Masters & Lovers Box Set Three

Twenty-Six Years Ago

The club is dark and sleazy, like most of its customers; perhaps denizens would be a better description. Occupied by the lost and those wishing to be so, the unwanted and the unwantable, it caters to those not wanting to be noticed by the passing world, or those the passing world will perhaps see, but then look away from.

The bouncer looks askance at the blue uniform, moving from his spot in front of a luridly-coloured poster of young women of unlikely proportions and appeal. He stands to block the entrance, then jolts back as he recognizes the face at the top. “Sorry, Corby. Didn’t realise it was you for a minute there.”

“’S fine Pat. Just let me through.”

“You expected?”

“Yup.”

“Should I send ahead?”

“Nope.”

Inside, Corby grimaces at the mix of sweat, smoke and stale air. Sweeping a view through a blue haze over the hunched shoulders of solo drinkers, past the gawpers ogling the stripper under the spotlight, he settles on the shadowed nooks at the far end of the bar.

A figure half hidden in the gloom raises a glass towards him. Bech pushes back his cap then strolls across, taking a seat at the table. He ignores the startled glances of those he passes. In any case, as they see who he is sitting with, they look away again.

“Drink?” Enrico Romani raises a finger to the barman who heads smartly across the floor.

The cop lounges in the seat, carefully not touching the scummy-looking table top. “Thanks, no. Business, not pleasure.”

Romani awards him a cool look, waving the hovering barman away again. “I took that as read… So, what can I do for you, Corby? You’ve got the wrong brother for your line of work. Guido handles the women. I’m on the enforcement end of the business. You know that.”

“Yes, I know that. But that’s not why I asked you here. In fact, I have something for you. A little gift that I think your father will appreciate.”

Enrico cocks a brow, the expression twisted by a scar acquired no doubt during one of his enforcement activities. “Oh? And what would that be?”

chin. “How’s it going at court? Is the prosecutor…. Max Devlin is it?

narrowing, “And why would

Bech continues… “… that you have been trying to access Mr Devlin… during the court

seat. “Abso-fuckin’-lutely… No good though. He’s locked down tight. Twenty-four-seven protection, mirrors under vehicles, whole

“So, you would appreciate some leverage? To get him away from all that… Something to tempt him out to play.”

then reads… “An

of Chief Prosecutor, Max Devlin. The father might be under tight security, but a school of little girls in pink frills

broad grin dawns across Romani’s face, stretching the scar. It’s

fades. He sniffs, swipes a finger across his nose. “Not that I don’t appreciate

back, drumming fingers on the table top. “Let’s just say that the Romani family owes me one. No doubt I’ll be able to call on your gratitude at some

Max Devlin

nose where it doesn’t belong. Let’s leave

stares him down. “So, you want my

I don’t hear you

you don’t.” He stands, offers his hand. “Thanks,

“I appreciate that.”

watches as Romani leaves, his

problem

*****

Charlotte

going on-site this morning, Charlotte. You want to come?” He turns, touches my cheek.

love to.

down by the area of

“Your bridge…”

“As you say,

“So, what’s happening?”