Read Online Black Mail (2012) by Bill Daly - Free Book Online Page B

name of God did this come from?’ she croaked.
    ‘A blackmailer,’ he mouthed.
    ‘Jesus wept!’ Laura grabbed the whisky tumbler from Simon’s hand and poured the contents straight down her throat. ‘How the hell did he manage to get hold of this?’ she spluttered.
    ‘God only knows!’ He spoke in a strangulated whisper. ‘It must’ve been taken in the Hilton. Where else?’
    ‘What can I get you?’ The smiling waitress had appeared from nowhere.
    Laura quickly placed her handbag on top of the photograph. ‘Gin and tonic, please. Make it a large one.’
    ‘Ice and lemon?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Anything else for you, sir?’
    ‘Same again. Glenmorangie. Large,’ he said, sliding his empty tumbler across the polished surface.
    Laura waited until the waitress had moved out of earshot. ‘How did the blackmailer contact you?’
    ‘He sent me that photograph yesterday, attached to an email, then he phoned me this morning.’
    ‘So that’s why you were uptight last night?’ Simon nodded. ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’
    ‘Not the easiest thing to slip it into the dinner conversation. Laura, he says …’ Simon was stammering over his words. ‘He says this is only a sample. He claims to have a two-hour video.’
    Sliding the sheet of paper from underneath her handbag Laura crumpled it in both hands while staring unseeingly across the room.
    ‘I’ve had a good look at it,’ Simon said. ‘From the angle of the shot I reckon there must’ve been a camera concealed on top of the wardrobe in the hotel room. Someone must have found out about us – where we go and when – and set us up. He must have found some way to install a video camera pointed at the bed and leave it running.’
    ‘What does he want?’ Apart from the angry bruising around her eye Laura’s features were chalk white.
    ‘Fifty thousand pounds.’
    ‘Or else?’
    ‘He’s threatening to sell the story to the tabloids.’
    Feeling her stomach starting to heave she dropped the crumpled sheet of paper onto the table and clasped both hands across her mouth to prevent herself from retching as she rocked back and forward on the bench seat. It was a full minute before she tentatively withdrew her hands. ‘We’ll have to –’ She brokeoff as the waitress arrived with their drinks and placed them on the table in front of them.
    ‘Would you like to see the lunch menu?’
    ‘No!’ Simon snapped, waving her away.
    ‘We’ll have to pay him off,’ Laura whispered. ‘I don’t see that we have any other option.’ Her fingers drifted towards her bruised face. ‘You realise that if Mike ever sees that photograph we are both as good as dead?’ She spoke in a dispassionate tone. ‘You heard his cock and bull story last night about the yobs on the motorbike?’
    ‘What are you talking about?’
    She continued to finger her bruised eye. ‘Mike did this.’
    ‘What!’
    ‘We were at a friend’s housewarming party on Monday night and he got it into his head that I was flirting with someone. I’d been chatting to a bloke for about ten minutes – having a bit of a giggle – nothing more. Mike was pissed out of his brains and when we got back to the car he started ranting and raving about me trying to get off with the guy. When I told him he was talking rubbish he punched me in the face.’
    ‘Jesus!’
    ‘He made me go along with the handbag snatch story to avoid embarrassing questions.’
    ‘Is this the first time he’s hit you?’
    Laura paused while she poured tonic into her gin. ‘To borrow a well-worn cliché – the first time where it shows.’
    Simon cupped his whisky glass in both hands. ‘Why don’t you walk out on him?’
    ‘Oh for God’s sake, Simon! Spare me the B-movie routine. I stay with Mike for exactly the same reason you hang inthere with Jude. I need someone to pay the bills. But I’m not exaggerating. If he ever gets wind of this …’ She broke off and tapped the crumpled paper lying on the table. ‘If he