouth was dry. She felt he wasn’t telling her everything, but trying to force the issue probably wouldn’t work. Instead she changed tack. “What about you?” she asked coolly. “You could get out. Leave them to it.”

“I can’t do that. Not yet.” He spoke with an air of finality.

“Why? What do you owe them?” She stood and walked across the room. “And what do you mean, not yet? John, why are you even involved with these people? I can’t understand it. Something tells me this isn’t you… not the real you, anyway.”

He swung round, the movement bringing them within inches of each other. Riley was so close she could see her own reflection in the depth of his eyes, like a portrait in miniature looking up at him.

“I can’t explain,” he said simply. “It’s…it doesn’t make much sense to a-”

“To a what? A woman? Oh, please.”

“To an outsider.” He looked away from her, shaking his head. “I feel a… a responsibility to the men.”

Riley stared up at him. “You’re right — I don’t understand. They’re men, that’s all. Grown men at that. They can think for themselves, can’t they?” Then she realised what he was hinting at: they were all ex-army. “ Honour? Is that what you’re saying? You feel you’d be betraying them if you pulled out? For heaven’s sake, John, that’s insane!” She put out her hand and rested her fingertips on his chest, instantly aware of the beat of his heart and the warmth of his body through the thin shirt. Suddenly he was holding her, and she swallowed and closed her eyes, finally giving in and moving against him. Their bodies touched and she heard a brief moan as their lips met. She responded, her body moving hungrily against him in spite of herself.

Mitcheson’s hands pressed against her bare back where the sun-dress was cut low, and she felt his fingers spread wide across her skin. One hand slid lower, caressing the swell of her buttocks, while his other hand moved up to her ribcage, sliding up and round with a whisper against the fabric of the dress until he was gently cupping her breast. She felt herself respond to his touch.

Then, as the last vestiges of her resistance began to slip away, her mind flashed back to the image of the man in the trees, and the dog, followed by the snapping of branches. In that instant, the moment was gone, the passion and hunger draining away to be replaced by the shocking reminder of what this man was involved in. She pulled away, her hands flat against his chest. “No!” she said sharply, pushing his arms down. “John, no.”