a bit out of my depth here.”
“I never said—”
“You didn’t need to.” He lowered his head as though finally admitting an uncomfortable truth. “Maybe you should speak to Mr. Drake. He’ll listen to you.” Clearing his throat awkwardly, he added, “He wants to burn the place down.”
Shelley gaped. “He what? All right, where are they?”
Drake and Susie chose that moment to enter the kitchen, Susie in front and Drake wheeling two small suitcases just behind. Shelley’s own overnight holdall was still at his feet. He hadn’t yet removed his coat, and he looked from Susie to Drake as the couple joined them at the kitchen’s central island.
“David,” she said, coming close to kiss him. Enveloping him in a cloud of perfume. That perfume again. That same perfume.
“Susie,” he said, softening, “we need to have a word.”
“Of course, of course. You’re probably wondering what’s going on.”
“You might say that.” He gestured at the suitcases. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Into town,” said Drake, by which of course he meant into London.
“Tonight? Right. What about this . . . operation?”
For a moment he allowed himself to believe that it was all a case of crossed wires, until Susie reached for him, her head tilted to one side. “Oh, David, I’m sorry it’s such short notice. I had no idea about this when I spoke to you last night, but thanks to Mr. Bennett, we’ve found out where—”
“He told me. What I want to know is what you’re planning to do.”
“We’re going to get those scum tonight, whether you like it or not,” Drake said, defiant, angry, and commanding. “Do you understand me, chief ? We’ll start with this lot tonight and then we’ll move on to the dealers. Now, you’re in my house, on my dollar, and you’d better get your head round that or you might as well sling your hook right now.”
Shelley shrugged and reached for his holdall.
“David, no,” said Susie quickly. She turned to Drake. “David isn’t here to stop you taking action—‘revenge,’ if you want to call it that. He’s here to prevent you doing something stupid. Something that’ll come back to haunt us. That’s what you need to get your head round.”
Bennett took a deep breath. “There’s a famous proverb,” he said. “Confucius, I think. When going in search of revenge, first dig two graves, one for your enemy and one for yourself.”
“Who the fuck’s side are you on?” Drake said, turning to Bennett. “Matter of fact, who the fuck’s side are you all on?” He waved a hand, and for the first time Shelley noticed Gurney, who stood by the door to the kitchen and watched them with his arms folded across his chest and an amused expression on his face.
“Yours, sweetheart,” said Susie to Drake. She gently calmed him and the color in his cheeks gradually subsided and the fire in his eyes dimmed. Shelley had seen Drake rattled before—the kidnap attempt for one. But he’d never seen him like this. Never seen him so close to the edge. Susie turned to Shelley. “I got tickets for a show, reservations for dinner, and booked us in at the Connaught.”
“Drake’s not joining the operation, then?” asked Shelley.
“You can bet your sweet peach I’m joining it,” Drake cut in before Susie could reply. “A friend at the Connaught. A car back here. I’ll be part of it all right, don’t you fret.” He cast a sideways glance at Susie. “Just you try to stop me.”
Susie ignored him. “We need you there, David. You have to—”
“‘Look after Guy,’ is that right?” seethed Drake. “You needn’t bother, Shelley.”
“You sure?” shot back Shelley. “Then what’s all this I hear about burning the place down?”
Bennett winced, glaring daggers at Shelley, who realized, belatedly, that the arson plan was news to Susie.
Oh well. There was an expression beloved of one of Shelley’s old instructors at Hereford. He used to say it whenever he farted. Better out than in.
CHAPTER 24
“WHAT? ABSOLUTELY NOT. Absolutely not, Guy, is that understood?”
Susie was raging, as angry and upset as Shelley had ever seen her. Even so, Drake wasn’t ready to give in. In his mind’s eye he was dancing on the ashes of Foxy Kittenz and he wasn’t about to part with that image easily.
“Why?” he yelled at her.
“Because we’re not gangsters, Guy,” she threw back. “We’re not terrorists.”
“Then what?” roared Drake. “How do we hurt them?”
Shelley was about to answer when Bennett cut in. “We smash their equipment,” he said coolly.
“‘Smash their equipment,’” snorted Guy derisively. “It’s not exactly a mortal fucking blow,