can't. Now will you help?'
'Of course I will. You knew that or you wouldn't have come to me. I just want to make sure that you aren't getting in above your head. Is there anything I can do to help? Some of these tin-pot states can be murderous.'
'Just give me a name, Tony. I know what I'm doing.'
He took one of his gold embossed business cards from his wallet and scribbled a number on the back. 'Her name is Carol Hammond-Chambers. You'll have to mention my name or you won't even get past her answering machine. Carol is very selective and very, very pricey. But by Christ she's worth it.'
'You haven't?'
'Of course I have. You wouldn't buy a car without test driving it first, would you? There you are, then. I've introduced some very important clients to her and it was vital that I knew what they were getting into - if you get my drift.'
'And how is she?'
'The best, the absolute best. Worth every pound. Sexy, but very bright with it. You can't go wrong with Carol. She lives with another girl, Sammy. She works for me from time to time as well. A nice pair.' Freudian slip? Probably not, knowing Tony.
'Why do they do it?' I asked.
He sipped his wine before answering. 'Different reasons,' he said. 'Carol has an expensive habit to fund and working for me means she gets well paid and moves in the sort of circles where the coke flows freely and is as pure as the driven snow. Best of both worlds.'
'I tried sniffing coke once but the bubbles got up my nose,' I said and Tony laughed.
'What about the other girl, this Sammy?' I asked.
'Sammy's more of a mystery. You'll understand what I mean if you meet her. She's very smart, very sociable. She enjoys the company of stimulating men, men with power, men I can introduce her to. She's more than able to handle the physical side, too, and I think she enjoys that as well. To be honest I've never been able to work her out. Sometimes she'll turn a job down simply because she doesn't like the man's politics or his sense of humour. Strange girl. And I know for a fact the money's not important, she comes from a wealthy family, father's a Surrey landowner and farmer. Look, sport, are you sure I can't help?'
'If you could you'd be the first person I'd come to, believe me. You've done more than enough giving me Carol's name.'
'Good. I mean it, if things get tough call me. And take care. You can give me your number in London before you 60 go, too. Now, have you heard what happened to Ferguson over at Kleinwort Benson?'
Then he was off, gossiping and joking like the Tony I knew, but he was worried about me now and perhaps it had been a mistake going to him.
The voice on the answering machine was smooth and soothing, the sort of voice that relaxed you but at the same time gave you a hint of pleasures to come, illicit pleasures, pleasures to make your toes curl.
It was the sort of voice that usually belongs to fifty-yearold telephonists with spots and halitosis who flirt outrageously with men they'll never meet, but in this case Tony had promised me it belonged to a body that would more than live up to my expectations. I left my name and number and said that Tony had suggested I give her a ring.
My phone rang ten minutes later, which meant she'd just got in, had been in the shower, or more likely that she'd been in all the time and had rung Tony first to check up on me. Whatever, her warm sultry voice seemed to float out of the receiver, wash down my neck and tickle my back and I could feel my toes pressing against the top of my shoes. It wasn't Carol, it was Sammy. Tony's first choice was all set to fly to Oman for an extended 'holiday with friends' but she was sure she'd be able to help. It was Sammy's voice on the answering machine. If ever I get knocked down by a bus and go into a coma, play me tapes of Sammy's voice. I'll either wake up or die happy.
I asked her if she'd like to go for a drink and she said why didn't I just go round because she had more than enough drink for two, and I
'Of course I will. You knew that or you wouldn't have come to me. I just want to make sure that you aren't getting in above your head. Is there anything I can do to help? Some of these tin-pot states can be murderous.'
'Just give me a name, Tony. I know what I'm doing.'
He took one of his gold embossed business cards from his wallet and scribbled a number on the back. 'Her name is Carol Hammond-Chambers. You'll have to mention my name or you won't even get past her answering machine. Carol is very selective and very, very pricey. But by Christ she's worth it.'
'You haven't?'
'Of course I have. You wouldn't buy a car without test driving it first, would you? There you are, then. I've introduced some very important clients to her and it was vital that I knew what they were getting into - if you get my drift.'
'And how is she?'
'The best, the absolute best. Worth every pound. Sexy, but very bright with it. You can't go wrong with Carol. She lives with another girl, Sammy. She works for me from time to time as well. A nice pair.' Freudian slip? Probably not, knowing Tony.
'Why do they do it?' I asked.
He sipped his wine before answering. 'Different reasons,' he said. 'Carol has an expensive habit to fund and working for me means she gets well paid and moves in the sort of circles where the coke flows freely and is as pure as the driven snow. Best of both worlds.'
'I tried sniffing coke once but the bubbles got up my nose,' I said and Tony laughed.
'What about the other girl, this Sammy?' I asked.
'Sammy's more of a mystery. You'll understand what I mean if you meet her. She's very smart, very sociable. She enjoys the company of stimulating men, men with power, men I can introduce her to. She's more than able to handle the physical side, too, and I think she enjoys that as well. To be honest I've never been able to work her out. Sometimes she'll turn a job down simply because she doesn't like the man's politics or his sense of humour. Strange girl. And I know for a fact the money's not important, she comes from a wealthy family, father's a Surrey landowner and farmer. Look, sport, are you sure I can't help?'
'If you could you'd be the first person I'd come to, believe me. You've done more than enough giving me Carol's name.'
'Good. I mean it, if things get tough call me. And take care. You can give me your number in London before you 60 go, too. Now, have you heard what happened to Ferguson over at Kleinwort Benson?'
Then he was off, gossiping and joking like the Tony I knew, but he was worried about me now and perhaps it had been a mistake going to him.
The voice on the answering machine was smooth and soothing, the sort of voice that relaxed you but at the same time gave you a hint of pleasures to come, illicit pleasures, pleasures to make your toes curl.
It was the sort of voice that usually belongs to fifty-yearold telephonists with spots and halitosis who flirt outrageously with men they'll never meet, but in this case Tony had promised me it belonged to a body that would more than live up to my expectations. I left my name and number and said that Tony had suggested I give her a ring.
My phone rang ten minutes later, which meant she'd just got in, had been in the shower, or more likely that she'd been in all the time and had rung Tony first to check up on me. Whatever, her warm sultry voice seemed to float out of the receiver, wash down my neck and tickle my back and I could feel my toes pressing against the top of my shoes. It wasn't Carol, it was Sammy. Tony's first choice was all set to fly to Oman for an extended 'holiday with friends' but she was sure she'd be able to help. It was Sammy's voice on the answering machine. If ever I get knocked down by a bus and go into a coma, play me tapes of Sammy's voice. I'll either wake up or die happy.
I asked her if she'd like to go for a drink and she said why didn't I just go round because she had more than enough drink for two, and I
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