There were just the two men this morning. Amy sat there listening. Pat and Sunny were talking about Lenny’s trip. They weren’t happy that he’d been called away. They didn’t think that Suzanne was competent to handle the job. They were getting nervous about it. Amy listened hard.

She was sitting at her table where her macramé kit was laid out methodically. Beads were kept in the box lid, to stop them from disappearing. The cord was laid out in its varying lengths and different colours. There was a frame on which to stretch the necklace whilst you worked on it. Amy was putting all her energy into making one item. It was a necklace for Suzanne.

Pat left and Sunny sat down to watch the telly. The door clicked—it was Suzanne. She greeted Sunny with a ticking-off for not taking out the bin whilst it was still early and there was less chance of being seen. Now she had to do it and it was already nine o clock. Why was everything down to her? Amy listened. She knew what Sunny would say. It was what he always said every time Suzanne had a massive go at him.

‘I am not your fucking servant. You don’t like it, I’ll go. You’re lucky I’m still here. No good will come of things. We’ll all be in the shit when they find us. So, go on—get rid of me, fire me, please.’

Suzanne answered: ‘Just do the few things you are asked to and do them well, then we’ll all be happy. And leave the merchandise alone.’ That bit puzzled Amy. ‘Knocking them about is one thing, but this isn’t your dream come true, Sunny. You want to get laid, pay for it like you usually do. Stop fucking the girls, especially the young ones—you’re damaging the merchandise. She’s split inside already…’

‘That wasn’t me, that was the two punters.’

‘Leave them alone—got it?’

Sunny grunted that he had. ‘What about that one?’ he asked. Amy’s eyes went wide and her brace formed a vacuum at the roof of her mouth as she heard the question directed towards her door. ‘Why not that one?’

‘Ha ha, you are fucking priceless, Sunny.’ Suzanne lowered her voice. ‘The day I decide to put Miss CK’s cherry up for sale, the place will be swarming with rival triad bosses. You don’t think I’m going to let you have it for free, do you?’

Amy heard her throw down her coat and bags and stomp off with the rubbish. Then the click when she came back. Sunny stomped out soon after, muttering under his breath about having had enough. Amy listened to Suzanne’s footsteps approaching her bedroom door.

She looked up from her macramé table. She smiled as the door opened.

‘Morning, Suzanne.’ Her heart was hammering.

Suzanne didn’t answer. She grunted something about making her bed. Amy jumped off her seat and hurriedly pulled the covers up over the mattress.

Amy smiled at Suzanne. ‘You look lovely, Suzanne,’ she lied. Suzanne wasn’t bothering with makeup any more now that Lenny had gone. ‘Yesh. You look really pretty and so slim, like a model.’

‘Yes, well, time we got some fat off you. I’m thinking of moving you somewhere else, to a different house where there are other girls.’

Amy started making nervous sucking noises with her brace.

‘And why is that fucking brace back in your mouth?’

‘Sorry, Suzanne, it’s just I will get into trouble if I don’t wear it.’

‘Come here.’

Amy took a few steps towards her. Suzanne slapped her hard across the face. Her glasses flew off. Amy cried out, flinching as she clutched the stinging side of her face.

‘Sorry, Suzanne.’ She took the brace out.

Suzanne sighed, then rubbed her forehead as if it itched.

‘My fucking head is pounding.’

‘Sit down, Suzanne; I will give you a neck massage. I can brush your hair for you if you like. And look, Suzanne…’ Amy rushed to the table and showed her the half-constructed necklace. ‘This is for you.’

Suzanne didn’t look impressed. ‘Okay, let’s get on with the massage, and then you can brush my hair.’

‘Oh, yes please, Suzanne.’

Amy scurried to find the brush to keep it close by for when she needed it. She didn’t want to risk irritating Suzanne any more than she had done. She started kneading her strong little fingers into Suzanne’s shoulders.

‘Suzanne…what’s your favourite colour? I need to know for your necklace.’

‘Mmm…green, no, blue, no, red! Red, that’s it.’

Amy looked over to her bead collection. The biggest of all the beads was red! How lucky was that?

‘Pass me my bag?’

‘What are you doing?’

Suzanne rummaged inside and found her phone.

‘I am ringing his wife. I am fucking sick of waiting

and

of babysitting you. I am going to speed things up. I am going to tell her what her husband really thinks of her, the fat, ugly cow…’

61

The phone rang. It was Fat Harry.

‘We checked you out—very impressive—we have quite a few similar interests, it seems.’

‘You mean we tick each other’s boxes?’

Fat Harry laughed down the phone. He had a laugh that carried on too long after the joke was told. ‘Eleven o’clock, then.’

‘Where?’

‘The Flamingo bar—and Black…no wifey This business is strictly for boys.’

Mann closed his phone. He strapped his armoury on. His spikes were now moved to the harness around his ankle, next to Delilah, and his throwing-star belt was under his armpit, concealed beneath a baggy shirt. He had a knife belt around his waist—with four short-handled shuriken knives tucked inside

He handed Becky a piece of paper.

‘We have to be sure that one of us gets to Angeles. Remy will be waiting for us on a small airstrip, a kilometre away from here. Here is the address…Take the bags and go there now. Remy will wait for two hours. Any sign of trouble, he will lift off and take you straight to Clark and to Father Finn’s refuge. You will have to coordinate things from there. We have just two days left. We have to find the Blanco and force his hand. We have to find his weakness and exploit it, everyone has one. I’m not even sure that CK wants us to win. I think he wants an excuse to start a war. I don’t want to give him one now. This might all be a game to these people but we’re going to do our damndest to spoil it for them. Don’t worry Mann. You will be on that plane, but if not, rest assured that I will do whatever it takes.’

‘Save me a seat on the plane—no running off with Remy.’

She laughed but he could see how scared she was. He didn’t want to but he left her standing in the centre of the room, his heart melting a little.

He walked out through the hotel lobby, which was open on all sides and ended on the beach, and headed for the Flamingo bar. It was a ten-minute walk. He took his time. He was early—always early—but they did not know that about him. In the distance he could make out the pinks and peach of the Flamingo bar, its canvas flapping gently in the breeze. He was thirty metres away. Beyond that he saw a hint of police action—they must have found Reese. He could see Fat Harry, sitting with his back to him, along with English Bob and a third man with a bald head. That must be the contact they had talked about. They still had not seen him. He slowed down. His feet dug into the sand. Something didn’t feel right.

62

Becky looked at her watch. Mann had said to give him twenty minutes, to make sure he was well into conversation with them before she left. It had only been eight.

She made the last check around the room and then pulled out a piece of paper. There was a sketch map and the name of the airfield. It was so lucky that all the signs were in English. It all looked straightforward. It was just a couple of kilometres away, basically up the lane towards the neighbouring town, then take a left. Mann had already settled the bill the night before, so all she had to do was pick up the bags, walk out and get a trike to take her to the airstrip. In that case, why was her heart pounding? Why did she feel so anxious? She looked at her watch again. It would only take ten minutes from the room to the Flamingo bar, and that was at Filipino pace. She moved the bags to the door. It was time to go. Mann would nearly be there by now; she could leave without arousing suspicion. She turned the handle and pulled the door open. As she bent down to pick up the bags she saw legs, feet and expensive trainers—