Part 8 (1/2)

Pechev hung up the receiver and allowed himself the luxury of one more chess move a black bishop takes white knight a before making another call. He leaned back in his chair and waited while the phone rang out.

'Phineas, it's Lyubomir.'

If Pechev's company had been a stationery supplier, a chain of estate agencies, a management consultancy firm, or anything equally dull and above board, then Phineas Gage would have been head of human resources and administration. As it was, Gage carried a set of knives in his briefcase and had been known to kill the employees with them if they didn't get the job done. On occasion, Pechev had been forced to rein him in, so exacting were his standards. Once, during a business meeting, a low-level dealer had had the temerity to answer one of Gage's rhetorical questions with a smart remark. Gage had pinned the dealer's hand to the table with a quartering knife and insisted he remained in the room, bleeding on the carpet, until the meeting was over, fifty minutes later.

'How can I help you, Mr Pechev?'

'This thing with Gorski, the scientist, it is out of control.'

'How so?'

'The men I put on him a Vidmar and Delia a it seems they have both turned rogue.'

'Really? I'm surprised. Vidmar has always been a good employee and Delia: stupid but loyal, at least.'

'I get the impression that Vidmar has been sampling the goods. Delia a who knows? They've both been sold a story about a recipe book.'

'Meaning?'

'All the formulae for our scions.'

'Ah.'

'Yes, quite. I'd like you to make the call.'

'Of course. How much?'

'Oh I don't know. A hundred apiece?'

'For Vidmar, yes, but Delia...? No, you're right. A hundred each. Nice and simple. I'll get on it.'

'Thank you Phineas.'

'Anything else Mr Pechev?'

'No, that is all. Give my regards to Marusya and the boys. I will talk to you soon.'

Gage hung up, went upstairs to his office and consulted the latest version of the company telephone tree. Such a high turnover of staff these days, he thought to himself, enforcing wasn't what it used to be. He unwound his flexi-specs and placed them on the end of his nose. He had two phone-calls to make initially a Golubev and Kask a who in turn would make two phone-calls a Lebedev and Shehu, and Rebane and Morozov a and so on, until everybody in the tree was aware that there were one hundred thousand cred bounties out for Vidmar and Delia. It was a simple way of controlling the amount of shared information, should the Mets ever decide to poke their noses into Pechev's business. Gage would have to make sure those branches below the targets were fully aware of the situation. He started punching the numbers into the phone.

Lek had insisted that they eat, realising when his stomach began to protest in the beautox parlour that he hadn't had anything since the Mash-Up hash-brownie at ten o' clock, before his meeting with the main man. Was that really this morning? he asked himself. It seemed like another world away, another age, when he was still a company man, still a rat on the wheel for Pechev. He was starving and Crystal admitted she was too, never having managed to get the corned beef sandwich she had promised herself at lunchtime. She stared at the cut on her thumb and smiled. They pulled over at Mr Au's a an all-you-can-take-away-and-eat Vietnamese noodle bar on the Wandsworth Road and filled four poly-boxes with cao lau egg-noodles and crispy dog. In front of them, a Samoan gent had brought his own plastic-lined thermo 'bag-for-life' and was lifting tureens of com tam rice and bahn cuon rolls and pouring them straight in, while Mr Au himself looked on disapprovingly and cursed his ill-thought out business plan. Lek and Crystal paid and left, and cruised around the streets before parking up next to The Fallen Googler Monument on the Long Road corner of Clapham Common to dine in the romantic ambience of the Proto's overhead door-light.

Retro AM was playing cla.s.sic love songs from the turn of the Millennium. Crystal plugged in the in-car s.h.i.+sha and they smoked an easy two-apple hookah while they ate their noodles, reminiscing about the times they had spent on the Common in the spring, wondering if they would ever have the chance again to stroll through the fields of daffodils without fear for their lives. They looked forward to making plans for a new life too. Lek spoke of visiting Krakow, 'perhaps', although he was sure it was the first place on the mainland that Pechev would look for him.

'I've always liked the sound of Prussia,' said Crystal, and Lek felt a frisson of desire for her as her lips pouted around the place-name. 'Yes, PRussia,' she murmured again, with a wicked glint in her eye.

It may not have been the best meal ever, but they savoured every morsel as though it were their last, and there was an awkward silence when they both realised simultaneously that perhaps it was.

'Whatever happens...' Crystal began.

'Don't say that.'

'What?'

'Don't say whatever it is you were about to say.'

'You don't know what I was about to say.'

'You're right. I don't, but I didn't like where it was going,' said Lek.

Crystal ignored him and took his hand in hers. 'Whatever happens, whether we get to the station, make it to the mainland, whether we make it out alive or not, I want you to know that I love you Lek Gorski. I do love you.'

She leaned over the gearstick to hold his face in her warm hands and was about to kiss him, when the pa.s.senger window exploded behind Lek's head and showered them both in broken cubes of security gla.s.s....

Chapter 23.

Vidmar wasn't able to focus on anything but the trail of phosph.o.r.escence floating in the warm evening air. He forgot about the Enzyme parked up on double yellows near the beautox clinic and loped down the high streets of the West End, moving almost against his will through the crowds of late-night shoppers, diners and theatre-goers as though he were being dragged along by an invisible force. The Thursday Night Trafalgar Square Bird and Rodent Market was in full swing and crowds of tourists were taking digisnaps of the caged canaries and budgerigars, while thin Asianos picked out the best brown rats for the stock pot. There had been a public hanging at the gates to Downing Street a The Prime Ministers wanted to send a message to Arabia that the UK would not bow to Persian terrorists, and the mossy pavement was littered with half-eaten meat-sticks and empty popcorn bags. Vidmar didn't see any of this, lost as he was to the scents he had gleaned from the Proto. 'Gorski, Gorski, Gorski...' he mumbled to himself over and over again, as he covered the distance between the city centre and Battersea Dogs' Home at an easy trot, hardly breaking a sweat, drool pouring from his open mouth. Here he stopped, called to his caged cousins to have faith in mankind, and sniffed the air again, before heading south to Clapham.

Zevon hefted the empty fire-extinguisher which he had used to break the car-window once more and barrelled it into the shocked face of Lek Gorski, simultaneously breaking his nose and knocking him unconscious. Crystal screamed and frantically tried to start the Proto, fumbling with the keys and the auto-steering lock. It was no use, for just as she heard the motor kick into life, she saw the brute wheel his arm high above his head as though he were bowling a cricket ball, and bring the extinguisher cras.h.i.+ng down on the bonnet. The biorg died with an audible pop and the engine fought to turn over, misfired and gave up the ghost. She screamed again when she saw the gruesome face of Roma Bruce leering at her in the light of the streetlamps, and she cowered beneath the dashboard. Roma calmly opened the unlocked door, reached inside and grabbed a handful of Crystal's pink bob. She wrenched her upright with a vicious twist of her wrist, and as Crystal tried to pull away, sighed softly in her ear, 'Make it easy for me, Barbie-doll. You can keep your tat bling, keep your piece of s.h.i.+t car, you can even keep your wannabe-chulo score there,' she nodded towards Lek, 'I just want your money.'

Ronnie had jumped on to the roof of the car and was smas.h.i.+ng his fists into the steel, pounding dents above Crystal's head, while his twin brother went to work on the back doors and the boot with a crowbar. Crystal sobbed, her tears leaving tracks in the fresh face-paint. She tried to say something but no words came out. Roma grabbed her chin and twisted Crystal's face towards her own. 'I can't understand a f.u.c.king thing you're saying,' she remarked coolly.

'Leave it Roma, look at this! We got plenty,' said Zevon, holding up the stack of hundredacred bills he had pulled from Lek's pocket. 'There's got to be at least two grand here,' unable to disguise the pure joy in his voice.

'Such a pretty face,' said Roma, and gave Crystal a lick with her long lupine tongue, before drawing back a fist and sucker-punching her in the side of the head.

Dahlia Ortega watched as the woman's body slumped against her boyfriend's and then she loped away with the rest of the gang across the Common.

Cesar stepped out of the Reincarn8 Gentlemen's Club with one of the barmaids in tow. He whispered something in her ear, slapped her backside and sent her back inside. Then he turned and walked straight over to Domino on the opposite side of the street.

'What's up Cesar? You want some business? Empire State?'

'No chico, I'm cool. I was just wondering if you've seen Vidmar yet this evening?'