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Authors: Dreda Say Mitchell
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on the back door and ran through the small, but ornate, back garden and scaled the wall. Dropped to the other side. That dodgy doc might be relaxed about the guys in the Merc, but Mac wasn’t. As he hurried down the street he thought about ways of finding Elena’s address. But nothing came to him.
His brain kept moving in pace with his feet. Then he slowly smiled as he realised that the good doctor had given him the clue he needed to find where Elena had lived. It might put him smack-bang in the firing line but he didn’t care. All that mattered was avenging her death.
fifteen
10:34 a.m.
Mac walked into Work Dat Body Health Spa. He’d never have figured out to check out Elena’s gym to find her address if doctor Mo hadn’t inadvertently mentioned he’d treated an injury she’d sustained while working out. That’s when Mac had recalled that she’d used it once a week and sometimes on Sundays. He’d even given her a lift there, a couple of weeks after they’d started sleeping together. She’d been running late so he’d offered to take her. Elena had made a bit of a fuss about not wanting him to go out of his way for her, but he’d subdued her reluctance with soft kisses and teased her about not telling anyone about her secret passion to become Miss Body Builder. Elena had playfully smacked him on the arm and they’d fallen about laughing. That was only five months ago, one month after he’d met her. Now she was dead.
Mac cruelly swiped the good times from his mind as he took in the reception area. He spotted the security camera pretty much straight away, perched just above a large framed shot of some guy with buff pecs. His gaze did another quick scan. No more lenses trailed him – well, not any he could see. Still he flipped his hood over the cap and kept his head low. The place was all chrome and spotless white. Chrome reception desk and light fittings and white walls and ceiling. Only the white tiled floor spoiled the look with a veined pattern that looked like it was leaking blue blood. The reception was empty, no one behind the desk. Good, that meant if the computer was on he could get on with his work without any interruptions. But he’d have to be quick.
He kept his stride easy, but long. As he got closer, quick, soft, techno-synth adrenalin music pumped from another room. He reached the half-moon desk. On top sat a flatscreen computer near a cash register. As he reached to spin the computer round, he heard a woman’s giggle coming from somewhere in the back. He snapped his hand back as a young woman appeared from a door behind the reception desk.
Spotting him, she stopped. ‘Can I help you?’ she offered as she started towards him. She had that sprayed look – tan, the gleaming white teeth and fluffed-up hair.
He caught the name on her name badge as she took the chair on the other side of the desk. Trish.
Mac was all smiles. ‘Yeah. I desperately need to contact a friend of mine, but I don’t have her address. I know that she uses this gym and I wondered if you could just give me her address from your files.’
Trish raised a finely plucked eyebrow. ‘I’m sorry sir, but that’s against the gym’s policy. All members’ information is strictly confidential.’
Mac leaned forward, dropped his voice. ‘It’s urgent that I contact her. Something to do with her family.’
Trish shook her head. ‘Sorry, sir. Maybe you can find a phone number? An email?’
Her email or phone number weren’t going to help him locate her address. Mac felt the heat rising in his face. His next words were delivered with a snap and a bite. ‘Can you help me or not?’
‘Now there’s no need for you to take that tone . . .’
Mac pulled his Luger and pushed it into her face, his anger darkening his skin. He needed that address; whatever he had to do to get it from this woman, he was going to do. Bang a gun in someone’s face and one of two things can happen – the person freezes or screams.
His brain kept moving in pace with his feet. Then he slowly smiled as he realised that the good doctor had given him the clue he needed to find where Elena had lived. It might put him smack-bang in the firing line but he didn’t care. All that mattered was avenging her death.
fifteen
10:34 a.m.
Mac walked into Work Dat Body Health Spa. He’d never have figured out to check out Elena’s gym to find her address if doctor Mo hadn’t inadvertently mentioned he’d treated an injury she’d sustained while working out. That’s when Mac had recalled that she’d used it once a week and sometimes on Sundays. He’d even given her a lift there, a couple of weeks after they’d started sleeping together. She’d been running late so he’d offered to take her. Elena had made a bit of a fuss about not wanting him to go out of his way for her, but he’d subdued her reluctance with soft kisses and teased her about not telling anyone about her secret passion to become Miss Body Builder. Elena had playfully smacked him on the arm and they’d fallen about laughing. That was only five months ago, one month after he’d met her. Now she was dead.
Mac cruelly swiped the good times from his mind as he took in the reception area. He spotted the security camera pretty much straight away, perched just above a large framed shot of some guy with buff pecs. His gaze did another quick scan. No more lenses trailed him – well, not any he could see. Still he flipped his hood over the cap and kept his head low. The place was all chrome and spotless white. Chrome reception desk and light fittings and white walls and ceiling. Only the white tiled floor spoiled the look with a veined pattern that looked like it was leaking blue blood. The reception was empty, no one behind the desk. Good, that meant if the computer was on he could get on with his work without any interruptions. But he’d have to be quick.
He kept his stride easy, but long. As he got closer, quick, soft, techno-synth adrenalin music pumped from another room. He reached the half-moon desk. On top sat a flatscreen computer near a cash register. As he reached to spin the computer round, he heard a woman’s giggle coming from somewhere in the back. He snapped his hand back as a young woman appeared from a door behind the reception desk.
Spotting him, she stopped. ‘Can I help you?’ she offered as she started towards him. She had that sprayed look – tan, the gleaming white teeth and fluffed-up hair.
He caught the name on her name badge as she took the chair on the other side of the desk. Trish.
Mac was all smiles. ‘Yeah. I desperately need to contact a friend of mine, but I don’t have her address. I know that she uses this gym and I wondered if you could just give me her address from your files.’
Trish raised a finely plucked eyebrow. ‘I’m sorry sir, but that’s against the gym’s policy. All members’ information is strictly confidential.’
Mac leaned forward, dropped his voice. ‘It’s urgent that I contact her. Something to do with her family.’
Trish shook her head. ‘Sorry, sir. Maybe you can find a phone number? An email?’
Her email or phone number weren’t going to help him locate her address. Mac felt the heat rising in his face. His next words were delivered with a snap and a bite. ‘Can you help me or not?’
‘Now there’s no need for you to take that tone . . .’
Mac pulled his Luger and pushed it into her face, his anger darkening his skin. He needed that address; whatever he had to do to get it from this woman, he was going to do. Bang a gun in someone’s face and one of two things can happen – the person freezes or screams.
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