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  Erasmus had gotten halfway across the room before the players noticed him. It was Kristos who saw him first. Erasmus raised a hand in greeting. Kristos, unsure, a look of confusion on his face, raised a hand back.

  Erasmus had nearly reached the table when Gary looked up in response to a nudge from Kristos.

  A ‘what the – ?’ was barely out of his mouth before Erasmus had reached across the table and grabbed Gary by the lapels of his black silk shirt. Erasmus could now see the line of four young girls under the table, lined up on their knees, smudged, heavily made-up faces upturned like hungry chicks waiting to be fed.

  Erasmus pulled Gary up and onto the table. The girls screamed and scattered. Gary’s pants were round his ankles and his tumescent member shrivelled in the space of two seconds to the size of a withered acorn.

  Gary made a noise that sounded like an attempt at speech but became lost in his throat, coming out like a wet gurgle.

  Erasmus looked at the other two players.

  ‘This is between me and him though if you do want you to get involved that’s fine because, frankly, you’re scumbags. Your choice.’ He smiled at them although he knew he couldn’t cover up the fact that his eyes were screaming murderous intent.

  The guy to the right of Kristos raised his hands in a ‘not me, guv’ gesture. Kristos looked at Erasmus and then shook his head.

  ‘Shame,’ said Erasmus. ‘You’ll have to do.’

  Gary squirmed on the table and tried to pull up his trousers. Erasmus didn’t let him. He dragged him off the table and pushed him to the floor. Gary was on his knees now and looking up at Erasmus.

  ‘This is for Natalie.’

  Erasmus’s fist collided with Gary’s left eye. He screamed in agony and curled up into a ball.

  ‘This is for those girls,’ he said gesturing to the group standing in the corner, mouths agape. ‘And all the other girls.’

  Erasmus stepped back and then kicked Gary hard in balls. This time there was no scream as Gary’s throat was blocked by the torrent of vomit that he disgorged onto the floor.

  ‘And this is for me.’

  Erasmus dragged Gary up and pulled him, kicking and begging, to the door of the Blue Room. Erasmus pulled it open and dragged Gary through, depositing him, trouserless, stinking of vomit and crying, onto the dance floor in front of the girls who had been waiting at the door. Some of the girls began to laugh and point. Gary wriggled on the floor, trying to cover himself up.

  ‘See you around, Jonesy,’ said Erasmus over his shoulder as he walked away.

  CHAPTER 28

  Erasmus knew that news travelled fast but was also aware that bad news travelled exponentially faster. So when he turned into his apartments drive in Sefton Park he wasn’t surprised to see the large black Mercedes sat there like a gigantic spider waiting for its prey. He parked his Golf next to it and got out.

  The rear window of the Mercedes slid down. Babak was sat in the back with Steve Cowley. Cowley looked pleased with himself.

  Babak beamed at Eramus.

  ‘Good evening, Erasmus, so good to see you again. Please get in, we need to talk,’ said Babak.

  The door of the car swung open revealing the sumptuous black leather interior.

  Erasmus hesitated for a moment, being in the back of a car was not exactly the best tactical position to be in if things got nasty, but what choice did he have?

  ‘OK.’

  He slid onto the smooth leather seats. Babak reached across him and pulled the door shut. There was a soft thump followed by a click as the central locking was activated.

  The car smelled of the expensive cologne that emanated in waves from the Armani clad Cowley. Erasmus wrinkled his nose.

  ‘If you’ve come for Wayne I’ve told him he can stay here a few more days. He needs space.’

  Babak smiled again. It was a smile that spoke of uncompromising victory.

  ‘Oh I haven’t come to speak to Wayne, I’ve come to speak to you. To thank you for all your hard work. Wayne’s left, by the way. Recent events made it impossible for him to stay with you,’

  Cowley leaned across, his face was a shade of beetroot red.

  ‘You fucking nearly killed Gary. You fucking psycho. Ted hires you to protect the players and you nearly kill one. We are going to sue your fucking arse off!’

  Erasmus instinctively balled his fists. Cowley must have seen the fury in his eyes. He backed away towards the far door of the car and crossed his arms across his chest.

  Babak leaned across and placed a large hand on Erasmus’s forearm.

  ‘There is rarely the need for unpleasantness. The thing is, we are on the same side, you and I: Wayne’s side. I understand your differences with Gary. He is of no consequence.’

  ‘But?’ spluttered Cowley.

  Babak put a hand on Cowley’s arm and looked at him. Cowley sighed and sank back into the car’s rear seat.

  ‘You don’t need to go sneaking around speaking to the wrong types of people. Just ask me, Erasmus. Ask me anything. Go ahead.’

  ‘Why did Wayne go to America in March?’

  Babak turned to Cowley and nodded.

  Cowley didn’t hesitate.

  ‘They went because Wayne and Gary had sex with Jessica Tallow and that other girl in the VIP room of the Blood House Bar in front of the rest of the team. They were drunk and she got pregnant. I wanted him out of the way while I dealt with the negotiations.’

  ‘Negotiations?’

  ‘Sex is a commodity and she didn’t hesitate to use it. Once she found out she was pregnant she got in touch and we negotiated. Every sponsorship agreement we sign these days has a morality clause in it. They can terminate and demand repayment in the event a player causes the brand reputational damage. An illegitimate child following an orgy could have sunk Wayne’s brand. I had to deal with it and I did.’

  ‘You struck a deal with Jessica?’

  Cowley smiled.

  ‘Exactly, we did a deal. It’s what makes the world go around. She got some money and we obtained her silence.’

  ‘And what about Natalie’s silence?’

  Cowley waved a hand airily.

  ‘No need to worry about her. She is just a football groupie, a sink estate slut. They are ten a penny. No one would believe her story. And unluckily for her she didn’t get pregnant, so there was no DNA evidence, as such.’ Cowley chuckled. ‘There isn’t an editor in the land who would give her column inches, trust me on this one.’

  ‘But Jessica was smart and she has a father who is a solicitor.’

  Cowley inched along the seat towards Erasmus. He jabbed a finger in the air.

  ‘Exactly, you see my dilemma. I had to pay her off. The father handled negotiations from her side and he struck a hard bargain but we did a deal. But now you’re poking your nose around and Team Wayne can’t have that.’

  ‘He doesn’t know, does he? He doesn’t know he fathered a child?’

  ‘He doesn’t need to know. We take care of that side of things. It’s an occupational hazard for my boys. You’ve seen it; those women throw themselves at them. They are like sirens, I have to protect them.’

  Erasmus thought of Natalie and her dresses lining the walls of her tiny house. She didn’t seem much like a siren to him.

  ‘He needs to know he is a father.’

  Erasmus felt an almost overwhelming urge to punch Cowley hard in the face as he responded with a derisory snort of vicious laughter.

  ‘Of course, he’s not a father. It was a term of the settlement that she got rid of the sprog. There is nothing to tell him.’

  Erasmus shook his head. He had experienced callousness all over the world and still it got to him every time. Maybe the day it didn’t should be the day he worried about

  ‘If he didn’t know about this then why has his form collapsed since March?’

  Cowley shrugged and ran the fingers of his left hand down the lapel of his suit.

  ‘Steph has been having an affair with De
Marco since around then. Maybe she found something out, lipstick on his collar, something like that. It’s no matter, form is temporary, class is permanent. And he’s picked up in recent weeks, three goals. Big teams are starting to sniff around again,’ smirked Cowley.

  ‘That’s not what Ted Wright thinks,’ said Erasmus.

  ‘Ted Wright is a dinosaur who doesn’t understand how things work. Wayne Jennings is a brand, not a footballer. But Ted is on board now, I’ve told him what we did and he understands. Maybe it was a mistake to keep him in the dark, a misjudgement, but he understands we were doing it for the right reasons. Wayne will be sold to a Russian club in January, Ted will have money to keep his club afloat, and Wayne will be playing for the richest club in the world.’

  ‘And you will have a large fee.’

  Cowley pulled an exaggerated pout.

  ‘Everyone is happy, everyone gets rich. Where’s the problem?’

  Something didn’t seem right.

  ‘I’m calling Ted.’

  ‘Be my guest.’ Babak waved an arm regally.

  Erasmus took out his phone and dialled Ted’s number. He answered almost immediately.

  ‘Erasmus, I was going to call you.’

  Erasmus kept his eyes on Cowley.

  ‘I’m with Steve Cowley and Babak. They tell me they have being speaking with you?’

  There was a sound of a deep intake of breath from the other end of the phone and Erasmus could imagine that Ted was shifting his weight uncomfortably.

  ‘He’s told me everything. I don’t condone it, you understand, and he should have come to me. I have sent De Marco on loan to Hull. We can’t have him disrupting the team. I presume he’s told you we’re in negotiations with Anzhi for the sale of Wayne. He needs a new challenge and with his improving form and Babak’s contacts we can get top dollar. They have to pay a premium being Russian. Emerging markets are where it’s at, Erasmus.’

  ‘What about Wayne being the future of the club?’

  Another sigh.

  ‘It’s not how it used to be, it’s a business now. I want to keep him here, at Everton, but what can I do? I sell him and the club can pay its bills for another season. He is still the future of the club, but it’s the euros he will bring in that will save the club.’

  ‘I think there is more here that they’re not telling you,’ Erasmus kept his eyes fixed on Cowley as he said this. Cowley didn’t exactly look away but his eyes flickered to the left quickly.

  ‘I want to thank you, Erasmus. Cowley wouldn’t have come to me if you hadn’t looked into this. I deplore what has been done, it’s not the Everton way, but there is no point in crying over spilt milk. If you send me your final invoice I’ll make sure it is paid promptly.’

  ‘Sure,’ said Erasmus.

  The line went dead.

  ‘This concludes our business, Mr Jones. You are, of course, bound by client confidentiality so you cannot tell anybody what has been discussed here today and even if you do we will deny it.’ Babak put out his hand, a look of satisfaction was on his face.

  Erasmus ignored the proffered hand.

  ‘You can’t keep Wayne in the dark about this.’

  Cowley snapped back, ‘He doesn’t need to know and he wouldn’t believe you anyway, not after you didn’t tell him about De Marco.’

  ‘You bastard.’

  Erasmus considered punching Cowley but Babak leaned forward, blocking him.

  Babak’s smile had disappeared. His coal black eyes sparked with anger but he kept his voice flat and moderated. ‘My father was a dentist, did you know that, Erasmus? In a small village called Panka where I grew up. As with many Armenian villages there was a man, there had always been man, who for a small tax would make sure that your premises didn’t succumb to fire or that your face didn’t accidentally fall on a rock. My father always paid him whenever he came to visit. Was he happy to pay him? No, of course not!’ Babak roared with laughter. ‘But he paid because this was this man’s business, had always been his business. But then one year, a cold, bitter year, the harvest failed and people could not afford dentists. They did their own dentistry as and when it became needed: string and doors, pliers, all very barbaric, bloody and painful. My father didn’t have money coming in and he couldn’t pay this man. The man was sympathetic but my father was interfering in his business and I understood, and I do not say this with anything but truth in my heart, I understood what he had to do.’

  Babak removed his right-hand glove and held up his hand. The index and middle finger were missing, removed at the stump, leaving a sickening fleshy gap.

  ‘I was nine years old. He could have cut my father, of course, but then he wouldn’t have been able to work, his business would suffer and then so would the man’s. Business is blind, Erasmus, and it is also unstoppable.’

  He paused and examined the gap.

  ‘Erasmus, my friend, I think you understand. Wayne is no longer your business but he his entirely my business. I think we can part as business acquaintances but let me be clear,’ he wagged his ring finger at Erasmus, ‘if anyone interferes with my business then I must act to protect my interests.’

  The smile reappeared and he slapped Erasmus on the back.

  Seemingly bidden by some signal that Erasmus hadn’t seen, the passenger door clicked open.

  Erasmus paused on his way out of the car.

  ‘What happened to the business man? I have a feeling the story doesn’t end there?’

  Babak shook his head.

  ‘You’re right, my friend, but it is a sad story. Some years later he fell into a threshing machine. Pieces of him scattered all over the fields, some so small that many were never recovered. The dangers of business, eh?’

  Babak wasn’t smiling now. He didn’t take his eyes off Erasmus until the door of the car slammed shut.

  Erasmus needed a drink.

  CHAPTER 29

  There were no way two ways about it. When he got the call from Karen he was halfway to drunk.

  He had called Wayne after his conversation with Cowley and Babak. It hadn’t gone well. Wayne was furious that he hadn’t told him about De Marco. Erasmus knew the real reason for his fury was the feelings of grief and loss, which had no other outlet than his anger and Erasmus had supplied a target for that anger. Hadn’t this been the same transference that had led to Erasmus being kicked out of the army?

  He had let Wayne unload and then walked down to Keith’s wine bar on Lark Lane. Here the tree-lined roads of the park turned into a lane filled with bohemian shops, bars and delis. It had the feel of Notting Hill but the bite and energy of a place that was still home to a mixed community of struggling artists, students and traditional working-class households rather than the trustafarian offspring of bankers and politicians.

  Keith’s was the kind of bar Erasmus liked: scruffy tables and good booze. He took a table in the corner and ordered a bottle of Barolo from Mary the pretty waitress who served him. Mary’s hair colour seemed to change every time he saw her. Today it was electric blue.

  ‘Still no girlfriend then,’ she said plonking the bottle on the table with one glass.

  ‘You know I’m waiting for you, Mary,’ he replied.

  She giggled and placed one hand on her hip.

  ‘You’re waiting for no one. You were born to be alone, Erasmus.’

  ‘It’s not true,’ he said and although he knew she was joking he was surprised to find that this casual comment had struck home on some level.

  He and Mary had had a one-night stand a year or so back. It was inevitable he would have hit upon her at some stage but afterwards they had both been able to place the experience in the context it deserved: two lonely people hooking up. They still flirted but it was boxing with faceguards on.

  ‘Mmm,’ she purred. ‘I tell you what, find me a woman who believes that and bring them to me and I’ll buy you the wine. Enjoy the bottle.’

  She sashayed away.

  He checked his phone. He had tried to ca
ll Abby three times already but her new mobile phone rang out each time. He had even – and this had been the step that had sent him to running to Keith’s – signed up to Facebook and tried to add as her as a friend. Even though he knew she never went five minutes without checking Facebook it had been four hours and still the request went unacknowledged: a sad flag hanging limply.

  He was halfway through the bottle when Pete rang.

  ‘Am I a techno god or what?’ said Pete.

  Erasmus, pissed off at Babak’s threats, and now wound up by Mary’s one-line demolition of his love life was in no mood for Pete’s banter.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Christ, who stuck a stick up your arse? Anyway, we struck lucky. I happened to be checking the live feed on Rebecca’s computer because Debs has her friends round on Saturday evening for coffee, except it’s not coffee it’s wine, and if I didn’t have somewhere to go and hide away from the Abba and conversations about why their husbands are selfish bastards I swear I’d kill myself. Anyway, I check the feed and boom, there they are, chatting away.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Ethan and Rebecca. Who else?’

  Erasmus sat bolt upright, the half cut sensation disappearing as adrenaline took over.

  ‘What were they talking about?’

  ‘She’s meeting him tonight at six o’clock.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘They didn’t say. Just “our place”.’

  He looked at his watch. It was 5.15 p.m. The sobering effect of Pete’s news was instant.

  ‘OK, listen, keep on the live feed. It covers her mobile, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah, but only if she messages through Facebook.’

  ‘OK, keep me posted. I’m going to call Karen.’

  Erasmus ended the call and rang Karen. She answered straight away.

  ‘Listen, I don’t mean to worry you but is Rebecca in?’

  Her voice became tinged with panic almost immediately.