The woman eyed him without saying anything for a moment.

‘Do I know you from somewhere?’ she asked, her voice sultry.

‘I would like to think so,’ Cavalier said, dreading a comparison with Caine again.

‘I’m Jane McBride, a friend of Al Haut’s.’ She lowered her voice. ‘He has “business” with Neil Farquar. He said you’d be here as his protection.’

‘He wanted you here too?’ Cavalier asked, watching Haut in the mirror as some finger pointing began between him and Farquar.

‘I came here early to meet my mother for a drink and some friends later and bumped into Al. He wanted me to keep you company before my friends arrive.’

Cavalier ordered drinks: scotch on the rocks for him, sauvignon blanc for Jane. They chatted.

‘You look neat in those glasses,’ she said. ‘They are so nineteen-sixties.’

‘You’re too young …’

‘They’re coming back. They hide your azure eyes.’

Cavalier chuckled.

‘Never had an azure compliment before.’

Cavalier kept glancing in the mirror. Farquar was tapping the low table on which their drinks sat. He was making a forceful comment. Haut looked tense.

After five minutes, Jane turned and waved.

‘Oh, my friends have arrived,’ she said. She put her hand on Cavalier’s forearm and asked, ‘Why don’t you join us? They’re fabulous people. There’s—’

‘I’d better stay here.’

‘You can watch Al just as well from the table, using the mirror.’

He glanced over at the party of four that was sitting down at a table for eight. Waiters fussed around them.

Cavalier prevaricated.

‘Who shall I introduce you as?’ Jane asked.

‘Ray Waugh.’

‘Okay, Mr Waugh,’ Jane said, alighting from her bar stool and reaching for his hand. She placed him with his back to the window and in a position to view Haut and Farquar. Cavalier hardly registered Jane’s four companions when they were introduced.

*

Three tables away, the argument was becoming heated.

‘You owe me a million,’ Farquar said, pushing his forefinger at Haut.

‘I owe you nothing,’ Haut replied.

Farquar held up his hand in the shape of a gun, directing it at Haut’s head.

‘I’m coming with three more guys,’ Farquar said with vehemence, ‘and this time we’ll do the job.’

‘Make sure you bring body bags,’ Haut said.

‘Fuck you!’ Farquar said, stunned.

‘I’m not wasting my garbage bags on Conquer rubbish.’

Farquar stared, his expression waxing between murderous intent and fear.

‘Nice suit,’ Haut said, opening the jacket, ‘don’t you think?’

Farquar’s jaw dropped, realising that it was the kind of suit worn by all his would-be killers.

‘Tell Conquer I like wearing their assassins’ suits,’ Haut said. ‘So next time keep up the dress standard.’

Farquar stood and stormed off.

‘Don’t worry,’ Haut called after him, ‘I’ll pay for the drinks.’

38 ESCAPE

38

ESCAPE