Honeytrap: Part 1 (3 page)

Caroline Westwood wasn’t impressed. After a brief conversation with one of the men she stood up and left the table. As she approached Harry, he slipped his hand into his top pocket and activated the recording device. ‘Game on,’ he murmured.

She came straight over to the bar and put her glass on the counter. ‘Don’t get the wrong idea,’ she said in a cool clear voice. ‘I’m only after five minutes of peace.’

‘You don’t have to worry on that score. I’m the quiet sort – and I’m all out of ideas tonight.’

Caroline arched her eyebrows. ‘Should I ask?’

Harry, following his instincts, decided to go off script. It was time for some improvisation. Somehow the story that Lorna had provided didn’t quite fit the bill. ‘Let’s just say I had a casual arrangement to meet a girl here this evening; turns out it was a bit more casual on her part than mine.’

‘And now you’re broken-hearted.’

‘I’m putting on a brave face.’

‘You’ll get over it.’

‘Easy for you to say.’

Caroline took a sip of champagne and looked at him over the rim of her glass. ‘Life’s full of disappointments.’

Harry put out his hand. ‘I’m Richard,’ he said. ‘Can I buy you a drink?’

‘Caroline. And thank you, but I already have one.’

As they shook hands, Harry took a moment to scrutinise her. From a distance she had looked ten years younger than the age he knew her to be, but close up he could see the fine lines around her eyes and mouth. Not that it made her any less attractive. She had the confidence of a woman who knew she could still turn heads. ‘A seat, then,’ he said, getting to his feet.

Caroline glanced at the empty stool, but made no attempt to take his place. ‘I’m fine. I’m happy to stand for a while.’ She paused and then said, ‘So, Richard, apart from being unlucky with women, what else can you tell me about yourself?’

‘What else would you like to know?’

‘Only the interesting bits,’ she said. ‘I don’t care for being bored.’

‘Who does?’ Harry asked. Now that the game had begun, he felt two conflicting emotions: one was the desire to succeed – to make her succumb, to make her want him – but the other was more ambiguous, a suspicion that he wasn’t exactly playing fair. The choice to stay, however, was still hers. She could walk away at any time, turn her back and return to her friends. ‘I’m in personal security. I take care of people.’

‘A bodyguard,’ she said. Her gaze slid the length of his body from his face to his toes as if assessing his potential. ‘Is that what you mean?’

‘Pretty much.’

Caroline gave him a deliberately provocative look. ‘Well, you’ve certainly got the build for it.’

‘It’s not just about muscle,’ he said. ‘Never judge a book by its cover.’

She glanced over at the young men who had ordered more champagne and were laughing too loudly. Their faces were flushed, their eyes shining as brightly as the gold Rolex watches they wore around their wrists. All of their suits were tailored and their shirts came in various shades of pastel. ‘Some books are exactly what they appear to be.’

‘Easy reading,’ he said. ‘Some people like that kind of thing.’

‘And you? What do you like?’

Harry met her gaze and held it. ‘Something with a bit more substance. A good story, good characters, a twist in the tale. How about you?’

‘I find a little mystery goes a long way.’

Harry smiled. He was probably enjoying himself more than he should, but what the hell – it had been a while since he’d done any serious flirting. ‘And a convincing hero, of course. You always need one of those.’

‘It depends what you mean by convincing.’

‘A man who can take care of himself. Strong, smart, sincere and with just a hint of sensitivity.’

Caroline drew closer to him, her body almost touching his. He could smell the musky scent of her perfume. ‘And what about the heroine? How does she figure in all this?’

Harry raised his glass to his lips, his elbow brushing against her bare arm. ‘She knows what she wants – and how to get it.’

‘And how would that be exactly?’

‘Through wit and intelligence … and by not always playing by the rules.’

Caroline gave a light laugh. ‘Rules are there to be broken, right?’

Harry broke her gaze as he reached for his own glass. ‘Absolutely.’ He caught Denis’s eye and the barman smirked. Quickly, he shifted his focus, glancing instead into the long wide mirror behind the counter. It was then that he noticed him: Danny Street, the man you’d least like to meet down a dark alley on a rainy night. Harry frowned. He hadn’t even been aware that the psycho was out of jail. What was he doing here? It was none of Harry’s business, but somehow he had never been quite able to shake off the mantle of the cop.

‘So, Richard, do you read a lot of books?’

Harry switched his gaze again. ‘Some, not too many. I like to be selective.’

‘I’m sure you do.’

As they continued with the banter, Harry positioned himself so he could see what Danny Street was doing. The creep was sitting at a table near the door, leaning forward and talking avidly to a girl with dark blonde hair. Harry couldn’t see her face – she had her back to him – but whoever she was, she had bad taste in company. Danny Street was pond life, a vicious piece of scum.

Aware that she didn’t have his full attention, Caroline turned her head to follow his line of vision. ‘What is it?’

‘Sorry, I just saw someone I know. It doesn’t matter. It’s nothing, nobody important.’ He tried to concentrate on the job in hand, but curiosity kept drawing his gaze back. Something was going on, it had to be. Danny Street never opened his mouth without some form of evil spewing out of it.

‘For nobody important you seem to be very interested in her.’

‘What?’

Irritation twitched at the corner of her mouth. ‘The girl by the door.’

‘Oh, no, it’s not her,’ Harry said. ‘It’s the guy I was looking at.’

‘You don’t say.’

If it hadn’t been for Caroline’s sceptical response, Harry might never have looked more closely at Danny’s female companion. But now he couldn’t help himself. Not that there was much to see – she still had her back to him. Early thirties, he reckoned, cropped hair, slim, pale skin. She was wearing a light blue dress with a navy jacket. There was a silver chain round her neck and small silver hoops in her ears.

Then, suddenly, something extraordinary happened. As if aware that she was under scrutiny, the girl turned and peered over her shoulder. Their eyes met and Harry’s jaw dropped open. The moment of recognition caused his heart to skip a beat. It had been five years since he’d last seen her, but hers was a face he could never forget.
Ellen Shaw
. There was no doubt about it. She might have changed the colour of her hair but nothing could disguise those dark haunting eyes.

The shock on her face must have mirrored his, but she was faster to react. While Harry was still recovering from the surprise, she quickly jumped to her feet, grabbed her bag and rushed out of the bar. It took him a few seconds to respond. All kinds of thoughts were racing through his mind, none of which had anything to do with Caroline Westwood.

‘Excuse me,’ he muttered. ‘I just have to … Sorry, I won’t be a minute.’

Harry crossed the room, weaving between the tables. He knew, even as he headed for the door, that he was acting unprofessionally and was probably in the process of blowing the job. There was nothing even vaguely seductive about running after another woman. But he didn’t care. Some things were more important than finding out whether a rich man’s wife was faithful or not.

Outside the bar he bumped into a large party of people emerging from the restaurant and got entangled in the crowd. When he’d managed to extricate himself and make his way to the foyer, there was no sign of Ellen Shaw. He hurried across the cool marble floor and out of the door. On the street, he looked to the left and the right, but still couldn’t spot her.

Harry only hesitated for a moment before sprinting down to Euston Road, convinced that this was the most likely direction she’d have gone in. From there she would be able to catch a tube or a train from the station. He had to find her! Even as he ran a thousand questions were spinning through his head, the uppermost being what she was doing back in London and, more worryingly, why the hell she was mixing with the likes of Street.

Jesus Christ, Danny Street of all people. When it came to psychopathic criminality, that bastard had written the book. He was vicious. He was ruthless, sick and twisted. The thought of Ellen even breathing the same air as him made the hairs stand up on the back of Harry’s neck. And why had she run off like that? She had to be in serious trouble.

By the time he reached the corner, his heart was pounding in his chest. As the traffic roared past, he frantically scanned the pavements. Where was she? She couldn’t have just disappeared – although it was possible, with the start she’d had, that she had managed to flag down a passing cab. If she had, she’d be well gone by now.

‘Damn it!’ he cursed.

He continued to stand for a while, staring all around, trying by the sheer effort of his will to make Ellen materialise from thin air. A light rain was falling but he was barely aware of it. His stomach was taut with frustration, his hands clenched into two tight fists. For the last five years he had tried to push her to the back of his mind, to accept that she was gone for ever, and now …

It was only as Harry began to retrace his steps that it occurred to him that Ellen may not have left the hotel at all. She could be staying there – in which case she might have fled to her room, or even hidden out in the Ladies’. He increased his pace, taking long wide strides until he was back at the Lumière again.

Harry hurried over to the reception desk and leaned on the counter. ‘Hi,’ he said giving a friendly smile to a willowy redhead with a nametag that said
KIM
. ‘I was wondering if you could help? I’m here to see a friend of mine called Ellen Shaw. Do you know if she’s booked in yet?’

Kim, who had probably witnessed his hasty exit from the hotel, gave him a dubious look. ‘Ellen Shaw?’

‘That’s right.’

Kim paused, staring at him for a few seconds before eventually tapping a few keys on the computer. ‘Sorry, we’ve got no one by that name staying here.’

Harry pulled a face, realising that even if Ellen had got a room she could be using an alias. ‘Did you see a girl walk through here about five minutes ago? In her early thirties, slim, short blonde hair, wearing a blue dress?’

Kim didn’t even pretend to think about it. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t notice. We’ve been very busy.’

Harry could tell she didn’t trust him. She probably had him down as a jealous boyfriend or something more sinister. ‘I thought I saw her but … it could have been someone else.’

‘You could always give her a call.’

What was he supposed to say to that? It was at times like this that Harry sorely missed his warrant card: one flash of that magical ID and he could have all the answers he needed. Private detectives, no matter how well-dressed, didn’t have the power of the police. His reply sounded weak even to his own ears. ‘I can’t. I don’t have her number with me.’

Kim gave a light shrug of her shoulders. Although her mouth smiled politely, her eyes were full of suspicion. ‘Would you like to leave your name?’ she asked. ‘Or a message?

I could pass it on if she turns up later.’

Harry shook his head. ‘It’s okay. Thanks anyway.’ He was aware of the girl’s ill-disguised glare as he walked off. So what now? He kept his eyes peeled for Ellen, but knew in his heart that it was a lost cause. If he was going to find her again then it wouldn’t be here. She had slipped through his fingers and there was nothing he could do about it. It briefly crossed his mind to keep watch – if she was at the hotel she might book out later in the night – but he couldn’t cover every exit on his own; she could easily leave through the back and he would be none the wiser.

In the bar Harry was unsurprised to find that Danny Street had cleared off too. Still, that didn’t bother him; Street was the kind of man who was never hard to find. Getting him to reveal anything about his meeting with Ellen Shaw would be the real challenge. What were the chances? Pretty much zero. But that wouldn’t stop him from trying.

Caroline Westwood had returned to her circle of girlfriends and was now talking to one of the flash City lads. Easy reading, it seemed, wasn’t completely off the agenda. Harry strolled over to the bar where Denis gave him a pitying look.

‘Wasn’t sure if you were coming back,’ he said, taking Harry’s half-drunk glass of whisky from under the counter and placing it in front of him. He nodded towards Caroline. ‘She got tired of waiting.’

‘Thanks,’ Harry said, taking a drink. ‘Win some, lose some, eh?’

Denis smirked. ‘The ladies don’t like it when you run after some other piece of skirt. It offends their dignity.’

‘I’ll try to remember that.’ Harry stared over at Caroline. She turned her head, gave him a cold dismissive look and returned to her conversation. If he’d had any remaining hopes of resuming his attempts at seduction, they were instantly dashed. He’d messed up and there was no going back. It took some skill, he reckoned, to lose two women in the space of ten minutes.

‘So did you catch up with her, the girl?’

‘No,’ Harry said. ‘Do you know if she’s staying here?’

Denis gave a shrug. ‘I couldn’t say.’

Harry wondered if he couldn’t or just wouldn’t. Maybe he needed an incentive, a couple of crisp notes to oil the wheels of friendly co-operation. But was it worth the money? He decided, on balance, that it probably wasn’t. Even if Ellen had been booked in, she wouldn’t hang around now that Harry had spooked her. ‘Have you seen her in here before?’

‘She a friend of yours?’

‘She was, once, a few years ago.’

‘She didn’t look too pleased to see you.’

‘Seems to be the story of my life.’

‘I’ve not seen her before. Or the guy she was with.’ Denis leaned on the counter and lowered his voice. ‘I’ll tell you something for nothing, though.’