"Which club?"
"Angels. Marble Arch."
"Didn't know Angels was Terry's."
"Yeah, it was his first club," said Donovan.
"I used to drink there all the time."
"I've seen you somewhere, I know I have," said Fullerton.
"Leave the girl alone, Jamie," said Donovan. He held out his hand.
"Come and give me a dance, Kris."
"Give?" she said, tossing her long blonde hair.
"Nothing here's for free, you know."
"I saw her first," said Jordan.
"Let her choose," said Donovan. He grinned up at Kris.
"Lady's choice."
She looked at him, then at Jordan, then back at Donovan. Her smile widened and Donovan knew that he'd won. He grinned at Jordan.
"Never mind, mate."
"Yeah, she probably goes for older men," said Jordan.
"I do actually," said Kris, taking off her bikini top and releasing her impressive breasts.
"Bloody hell," said Fullerton, then he yelped as Mimi prodded him in the ribs.
"Hey, I was only looking," he said.
Mimi had climbed down off the podium without him noticing. She sat down next to him and put her hand on his thigh.
"Are you going to buy me a drink or do I have to go back to the sad bastards over there?" she asked, pointing at the suited businessmen sitting around the podium.
"You drink what you like, lover. I am yours to command."
Angie took off her top and straddled Jordan. His hands went up to her breasts.
"No touching," she said.
"Club rules."
Jordan took out his wallet and slipped the girl two fifty-pound notes.
"I can touch what the hell I want," he said.
"Ricky's rules."
Angie slid the notes into the top of her white stockings and thrust her breasts into Jordan's face. He sighed and slid down the sofa.
Kris laughed. She held out her hand to Donovan.
"Kris," she said.
"Yeah, you said."
"And you are?"
Donovan grinned.
"The guy you'll be dancing for." He settled back on the sofa. Kris started to dance, a slow sinuous grind, her green eyes fixed on his. She had full lips and white, even teeth and she smelled of fresh flowers.
She put her lips close to his ear.
"Really, what's your name?" she whispered.
"Mr. Mysterious," said Donovan.
Kris wrinkled her nose.
"I know who you are, anyway." She pushed her breasts together with her upper arms, emphasising her cleavage.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. You're Den Donovan."
Donovan frowned.
"How do you know that?"
"One of the girls told me. You're a friend of Terry's, aren't you?"
"Which girl?" asked Donovan suspiciously.
"Elizabeth." She jerked a thumb towards the podium.
"The black girl. She's been here for years. Knows everyone. Remembers you. Said you were a big tipper and that you liked blondes."
Donovan relaxed.
"That sounds about right."
Kris was an accomplished dancer, totally at ease with her body. Donovan looked across at Fullerton, who had a glazed look on his face as Mimi ground herself against his hips, her mouth open and inviting.
Kris leaned forward, pouting and pushing her breasts together and giving him a close-up of her cleavage. Donovan felt himself grow hard and shook his head, annoyed at himself for reacting so physically to her charms. She saw the effect she was having on him and grinned.
Jordan was having simulated sex with Angie. She was sitting astride him and kissing him full on the mouth as she pounded against him.
The track came to an end and Donovan reached for his wallet. Kris shook her head.
"First one's on me, Den."
"What?"
"It's not always about money. Specially for a friend of Terry's."
Den took a fifty-pound note from his wallet and handed it to her.
"You're working," he said, 'and I'm a punter. Take it."
Kris looked like she would argue, but then she smiled and took the money.
"Thanks."
"Pleasure was all mine."
"Another?"
"Later, yeah?"
Kris kissed him on the cheek and sashayed back to the podium. She waved without looking back, knowing that he was still watching her, and he smiled to himself.
Jordan patted Donovan's leg.
"Good here, in nit
Fullerton had opened his eyes again. He leaned over to Jordan and winked conspiratorially.
"Hey, Ricky. Fancy a line?"
"Dead right," said Jordan.
"Den?" said Fullerton, and he tapped the side of his nose.
Donovan glared at Fullerton.
"For God's sake, Jamie. Are you still carrying?"
"Just a bit. Couple of lines."
"Didn't you hear what I said to you before? I don't go near gear."
"Leave him be, Den," said Jordan.
"Yeah, well, you can say that when we're all behind bars."
"We're among friends here," said Jordan.
"Ain't that right, Jamie?"
Fullerton gave Jordan a thumbs-up.
"You're as bad as each other," sighed Donovan.
A waitress was waving at Kris and miming that she had a phone call. Kris climbed down off the podium and hurried towards the bar area where a barman was holding the phone up.
"Come on, Den," said Jordan.
"Lighten up."
Donovan shrugged. Maybe he was being over-cautious. Jordan was right, Lapland was safe territory. An undercover cop wouldn't get within half a mile of the place, and those cops who did drink in the club were as bent as Dicko Underwood.
Jordan and Fullerton stood up and headed for the bathrooms. Donovan followed them, shaking his head. He liked Fullerton, but he seemed to be thinking with his nose.
Jordan pushed open the door to the gents' and checked that the cubicles were empty. As Donovan stood at the urinal, Fullerton used a platinum American Express card to shape six lines of cocaine on the marble surround of one of the sinks. They were long, thick lines. Fullerton was either a very heavy user or he was trying to impress.
Jordan rolled up a twenty-pound note and sniffed up two of the lines and then handed the rolled-up note to Fullerton.
"Oh, that's good," said Jordan.
"I'll take five kilos of that."
"Personal use?" asked Fullerton.
Fullerton attacked his two lines, then laughed as he licked his finger and ran it along the marble to get the last of the powder, which he then rubbed along his gums.
"You missed a bit, "joked Donovan, as he zipped up his flies.
"Oh, wow," said Jordan.
"Can you feel that?"
"Are you sure you don't want some, Den?" asked Fullerton.
Donovan shook his head.
"Never touch it," he said.
"All done?" Fullerton asked Jordan.
"Oh yes," said Jordan. He grabbed Fullerton by the back of the neck.
"You're all right, Jamie. You're a bit mouthy, but you're all right."
Fullerton had a lop-sided grin on his face and he was blinking rapidly.
"You're all right too, Ricky."
"Bloody hell, are you two going to get married, or what?" said Donovan. He pulled open the door.
"Out you go or I'm throwing a bucket of water over you."
The two men left and Donovan followed them. Jordan put his arm around Fullerton's shoulders and then tried to trip him up. Donovan sighed. They were behaving like a couple of schoolkids.
Kris was still on the phone and she was pacing up and down as she talked. Donovan went over to her.
"You should call the police," she said into the phone. She flashed Donovan a tight smile and pointed at the receiver.
"Friend of mine's got a problem," she mouthed.
"You can't let him get away with shit like that, Louise," said Kris into the phone.
"Next time he might have a knife."
"Anything I can do?" whispered Donovan.
"No, it's okay, Den," said Kris, then she held up her hand to silence him as she listened to whoever it was she was talking to. Kris sighed.