Combat-3-2
2005 Words
“There’s Nobolins in the forest. Nobolins! Nobolins!”
“Nobolins?” Anna repeated.
“Goblins,” laughed Judy.
Anna sat down while Mia presented the evidence for nobolins in the shape of a big story book.
“You’re a natural,” commented Judy.
Anna thought seriously for a few seconds. Sure she was off the pill but just at the start of her cycle. She knew that as a boxer Freddie would be checked out but she was living dangerously for sure. Just now there were other problems.
She watched her friend mothering the children, unable to reconcile the picture with the tough demon driver cop from their days at Brixton. Once the kids were in bed they opened the wine and Anna opened her heart.
“Plan A is a transfer to the underwater search squad, a check at the clinic and a morning after pill,” announced Judy when she had finished.
Anna laughed, “Is there a plan B?”
“Plan B is to get you to France next week for a bang on the boat. We do not tell Beaumont that you are shagging the suspect and are so loved up that your knees don’t work.”
“Loved up - is it obvious?”
“Yeah - like a big zit on your nose baby!”
Anna smiled at Judy’s wonderful way with words. Her friend continued.
“So - Monday morning conference I’ll get a keen young detective from Criminal Intelligence to bring up the story from Interpol about Freddie boy. It’s best if I don’t look involved cos you’re the witch and I’m the cat as far as our dear commander is concerned. Then you can jump in saying - “What a coincidence... this guy is a client of my father and he’s gonna be in the South of France.” Then you offer to pop down and check him out.”
“It’s risky, but I’ll go for it - we never worried about risks in the past did we?”
“We were dumb street cops Anna, just kids - shall we open the other bottle?” Judy laughed, - “but I’ll tell you one thing - that Beaumont Locke is a real premiership slime bag.”
“Destined for commissioner,” added Anna.
“Commissioner?” echoed Brian’s voice swerving through the toys in his uniform and stab vest, “it’s a kind offer but I’m busy.”
“Good shift?” asked Judy, kissing her husband’s balding head.
“I’m still alive, no one else died,” he answered wearily.
Anna smiled. She liked Brian and would have trusted him with anything. He was going nowhere in the police but he was worth ten of Commander Locke.
“Brian -you know of Freddie La Salle?” prompted Judy.
“Sure - he’s a legend. He’s about to fight Brennan in New York. Rather him than me. Brennan is great white hope and great white shark all in one. Never been defeated, never gone the distance. Fearsome puncher - know what I mean like a psycho savage? La Salle is a gent - goes in there to beat the guy, not beat him up.”
“So who will win?” asked Anna anxiously.
“La Salle has the class. He always goes the distance, never throws the big punches. If the ref lets Brennan fight the whole match with his head in Freddie’s face then I think La Salle will get nailed. Brennan is the home town boy. La Salle must need the cash - this fight is huge box office.”
Anna winced at the thought of Freddie unconscious on the floor with the crowd baying for his blood. He didn’t seem to need the money.
“What’s this fight worth to the winner?” she asked.
“Prize money - perhaps a million dollars. TV and the rest about 20 million.”
“I might be tempted myself,” commented Anna.
“Not if you’d seen Brennan in full psycho attack,” Pete chuckled.
“Never mind - you are only risking your career, your health and the trust of your family Anna,” said Judy concernedly.
Anna nodded, “I know - and it’s fantastic.”
Chapter 8Once back to her flat she lay gratefully in bed. Loneliness ached inside that only one man could soothe. Her mobile was ringing and she fumbled to find it.
“Anna?”
She almost kissed the phone. It was him!
“I had to call - it’s late Chérie - I’m sorry.”
“No - don’t be sorry...”
“I was thinking of you - you know, how it was last night.”
She thought of his face, his big strong hand holding the phone.
“Me too - how’s Paris?”
“Oh - I had to do that TV show - just a dumb interview about boxing. I’m at home now, looking out of the window onto the Boulevard St Michel. My city is very beautiful too,” he purred in his soft French accent.
“Freddie - I wish...”
“I wish it too ma belle - how I wish...”
“If only I could kiss you - if only I could hold you,” she almost cried with frustration.
“Our time will come - once this whole business is over I’ll be free.”
“What business?”
“The fight and all the stuff that goes with it,” he sighed wearily, “I want another life now but I have to focus in.”
“I was thinking... you know perhaps you could get injured in training or something like that...”
He chuckled, “Yes - you are thinking like a woman who wants to keep her baby at home on the first day at school. There is more to this show than a sweet girl can imagine. It’s not like the boat business mon amour.”
She swallowed a surge of anger. She didn’t sell b****y boats! She knew more of this tough world that he could imagine. How she longed to open her own heart, but since she had lied to him she could hardly blame him for believing her but what was it he had called her? Mon amour?
“Mon amour? Mon amour?” she echoed back at him.
“OK - that slipped out, it’s a lovely word. I was not expecting you in my life right now - or ever I guess,” he said in a slow husky voice.
“I understand... I feel... it is all so fast,” she began, battling with her raging emotions of desire and frustration, “can I meet you in Antibes on Thursday afternoon? I’ll call you as soon as I have all the details.”
“I’ll pick you up from the airport in Nice.”
“There’s no need,”
“There’s every need Anna - every need in the whole world. In a few days I fly to the States for training camp - I might as well be going to the moon. I mean Anna... Anna, it is so good to say your name - couldn’t you come to Paris?”
Every cell in her body craved and ached for him. If only she could be with him NOW!
She was out of control and reckless. Probably he would think she was a wicked girl. Maybe he knew he was in danger. She could just pretend to herself she was on his case. For sure there were crooks in the soup and with luck she could clean up the bowl and leave him aside. If the worst came to the worst she would just disappear and get on a plane.
“Yes - I’ll come,” she replied, wondering how she could possibly swing it.
“When?” he questioned, with a note of joy in his voice that thrilled her.
“Tomorrow night - a late plane into Paris Charles de Gaulle.”
“No boats to sell in London?”
Her heart was pounding. He could not imagine the hoops she was going to have to jump through. If only she were a Daddy’s girl who sold the odd boat.
“The rain stopped - the ark business is history.”
“Anna,” he exclaimed suddenly, “this is crazy - but I don’t want to stop.”
How he wanted her. He needed a girl at his side but that was just how it had started. Now things were different but he could never explain that now. Probably he would never be able to tell her.
“I’ll let you know my flight,” she said, softly kissing the phone.
“Until tomorrow,” he whispered.
Her mind swam with both joy and worry. Once again she had acted spontaneously with no idea of how to pull off such a trip. Suddenly her mind swapped back to that time before when she had just acted out of passion. It was a flaw in her nature and maybe she would have to pay for it again. She thought of holding him, the touch of his lips, his strong wide shoulders that filled her with desire and a sense of being protected. These few days now could be her entire life and there would be no regrets. She hugged the pillow and said his name over and over. Soon enough it would be another week and she would have to dig even deeper into the delicious hole that was beginning to swallow her.
Chapter 9The Monday morning conference came to order with Beaumont Locke performing his self important stand up and sit down ritual. A new face was at the table. Anna smiled as she recognized Deputy Assistant Commissioner Christine Jones who had overall command of the Interpol London bureau. She outranked Beaumont and both women knew each other from the streets of South London. She was in her fifties, handsome with cropped hair in a professional black pinstripe trouser suit, crisp white shirt and rugby club tie complete with red floppy hanky. She smiled at Anna with warmth that she knew was not entirely without meaning. She herself had chosen a plain deep cream suit, stockings and high heels. Her lips were deep red and her raven hair shone as it fell onto her shoulders. She had half expected to see Christine at the meeting and in view of her audacious plan had dressed to impress.
Judy moved to Anna’s side.
“The NCIS guy just lapped it all up and has done some research of his own. There’s money pouring on Freddie to lose,” she explained.
“But why can’t he win - he’s the world champion after all?”
“Because Brennan’s in his own back yard and the judges score the fight. In the States the most aggressive fighter can win even if he scores fewer points. Perhaps Freddie is in bed with these guys - but if he is why the hell is he swanning about trying to look like a loser. He needs to look like a winner but lose. The possibilities are infinite,” said Judy with a shrug.
“Freddie must know all this. Just why the hell is he taking this fight?” asked Anna, mainly to herself.
“That’s what you are going to find out honey,” said Judy, patting her arm.
The young detective gave a detailed briefing. It seemed bizarre to hear Freddie talked about as a suspect or at least an object of enquiry in a police case. The speaker did a brilliant job, making Freddie look like the key to the whole business and showing himself as a gifted crime analyst, enjoying his chance to shine in front of many possible patrons.
Anna’s heart was racing, her mouth dry. She just had to stay calm to pull off this deal. The speaker brought his report to an end with the words:
“Everything points to this forthcoming fight being manipulated by a group of New York criminals. Without inside information we cannot know if La Salle or Brennan are in on the deal, but Brennan is more or less owned by the good old traditional Mafia. As world champion he would be worth a huge amount of cash for future fights and the scrap with La Salle is worth forty million dollars in gambling alone. All the money is on Brennan to win but the odds now are just for Schmucks. All the serious bets went on at 20 to 1. Freddie is driving the odds on Brennan down... so crooks won’t be too pleased with him I suspect. A real gambler would back Freddie... but a guy out of training with a girl on each arm...well, that is a gamble.”
“Do we know who killed the referee?”asked Anna casually, reflecting she ought to know more about gambling.
An FBI analyst stood to answer.
“We can’t prove a thing but we do have information from a Jersey cab driver that a hood called Tondelli used his garage to t*****e him before killing him. No one outside the police knows this as far as we know.”
Anna nodded her thanks. At least the geek was up to speed. There was a short silence, broken by Christine Jones.
“Great - so we have a foot on the ladder. We can get the FBI on Brennan. As for La Salle, his last fight was surrounded by suspicion wasn’t it?” she asked.
“So, we need an operation to look at La Salle,” said Beaumont Locke.
Anna took a deep breath and tried to suppress the adrenalin pumping into her blood.
“I may be able to help. La Salle is a client of my father. I believe I can get a good insight into him,” she said, hoping she sounded calm.
Commander Locke leaned back in his chair and looked at her. With a show of arrogance he linked his hands behind his head.
- Writer
