Chapter 10

Tasteful piano music tinkled softly in the background as a waiter brought Ash his main course. "Your chateaubriand, sir, and of course your accompaniments. Can I get you anything else, perhaps some water?"

"Yes, that would be fine. Ice, no lemon, please," replied Ash.

"Right away, sir." The man turned briskly on his heel, and just as quickly, Ash was no longer dining alone.

"Good evening, Mr. Prior."

Ash stared, his steak knife ground to a halt, and his mouth opened just a little in surprise before he managed to snap it shut again.

"Albert!" he hissed, looking around to see if anyone was watching them. "What the hell...what are you doing here?"

"Relax, my dear fellow, you're not working, are you?" asked Albert with a twinkle. His gift for putting people at ease dispelled the mixture of shock and caginess that had been Ash's initial reaction.

Ash gave a short laugh and laid down his knife and fork. "No, I'm not. Care to join me?" He indicated his plate.

"Well, I'm afraid I've already eaten, but I wouldn't say no to a glass of that excellent-looking wine."

The waiter returned bearing a jug of iced water and a glass, and Ash took the opportunity to ask him for another wine glass for Albert.

"Would sir care to see the menu?" enquired the attentive young man.

"No, thank you, just the glass will be fine," said Albert pleasantly. The waiter bowed slightly and left them to their conversation.

Ash had resumed eating, and in between mouthfuls managed to hold up his end of things. "I've got to hand it to you, Albert, it didn't take you long to find me. How on earth did you manage it?" he asked with grudging admiration.

"Oh, come on, how many years have we known each other? And as a practitioner of the same trade, I simply asked myself what I would do if I were in your shoes. The answer led me to a certain gent's outfitters in the City, where a very helpful assistant was able to identify you from a photograph, and provide me with your alias. From there it wasn't too hard to call a few prestigious hotels, not far out of town, and here we are. Ah, I must say, this is a rather fine vintage. Your very good health, Mr. Prior." Albert raised his glass and Ash did the same, shaking his head in amused disbelief.

They passed the rest of the meal enjoyably, chatting about this and that, but it wasn't until they had adjourned to Ash's room for drinks that they felt able to speak more freely, and the informal atmosphere froze away.

"If you've come to ask me to go back with you, Albert, the answer's no. I've been through all this with Mickey already."

"Not at all," was the surprising response.

"No? Then...why are you here?" Ash smelled a trap, and he was determined not to take the bait.

"I just wanted to make sure that you were all right. We haven't had a chance to talk since the other night when you stopped by my apartment."

"That was only a few days ago." As in his discussion with Mickey, Ash wasn't going to make it easy for Albert. He sat, arms folded, waiting to hear the admission that there was a problem, a big one.

"True, but things aren't quite the same as they were then." Albert stopped, then saw that Ash wasn't going to let him off lightly. "You realised that night that Mickey and Emma were more than just colleagues or friends."

"Did you know?" asked Ash, without emotion.

"Not for sure, no. I suspected, but only through observing little things here and there. I found out for sure at exactly the same moment as you did, when Mickey brought Emma home." He looked keenly at the fixer. "I half-expected you to step out of the shadows and into the cab with him."

A small smile played on Ash's lips. "I nearly did, too. But discretion got the better of me."

Albert nodded, also smiling. "You made the right decision. Nothing good would have been achieved by taking them by surprise. However, it hasn't been handled in the best way..."

"It shouldn't have happened in the first place, Albert." Ash looked down at the floor between their chairs, then up at his friend. "All those years of preaching the 'rules of the con' – you can't cheat an honest man, give them something for nothing, don't screw the people you work with."

"To be fair, Ash, the last one is Mickey's personal credo. But you're right, he broke his own cardinal rule and that's why you're here, Sean's in Sussex, and Emma and Mickey are back at her place having dinner."

Ash rolled his eyes. "So all that codswallop he fed me about them having split up was just so much..."

"No, no, I believe they have," interjected Albert hurriedly. "They're just going to need some time to readjust. We all will. We will," he repeated for emphasis as Ash shook his head.

"Is there an elephant in this room or something?" demanded Ash. "Nobody seems to want to discuss the fact that Sean, Sean, of all people, still doesn't know what his sister's been up to. He's likely to cut Mickey's throat and take Emma as far away from us as he can, if he finds out. And believe me, Albert, Sean could easily hear from a third party what's been going on. The last two mornings I've fully expected to see news of a murder in a certain London penthouse."

"It's a tricky situation, that's for sure. I suppose it might be better if Mickey told Sean rather than waiting to be found out..." mused Albert, getting up for a refill.

"The kid's messed up enough with their dad walking out and leaving Emma to bring him up on her own. He still depends a lot on her. I spend more time with him than you or Mick, and I can tell from the way he talks that he idolises her. She's a virgin princess to him, Albert, and I dread to think what he'd do to Mickey...what he will do..."

Albert cut in, "Then either Mickey has to be up front and tell him, or we have to orchestrate a counter-whispering campaign to minimise the effects of any rumours Sean might hear."

"To try and convince him that whoever started the gossip is just jealous? D'you really think he'd swallow that, Albert?" asked Ash, sceptically. "It's not like he hasn't had his suspicions in the past."

"Let's see, shall we?" replied the old man as he got to his feet. Ash gave a resigned sigh and lifted his car keys from the table on the way out.

oooOOOooo

"Albert's just texted me, he's on his way back...I'd better get going myself," said Mickey, and began preparing to leave.

Emma looked deeply disappointed. "Ohhh...must you? It's not as if we need to hide..."

"You were the one who wanted to call it off," Mickey pointed out. "And for the moment, let's keep it that way, at least until we know what's happening with Ash. Plus, if Sean were to suddenly stop by to visit you..."

"He wouldn't do that, not when you've told him to stay in Brighton."

"Hastings," corrected Mickey. "Probably not, but do you want to take the risk?" Emma's face told him that she did not. "Then I'll go." He took out his phone and called for a taxi, which arrived within minutes. He did not kiss or even hug Emma goodbye, leaving her irrationally angry at him. She kicked the door shut when she heard the cab drive off, more annoyed at herself for being weak than at Mickey for being stronger. She knew she was being inconsistent, and this was to cause her a couple of sleepless hours that night.

Mickey arrived at the crew's penthouse and was taken aback to find Albert there, sitting reading the newspaper and drinking tea as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"Albert! I thought you were going back to your place tonight? Emma's there, she's expecting you as well."

"Oh, I very much doubt that, Michael," answered the old man as he folded up the paper. "I texted her a few minutes ago, to let her know I'd be staying here tonight. I didn't want her to worry about me. So how was your evening?"

Despite the polite tone of Albert's enquiry, Mickey was under no illusions as to the reasoning behind it. "Nothing happened, Albert," he replied, drily cutting to the chase. "We had dinner, we talked, end of story. There is no story, not now."

"Well, I believe you, but you might have some difficulty in convincing, say, Sean of that," suggested Albert. "What I have in mind is a straight choice: either you sit down with him and explain what has gone on between you and Emma, or you attempt to quash any rumours with the idea that it's all a campaign of disinformation started by a jealous rival. Whoever that might be."

Mickey stared at him in amazement. "Albert, I really don't think either of those suggestions are practical." He got no further.

"Well, you'll bloody well have to come up with something, cos the kid's gonna kill you with his bare hands if he finds out it's true," announced Ash, appearing from his room and taking Mickey completely by surprise.

"Ash!" Mickey turned to Albert. "You didn't say..."

"No, well, I wasn't sure if Ash would want to involve himself in this discussion. He's just come to collect a few things," explained Albert. "But I think you are going to have to make a decision about how to handle Sean, otherwise he'll end up in prison and you'll end up dead."

"He's not that bad..."

"No, but then he's never had to defend his sister's honour like this before. Ash is of the same opinion as I am, that the best course of action is to be up front with Sean. Maybe even approach it from the point of view of asking his permission..."

"What? You must be joking, Albert!"

"Never more serious, Michael. Can you think of a better way?" He rose to his feet without waiting for an answer. "I'll let you sleep on it. I'm going to turn in. It's been a long day trying to track down this one." He pointed in Ash's direction. "Goodnight, all."

"'Night, Albert," replied Ash. He turned to go back into his room, but Mickey quickly blocked his way.

"Aren't you going to at least talk about this, Ash?" he asked.

"Nothing to talk about until you've decided about Sean," was the short answer. "I'm just packing a bag, so if you don't mind..."

Mickey let him go and stood, at a loss, in the middle of the lounge. Ash emerged a few minutes later with a sizeable holdall, and started for the front door.

"When will you be back, Ash?"

The fixer stopped but didn't turn round. "I don't know," he said simply, and Mickey's pride prevented him from doing anything to stop his friend leaving once more.