The children had stopped playing, too, and were watching them with open curiosity, especially Riley. Beyond them, a couple of older women called the children in, and within seconds, the street was deserted. Mitcheson was ambling up to the entrance to Ragga’s place.
‘Christ,’ breathed Riley. ‘It’s like noon in Dodge City.’
Szulu ignored her, and raised his hand as he drew level with the youths, brushing knuckles with elaborate casualness. The first youth mumbled something Riley couldn’t interpret, then stood aside to let her and Szulu pass. Riley felt their eyes on her, but they said nothing, clearly briefed about her visitor status.
‘He knows we’re coming now,’ said Szulu softly. ‘You cool?’
‘Yes.’
They arrived at the front of the old cinema and joined Mitcheson. He nodded at Riley. ‘Need any mops, lady?’
She fought an urge to smile. ‘What’s in the bag?’ She was hoping he would tell her he was armed to the teeth.
‘Cleaning stuff, mostly. But I’m hoping they don’t have security scanners inside.’ He nodded at Szulu. ‘How’s the arm, bud?’
But Szulu wasn’t in the mood for friendly overtures. He scowled in return and led the way through a set of twin glass doors with elaborate brass handles. What had once been the ticket office foyer had been remodelled, and was now a reception area like any place of business, with plain walls, discreet lighting, thick cord carpeting and a large desk behind which sat a young black woman, filing her nails. She had thick, shiny hair piled atop her head, and heavy, bright red lipstick to match her nail varnish. A sound system on the wall throbbed with a heavy hip-hop beat that seemed to vibrate through the walls and down into the floor.
‘Hey, Maz,’ Szulu greeted the girl, his body language suddenly hip and loose, a broad smile across his face. ‘We’re here to see the man.’
Maz looked unimpressed, especially with the canvas bag over Mitcheson’s shoulder, but paused in her filing to stab a button on the communication console before her. ‘It’s Szulu and two,’ she announced, before going back to her nails.
Seconds later a huge man in a pinstripe suit appeared through a door at the rear of the reception area. His shaved head glistened beneath the spotlights in the ceiling, and reflected light flickered from several large gold rings on banana-sized fingers. He nodded at Szulu and gave Mitcheson a cool once-over.
‘What’s in the bag, man?’ He spoke in a coarse rumble.
‘Cleaning materials,’ replied Mitcheson. ‘I’m multi-tasking.’
The big man reached out and tugged at the side of the bag, checking the contents. All Riley could see were more dusters, scourers and hand mops. The man smirked before jerking his head back the way he had come. It was only when Mitcheson began to follow that he raised one vast hand and said, ‘You be still, man. She only.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Mitcheson stood eye-to-eye with the man, easily as tall if somewhat outweighed by the other’s bulk. In the background, Szulu was looking bug-eyed, a film of sweat building on his forehead as tension radiated out from the two other men.
The guard shrugged. ‘Then no way you going in there.’
‘It’s all right.’ Riley gave Mitcheson a reassuring glance. They had expected this, and had decided that a stand-off would bring them no closer to discovering what had happened to Lottie Grossman. She added: ‘I’ll be fine. You stay out here.’
For a second the guard looked as if he didn’t like that idea either, but he finally nodded and led Riley through the door and down a corridor to the back of the building.
They emerged into an open office area with three large desks, several filing cabinets and two leather sofas. Computer consoles sat on the desks, and the hum of technology touched the air with a gentle vibration. A slim young girl sat at one of the computers, inputting figures from a stack of paper. The screen before her was displaying an Excel spreadsheet, but she barely gave it a glance as her fingers danced across the keyboard. She was dressed in a plain black dress, black boots and silver tights, and had a pair of thick spectacles perched on the end of her nose.
A movement in a doorway to one side caught Riley’s attention, and another large figure appeared. He filled the gap, hands hanging down by his sides and fingers twitching restlessly, eyes staring at Riley with little apparent curiosity. He was casually dressed in a royal blue tracksuit and white trainers, and Riley gave an involuntary shiver at the absence of warmth in his expression. He reminded her of a giant Kodiak bear she’d seen once in a wildlife reserve, and wondered which one was the more dangerous. Coming here might have been the stupidest thing she’d ever done, and she guessed this man must be the infamous Ragga Pearl.
‘Hey, Cindy,’ the man murmured softly, without taking his eyes off Riley. ‘You want to check the lady out for me? Cindy’s my niece,’ he explained. ‘She’s got a degree in economics.’
The girl at the keyboard stopped what she was doing and swung her booted feet out from under the desk. She stood up and walked across the room, signalling for Riley to lift her arms. In a few brief seconds, she had completed a thorough pat-down, coming up with a small data stick and Riley’s mobile. She flicked the back off the mobile and took out the battery, then returned the separate parts with a faint sneer. Riley shrugged. It had been worth a try. If anything blew apart now, Palmer would have to rely on his instincts for trouble.
‘She’s fine apart from this,’ Cindy reported, her voice mellow. She handed the data stick to Ragga before returning to her desk.
‘What’s on this?’ Ragga tapped the data stick on his thumb.
‘Something you might want to see,’ Riley told him. ‘I’ll explain later.’
He nodded. ‘Okay. You want something to drink?’
‘Why not? Coke, please.’
The man who had escorted Riley in stepped over to one of the filing cabinets and swung back what was a false front to reveal a fridge stocked with a variety of bottled and canned drinks. He selected a plastic bottle of Coke and, with the barest glance at Riley, flicked it across the room at her. Riley caught the look and was ready. It landed with a slap in her hand and she said, ‘Thanks, but if you throw the glass there’ll be a mess on the carpet.’
For a split second there was silence, then Ragga Pearl laughed, the sound echoing in his chest, and his tongue slid out between his teeth. ‘You’ll have to forgive Slam,’ he said to Riley. ‘He ain’t got no style. In here.’
She followed him into an office furnished in black leather and dark wood, with just enough subdued lighting to rescue it from looking too much like a masculine bear pit. A desk blocked off one corner, and was clear of papers save for a laptop and a phone. Slam closed the door and stood against it, watching her closely. The music faded instantly, and Riley realised the room must be soundproofed.
Ragga gestured towards a soft chair by the desk, and swung into an executive chair on the far side, where he sat and looked at her, steepled fingers to his chin.
‘Szulu tells me you want to talk,’ he said finally, his eyes glinting and all signs of geniality suddenly gone. ‘Only thing is, I wasn’t expecting no woman, and not with no bodyguard. That what he is, the man with the bag? Only, right now, he ain’t sticking too close to the body, is he?’ He smiled nastily, superior, and spun the laptop round on the desk. It showed a camera’s eye view of the reception area, with Szulu and Mitcheson plainly visible in the foreground. Szulu looked nervous, while Mitcheson was leaning against a wall, looking bored and fanning himself with a feather duster.