The Evil And The Pure Read Free Page B

showing her the sights, introducing her to the right people.”
    “Hear she’s a looker.”
    “Judge for yourself.” The Bush pointed with a jerk of his head and Big Sandy turned, spotted a young woman in a yellow dress, smiling as she chatted with the Bush’s wife. Alice was a looker herself, but Drake had spoken truthfully — this girl stood out from all the others.
    “Stunning,” Big Sandy said.
    “Yes.” The Bush raised a finger. “But she’s barely eighteen, so back off.”
    “I’ll hold my charms in check,” Big Sandy deadpanned.
    “Want to meet her?” the Bush asked.
    “Not dressed like this,” Big Sandy said, and the Bush’s smile faded as he recalled where his right hand man had been earlier in the night.
    A man in a dark green silk shirt, with swimming eyes, clapped the Bush on the back and congratulated him on the party. The Bush endured his good wishes and smiled thinly until the stoned guest wandered away to bug someone else. The barman arrived with a fresh bottle. This one proved acceptable.
    “Take care of business?” the Bush asked softly, studying the red wine, not looking directly at Big Sandy.
    “Yes.”
    “Clean?”
    “Yes. But there was a problem. The child saw me.”
    The Bush stopped swirling the wine. “Saw you with his father?”
    “No. It was after. Before I could leave.”
    “What did you do?”
    “Put him back to bed. Read him a story.”
    The Bush gawped at Big Sandy. “And then?”
    “He fell asleep. I left.”
    The Bush looked troubled. “If he can ID you…”
    “He’s five,” Big Sandy said. “He was half asleep. I don’t think he’ll be able to tell them anything they can pin on me.”
    “But if he can…” the Bush pressed.
    “It’s a risk,” Big Sandy said. “I’ll accept it, take what’s coming if it blows up on me.”
    The Bush smiled. “I wish I had a hundred men like you.”
    Big Sandy grunted, uneasy with the compliment.
    “Do you want to leave town for a while?” the Bush asked.
    “No,” Big Sandy said. “I don’t think I need to. I’ll keep low for the next day or two. If the boy can tell them anything, we’ll hear about it and you can deal with me before they track me down.”
    “You’re a cool customer,” the Bush laughed.
    “We make choices,” Big Sandy shrugged. “We’ve got to live with them.”
    The Bush shook his head with admiration, then slipped Big Sandy a plain brown envelope, padded with bills. Big Sandy pocketed it without looking inside. There was never a fee when he killed – he received a regular salary, paid direct into his bank account – but the Bush often slid him a bonus.
    “ Have a good night on me,” the Bush said, knowing Big Sandy was sometimes edgy after a hit, that he might need to get drunk to unwind. “Drop by the house when you sober up tomorrow. I’ve some more work for you.”
    “Enjoy your party, boss.”
    “I intend to.” He squeezed Big Sandy’s shoulder then went to show off his niece and steer her away from the horny male wolves who were circling.
    Big Sandy thought about ordering another drink, decided against it . He could get a chaser at his next port of call. He departed, tearing off his tie and shrugging loose his jacket as he stomped down the stairs, thrusting them at Eyes Burton on his way out.
    “You didn’t stay long,” Eyes noted.
    “Long enough,” Big Sandy replied, turning left as he exited, to hail a taxi, heading for Sapphire’s.
     
    Sapphire was an Asian American, long dark hair, surprisingly thick eyebrows, late thirties (the same as Big Sandy), a Londoner for twelve years, doubted she’d ever return to the States. Twenty pounds overweight but she didn’t care. She’d worked hard in her prime, set a lot of money aside, established her own house in Earl’s Court, ran a discreet service, only taking on clients who had been recommended by existing customers. Sapphire rarely entertained her guests personally any more – that was a job for the younger