Free Wings of the Morning by Julian Beale Page A

fallen quiet. He glanced at Sol and took in the quantum change which again engulfed his host. Sol became the instant nervous wreck, pushing
himself to his feet, pulling his jacket about him, moving with crabbed and hurrying steps to the head of the staircase whilst running shaking hands through his hair. David remained seated as he
listened to Sol’s small feet pattering on the stairs and heard his obsequious greeting as he descended into the view of the visitors.
    ‘Gentlemen, good afternoon. A pleasure to see you as always, Mr Riley and of course also Mr Mervyn.’
    ‘Who’s this?’ Riley’s well remembered voice responded with quiet venom as he jerked a finger in King’s direction. Sol’s flustered reply came in a higher than
normal pitch.
    ‘Oh, just a working colleague from the United States. Here for a few days. He’ll excuse us I’m sure. Why don’t you come upst...’ and his voice trailed off as he
realised that he had left David there which would require more explanation.
    At that moment, an unexpected confidence calmed David: what was it that King had told him? Something about the right way coming to him. Perhaps it had. He rose from the conference table and
stepped down the stairs with as much poise as the awkward spiral permitted. Riley and Mervyn stood dominating the room. Smart, professional and infinitely threatening as before. The highly polished
shoes winked at him again. At their side, Sol fluttered, shifting his feet and dabbing at his beard. Martin sat upright and motionless behind his large and cluttered desk. The three girls were wide
eyed and frozen, one standing by the bank of files, two sitting at their desks. In front of Martin, with his neck turned in mild curiosity, the King lolled in a visitor’s chair, entirely
relaxed. He had put on a pair of heavy, horn rimmed spectacles which gave the aura of the remote intellectual to his long, lank frame. He was in his shirt sleeves, his jacket thrown around the back
of his chair.
    David stepped up to stand toe to toe with Riley and to look him in the eye. They were of much the same height. Riley spoke to him.
    ‘Didn’t I warn you last time? This isn’t your business. Just get out of here and take the black with you. I have things to do with this man here’, he gestured
dismissively at Sol, ‘I don’t need interruptions.’
    David stood his ground, his self confidence growing with every millisecond. He sensed Mervyn stiffen in anticipation. David needed to stretch this defining moment and willed himself to wait, to
stand there motionless and unspeaking. Only the scuffing of Sol’s shoes, marking time on the floor, broke the silence.
    It seemed an age before Riley lost the initiative by speaking again.
    ‘Last chance,’ he said. ‘Leave. Both of you. Now.’
    Cue at last for David and he found that he could speak calmly and without tremor in his voice, standing tall and placing his hands on his hips.
    ‘Wrong,’ he said, ‘it’s you two to go. Immediately. I’m in charge here now. I don’t need you or whatever other scum stand behind you. Just bugger off.’
And he reinforced his challenge by staring into the gimlet eyes of Riley, ignoring the antics of Sol who was leaping like a flushed partridge.
    A look of incredulity flashed across Riley’s features before he recovered to push his face closer to David’s.
    ‘You don’t know who you’re dealing with, my friend,’ he hissed, ‘but that’s OK. I’ll give you a lesson you won’t forget. Mervyn.’
    This was an action command. Mervyn moved into motion with a speed surprising in such a big man, taking one step backwards to give himself more room and putting one hand into his jacket pocket to
come up with an obscene looking cosh, black leather covered, a foot and more long yet looking lost in his giant paw. He raised it high, committed to wreak mayhem and pain.
    But he achieved neither, except to himself. There was really no contest and afterwards, David was