Private Oz (Private 7)

“Fine?”

“Up by two this afternoon and off to a rehearsal at three.”

“But …?”

Katia gave him a broader smile. “You’re pretty naive, aren’t you, Johnny Ishmah? That’s sweet.”

He blushed. “I don’t know much about the rock world, but I’m not exactly naive.”

“Micky has an incredible constitution, but he keeps Dr. James close by. Graham insists upon it. Micky can’t stand the guy. Thinks he’s a grossly overpaid …”

Johnny perched himself on the edge of the desk. “Last night, you were starting to tell me what you thought about this Club 27 thing.”

“Yes. I really don’t know what to think anymore. I’ve been with Micky for six months. He was a user when I met him. He drinks heavily. But … you know … he’s a rock star … That’s what rock stars do, isn’t it? But he’s become a lot worse in the last two months.”

“And you think that’s because he’s approaching his twenty-seventh birthday? Or do you think Parker is pushing him into killing himself?”

Katia folded her arms and looked as though she was about to burst into tears. Johnny was shocked for a moment.

“Look, Katia,” he said, “last night I saw something.”

She fixed him with her huge dark eyes.

“The smack. I saw Parker give it to Johnny just before he went into the bathroom.”

Katia exhaled through her nose. “Of course he did,” she said, her expression cynical. “Micky was a prize racehorse. He used to be Graham’s most valuable asset. Now though, even with his career on the slide, the guy’s still Micky’s filter for everything … even his Class A drugs.”

Chapter 112

JOHNNY HAD BEEN tailing Graham Parker for over two hours and he’d ended up here – Kings Cross, the stretch of strip clubs, discos and gambling haunts called The Strip.

Parker had ducked into a joint called The Roxy. Johnny stopped outside, stepped past the bouncer at the door and pulled out his wallet as he approached a woman in a short black dress with a plunging neckline that revealed acres of cleavage. She was sitting on a stool, legs crossed, a cash register on a shelf next to her. A sign on the wall behind her shoulder read: ENTRANCE $50.

Inside, the thump of some nameless dance track, all bass drum and bubbling synthesizer. There was a circular stage, spotlights moving in a crazy random pattern sending splashes of color across a couple of girls wearing G-strings and nothing else. Several punters stood near the edge of the stage looking up at the girls and the glare. A bar in one corner was surrounded by UV lights.

Johnny scanned the room, but it was hard to make anything out. He moved slowly around the edge of the space trying not to make himself obvious to the half dozen men sitting at tables. He couldn’t see Parker. Then he caught movement in the corner of his vision, a man slipping under an arch. A notice to the side said “Private Rooms”.

Johnny made his way over, slowed as he reached the arch and took a couple of paces into a narrow corridor lined with closed doors. At the end stood an emergency exit left ajar and opening onto an alley. The music was quieter here, just the thud of the bass drum. He paced along the corridor and heard voices coming from beyond the exit, recognized Parker’s voice. He pulled in close to the wall and held his breath, straining to hear what was being said.

Then came a thumping sound, a groan and suddenly Graham Parker was flying toward the emergency exit, grasping the doorframe to break his fall. Johnny couldn’t help himself, he reacted instinctively, jumping aside and into full view of the men in the alley.

Chapter 113

JOHNNY TORE THROUGH the doorway and right, into the lane, gaining a few seconds lead before the men realized what was happening.

The alley was dimly lit, the surface cratered with potholes and strewn with garbage. He tripped, almost went down but managed to keep going. He flicked a glance over his shoulder and saw two thugs running toward him through the shadows. Beyond them, the rear lights of a car.

He reached a turning to his left, dived in, sped through the darkness. He could hear the two men had reached the opening and were coming after him, gaining on him.

Johnny’s heart was thumping, sweat ran down his cheeks, but somehow he found some new energy. He ripped along the narrow laneway emerging from the end onto a brightly lit road. People were out with their friends, in restaurants and bars. He could merge in maybe. But these guys would get him somehow. It was their turf.

Directly across the street, a dark entrance to another alley. He darted across the road, barely looking where he was going. A driver blasted his horn, Johnny swerved, gained speed and flew into the passageway. But the men were faster, they crashed into the lane a few yards behind him. Johnny put on a final burst of speed, reached the end, a T-junction. He swung left and tripped, hitting the ground with a spine-jarring crunch.

Chapter 114

THEY WERE ON his back in an instant, pulling him to his feet. One of them stepped away, the other rammed Johnny against the wall, hand at his throat.

“A bit nosy, aren’t we, kid?”