Second Act Read Free

locked eyes to congratulate themselves on their intimidation tactics, Claudia dived between their legs. A huge paw lashed out, but the eel was too fast and before they could turn, she was racing across the quayside for all she was worth. Footsteps pounded behind her. Which way, which way? The obvious course was to backtrack, follow the route she’d come by, but goddammit they were running like Olympic athletes and at this pace they would be upon her long before she reached the flower market and the crush of safety. Her only chance was to lose them by ducking and diving.
    She realized her mistake almost at once. Not only were the thugs keeping pace as she ducked and dived round the alleys, Claudia was being sucked deeper and deeper into the slums. Between the tall tenements, the last of the twilight was obliterated. Moans and wails unfurled from every window. A gagging stench permeated the air, a combination of rotting meat, dog piss, sewage and despair. Many of the cobbles were missing, making every step a hazard which threatened to trip her or turn an ankle, leaving her helpless and stranded. On she ran, feeling her way with her hands. She heard screams from open windows. Fists connecting with flesh. Babies bawling, dogs baying, but loudest of all were the footsteps behind her.
    Desperate now, she flung her purse on the ground, scattering the coins noisily over the stones to bring out the slum dwellers and impede her pursuers. Too late. A hand spun her round. Sent her crashing against the tenement wall, knocking the breath from her lungs. In the blackness, she saw the oaf grinning, and this time the grin didn’t fade.
    ‘Well, well, well! Thought you could lose us, didya?’
    The second set of footsteps drew up alongside. Both men laughed. The laugh made Claudia’s blood turn to ice. ‘Touch me again and I’ll cry rape, you fat bastards.’
    One smelled of garlic, the other of straw. They both stank of sweat.
    ‘She did say rape, didn’t she?’
    Oh god, they meant it. She could see the gleam in their eyes, felt their arousal through her thick furs. Even if she screamed, who would come? One lonely scream among hundreds. One more lost soul among thousands. Unseen hands could be heard, scrabbling in the blackness for her coins, but they would not come to her aid. Within seconds, they would disappear back inside the crumbling death traps, unconcerned where the coins came from, only where they were going. Six storeys of hopelessness pressed down upon her as hands clawed at her flesh, fingers probed without subtlety.
    ‘Enough!’
    Butico’s implacable tones cut through the howls of the slums like a scythe. The mauling stopped.
    ‘One thing you need to be aware of, my dear,’ he said quietly. His hand cupped her jaw. ‘No one gets away from Butico.’
    He glanced up at the crumbling plaster, wrinkled his nose at the stench.
    ‘Now, before you so rudely walked out of our meeting, I believe we were discussing the eight thousand sesterces you owe me.’
    ‘I don’t have eight—’
    His hand turned into a vice, crushing her cheeks. ‘Plus interest.’ He leaned over, his cold eyes level with hers. ‘You see, me, I like the good things in life. Greek sculpture. Gourmet foods. Vintage wines. You get my drift?’
    She nodded as far as his grip would permit.
    ‘But my boys, here.’ When he smiled, Claudia felt a chill to her marrow. ‘Well, the fine arts, I’m afraid, pass right over their heads, though they still appreciate pretty things. Don’t you, lads?’
    ‘Sure do, boss.’ A paw clamped over Claudia’s breast and squeezed to prove the point.
    ‘My rate of interest,’ Butico said, releasing his grip on her jaw, ‘is thirty-two per cent.’
    ‘ Thirty-two ?’ Terrified as she was, that was still an outrageous amount.
    ‘Effective the day I handed over the cash,’ he continued smoothly. ‘Which, as I recall, was exactly one month ago, bringing the outstanding balance to—’
    ‘Yes, yes, I can do