Part 13 (2/2)
Chekov finished his whiskey. ”Have another.”
”No. I'd rather get moving. There are people I'll need to talk to.”
”Good.”
They hadn't mentioned money. It was not necessary. Stransky went out and Chekov called the waitress over. ”Large whiskey, my love. I'll have the expensive stuff this time, the Highland Special that's eight hundred pounds a shot.”
Outside the hotel on the left-hand side were private limousines waiting, their chauffeurs chatting beside them, and Stransky's own Mer-cedes was there, his driver, a hard-looking young man called Bikov, standing by it smoking a cigarette. ”Get in.” Stransky opened the rear door.
”What's up, boss?” Bikov demanded.
”Cafe Rosa, quickly. Will Makeev and the boys still be there?”
”Sure. They're having a card school tonight.”
”I need five, maybe six of them.”
”Trouble?”
”No, to make trouble. You know Harry Salter?”
”Of course I do.”
”That restaurant of his, Harry's Place-Chekov wants it messed up good. Let's see if Makeev and his boys are interested.”
”For Chekov? You won't have to ask twice.”
BEHIND THE BAR at the Dark Man, Ruby called to Harry, who was sitting in a booth. Joe Baxter and Sam Hall were propping up the bar behind him.
”It's thinning out a bit, Harry. We can go if you like. Rita can close up.”
She came round the bar in a demure white blouse and a black velvet skirt and shoes to die for.
”Bleeding marvelous,” Harry said and turned to his minders. ”Isn't she?”
”Absolutely, Harry,” they chorused.
”Right, let's check how things are going at Harry's Place. Leave the Aston, we'll go in the Shogun.” He handed Ruby in and followed her.
”I'm really looking forward to this,” Ruby said. ”I was beginning to think you weren't going to take me there.”
”Don't be silly, girl, we just haven't had the opportunity. Anyway, you look like a princess. Doesn't she look like a princess, boys?”
”A queen, Harry,” Baxter said.
”Get stuffed,” Ruby told him and leaned back. ”I wonder how it's going in Hazar?”
”We'll know soon enough, girl, but one thing's for sure, if anybody can handle it, Dillon and Billy can.” He leaned forward and said to Baxter, ”Are we tooled up?”
Baxter dropped a hidden flap. ”The Colt twenty-fives, just like you said, boss, two of them.”
”Guns, Harry?” Ruby was shocked. ”Is that necessary?”
”There are funny people around these days, love. Russian Mafia, Albanians, fourteen-year-olds in knife gangs who'll stick a s.h.i.+v in you as soon as look at you. I've got mates who are Italian Mafia and they're the good guys now.”
Sam Hall pulled in outside the warehouse Salter had transformed into Harry's Place, a red neon sign above the door and a queue outside. Two young black men in dinner suits had the door.
”The Harker twins,” Harry told Ruby.
Baxter and Hall took the Shogun to the car park, and Harry and Ruby walked along the side of the queue. They found five youths in black leather pus.h.i.+ng and shoving, alarming people ahead of them.
Ruby said, ”They're Russians, Harry. I used to serve a lot like that at the old pub.”
They were, in fact, Makeev and four of his friends, who'd been hired by Stransky as ordered.
”Here, you bleeding well cut it out,” Harry told them.
They jeered in good c.o.c.kney English, ”Who the h.e.l.l are you, her father?”
He handed Ruby up the steps, where one of the Harker twins apologized profusely. ”Sorry, boss, real sorry and more bad news. Big Ivan Stransky and another guy came in just before these guys turned up.”
Baxter and Hall arrived on the run and ranged themselves beside the Harkers, making a formidable barrier. Harry said, ”Don't let them in. We'll see what Stransky wants.”
He held out his hand, Baxter slipped a Colt .25 into it and Harry took Ruby's arm as Fernando, the headwaiter, appeared, full of apologies.
”Not needed,” Harry said. ”This is Mrs. Moon. Take us to my table.” He added to Baxter and Hall, ”You come with us.”
The place was rather pretty, in an Art Deco style, with a c.o.c.ktail bar, small, intimate tables, a dance floor, a trio playing music of the Cole Porter variety. Harry's table was in a booth with mirrors behind it and Baxter and Hall stood one on each side.
A waiter in a white waistcoat with bra.s.s b.u.t.tons who had responded to Harry's nod brought a large brandy and ginger ale for him and a champagne c.o.c.ktail for Ruby.
”I thought you should have a champagne c.o.c.ktail on your first visit.”
”It's lovely,” she said. ”What's that?”
”Brandy and ginger ale. They call it a Horse's Neck.”
”I wonder why?”
”Doesn't really matter, Ruby-it's a British thing. We're funny that way. Here's to you. You look lovely.”
He took his drink straight down and nodded to the waiter, then folded his arms as Stransky, Bikov behind him, came down the steps from the bar and crossed the dance floor toward them.
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