*****
The simple task of walking to the dining room half-killed me, even with Coyle beside me with one hand clamped around my arm. Like I was capable of running anywhere.
‘I read their letter,’ my attendant said. ‘Jesus, you’re in for some fun tonight. Almost worth abandoning my principles just to catch a bit of the action.’
I didn’t respond; I was too busy trying to keep one foot moving in front of the other.
‘Ah, here he is now.’ Blaine delivered her customary opening line as the door swung open. She walked over to welcome me and Coyle patted me on the back, before leaving me to get on with my job.
‘Darling!’ Blaine greeted me with a gushing warmth that suggested I’d been out for the day, rather than locked in her cellar. ‘Come and meet Chester.’
The patio doors were flung open onto an ink-black night and the autumn air raised gooseflesh on my bare arms. I aimed for the nearest chair and managed to shamble to it without falling flat on my face, and stood with both hands gripping the back to take a first blurred glance at my client.
He was a man in a well-preserved, gym-toned middle age, and a study in understated wealth. Even without Coyle’s tip-off I would have placed him as a Yank, with his sharply creased chinos and his perfect, sculpted hair. He stood at well over six feet, and the width of his shoulders made him appear taller still.
‘Well, look at you,’ he said in a voice that was used to filling a room. CEO of something or other, no doubt. His accent belonged to one of those Anglophile northern states; I found myself thinking that Lilith would have known which one, right down to the guy’s zip code and house number, and just the merest thought of her made the pain surge through my narcotic barricade.
‘Chester Hemingford. Pleasure to meet you, Finn. Please, call me Chet.’ Good ol’ Chet grinned with his million-dollar teeth and held out a massive paw of a hand. His grip was soft, but the firm pressure from his fingers told me that he was already checking out his purchase.
‘Was I right?’ Blaine asked him.
‘Oh hell, yeah,’ Chester laughed. ‘Got to admit, I was a little concerned when plans went awry, but yeah, you were one hundred percent correct, Lady Albermarle.’
‘Blaine, please.’
‘My apologies – Blaine. Time to call the better half indoors, I think. See if the scenery in here impresses him as much as your garden does.’ He strode to the open patio door, leaving a scent of something expensive in his wake. ‘Ellis? You want to come in and meet our boy?’ he called into the gloom.
‘Amazing view you have...’ the soft West Coast voice drifted in moments before I saw its owner. Ellis was nearer to both my age and build, slight but muscular in black jeans and shirt, to match his dark, close-cut hair. His American heritage was represented by a silver and turquoise belt buckle highlighting a slim waist, and I had an image of the two men working out side by side in a chrome-plated gym, giving each other big, sweat-soaked grins of encouragement. I was just imagining a two-hundred pound barbell crushing Chester Hemingford’s windpipe when he gave a light cough.
‘Ellis Simonette, I’d like you to meet Finn...’ he began, but faltered as he realised Blaine hadn’t supplied him with my surname.
‘Strachan,’ I managed to recall.
‘Strachan,’ Chester echoed.
Ellis’ acquisitive eyes glittered as he caught his first sight of me. ‘Oh wow.’ The same response I’d given when I saw Lilith for the first time, but so very different in its meaning.
‘Isn’t he just?’ Chester said with pride, as if he’d just hunted me down and dragged me into the dining room himself. He turned to me. ‘You’ll join us for dinner?’ One of those questions that wasn’t a question.
‘Of course he will,’ Blaine replied for me, and placed a steering hand on my shoulder, directing me to a seat. ‘It’ll give you boys some time to get to know each other.’
*****
I managed a couple of glasses of wine – something red, I think – that mixed with everything else in my bloodstream to add to the haze, but all my food was returned to the kitchen in the same state it arrived.
‘That’s one hell of a diet you have there,’ Chester commented as Henry – with two fading black eyes that made him look even more like a small, nervous owl – cleared away my untouched steak. ‘Suppose that’s what helps keep that figure, huh?’