Stephen Leather - Tango One

"Say thank you, David."

"Thank you," said Hoyle hoarsely.

The man nodded and zipped the slot closed.

"On the negative side, if you don't agree to do what I ask, my men will keep hurting you until you change your mind. They're experts at inflicting pain. Not the pretend sort that hookers like her dole out.

Real pain. Crippling pain. Permanent pain."

The cane slashed into Hoyle's other thigh and he cried out again, his screams muffled by the leather hood.

"Where is Victoria Donovan?"

Hoyle shook his head. The cane whipped through the air and pain seared across his stomach. He screamed. Tears streamed down his face and soaked into the leather.

"Where is Victoria Donovan?" asked the man again.

"I can't tell you," said Hoyle.

The man frowned and unzipped the mouth slot.

"You're mumbling, David," he said.

"I can't tell you," said Hoyle, 'because I don't know. He won't tell me where he is."

"He?"

"Stewart. Stewart Sharkey. The man she's with."

The cane swished again, and smacked into his stomach, a fraction of an inch lower than the previous time. Hoyle screamed and his whole body went into spasm for several seconds. Hoyle's mistress knew how to use the cane so that it didn't leave a mark, but Hoyle knew that the welts he was getting now would be on his body for weeks.

"Before you get any ideas about that hooker calling the police, I've paid her to take a week's vacation," said the man.

"And I've promised her that we'll have cleaned up by the time she gets back. Seems we've got mutual friends. Now, how do you get in touch with him?"

"Phone."

"There's no number in your office."

"Stewart told me not to write it down."

"UK number?"

"A mobile."

The man took out a mobile phone.

"Right, here's what we're going to do, David."

Stewart Sharkey's mobile phone trilled.

"Who is it?" asked Vicky, standing at the entrance to the terrace, a glass of champagne in her hand.

Sharkey forced himself to smile. He wanted to snap at her, to ask her how he was expected to know. He wasn't psychic, for God's sake. He picked up the phone and pressed the green button.

"Stewart, it's me, David."

"Yes, David." Hoyle sounded stressed.

"Is there a problem?"

"No, no problem," said Hoyle.

"Everything's going ahead as planned. I've some forms for Victoria to sign, that's all. For the custody application."

"Can't you sign them on her behalf?"

Vicky frowned and mouthed, "Who is it?"

"No can do, Stewart. Sorry. It has to be her."

Sharkey put his hand over the bottom of the phone.

"It's the lawyer. You've got to sign some papers." Vicky visibly relaxed and Sharkey realised that she thought the call might have been from her husband.

"Stewart? Are you there?"

"Relax, David. It's okay. What about faxed copies? Would that do?"

"Has to be originals, I'm afraid. Is there any possibility of you both coming to the office in the next few days?"

"Absolutely none," said Sharkey. He winked at Vicky and she took a quick sip of her champagne.

"You'll have to have them couriered out here," he said.

There was a pause as if Hoyle had taken the phone away from his mouth, then he coughed.

"That's fine," he said.

"Where shall I send them to?"

"Have you got a pen?" asked Sharkey.

Juan Rojas put away his mobile phone.

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" he asked Hoyle.

Hoyle had sagged against the wooden cross. The strength had gone from his legs and all his weight was on his wrists.

"Please don't kill me," he sobbed.

"Wouldn't that be the ultimate thrill for you?" asked Rojas.

"Bit like Christ, dying on the cross."

"I don't want to die," Hoyle moaned. Urine splattered on to the carpet and Rojas wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"No one wants to die," said Rojas.

"No one's ever begged me to kill them." A thoughtful look crossed his face.

"Actually, that's not true. There was a man once, in Milan. After what we'd done to him, he really did want to die. Begged and begged."

Rojas smiled.

"I've no wish to kill you, David. None at all. I'm going to leave you here for a couple of days. One of my men will come in to give you water." He nodded at the sodden carpet.

"Might even put a bucket under you. After forty-eight hours we'll let you loose. We'll still have the videos, so I'd expect you to hold your tongue about what's happened." Rojas walked up close to Hoyle, taking care not to stand in the damp patch of carpet.

"Say thank you, David."

"Thank you," said Hoyle weakly.

Rojas grinned and slowly zipped up the mouth slot on the black leather mask.

Donovan took the portable RF detector off before driving the Range Rover to Robbie's school. The traffic moved at a snail's pace, and yet again most of the vehicles on the road seemed to be mothers on the school run.

Donovan switched his cassette player on. Oasis. He smiled as he remembered the coincidence that he and Louise had the same tape. They'd chatted for the best part of an hour in Starbucks. She was a smart girl and seemed to be making a good living as a dancer. Like Kris, she kept insisting that she didn't go with customers, but Donovan couldn't help wondering how else she could afford the Audi roadster. Still, he figured it wasn't any of his business. She'd given him her mobile number when she'd dropped him off at home and asked him to call her some time. She'd also made a point of telling him the address of the club where she danced. Twice.

Robbie wasn't at the gates when Donovan arrived at the school. A young mother with four schoolgirls in the back of a Mercedes four-wheel drive pulled out in front of him and he whipped the Range Rover into the space.

He tapped his fingers on his steering wheel as he waited. Being a single parent wasn't so bad, he thought. It was a bit of a nuisance having to drive Robbie to and from school, and the early mornings were a pain, but Robbie was clearly low maintenance. Once Donovan had his money back, maybe he'd stay in London. He had enough to live comfortably for the rest of his life. Very comfortably. When Vicky had been in the picture, Donovan had been driven to keep putting deals together, partly because of the desire to keep increasing his fortune, but also because he enjoyed it. He got a buzz out of outwitting the various agencies that were tasked with defeating the drugs barons.

There was nothing like putting together a successful multi-million-pound drugs deal, of arranging the finance and the shipping, moving people and money around the world like pieces on some gigantic chessboard, followed by the elation of carrying it off successfully. Some of the best parties he'd been to had been in the wake of successful drug deals. Donovan smiled to himself. Could he turn his back on that? Would he be satisfied doing the school run until Robbie was old enough to drive? Years of shopping at Tesco and ferrying sports kit and helping with homework?

Robbie ran out of the school gates, waving at Donovan. Donovan grinned and waved back. Yeah, he thought, maybe he would at that.

"How did the match go?" Donovan asked as Robbie climbed into the passenger seat and tossed his sports bag into the back.

"Won 3 1," said Robbie.

"My pass gave us the second goal."

"Good for you," said Donovan and gave his son a high-five.

"How are you at grocery shopping?" he asked as he started the car and edged out into the line of four-wheel drives.

"Mum always does…" Robbie corrected himself quickly.

"Did the shopping. During the day. She said it was quieter."

"Yeah, well, I didn't do too good a job when I went on my own. Thought you might have a better idea of what we need. Okay?"

"Okay," said Robbie.

When they got to the supermarket, Donovan pushed a trolley while Robbie ran from shelf to shelf, grabbing at tins, bottles and packets and tossing them in. He stocked up with essentials including washing-up liquid, and soap, things that Donovan would never have thought of until he'd run out.