I watched this at Christmas and loved it but then it got lost in my love of The Walking Dead and Game of Thrones and my other 101 obsessions. I watched it again at the weekend and rekindled "things". Please forgive any anachronisms or poor research. Any comments are always welcome and thank you for reading.
She was all sharp edges, a lethal mind, a feral temper. Oh yes, she was dangerous…and he liked danger. She turned to him as the flames took hold and he fell even further.
"If you try and cheat me I will skin you and roll you in salt." she hissed at the flabby, sweaty gunrunner.
"I'm not trying to cheat you lady and you need to learn your goddamn place…" he cut himself off as he screamed. She leant forward, applying a little more pressure on the knife slid through the sensitive thumb and forefinger skin of the man's right hand. Philip Lombard, leaning against the bar and hidden in the shadows, hadn't even seen her move.
"Give me what you owe me," she whispered and gave a small and satisfied smile as he desperately waved to one of the lackeys who handed her an envelope fat with notes. She pulled out the knife and wiped it on the grimacing man's sleeve and walked out of the bar without a backwards glance.
"You let that bitch slice me, aren't you meant to be my protector?" a bead of sweat from the man landed on Philip's cheek.
"I'm really not." he said quietly.
"Then what the fuck am I paying you for?" the man's face got even redder he noted.
"The job, which I completed and now I'm leaving." and he headed out the way she had gone, barely hearing the man's screams and threats. He stopped under the streetlight and lit a cigarette.
She threw the envelope onto the scarred tabletop and kicked off her shoes.
'Put that with the rest." she said to Miriam who placed it in the wall safe.
How much do we have now?" she asked.
"Nearly a hundred and fifty thousand" said the small woman, looking at her over half moon glasses.
"Not enough." replied Katherine Lockwood, Kit to most.
"No." Miriam replied flatly.
"Any more jobs lined up?" Kit asked.
"Mr. Lava's goons called again, he's upped his price."
"Don't call that rat bastard Mr, he's not a Mr." Kit snapped, "How much is he offering now?"
"Ten thousand." Miriam continued to watch her wrestle with this information.
"Ten thousand and he's still calling it an easy job? Nobody offers ten thousand for an easy job." lighting the cigarette, Kit inhaled deeply.
"It'd bring us closer to the total…and you could get some payback from last time." Miriam said mildly.
"Fuck it, let him know I'll see him tomorrow." Kit poured a healthy measure of whiskey into the glass and blew out the smoke, "Here!" she added, "he can come to me." Miriam made the call.
"I've heard nothing but good things about you Mr Lombard"
Philip looked at the man sat opposite him, across a huge leather topped desk. The slicked back hair carefully parted in the middle, the clean-shaven jaw, the shark eyes watching every move he made.
"You come highly recommended. You are known as a man who can get things done."
"For the right price." Philip answered and watched the man smile but it never reached his eyes.
"Anything can be made to happen for the right price. So what is your price?" and the two men got down to business.
"You'll be working with another on this, it's a two man job." Frank Lava poured another measure of brandy.
"No. I work alone." Philip replied quickly.
"For the money I'm paying you, I get to tell you how this will happen." and Philip nodded slightly; how could he argue, the money he was getting was obscene and he could always ensure his partner met with an accident.
"Be at this address at 7 o'clock tomorrow evening." Lava swallowed the brandy, throwing a slip of paper at Philip Lombard and returned to the paperwork on his desk…the meeting was over.
Philip lay on the sagging bed in the run down fleapit he was staying in, better for anonymity. He disliked men such as Lava but saw them as a necessity. In his line of work there were no saints…only sinners. He knew a rabid dog when he saw one and Lava was about as rabid as they come.
"You nervous?" Miriam asked as Kit checked the magazine for the Browning High-Power lying on the table.
"No." she replied shortly, Miriam blinked at her but said nothing.
"I want you out of the way tonight, you are to stay upstairs." she added and stared until the smaller woman nodded. Kit slid the magazine home and placed the gun in the hand made holster on the underside of the table.
Philip lit another cigarette and checked the street sign. He walked past the kosher butchers, a liquor store, a tenement building, a laundry and finally arrived at Mike's Tattoos. He pushed open the door and a topless, leathery old man covered in faded blue ink looked up from the sailor's arm, needle poised over a half finished knife stabbing through a bleeding rose and a cigarette dangling from his lips. Philip presumed this was the titular Mike who looked him up and down through the smoke.
"You'll be wanting Kit, go through to the back and up the stairs." he growled and returned to the ink.
Philip Lombard, soldier of fortune, gun for hire, mercenary, murderer, survivor, opened the peeling wooden door and saw Kit Lockwood for the second time.
She looked at the man standing in front of her. Dangerously beautiful and beautifully dangerous. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark spirit like the most potent whiskey, tall, muscled but not overly, in a perfectly tailored navy blue suit, crisp white shirt, blood red tie, powerful, assured, clever… a predator. She did not react.
"Can I offer you a drink? I have rum, Irish whiskey, vodka?" she asked without introducing herself, they were not here to socialise.
"Whiskey please." he answered and followed her into the room. She placed three glasses on the table and indicated for him to sit. She poured whiskey into two of the glasses and vodka into the third. She sat opposite him and lit a cigarette.
Philip watched the woman as she poured the drinks. She moved with grace, in another situation he would have guessed she was well bred. Her black blouse and wide leg trousers did nothing to hide her hourglass figure that had become rather unfashionable in recent times, something he could not understand. She was about his age and none of the hardness of their lives had marked her face. Her hair, a deep red, natural, no dye could achieve that richness, wavy, was loosely pulled back from a wide and clear face; full lips and large, dark eyes completed the look of a very attractive woman. But Philip was a man who looked beyond the surface, underneath was the dangerous woman he had observed before. She exuded a confidence rarely seen in women of any kind; she stalked through life like the tigers he had come across in India. She was as dangerous as any man but she wasn't infected like men such as Lava. There was something else but he couldn't quite see it yet…but he would. He took a swallow of whiskey and felt the delicious burn as it went down.
"So, an Irish mercenary." Kit thought, "a dangerous man but nothing more than that. Easily dealt with."
The door opened for a second time and Frank Lava came in, escorted by two of his minions; a giant who went by the name of Lance and a small bald ferret faced bastard called Mickey the Slit because of his penchant for slitting open his victim's abdomen before strangling them.
"Mr Lombard I see you have met the fragrant Miss Lockwood." Lava's dead shark eyes roamed over Kit.
"Kit, this is Mr Lombard, you will be working with him. Kit is all the way from England; I hope that won't cause you difficulty Mr Lombard. I know you people have had your fair share of problems with the Limeys." Frank watched Philip's face for any sign of weakness but he was too good for that.
"No difficulty." he replied.
"Good, that's good. Is this vodka Kit?" and she nodded watching him drink, "this is decent Kit." He put an emphasis on her name that made her fingers itch but she supressed the desire to rip his throat out. "Did you get it from one of your Pollack friends? Kit is everyone's friend; Jewish, coloured, Pollack, Russian, anyone and everyone…except me." Lava watched for Kit's reaction but her face remained still.
"Well it seems the small talk is over. Let's get down to business. I need you to find out how that damn wop Giametti is getting his merchandise by my men. I've got men in the ILA, I own the police, I've got more men and they're better armed but every fucking month he gets his shit through and I wanna know how. When I know how that little bastard is doing it I'm gonna kill every last man in his two bit operation and then I'm gonna kill their families and their friends, burn down that fancy house of his…"
Philip watched Kit as Lava was ranting and saw that she didn't flinch at the foul language or the violent sentiment. He thought back to some of the women he had known in England who would at least have gasped, with her there was nothing.
"…neither of you are known to the Giamettis which is why I'm paying you a shit of money. I need it done quickly." Lava finished and sat back.
Philip nodded and Kit remained silent.
"Good." said Lava and clapped his hands together, "Here is half the money and you get the second half when the job is done" he put two envelopes on the table but Kit and Philip left them there, "now I have to see a whore about a fuck, I fancy a redhead tonight. I'll leave you two kids to it. Lombard, walk me out. Kit, it's been a pleasure as always." Mickey the Slit gave a girlish giggle and they headed towards the door. When they were outside, Lava gripped Philip's arm tightly and leaned into him.
"You wanna watch that hellcat in there, she ain't just a pretty face. You see Mickey here? Well he's missing a nut because of her." and Mickey smiled and nodded, "he's just biding his time until he gets some payback, ain't you Mickey?" again the small man nodded vigorously.
Philip Lombard, who had learned self-control very early on and had learned it well, had to fight the urge to recoil from Lava. He watched the man walk down the dim corridor to the stairs and itched to kill him.
Kit was pouring them both another drink and didn't look up as he came back in. He sat down, reached for his drink and Kit sat opposite him.
"Mr Lombard, how about you tell me who you are?" and Philip looked up to see Kit pointing a High-Power Browning right between his eyes.
"I'm a man who is being paid to do a job." he said calmly; he noticed her hand wasn't shaking, her gaze was steady.
"You were in the bar when I was negotiating with that fat bastard Colley, you work for gun runners, gangsters, you've spent time in Africa or India I would say, you fought in the war – which side were you on?" her voice was calm and clear, they could have been at a cocktail party if it weren't for the fact that he was absolutely sure that if he gave the wrong answer she would kill him. He thought back to the last time a woman had pointed a gun at him…alone, on a beach, being hunted, picked off one by one. He'd underestimated Vera, he never thought she'd pull the trigger. As he lay in the surf, feeling his blood leave his body, he almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. When he dragged himself up onto the beach, knowing he was dying, he hadn't been scared, he knew what he was and he'd never lied about it. But Vera…oh Vera…there was a woman who lied as she breathed. He thought he'd heard another gunshot as his eyes had closed.
When he woke up in hospital, surrounded by detectives, police officers, he'd thought of her again as he made up a story about a house party that had got out of hand…they'd believed him or at least not pursued an inquiry. With a judge, a decorated war hero, a doctor and one of their own involved they'd wanted to keep it quiet. Then the war had come and no one had cared what had happened on a tiny island. He'd joined up and had almost immediately been seconded to Army Intelligence. He'd been sent back to Africa but this time he was slaughtering Nazis not natives. He'd hoped it might have wiped some of his past off the slate but he doubted it…killing Nazis or killing innocents, no God could forgive it if you enjoyed it.
After being demobbed, he thought he'd try his luck in America; no one in England had any money to pay him. He'd quickly fallen back into the mercenary life. America was rife with the type of men who needed his skills.
"Negotiating?" he commented and stared at her, she smiled and raised an eyebrow.
"I fought for the Allies, I was in Africa. Now I'm here. What about you? You seem…out of place." she met his dark stare with an equal darkness.
"Oh Mr Lombard, my story is long and complicated." she still had the gun trained on him but her expression had become nervous.
"I have time." he said and sat back in the chair, lighting a cigarette knowing his charm would work on her like it did with every other woman.
"I was someone's fiancée but I realised too late what he was and he hurt me, he hurt me terribly and now I'm looking for revenge." Philip leant forward and Kit saw a slight softening in his eyes, a sympathy, a weakness; she felt a spike of triumph at finding this crack.
"Or perhaps I was a good girl, from a good family, who fell on hard times and now I'm trying to scrape enough money together to restore them. Perhaps I was a nun who was raped by mercenaries just like you in the jungles of Patagonia and I lost the ability to hear God and now, here I am. Perhaps I was a wife and mother who lost her husband and child in the war and the grief was just too much." Philip sat back, his face acknowledging her as victorious in this first battle.
"Or perhaps, just like you Mr Lombard, I am in the right time and place. The Devil has set me free…just like you." she lowered the gun, this man was no danger to her.
"You, Miss Lockwood, are a very cruel woman." he said with no malice.
"And you, Mr Lombard, need to learn when to fold." and she lit a cigarette.
"Is it true that you cut off one of the little fella's balls?" he asked, relaxing now the moment had passed.
"Absolutely. He thought it was appropriate to hurt a friend of mine. I was trying to cut his heart out but had to settle for something smaller." Philip marvelled at her turn of phrase, as if she was giving a talk at some WI meeting, "the only hardship…apart from coming away without his heart…was having to touch his cock." Philip smiled and she saw his white teeth against the curve of his mouth; so dangerously beautiful.
"What do you know of Giametti?" he asked, setting his glass down.
"He's Lava's main rival and his operation is rather more than the two bits he'd have you believe. It is more like the full dollar. Any grubby pie you can think of in this city has Giametti's fingers in it and he is very well connected."
"Does he know you?" Philip lit another cigarette and Kit shook her head.
"I've managed to stay under his radar."
"Unlike Lava's?" he saw Kit sigh.
"I've crossed paths with Frank Lava once before…it didn't end well. I had only just arrived here and thought I knew everything; it turned out I knew very little and ended up paying quite a heavy price."
"But you're working for him now." he stated.
"Money is money Mr Lombard, as I'm sure you're aware."
"And you know more than you did before?" he stared at her through the smoke.
"Now, Mr Lombard, I know everything." and she gave her tiger smile again.