Killer Instinct

Two

Susie finished her song, bright-eyed and breathless. Dave shook his head at the reception she got, including a very possessive kiss from Tony. He'd elbowed his way to the front of the crowd while she'd been doing her bit. The way he dived on her mouth the moment she hopped off the stage was like a brand.

Tony was short and stocky, with eyebrows that met in the middle over the bridge of his nose. He looked thick as a brick. He was also well on the way to being plastered, and as he pushed his way up to speak to Dave, I carefully stepped back and gave him room.

“We'll be at the bar when you need us,” he told Dave arrogantly, one arm draped round Susie's shoulders.

Dave replied with a quick gesture of fingers to forehead that could almost have been taken as a salute. Judging by the wink he gave me, it was more likely to have meant “dickhead”. Tony didn't seem to notice. He steered Susie away and they swaggered across the dance floor.

The contestants that followed demonstrated clearly why Susie had won so often and so easily. In the kingdom of the blind, she was definitely the one with the monocular vision.

Seventh up was a spotty teenager who clearly thought he was a star in the making. “There you go, ladies and gents,” Dave commented as he left the stage, “perfect boy band material if ever I saw it – can't sing and can't dance, but I wouldn't be surprised if he had a recording contract before the night is out.”

There was general laughter and he paused to nod to Clare. She smiled nervously, clutched quickly at my hand, and was up on the stage. There were a few whistles of appreciation which Dave waved into silence.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but settle down, boys. This is Clare Elliot, and it's her first time up here on karaoke night at the New Adelphi Club, so go easy on her, OK?” There were raucous shouts at that and Dave grinned at them. “Clare's an accounts secretary for the local paper, lives in Caton, and – sorry to disappoint you, boys – but she's already spoken for.” He looked at me as he said that. I held his gaze levelly and gave it back to him without additions or subtractions.

“So, here she is, and even if she turns out to be as tone-deaf as the rest of you lot, at least you can put your fingers in your ears and enjoy looking at her. Give it up now for Clare Elliot!”

As the cheers died down I realised that I'd no idea what song Clare had chosen. It took me a couple of beats of the introduction before I recognised “Cry Me A River”. Clare paused a fraction to gather herself, then closed her eyes and started to sing.

Life's a bitch, isn't it? Not only had Clare been front of the line when looks and brains were handed out, but she'd been right up there in the queue for vocals as well.

The familiar words of the song came out clear and powerful, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. To begin with there was a stunned silence. By the time Clare reached the first chorus it was obvious she was far and away the best there.

I felt someone jostle my arm and glanced sideways to find Tony had returned from the bar, dragging a disgruntled-looking Susie with him. He didn't look any more attractive when he was gawping, and her prettiness had disappeared in the face of jealous spite.

“She's a ringer,” Susie swore. “That bitch is no amateur. They've brought her in just to stop me winning again!” Her voice had that slight slur of someone who's approached the evening's drinking not as the designated driver.

Tony wasn't so good at expressing himself in words, but he managed a couple of things of an earthy nature that only succeeded in making him sound more ignorant than he had before. Susie stood fuming visibly for another half verse, then resorted to violence.

As she launched herself at the stage, Clare stopped singing and gave a squeak of fright. Susie tried to snatch the mic out of her hand. I looked round for security, but there was no sign of anyone near. Even Gary was long gone.

When Clare had asked me for moral support, I didn't think this was quite what she had in mind. I had already started to move when Susie backhanded Clare across the face. Oh shit.

The stage was a couple of feet above the dance floor, which gave her an advantage of superior height. I evened up the odds by bringing Susie back down to my level. I simply grasped hold of one leg, swung her round off her feet, and let go.

She had no idea how to break a fall and she landed, hard, on her backside a couple of metres from the stage, showing her underwear to the world. A space in the club goers appeared magically around her. Everyone backed away to the edges of the floor. It was clear I was going to get an audience rather than any assistance.

I stepped between the two women with my hands spread to placate. “Come on now, Susie, don't make trouble,” I said. “Just leave her alone.” I had to give her a chance to back down, otherwise if I damaged her I was going to be neck-deep in trouble.

Susie cursed as she scrambled to her feet. She was quite a bit taller than I was, and she had me easily in weight. My only advantage was complete sobriety and the sort of blacklist of dirty tricks that I definitely don't teach to my pupils.

She came at me again. I stood my ground until she was half a stride away, then ducked under her reaching claws, grabbed, and gave a good twist with some leverage in just the right place. Susie ended up right back where she started. Well, maybe she landed a little harder this time.

She wasn't short of guts, I'll give her that. As fast as she could get back up she was charging me again, like an enraged Spanish bull. I felt like a matador as I fended her off. I noted with mild interest that she travelled further face down, sliding along the polished dance floor on her lavish bosom.

I had time then to look round for back-up, which seemed to be a damned long time coming, in my opinion. I made sure the fourth time Susie went down, she went down more solidly, and stayed down for longer.

She had no special fighting skills, had lost her temper, and was too close to being drunk to work out a decent strategy of attack. I was working round a fairly basic series of aikido throws, using her size and speed against her, but I was getting pretty bored with the game.

This time when she regained an upright position it had finally penetrated that she had to be more careful. She clenched her fist and tried to throw a good old-fashioned right. She couldn't have given me any more warning of the punch if she'd sent me faxed confirmation.

I blocked her easily enough, and caught hold of her arm, circling her wrist to dig in deep with my fingers and thumb on the underside. She bellowed and froze like her muscles had gone into spasm.

I was suddenly aware that I had something of a tiger by the tail. As long as I kept hold of her I was OK. The pain you can inflict using Kyusho-Jitsu pressure point techniques is more than enough to render an opponent immobile. But unless I was prepared to actually knock her out, things were going to get very interesting when I let go.

There was also the possibility that sooner or later Tony was going to come out of his stupor long enough to wade in. I didn't want to have to hold on to Susie, and deck her amorous boyfriend at the same time. Not without either giving or receiving some serious injury. Damn it.

The problem was solved for me by a big man who pushed his way through the crowd. I noticed the way people deferred to him, and stood my ground. Our gaze met over Susie's loudly swearing form and his brow quirked upwards.

He stopped a pace away and took in the scene, not rushing into anything. He was wearing black trousers, expensive enough to drape well as he moved, and a black silk shirt without a collar. His eyes were so pale a colour as to be almost translucent.

“You seem to have everything pretty much under control, but would you like me to take this off your hands?” he enquired politely, inclining his head slightly as he spoke so that it was almost a bow.

“What?” I said, then glanced down as if noticing Susie for the first time. “Oh, this? Well, that would be kind of you,” I smiled, adding with an edge, “seeing as the security in this place seems to be worse than useless.”

He paused a moment, the merest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, then took hold of the back of Susie's neck hard enough to whiten his knuckles, professionally yanking her free arm round and halfway up her back. I relinquished control with some relief.

“Don't go away, I'd like to talk to you,” the man said to me, adding cheerfully to his captive, “Come on, lady, time to go!” He strode off the dance floor propelling Susie vigorously ahead of him.

I turned back to the stage. Clare was standing with her hands over her face, sobbing.

Tony was glaring furiously. He started forwards as soon as Susie and the man disappeared. I backed off rapidly, but he swept straight past me, muttering, “The stupid, dozy bitch!”

Dave suddenly seemed to recover his powers of speech. “Hey Tony, looks like Susie really goes for the caveman approach,” he called after him.

Tony spun round, eyes blazing. “And you can shut up an' all, you dickless little shit!” he yelled at him. “It's all a bloody fix, anyway!” and he stormed off.

“Oh excuse me! What's the matter, love, haven't you been milked yet?” Dave returned, and laughed. After a brief hesitation, the crowd joined in, but they were laughing to cover their own uneasiness. There was no humour there.

I went and gave Clare a hand down from the stage, finding her trembling. I cut dead Dave's solicitous remark and led her upstairs to one of the quieter bars. I left her at a corner table while I went away and came back with a non-diet soft drink.

“Here, drink this,” I said. “It's only lemonade, but you need the sugar.”

She took the proffered glass with a shaky smile. “I thought it was supposed to be brandy for shock?” she managed.

“Yeah, well. For one thing I can't afford brandy in here, and for another I don't think Jacob would appreciate me letting you get nicked for drink driving in his motor on the way home.”

We sat for a few moments in silence while she emptied the glass and set it down. She touched a hand to her face gingerly.

“You're going to have a hell of a black eye in the morning, but the skin isn't broken,” I told her. “Some decent make-up should cover up the worst of the damage.”

“Thanks,” she said ruefully. Even bruised she still looked glamorous, like someone out of one of those made-for-TV movies about marital abuse.

“How do you do it, Charlie?” she asked suddenly, taking me by surprise.

“Do what?”

“One minute there was this loony grabbing at me, the next she was on her nose on the floor. Every time she came at you, you just knocked her straight back down again. She just came at me so fast I panicked, but you made it look easy. Maybe I should enrol in one of your classes. I could do with knowing how to throw the bad guys lightly over one shoulder.”

“That's only a very small part of what self-defence is all about, Clare, and you know it,” I said hurriedly. “You are far more likely to be injured if you stand and fight. The best idea is to learn to spot trouble at a distance and then get well out of the way.”

“Yeah,” she said with some asperity, “like you've just done, you mean?”

I sighed and said nothing. I'd broken my own rules with Susie, and it didn't sit well with me. Once you decide that you have no choice but to fight someone, you have to go in hard and fast and finish it quickly.

If she'd had any sort of training – and any sort of wits about her – I would have had big problems just by messing about with her the way I had done. I'd given her more than enough time to get the measure of me. Time to realise that she had to look past the surface illusion.

To most opponents I don't seem like much of a threat. I just look ordinary. Nondescript shaggy hair, average height, medium build. Most of the time I don't set out with a confrontational stance; that's almost as bad as appearing weak. If you go looking for a fight, you'll probably find one, and you shouldn't be surprised about it if you do.

I view self-defence like wearing an expensive watch. You don't keep flashing it about trying to impress people. Instead, you keep it up your sleeve, but in the back of your mind you have the confidence of knowing that you have the exact time whenever you need it. I felt I'd been waving my timepiece under Susie's nose, and it ruffled me.

“Hey, Charlie! I can't leave you alone for five minutes before you're getting into trouble again, can I?”

I twisted in my seat as Gary approached and sat down. He grinned at me, then noticed Clare's face.

“Oh Christ, I didn't realise that little cow had actually managed to land one on you,” he said. “From what Dave's just told me I thought Charlie had got to her before she had a chance. Are you OK?”

Clare drummed up a brave smile and nodded. She aroused this immediate, instinctive desire in the male of the species to protect and pamper. I wondered if she was even aware that she was doing it.

“Look,” Gary said, “I'm really sorry about what happened tonight. I hope you won't let it spoil your view of the club. Things like that just don't happen here very often.”

“Come off it, Gary,” I snorted. “You've got real security problems, and you know it. This place is a rabbit warren. Oh, you've got plenty of cameras dotted around the place, but it's no use having that kind of surveillance if either nobody's watching the screens, or they just don't react to what they see.

“When it comes to keeping a lid on any trouble you're way understaffed. You haven't even got a man on every floor, and the guys on the door are so hyped up on testosterone they're more likely to start a fight than stop one. If Susie had been packing a knife she could have had Clare cold and melted away into the crowd before your lads got their act together enough to get their fingers out of their arses.”

From up on my high horse I'd ignored the way Gary's eyes had started to bulge when I'd launched into my speech. The reason soon became apparent.

“You seem to have a pretty low opinion of my club, Miss Fox,” said a deep voice from behind me. I didn't have to turn round to recognise the man in black who'd disposed of Susie for me. Oh shit. Ah well, attack to defend.

“There you go,” I said to Gary, without breaking stride. “This is exactly my point. You've even got the boss man reduced to playing chucker-out. Now is that the best use of his time?”

I heard the man chuckle as he moved into my line of sight, sitting down at the same table. It was starting to get crowded. Gary fidgeted nervously, like he didn't know whether to stay or go.

“You have a certain style, Miss Fox,” the man said. He offered me a well-manicured hand, adorned with a signet ring. Fire flashed from the whole carat diamond set into the gold. “My name is Marc Quinn.” His grip was firm, but light. Obviously Marc was sure enough of himself not to feel the need to clasp hands like he was trying to crush a billiard ball. “I'm delighted to meet you properly, in slightly more conducive circumstances,” he added.

“Me too,” I said. I introduced Clare and Marc made a gracious apology. He assured her that Susie was currently cooling her heels in the gutter outside, then strangely switched his attention back to me. Those pale eyes were disturbingly intense.

“It's a few weeks since I was last here and I don't get round each of my clubs as often as I'd like,” he remarked. “Have you been to the New Adelphi before?”

I laughed. “Oh come on,” I said. “You must be able to think of something better than the old "do you come here often?" line!”

He allowed himself a tight smile. “If that's what I'd meant, then yes I probably could,” he returned coolly. “I was merely trying to find out if you'd noticed these problems with my club security over a period of time, or picked up on it all this evening.”

I took a mental step back. “This is my first time at your club,” I said, making my tone as businesslike as his own. It would probably be my last, I didn't add.

“In that case, you're very astute, Miss Fox,” he said. That incline of his head again, regal. He had his hair cut by a stylist, not a barber, but at least they hadn't managed to make him look like a football player.

“I reckon we need someone like Charlie working here, Mr Quinn,” Gary put in eagerly, only to be silenced by a barbed glance from Marc.

“It might not be quite up Miss Fox's street to throw out drunken troublemakers in a nightclub,” he pointed out dryly.

“It should be. She teaches self-defence. Used to hold a class here before the place was altered. Isn't that right, Charlie?”

I agreed that it was and could see Marc reassessing.

“Really? I thought you handled yourself pretty well back there,” he said. “Ever done any of this kind of work before?”

“The odd time or two, nothing heavy,” I said. Just keeping the druggies out of the ladies' loo on disco night at a local pub. I'd learned some illuminating new swear words and a respectful caution when it came to dealing with fired up girls who had long fingernails.

He sat back in his chair, considering. As he moved the silk shirt flowed like liquid. It would have cost me a week's money.

“I'll be frank with you, Charlie,” he said, coming to a decision. “We do seem to be having trouble recruiting staff here. I try to use people I've worked with before, but getting them to stay in this area is proving difficult, to say the least. The ones I am getting simply aren't the right calibre. I came up yesterday to personally take care of two people I suspected were stealing from me.” He made it sound like they were now reinforcing concrete in a motorway bridge support somewhere.

“Stealing from you?”

“That's correct. A hand in the till, some computer equipment, wine from the restaurant.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw Gary's Adam's apple give a convulsive jerk at that. Marc went on without a flicker. “When they started getting blatant about it I decided the time had come to let them go. Now I find that the safety of the customers is compromised, and I have to act quickly. Would you be interested in meeting with me to discuss a possible part-time job here? Just Saturday evenings for now, Fridays later if it works out?”

“OK,” I said. I couldn't see the harm in talking to the man further, whatever the final outcome. I didn't kid myself that the money wouldn't come in useful. Besides, he intrigued me.

He reached into the single front pocket of his shirt and pulled out a business card with a designer look to it. There was a handwritten phone number on the reverse, local, by the first three digits, and a mobile. “That's where I can be reached for the next week or so. Call me – and don't leave it too long.”

That slow smile again. He stood up, shook Clare's hand and mine, then got in one last shot at Gary. “By the way, when it says no denims in the dress code, it means it. If you work for me, you don't break my rules – not for anyone,” he said, and walked away across the bar.

Gary waited until he was out of earshot, then let his breath out in a gush of relief. “Wow, Charlie, he must have really taken a shine to you.”

“Hmm.” I looked at the card he'd left with me again, and stuffed it into the back pocket of my offending jeans. If I'd any idea of the trouble it was going to cause, I'd have borrowed Gary's lighter and set fire to the damn thing instead.