Free The First Novels: Pay Off, the Fireman by Stephen Leather

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 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-year-old 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 couldn’t help wondering what Tony had told her as my toes fought and slashed to cut their way out of my shoes.
            An hour after the call I was at the door of her Kensington flat, one floor up in one of those white buildings that used to hold one very rich family but are now home to several very, very rich families. To the side of the building were parking spaces for three cars and standing next to each other were a Rolls, a Mercedes and a Jeep – Dinah would have loved it. McKinley waited outside in our rented Granada. I was still waiting for my Porsche to be repaired, and even when it was I doubted that I’d ever let him take the wheel.
            The names above the entryphone at the main door had said S. Darvell and C. Hammond-Chambers but there was no label on the shining white door to the flat itself, just a brass knocker in the shape of a diving dolphin.
            She opened the door and I saw a flash of red hair cascading down to sun-browned shoulders, a wide mouth with teeth every bit as white and sparkling as the front door, then my eyes drifted down to breasts thrusting to get out of a