I didn't say anything since at least part of what he said was right. Possibly all of it.
'Now, I know you've come a long way,' he continued, his manner polite and unhurried, 'and I appreciate that I'm asking a lot to get you to go back to where you've come from less than a day after you've arrived, so I'm going to make things easier for you.' He reached inside his jacket and removed an airline ticket, which he put down on the table between us. 'It's a business-class ticket to Manila via Singapore on Singapore Airlines. You're confirmed on the flight at eleven o'clock tomorrow morning. As soon as you've checked in, you'll receive a phone call and you'll be met by someone at the departure gates. That someone will have two thousand dollars US in cash for you to compensate you for your journey. I'm asking you to be on that flight when it takes off, Mr Kane. Because if you're not, we'll know about it.'
Again, I didn't say anything. My coffee arrived and I thanked the waitress with a smile that she didn't return. I'd forgotten what an impolite city London could be. It concerned me that since coming off the plane yesterday, the friendliest person I'd run into was Les Pope. It wasn't something you'd want to put in the guidebooks.
'I'd also like it if you returned to your hotel and stayed there minding your own business for the next twenty-four hours. If you behave yourself, I'll even arrange you a car to the airport.'
'There's no need to take the piss, Leslie.'
'Just be on that fucking plane, Mr Kane.' The friendly act was faltering as Mr Pope began to show me his true colours which, unlike his face, were none too pretty. This was an arrogant man who thought he was holding all the cards. In a movie, I would have told him to take his plane ticket and stick it where the sun don't shine because I'd do whatever the hell I wanted, even if it meant stepping on the toes of him and his friends. But this wasn't a movie, and if there's one thing I've learned in life, it's never to let an adversary know what you're thinking.
I picked up the ticket, turned it over in my hands, then put it in my pocket. After a long pause, during which he stared at me intently, I finally spoke. 'All right, Mr Pope, you win. I'll be on that plane. But I don't want you to try anything in between times. If one of your buddies has a pop at me before I get to the airport, then I'll be back, and I'll be none too happy either.'
I think I caught him out there, because I'm sure he'd been expecting me to start playing up. He gave me a hard stare that revealed deep frown-marks on his forehead, before the expression eased and he smiled again. 'I'm glad you're doing the right thing, Mr Kane. And nothing will happen to you if you do me this favour. Just make sure you don't get any second thoughts between here and Heathrow. Otherwise, things for you might suddenly take a turn for the worse.'
'I'm presuming the coffee's your treat,' I said as I stood up. At the same time, I gave the table a bit of a nudge and half my cup's contents slopped out, much of it missing the saucer and landing on the table. A thin line of liquid made a rapid charge for Pope's end of the table and started dripping over the edge and onto his lap.
He jerked back in his seat, not quite avoiding the first drops, and his eyes met mine again. They were very blue, and they burned with a hatred that I'd seen only a handful of times before, and which I knew spelt trouble.
'Sorry about that,' I said, turning towards the door while he dabbed angrily at the offending stain with a tissue.
The waitress walked over looking pissed off. She had a cloth in her hand. 'You can clean that up,' she snapped, thrusting it in my direction.
I smiled and started to tell her that I was sure my colleague could manage when she lunged at me and I saw that she had a syringe in the other hand. She was aiming it at my upper leg, one of the few places on my body that wasn't well covered by the new coat, and I stepped instinctively to one side, grabbing her by the shoulder.
I felt the sting of the needle hitting my thigh just as I shoved her bodily into the table. More coffee spilled out of the cup, but by this time Pope was already out of his chair.
The waitress went to jab me again but I caught the side of her face with a hasty but accurate right hook and, not being the biggest of girls, she went down on her behind, looking dazed. I would have felt guilty but there was no time for that. Pope was going for something in the back of his suit trousers and I didn't want to wait around to find out what it was.
As I went for the door, the nearest workman jumped to his feet and charged me, swinging a piece of piping in his hand. I grabbed the handle with one hand and used the other to pick up an empty chair that I flung at him. He knocked it aside and kept coming. I turned away and yanked at the door. It was halfway open and I was wriggling through what gap there was when I was sent reeling by a ferocious blow to the side of the head. My vision blurred and I struggled to keep my balance, knowing that if I fell down here, then I was finished. I had to get outside. In front of witnesses. Across the street, I could see a young couple walking past with a pram. I kept pushing myself through the gap in the door, but the workman, or whoever the hell he was, wasn't going to let me go that easily. A brawny hand slammed against the door's glass, trapping me halfway through. At the same time, he went to smack me again with the piping.
But he didn't get the chance. I gave an almighty push and the next second I was stumbling out into the cold air, and freedom.
A silver car pulled up just outside the cafe, blocking my view of the couple and their pram. Through the fuzz of my vision, I saw a man jumping out, although there was no way I could have described him.
I opened my mouth, started to say something.
And then I felt a second blow, this time to the back of my head. My legs buckled, and I remember hoping as I hit the ground that my brain was OK because it felt like it had been uprooted and sent flying round my skull like a pinball. I was vaguely aware of being lifted back to my feet, but before there was any time to wonder how the hell this was going to end, I blacked out.
10
I awoke in noisy blackness. When I opened my eyes, I couldn't work out whether this was because I was still unable to see properly, or because I was in a dark space. The cramped feeling in my legs and back soon confirmed it was the latter. I was hunched up in the boot of a car, travelling over very bumpy ground. My head thumped ferociously from the blow I'd received and there was a terrible pain behind my eyes.
I willed myself to remain calm and assess the situation – no easy feat when you've been kidnapped, locked up, and suffer from claustrophobia, but I figured I didn't have a lot of choice. I could hear voices – very faint – in the front. I listened for a moment, and concluded that there were probably two men. Next, I moved my hands and feet. They weren't tied. This meant they almost certainly hadn't managed to get me back into the cafe. They must have simply picked me up and chucked me straight in the boot. They probably hadn't searched me, either. And it was that which gave me a chance.
My fingers touched the top of my head. There was a lot of semi-coagulated blood, and the skin felt extremely tender. I probed round and located a large, angry lump. The guy with the piping had certainly given me a couple of decent whacks, but not quite decent enough. I could move every part of my body, including the extremities, and my eyes were now becoming accustomed to the gloom. I was pretty sure I wasn't concussed, which was the good news. The bad news was that I was going to have to improve my survival skills substantially if I was going to get out of this situation intact.