Free Kiss Her Goodbye by Allan Guthrie Page A

cozy. They fell silent as Joe, sandwiched between Monkman and McGivern, was led to the front. Joe could see into the cockpit. Crammed into a tiny space, the pilot turned, nodded to Monkman, nodded to McGivern, ignored Joe. Just another uniformed twat. No sign of a stewardess.
    "Hey," Joe said to the pilot, "am I entitled to a free drink?"

PART TWO

THIRTEEN

    Leaving the chain on the hook, she opened the door and peered through the crack. A short, heavily muscled stranger with an intense look in his eyes. Behind him stood a taller, bored-looking punter. Both were in their late thirties or early forties. Both wore dark suits.
    "We have a couple of questions," the short one said. "Could you spare a minute?"
    "Police?" she said.
    The short one grinned like a pug. "Jehovah's Witnesses," he said.
    Not the police. Not punters. Jehovah's Witnesses? Was he joking?
    She didn't believe him. She pushed the door shut. Didn't take long to realize they weren't leaving, though. A minute later, she could still hear their muffled voices. Persistent buggers. Persistent enough to be genuine. Yeah, that was it. The short one looked serious enough to believe he was in direct contact with God. Tina had a problem with religion. Her childhood had been full of it. When the letterbox rattled she took a step away from the door.
    Stubby fingers held the letterbox open and the short man's voice boomed through the opening. "A minute, Tina. One minute of your time."
    Shit. They knew her name. Her working name. Well, good for them. None of her clients would have any qualms about giving her name to a couple of frigging holier-than-thou, Bible-bashing arseholes looking for sinners to convert. As long as a few quid changed hands, obviously. And once they had her name, it wouldn't be difficult to find out where she lived. Ask around. Hand over a few more quid to one of her fellow sex workers. Damn those whores. She should learn to keep her mouth shut.
    "Not interested." Her voice cracked. Jesus help her. "Go away." Better. More confident.
    "We just want to talk to you," the short man said. "It won't take long. Couple of minutes. Then we'll go."
    "I'm not buying." Not today. Not ever. Oh, Christ. "Fuck off or I'll call the police." Assertive. That ought to do it.
    "Tina," the short man said. "I don't believe your relationship with the boys in blue is altogether friendly. You wouldn't want to piss them off unnecessarily, would you?"
    "Get to fuck," Tina said. The letterbox snapped shut and she heard muttering again. After a short while the letterbox creaked open once more and a piece of white card poked through the hole.
    "Take it," the short man said.
    If accepting some of their literature was going to get rid of them, so be it. Reading a leaflet certainly paled in comparison with crucifixion.
    The card tilted in the grip of her fingers and she realized she was holding a photograph. She turned it over and looked at the familiar face of the man pictured in close-up. He seemed uncomfortable having his picture taken. Raising his whisky to the camera seemed like a feeble attempt to hide behind the glass. Which didn't surprise her. For all his posturing, Bob was shy. She gazed at his forced smile, remembered him leaving in a hurry, saying he'd be away for a while. Giving her a grand.
    So the pair outside the door weren't missionaries. Praise the Lord.
    The short man's voice boomed through the letterbox again. "You know the guy in the picture?"
    "You were joking?" Tina said.
    After a moment: "Huh?"
    "About being Jehovah's Witnesses?"
    The short man laughed. The sound rumbled in his chest. After a few seconds he stopped and coughed. He said, "Me and God, we don't really see eye to eye."
    Knowing they weren't religious freaks made a big difference. "What do you want?"
    "You recognize him? In the photo?"
    "What's it to you?"
    "We're his friends. Joe's in trouble. He needs your help."
    Joe. Now she knew his first name. It was a start. Get his surname off these dicks and