The Girl Who Made Them Pay by Tikiri Herath

Author:Tikiri Herath [Herath, Tikiri]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780993815218
Publisher: Nefertiti Press
Published: 2020-03-30T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-three

“No!” Luc and I leaped up at the same time.

But it was too late.

Fred’s face went red as he spat into his napkin. He doubled up, moaning. I watched horrified, my hand on my mouth. He didn’t move for several seconds. The waiter stepped closer, hovering over Fred.

When he straightened up, Fred’s face was a mix of confusion and disgust. Spitting out a delicacy brought by a guest was probably the most impolite thing he’d done that day. That was also probably the healthiest thing he’d done that day.

“I’m so sorry,” I spluttered. “I didn’t mean for you to eat it.”

“They conceal the merchandise,” Luc whispered, taking a second cake and splitting it open. The white packet jutting out of the pastry was unmistakable. He pulled the packet out, wiped it clean with his napkin, and deposited it on Fred’s plate. “Vous voyez? You see now?”

Fred stared at the packet for five long seconds. Then put his half-chewed cake back on the tray like it was a live grenade.

“What, in god’s name, did you put in that?” Fred said, turning to me. “Pray tell.”

“Petrol.”

He looked at me shocked and wiped his mouth, grimacing. “Petrol?” he whispered.

“So the dogs won’t smell the other stuff,” I said.

Fred stared at me for several seconds. A rivulet of sweat ran down my back. I thought of the dagger on the waiter’s belt and the gun on Fred’s. They’re going to finish me right here, right now. And do it so politely too. I braced myself.

“Brilliant,” Fred said finally. “Absolument brillant.” He paused. “And I thought the traffic fumes were particularly bad today.”

I watched him warily. He was watching me too, his face intense.

“Mademoiselle Julie,” he said, looking straight into my eyes.

I clenched my sweaty palms into fists. I didn’t come this far to go out quietly. I’m ready to fight if I have to.

“Will you work for me?”

I looked at him in surprise.

“I may be just a pied-noir, but I can assure you, mademoiselle, that I pay better than anyone else in this business, even the local Belges.”

It took me a few seconds to collect my thoughts. “I er—already work for someone.”

“Would that be our dear Monsieur Luc here?” Fred said.

“No,” I said. I couldn’t get Luc into any more trouble. “Someone in London. Someone who won’t let me go easily.”

“I wouldn’t either.”

Fred surveyed me with curious eyes.

“Where are you really from, mademoiselle?”

“Many places,” I said, looking directly back at him. I can play his game too, I thought.

“Is Julie your real name?”

“It is now,” I said, not wavering in my gaze.

Fred was quiet for a minute, rubbing the white packet between his fingers thoughtfully.

I took a deep breath in. We could stay here and play all day, but we don’t have time.

I was about to get up when he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a Swiss Army Knife. Next to me, Luc recoiled at the sight. Like he’d done this many times, Fred deftly snapped the knife open, sliced a corner of the plastic packet and shook a few drops of the powder onto his plate.

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