Page 57 of Savage Protector
“I’ll fucking kill the pair of them. Did this Gregory…?
“Gregory was occupied making himself busy with a fire extinguisher so had to let them get away. He thought Leila was inside, and his first priority was to get her out. Sounds like they thought she was in there, too. They were trying to kill her.”
“Thank God I got her away from there yesterday or they might have succeeded.” My stomach churns at the thought. “Those bastards…”
“Quite. So, Gregory dealt with the immediate issue, made sure that Leila wasn’t trapped in the flat, and the fire was out. Then he phoned Ethan. Woke him up at three in the morning, another black mark against these fire bombers. He’s pretty pissed off.”
Yes, I suppose he would be. Ethan hates anyone disturbing him at night. It unsettles his kids and worries his wife.
Tony continues. “The boss rang me first thing. He’s got contractors coming in to fix the damage, but we need to have a look first, check if there’s anything useful to find in the way of evidence. First, we talk to Gregory, get the story straight, then go over the scene for ourselves. Then comes the fun bit. We go searching for our little friends. I should add, Ethan wants it sorting, and fast. He doesn’t appreciate having his property damaged.”
I don’t give a fuck about the property, but otherwise I agree with the sentiment. “I’ve a good idea where they’ll be about now.”
It’s a little after five, so Iftikar finished work over an hour ago. He’ll be at home by now, tucking in to his mother’s chicken bhuna. His evening entertainment usually starts with a session on the weights at Harry’s Gym, then a shower and a massage before chucking away the rest of his earnings on a game of poker.
My preference is the gym. We own Harry’s, so access won’t be an issue, and we can rely on everyone looking the other way when shit gets serious. I outline my idea to Jack, who agrees.
“The old man?” I wonder. “Was he involved?”
“Not at the scene, as far as we know, but Casey’s checking any other CCTV in the neighbourhood. What about the other one?”
“Mehrban works as a stylist at one of those posh gentlemen’s salons. Much sought-after, or so I hear. Rich posers pay over a hundred quid a go for him to do a short back and sides. I was thinking I could do with a haircut myself, boss.”
“Yes, you’re a scruffy sod. No doubt you prefer privacy for your pamper session?”
“Obviously. I’ll make an appointment and book out the entire place for myself. Say about seven?”
“Sounds perfect. Ah, here we are.” He pulls up in front of Leila’s house in Stirling. “Shit, they made a right fucking mess of that door.”
He’s not wrong. The frame appears to be beyond repair, and the door is hanging off one hinge. The crowbar has been moved into the hallway and is now propped against the wall. I make a mental note to pick it up on the way out.
We sprint up the stairs to the third floor. Gregory opens up on the first knock.
“Tony! I was hoping he’d send you.” The young man before us flings his arms around Tony in a vigorous man hug. “Long time, mate. How’s Jenna?”
“She’s good. You?”
“Okay, considering.” He steps back and opens the door wide. “Come in.”
We all troop into the compact studio flat. It’s neat, and clean, but it’s obviously a student home. Books are everywhere. Huge tomes for the most part, along with piles of handwritten notes. I take in one or two titles.Charlesworth and Percy on Negligence. Principles of Common Law. Contract Law and The Law of Tort.Worthy volumes, all of them, I don’t doubt.
But by far the most obvious of clues as to how young Gregory spends his downtime is the semi-naked man in his bed. So, that’s the way of it. Each to their own.
“So, what happened?” Tony wants to know.
“Pretty much as I told Ethan. We got back in time to see them forcing the door.”
“We?” Tony looks to the man just now getting out of bed. “And you are?”
“Orlando.” The man holds out his hand, seemingly unperturbed by the fact that he’s stark bollock naked.
Tony manages not to appear bothered either. He takes the proffered hand and shakes. “Good to meet you, Orlando.”
“We met at rugby practice,” Gregory explains. “Orlando’s the scrum half. I’m a fullback.”
I’m no rugby fan, but Orlando does seem like the rugby type. Over six foot, built like an ox, short cropped blond hair and muscles hewn from granite. His nose has been broken at least twice, I’d say.
Gregory is somewhat similar in build, but with dark-brown hair and his nose remains intact. Iftikar and Mehrban didn’t stand a chance.
