Change of Harte (Harte, #2) (Harte Series) (8 page)

Chapter 16

‘Just here will do fine, Anthony,’ Julian said when they were a block away from Vertigo.

‘Here? Really? It’s just a little further. I’m sure there’s parking.’

‘Here.is.fine. Stop the car, please.’

Anthony did as his boss requested. He tucked the head-turning black car alongside the curb, cut off the engine, and turned around.

‘Mr. Harte. I hope this isn’t out of line. But do you need someone to come with you…it’s just…’

Julian interrupted his loyal employee. ‘I appreciate the gesture, Anthony. But I know what I’m doing.’

‘I don’t doubt that, Julian. But I still have a pretty shitty feeling about this.’

Julian smiled hearing his first name pass his chauffeur’s lips for the first time in a long time. ‘I have a shitty feeling, too, Anthony. But I won’t be responsible for dragging anyone other than myself into this, understand?’

Anthony nodded. Concern was scribbled in every contorted line of his usually bubbly face. ‘If you’re not back in, what, an hour, should I phone the cops?’

A deep crackle shook in the Julian’s chest and he rolled his eyes and shook his head. ‘You’ve been watching too much James Bond again, mate. But I do need you to wait here for me. When I come back to the car, no questions. As soon as I close the door behind me, you drive, okay?’

‘Julian, you’re really worrying me.’

‘You drive, Anthony, okay?’ Julian reiterated. He needed to be certain Anthony wasn’t going to crumble under pressure.

‘Okay.’

‘Good, man. Now, did you pick up that nagging I asked you for?’

‘Yeah, sort of. Felt like a complete gobshite asking for one, though. They don’t use naggings here, so I got you a flask. Same thing, really.’ Anthony handed Julian a smart stainless steel flask filled with gin.

‘Grand. That’ll do fine.’

‘There’s Bombay Saphire and Tanquary in the minibar here in the car, Mr. Harte. A flask isn’t usually your style.’

‘I thought it was time for a makeover,’ Julian laughed dryly.

Anthony’s eyebrows twitched, confused. Julian opened the flask, took a deep breath, and coughed. ‘Christ, that’s rotten. It’s perfect.’

Julian splashed some of the cheap gin on the collar of his shirt and more on the lapel of his jacket. He poured some into his hands and splashed it against his face like an alternative to aftershave.

‘Are you okay, Mr. Harte,’ Anthony asked.

‘Perfectly.’

Finally, Julian took a large swig from the flask and gargled it around the back of his throat before spitting the glorified piss water out the window.

‘Now, don’t forget. Stay here and wait for me. I shouldn’t be more than an hour, like you guessed.’

‘And if you are?’

‘If I am, you need to get the fuck out of here and call the cops.’

‘Julian, seriously…’

‘Anthony. Just do this for me.’

Anthony nodded, but he closed his eyes and sighed heavily. ‘Of course, Mr. Harte.’

Julian opened his jacket and slid the flask into his inside pocket, leaving it peeking out a little. Enough to be seen without being too obvious.
Just right
.

Julian stood outside the doors of the club for a moment, swaying from side to side as he quickly made a mental note of where the security cameras were dotted. Julian had something pretty seedy in mind, but this place reeked taste. From the finely manicured exotic foliage neatly placed around the heavy, possibly solid, gold door to the subtle, cream overhead canopy with Vertigo embossed in large, swirling, black font. If Julian hadn’t known better, this place could easily have passed itself as a luxurious cocktail bar or fine dining restaurant.

Julian paused for a moment before ringing the doorbell. It had been a long time since he had acted; playing Oliver in a primary school play wasn’t exactly adequate training for his current situation. But right now, he needed to give the performance of his life.

No one answered. Julian glanced at the nearest security camera out of the corner of his eye. He continued to sway a little, and pretended to take a huge slug out of his flask, spending at least a minute trying to put the flask back in his pocket, purposely missing each time. He rang the bell again. And again, and again.

Finally, the door opened. A skinhead who was as wide as he was tall with pure muscle stood in the gap.

‘Howaya,’ Julian mumbled, laying his accent on thicker than usual.

The man at the door didn’t reply, but his eyes narrowed to comma-shaped slits.

‘Was just looking for a little hubba, hubba,’ Julian said rocking his hips back and forth, stumbling and grabbing onto the man’s arm for support.

The man exhaled like he had just inhaled Julian’s shit and shook Julian free from his arm.

‘Come back tonight. We’re closed.’

‘I’m in the right place, though, yeah? Just Danny down at the bar told me you’ve got the sweetest pussy in the city.’

‘You’re a friend of Danny’s?’

‘Course,’ Julian wobbled some more and threw in a hiccup. ‘We go way back.’

‘Danny Da Luca. You’re a friend of Mr. Da Luca’s, then?’

Julian had only managed to dig up the first name of the weasel who shared a cell with Cameron. If there were more than one Danny, this could get awkward. Julian puffed out his cheeks, turned to the side, and crouched forward. It worked. The man jumped back, presumably to avoid impending vomit. After a few moments of some loud, unpleasant, dry retching, Julian stood up. He looked the man straight in the eye.

‘Just one drink,’ the man said. ‘And just for Danny.’

‘For Danny,’ Julian said tapping the flask in his pocket against his chest.

The man was just about to open the door wide enough to let Julian through when he stopped and his expression changed like angry thunderclouds that appear out of nowhere. ‘How did you say you know Mr. Da Luca?’

‘I didn’t.’

Venom scribbled across the man’s face as he attempted to slam the door. But Julian quickly slid his foot into the gap.

‘What about my drink?’ Julian said.

‘Mr. Da Luca’s not here today,’ the man said pushing the door so hard against Julian’s foot that it was cutting off the circulation.

‘What are you, his fucking mother? I know he’s not here. I haven’t been talking to the poor bastard in months. Not since he got locked up.’

The man relaxed his grip on the door.

‘So did Danny take all the hot pussy into the joint with him? Or you gonna move aside and let me in?’

‘I think you better go home and sober your ass up.’

Julian swayed his upper body in circles while keeping his feet locked on the ground. ‘You think I’m zrunk? How the fuck zo you think you are? Maybe you’d like to be the one zo tell Danny why you wouldn’t let Julian Harte in.’

Julian thought about using an alias, as his real name left him open to all sorts of trouble following him, but if the brute decided to search him, Julian needed his ID to check out. He’d worry about later, later.

‘Well, Mr. Harte, Mickey’s upstairs, how ‘bout we ask him what he thinks about a visit?’

‘You wanna wake up Danny’s brother, you go ahead, but I ain’t sticking around for the shit that kicks off. Mickey’s not exactly no mornin’ person, eh.’

Julian held his breath, hoping his bullshit fit the bill. Vertigo was a family run business, but that wasn’t well known, and Julian had noticed the curtains on the upstairs windows were drawn. He hoped Mickey was either sleeping or fucking, and either way, he wouldn’t appreciate being disturbed.

The man let go of the door and walked back down the hallway inside. He turned around after a second or two. ‘You coming or what?’

Julian closed his eyes and an image of Eva’s smile came into his head. ‘It’s like you read my mind,’ he said sarcastically and followed the brute inside, closing the door behind them.

Julian knew from the outside the place was big, but it was deceptively huge inside. The narrow corridor led to a monstrous open room inside. Fluffy purple couches dotted against a backdrop of deep crimson walls. The black marble floor was so finely polished you could practically skate across. The tiny specs of silver granite sparkled like diamonds in the overhead ceiling, which was simply one giant-ass mirror. Hoops and large silk scarves hung from the ceiling in various random locations. Some couches had cameras set up beside them and others were almost completely hidden by drapes. For the exhibitionists and the shyer among perverts, Julian decided.

Julian scanned the rooms as well as he possibly could, given the dim lighting. He didn’t spot any security cameras here.
People must like to have a little privacy when they’re having sex in public.
He tried not to smirk at the irony and remain in character.

‘Jesus, I’m not sure where zo start,’ Julian said sitting down on a nearby couch.

‘Not here, for fuck’s sake,’ the man said looking at Julian like something he had scraped off his shoe.

Julian threw his hands over his head. ‘Sorry, sorry. Where, zen?’

The man threw his head to the side, and Julian’s eyes followed to a narrow stairwell.

‘Most of the girls are sleeping off the last of last night’s dose. Some of them should be good to go in an hour or two. You can have a drink in the meantime Mr…eh?

‘Harte?’ Julian said. ‘But Julian is fine. Just call me Julian.’

Everything about this place made Julian’s blood boil. He knew the girls were here against their will. He hadn’t known they were drugged up to their eyeballs. Melissa was two years older than Eva. He imagined they’d probably been very close as kids. Played dolls together and all that stuff girls do. It hurt his heart to think of someone who was a part of Eva being hurt like that.

‘So, you got like a menu or something?’ Julian said leaning back further into the chair and throwing his feet up on a small coffee table in front of him, trying desperately to ignore the nail scrapings and splash of blood on the side.

The man tapped his temples with two fingers and looked like he was about to shit a cucumber or something. ‘We’re fucking closed. The guy who does the cocktails has gone home. Have a beer, for fuck’s sake.’

Julian slowly took his flask out of pocket and made four attempts to take the lid off before finally achieving success. He tilted the flask to his lips and gulped a large mouthful of fresh air and swished it around his mouth before swallowing hard. Then he laughed loud and hard. ‘Not for drink, mate. For the girls. Jesus.’

‘What do you think this is? A fucking buffet?’

Julian shrugged his shoulders.

‘Have you got the money to put where your mouth is?’

Julian slid forward to the edge of the couch and pulled a five hundred dollar bill out of his back pocket and placed it on the coffee table. The man smiled.

‘Fifteen minutes it is.’

‘Fify-een-mini-its? Julian slurred.

The man laughed and Julian could see a mouthful of gold teeth. It turned his stomach. Julian pulled out a handful more bills, and this time he slammed the money on the table. ‘I want an hour, at least.’

The man counted the cash mouthing each round figure and Julian stopped following when they reached five thousand.

‘Okay, you’ve got an hour, Mr. Harte. But with the amount you’ve had to drink, you’ve just bought yourself some very expensive impotence.’

Julian slid right to the edge of the chair, and almost falling off, steadied himself by the arm. The man laughed again.
So far, so good.

‘I’m going upstairs. Don’t move.’

‘Get a brunette. Blondes give me the creeps,’ Julian said, clawing his way to sit back upright. Julian’s real life preference was a cute little brunette, but this scenario was about as far from his preference as it got. But without knowing what Melissa looked like, Julian was going with the nearest match he had, Eva’s hair colour. It was a long shot but worth a try.

‘I’ll get whoever is conscious and not too badly bruised after last night?’

‘Bruised?’ Julian repeated, the word sticking in his throat like a bad taste.

‘Yeah, some of the older guys get a little rough. You wouldn’t think the old dogs have it in them, but it’s actually very entertaining to watch them go at it like rabbits.’

Julian wanted to jump off the couch and punch this asshole in his steroid injected chest but he had to control his temper, even if it was going against every instinct he had.

‘You can get yourself warmed up while I’m gone.’ The man glanced at Julian’s crotch again and shook his head, laughing some more.

Planned reaction or not, this guy was pushing Julian’s last button. ‘Not down here. Jesus,’ Julian said.

‘What? You gone all shy now, Mr. Harte?’

Julian stood up. ‘I’m not shy; I just don’t need you staring at my cock when I’m fucking. There must be private rooms upstairs.’

‘They’re for VIPs.’

‘I’ve paid VIP rate, I want a fucking room.’ Julian’s voice was raised now and he almost forgot his signature wobble.

‘Okay, okay, calm down.’ The man glanced upstairs and Julian knew he was worried about waking his boss.