Kitabı oku: «The Number 8»

For my fellow passengers on the Funky Chicken Kiwi Experience Bus Tour Jan, 2011.

Contents

Cover

Blurb

Book List

Title Page

Copyright

Author Bio

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

Endpages

About the Publisher

Prologue

The barrister stood on the steps of the Old Bailey, London’s most famous court, ready to address the nation. He was nervous. He hadn’t spoken in front of this many people outside of a courtroom. In there, it was his domain. He was used to murder trials. He was confident, charismatic and incredibly calm. Out here, in front of the nation’s media, it was a different story.

His tongue was sticking to the roof of his mouth and water didn’t help. A bead of sweat threatened to fall down his already shiny forehead, but he wiped it away without anyone noticing. He had been stood in front of the microphones for two minutes already, but he hadn’t spoken. The man next to him, a PR specialist, was tasked with introducing him. He listened to the man’s words. The barrister had an impressive list of accomplishments.

He was up. He took a step forward and took a deep breath.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the press. I stand here proud. Proud to tell you that a judge and a jury of your peers have found my clients ‘not guilty’. ”

He paused for applause and he was right to, the applause was deafening. People cheered and whistled. It went on for about a minute before he raised his arm for silence.

“This verdict is not only important for my clients, but it’s important for our country. We will not stand for…” But that was all he got out because somewhere in the crowd somebody was ready to have their sixty seconds of fame.

“Judas! You should be ashamed of yourself for defending murderers every day of your life. You know they did it!”

The PR man intervened. “Security. Remove that individual!”

For a split second the lawyer felt the familiar pang of guilt. But, as he had done for years, he quickly nipped it in the bud. Guilty or not, a win was a win and this time he had won big. This was the platform his career would be built on. He was already successful by most people’s standards but this case would propel him to the next level and he was ready for it.

Pandemonium broke out. Cameras whirred. Security dragged the individual away kicking and screaming incomprehensible words. But there was one sentence he could make out and for the first time in all his years as a lawyer, he was scared.

“Bastard. You’ve taken everything from me. I won’t stop until I’ve taken everything from you!”

Chapter 1

“Oh, will you just relax!” Asmir Nankin shouted at his friend as they sat at a bar in Auckland, New Zealand.

Dante Darion was slumped in a corner frowning and feeling sorry for himself.

“We’re here now, stop being a baby,” Asmir continued.

Dante dragged himself into an upright position and feigned a smile.

“Better?” he said sarcastically.

“It happened. You know you messed up, you can do better next year,” Asmir said and threw his hand up in the air. This caught the waitresses’ eye and she strode over to him smiling.

“We’ll have another bottle of Dom Pérignon. My friend here needs a bit of a pick-me-up,” he said gesturing towards Dante. “Here’s a little something for you too.”

He made a point of taking out a large roll of crisp bills and counting out two hundred New Zealand dollars very slowly before handing it over to the wide-eyed waitress. He had been doing this kind of thing to each of the female waitresses all evening.

“Thank you…so much,” she stuttered as she placed the obscenely large tip into her back pocket.

Dante rolled his eyes, “Really?! That’s the third tip you’ve given out. One of the girls wasn’t even serving us!”

“But she was beautiful though. Right?” Asmir grinned.

“You do realize that you just gave her one hundred pounds?”

Asmir flapped the air in front of his face. “So what? We’re on holiday. I can splash out a little bit.”

“A little bit would be getting a couple of extra sides or an extra bottle of wine, not tipping every girl that smiles at you.”

“You say potato and I say tomato.”

“That’s so wrong, I can’t even…”

Asmir interrupted him mid-sentence. “I’m making it my mission to get you out of this funk this holiday. So you bombed this year at Uni, there’s always next year. You broke up with your girlfriend. There’s plenty more fish in the sea. Plus, she was awful, D. You know I never liked her.”

Dante sank into his chair. “I liked her though…”

“She wasn’t good for you, man. As for the bad grades, I know that’s not what you’re used to, but it happened. You either get over it or let it drag you down.”

“The second option,” Dante said, sinking even lower in his chair.

“I get why you are so broken up about your Uncle, man. The guy was awesome, but the other two things? They’re minor.”

Dante’s Uncle had died over the summer while everything else had been happening. It had been three months and he still felt a tightness in his throat whenever he thought about it. Asmir saw this and quickly intervened.

“No, this is not happening. I’m not letting you sulk this whole holiday. Where’s that girl with my champagne?” Asmir swiveled from left to right trying to catch a glimpse of her in the crowd.

“You know, you should probably wait for someone to bring you your order before you tip them. It gives them incentive to do a good job. That girl is probably telling her friends right now about this young, rich, Indian guy who tipped her two hundred dollars right now.”

“You think I look Indian?”

“You definitely don’t look Russian. You could pass for Iranian, but I would still say Indian.”

“Yeah. Well I know I don’t look Russian. Now Dad looks Russian and Mum looks like she’s from the Middle East, but how can that create an Indian-looking guy?”

Dante raised his hands as if to say “Don’t ask me.”

He took another beat and then said, “Hey.” But Asmir was preoccupied with his search for the missing waitress.

“Hey!” he said a little louder.

This time Asmir heard him.

“I just wanted to say thanks for this trip.”

“Don’t thank me yet, mate.”

“I know, I know, but I really appreciate this. I couldn’t afford this trip on my own…”

“Stop, D. I’ve got it, I understand.”

Dante nodded and left it at that. Asmir hated to talk about money, but he loved flashing it. His family was incredibly wealthy. His father was a partner at a well-renowned legal firm and his mother was from Iranian oil money. Asmir had paid for this trip out of his own pocket and despite his current mood, Dante was grateful.

“I bet you a new girl comes out with the champagne,” Dante said glancing around the bar.

“Why?”

“If she’s smart she’s gone to tell her friends there’s a big tipper and he’s waiting for his bottle. New girl comes out with the Dom and gets the same tip.”

“Pff, yeah right.”

Sure enough, two minutes later a new girl came to the table with Asmir’s champagne and a look that told Dante that she knew all about “the money at table four”.

Asmir reluctantly tipped her the same as her friend and looked at Dante who was wearing an “I told you so” smile.

“And that, my friend, is why you tip afterwards.”

Chapter 2

“Here it is!” Asmir yelled as a large, white and green bus pulled into the Auckland bus station. On the front someone had painted a large number eight.

“Not so loud,” Dante winced. He was wearing sunglasses to protect his eyes from the blazing sun. It was early morning, but the sun was already fierce. They had both drunk way too much the previous night but the difference was, Asmir was used to it, Dante was not. He was feeling the full effects of his bad decisions this morning.

Dante groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose where it met his forehead, hoping it would halt the endless throbbing. It didn’t.

“Help me with this, would you?” Asmir puffed as he dragged one of his two massive suitcases towards the trunk.

“Why would you bring two suitcases and a carry-on? I’m pretty sure they expressly said you could only have one,” Dante groaned as he forced himself upright.

“They did,” Asmir admitted.

“And?”

“I didn’t listen.”

“You’re gonna try and pay someone off aren’t you?”

“It’s sorted, mate. You know me,” Asmir laughed.

The bus driver came out to give them a hand.

“Hey, I’m Asmir. Are you with us for the trip?” he said shaking the guy’s hand.

“No, just dropping the bus off. Someone else will be along in a little while. You guys are pretty early,” the driver said, a little surprised.

Dante didn’t say anything. Instead he pointed an accusatory finger at his best friend.

“I didn’t want to miss this trip. We both need this. And I figure that if we’re early now, we have some leeway later when we’re late.”

“Because you will be late.”

“Yup,” he said almost boasting.

“Jump on, guys. It’s a while before you leave so you have some time to get some snacks or take a nap before the rest arrive.”

They thanked him for his help and climbed the stairs to see their home for the next three weeks. Inside it was a lot roomier than it looked from the outside. The chairs were red and thankfully not leather. In this heat, sitting on leather would’ve been unpleasant to say the least. Instead it was a high wool content moquette fabric and it was soft.

Dante crumpled into a corner seat right at the back. Asmir had decided to try every seat to determine which was the most comfortable.

“I can deal with this,” Dante said as he tried to find a comfortable position.

Asmir didn’t speak until he had tried every seat and was sat in the seat next to Dante.

“It’s between that one, that one and that one,” he said pointing to three chairs further forward.

“You’re gonna end up sitting in the seat right next to me and you know it, save yourself some time.”

Asmir shrugged. He knew Dante was right so he got comfortable.

But minutes later, the other passengers began to board. As he always did, Asmir threw himself into the crowd and began to get everyone talking.

“D, get in here,” he said beckoning Dante over.

Reluctantly Dante unwound himself from his comfortable corner and slowly made it towards the group who were congregating on the seats near the front.

“Marco, this is Dante. Dante, Marco,” Asmir smiled as he moved aside to reveal a small, pale, bespectacled guy that looked like he was having a nervous breakdown just being in this group.

“Hey, how you doing?” Dante asked politely.

“Good, thank you. You?” he replied, his voice deeper than Dante had imagined.

They chatted politely for a little while. Mainly small talk, nothing too personal or deep. Marco was also from the UK. He was in his third year at Cambridge University studying Physics and he was only twenty. A real wunderkind. It seemed Marco hadn’t come with anyone, his reason for the trip was purely academic. He wanted to see and experience New Zealand, the sights, the culture and on top of that, he was a huge Lord of the Rings fan.

Asmir walked over to him, his arm wrapped around the shoulders of a smaller guy. Small, but quite menacing looking. Tattoos all down his right arm and an eyelid piercing. He had minute, beady eyes that were fixed on Dante. A shaved head with the pattern of a triangle shaved into the left hand side, but it was poorly done. It ended up looking like more of a circle. On top of that he had a thick untamed mat of facial hair like someone you would cross the street through heavy traffic to avoid.

“Dante, this is Viktor. He’s from near us,” Asmir explained.

“Oh yeah. Where?” Dante asked.

His voice came through a lot higher than expected for such a big guy. Dante had to hold back a laugh. “Favingham, just moved there recently.”

Asmir looked at him meaningfully as if to say, “I know, right?” Instead, he said, “Isn’t that weird, D? He’s from right down the road!”

“Yeah, bit of a hole, right?” he chuckled turning towards another guy.

“Right,” boomed a voice through the crowd. A large figure brushed Marco aside and joined their circle. He was colossal but Dante was more focused on the fact that he looked like Viktor if Viktor was stretched about twelve inches. He was about 6’5, same horrendous hairstyle and matching eye piercing. His arms were much bigger, like the thickest part of a python. He seemed older, but by how much, Dante had no idea. He was basically Viktor’s sidekick and for whatever reason, James also known as “Diesel”, was fine with that.

By this point, almost everyone had arrived. The last two on the bus were the most interesting to Dante. He didn’t need Asmir to introduce him to these two.

“You know I’ve got a hat just like that, but it looks a hell of a lot better on you. I’m Dante by the way,” he said in an attempt to break the ice.

They both laughed. “Oh really?” the dark-haired one said. “It’s good to meet you, Dante. I’m Annie and this is my friend Becki.”

Her friend was shorter than her with long, blonde hair. She had a crooked smile and her nose crinkled when she laughed. But Annie was more his type. Fairly tall, chestnut brown hair that just touched her shoulders. She had a kind smile and a sort of innocence which for some reason he found endearing. Both were naturally tanned because they had been there for two weeks already and the weather had been kind to them.

“So you guys are from England?”

“Yeah, just outside London actually. But I don’t want to think about home right now. Work was getting crazy before we came here. We’re here to cut lose for a few weeks,” Annie said sliding her bag under her seat.

“You mean Uni?” Dante asked.

“No, we own our own fashion line. We had a gap in our schedule so we left our CFO in charge. You at Uni then?”

“Yeah, Canwell. But that’s not as impressive as owning my own fashion line. How old are you guys?” Before he’d even finished the sentence he knew he’d made a faux pas. His Mum had always told him to never ask a woman her age. If she wants you to know, she’ll volunteer it.

Mortified he quickly tried to repair the damage. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean…”

But Becki interrupted him. “Relax, Dante. I’m nineteen and she’s twenty-one.” She had a husky, gravelly voice like she’d been smoking for twenty years. He liked it.

But before Dante could say another word a stumpy, hazel-haired woman popped up at the front and coughed into the loudspeaker.

“Hey guys. My name is Mel Brown and I will be your guide for the duration of your trip.” A cheer went up. She smiled and blushed a little. “Welcome to the Pleasant Pheasant, everyone. I will do my best to make your trip with us three weeks of awesome.” There were a few giggles. She was obviously nervous and her Kiwi accent made the phrase sound even funnier.

“It will be a few hours until we get to our next destination so make yourself comfortable and enjoy the ride.”

Someone from the back shouted out, “Where are we going first?”

She smiled grudgingly as if to say, “You should have read the program,” but she had to be on this bus with a mob of youngsters for the next few weeks. She had to make a good impression or the rest of the trip would be torture for her. She simply replied, “Hot Water Beach.”

Dante shuffled sideways back to his seat and squeezed past Asmir to the safety of his corner.

“Az, what the hell is a ‘Pleasant Pheasant’?”