Page 47

When I scan the bar, I’m grateful Malik is working. At least something is going my way today. Now, I have to figure out how to get him alone. He’s at the end of the bar, serving the lone customer. The rest of the people in the place are camped out in perverts’ row.
I’m so focused on Malik I don’t notice when the bouncer approaches me. “You here for an interview?”
I give him a wry smile. “Not quite.”
He frowns. “I don’t get it.”
“Finn Donaghey sent me.”
“Does Mr. Zhang know you’re coming?”
“No idea. Finn said to come here, so I came. You know how it is.”
The bouncer gives a curt nod. “Enjoy a drink on the house. I’ll track down Mr. Zhang.”
This time, my smile is genuine. “Perfect.”
Cutting through the tables and chairs, I take a seat at the bar at the opposite end to Malik’s other customer. He strolls over to me and stares for a moment, neither of us able to say what we want. “Drink?”
“Whiskey.”
“How are you today?”
“Full of questions.”
“I’m sure Mr. Zhang will have lots of answers for you.”
“Possibly.” I lean back in my chair and throw one elbow over the top.
Malik passes the whiskey across. “You need the bathroom?” He raises his voice. “Behind you.”
We’ve worked together so many times in so many situations this is normal and strange in the same breath.
“Thank you.” I head for the toilet.
Once I’m inside, I check for cameras. Malik wouldn’t have chosen this route if he knew surveillance was in here. Going into the only stall, I jam toilet paper into the toilet until I’m sure it’ll clog. Who makes a woman’s bathroom with a single stall? I suppose women aren’t their clientele of choice. A minute later, I wander back to the bar. The bouncer is waiting.
With a small smile to him, I focus on Malik. “I’m sorry. I have to go to the bathroom, and it seems like the toilet is clogged.”
“Oh, sure.” Malik angles his head at the bouncer. “Cover for me?”
The big man laughs. “Yeah, I’m not so keen on unclogging a toilet. Stupid dancers keep putting too many tampons down it.”
The dancers use that bathroom? God, this place is awful.
Malik comes out from behind the bar and trails behind me to the washroom with a plunger. I flip on the tap to mask our voices. He bends over the toilet, plunger in one hand, and I keep watch by the door, ready to bar it or make it inconvenient for anyone entering.
“Go.” His voice is pitched low.
“Did you know Chad fought for the O’Malleys? His picture is on their wall.” I match the volume of his voice, conscious of the door behind me. The bouncer didn’t seem suspicious. In this business, it isn’t possible to be too careful, too prepared.
There’s a beat before Malik says, “You think they killed him?”
“Derry says they didn’t. I believe him.”
“Jesus, Kimi. You asked him?”
“It’s not as bad as it seems. It came up in casual conversation.”