Better the Devil Page 8

  There was only one method by which Jess knew she could find this man. Without an address, Jess had to break her promise to the soft fat security guard to return his radio. The poor guy was going to lose his job, and have a complex about lying blonde bombshells for the rest of his life. Never mind. Finding the hero and saving Eva was a little more important than a chubby guy’s ego. Finding the masked man was essential, the way Jess saw it. Finding him would involve some waiting and some luck. She needed the perfect bait to find him. A crime which caught the masked man’s imagination needed to occur.

  It was time to sit, listen and wait. The nicest of the town’s coffee shops were off limits due to Jess’s self-imposed High Street ban so that the fat security guard didn’t see her. Which left her with the various sandwich bars and the Frozen Yoghurt bar. She opted for the Frozen Yoghurt place once more. The young hippie dude who ran it was probably going to think she had a crush on him, but she really chose it for the profit-destroying emptiness of the large space. The Frozen Yoghurt bar offered so much space that Jess could sit alone and listen to her borrowed radio set while the hippie guy just cleaned. Besides that, the chocolate chips in their cookies were really, really good.

  Jess’s latest spider gram had been abandoned in favour of doodling flowers and superheroes. Jess was sketching a detailed biro image of Poison Ivy when the radio noise changed in a way which got her ears pricked up. An edgy voice said there was some aggressive early customers in a nearby bar called Bloomers. Jess had heard about Bloomers, and what she heard wasn’t good.

  “This is a heads up. This is Bloomers bar, Southchurch Road. We’ve got two aggressive young men in their late twenties or early thirties causing us some grief in here. They are giving the staff some very bad attitude. It could be nothing, but it could be something developing.”

  The voice sounded more panicked than the guy wanted to admit. Jess guessed he was security again, though this guy sounded like he had a bit more pride than the one in Burger King. Another voice joined the line. Professional and succinct.

  “Do you require assistance?” The police.

  “No. I hope not. They’re probably mucking around.”

  “Are they threating anybody?”

  There was a pause. A long pause. The security type was clearly in two minds. Eventually he said. “They’re not worrying me yet. I’ll get back to you if we need your help. Thank you.”

  The long pause caught Jess’s mind. She heard the pride and the fear in the man’s voice – a man who was caught in the decision to ask for help from the authorities or deal with the problem himself. In the last moment the guard opted for pride. But there were other reasons why a man might call in for help and then reject it. A bar like Bloomers didn’t want the police visiting. Not really. Jess still heard danger, and she knew the masked man would be listening in too. He was no fan of police presence, at least not arriving too early. So Jess hoped he had heard the same opportunity Jess was hearing - a chance to intervene and help people- a chance to make his mark again before the old bill arrived to mop up.

  Bloomers was the type of bar women didn’t ever go to unless they were going to perform. But Jess had no intention of that. Jess packed her things and fled the Frozen Yoghurt shop. She paced with big fast steps just short of a canter, weaving around the slow walkers and the old folks. This time she kept the radio set out of sight. If the vigilante was going to show anywhere, he’d show here. Jess checked her phone. No text from Eva, no call either, which was a relief and a worry at the same time, but Jess could at least gain some comfort that there had been no word of gunshots in Wakering on the radio.

  Bloomers was in the middle of a very run down piece of real estate smack bang in the centre of town. Across the street was the council’s office for dealing with troublesome youths and their families by keeping them busy on social programmes. Next door was the clap clinic and the mental health unit for outpatients which kept several thousand local residents topped up or injected to keep the community safe each year. This was the street where the gangs, hoodlums and street drinkers huddled and hassled all day long. Jess got some eyeball, and the obligatory vulgar comments, but she was a girl and this was her town. There was nothing new about any of it.

  Bloomers had a big blue sign with a full moon on it – the kind of moon a wolf howls at – and a silhouette of a shapely reclining naked woman. It wasn’t hard to figure what kind of bar Bloomers was. The front was covered in the kind of dimpled metal which looked like it was for security rather than decorative purposes. Did this place really need to be bullet proof? Jess doubted it. She expected to buzz the door to request entry, but the big metal plated door was open as soon as she pulled it. She left the fading daylight behind her, and walked into a dull stairway leading down towards a dimly lit basement with a big white door beyond. Now she could just hear the sound of cheesy lounge lizard music. Jess pressed on. The area around the doors was covered in the same dimpled sheet metal. She wasn’t sure what effect the metal was supposed to create, but it looked austere, violent even, as if the designer’s main concern had been the ease of cleaning whatever substances landed on them. Maybe a designer had been beyond Bloomer’s budget.

  By the white doors there was a hatch, possibly a cloakroom. It was unmanned at this time of day. Jess took a breath, and pushed open the white door, and the dark warmth, beer stench and loud cheesy music swallowed her whole. Nobody looked around, so for a split second Jess appraised the situation without fear. At the front of the low ceiling bar area was a U shaped stage area with bar stools set close around it. Two half naked women bathed in pink light were walking the U shape at either end. They seemed barely engaged with the task, walking zombie-like around the U, passing each other without glancing at the other one. They were both naked save for a pair of sparkling silver knickers. One girl was blonde, one brunette, but Jess was surprised at them because they were plain, unremarkable, neither pretty nor ugly. She was shocked by herself and her judgement on their looks. They were not super glam. They were just women walking around with their breasts exposed, and they managed to make the whole thing look banal, and maybe unpleasant. This was a boring act which they were barely engaged in. The men standing around seemed fascinated nevertheless. Twenty or so men in gaggles of two or more stood nursing drinks, eyes facing front in a daze. She looked at the bar. More sheet metal with the dimples lined the bar front, though this time the Bloomers logo had been cut out of it and the colour behind was a burning bright orange. A stick thin barman was stacking glasses on a shelf behind the bar, but Jess noticed his eyes were also looking to the other side of the room. He was taking furtive glances – not at the girls to his right, but immediately behind and across his shoulder, towards the small crowd. The big man in the Polo shirt next to him had his arms folded and was leaning on the bar; and was far less furtive. He stared straight across at the other side of the room. Jess followed his gaze and saw the problem. Two agitated young men, one wearing a baseball cap, the other shaven headed and mean looking were standing close by, eyes moving all over the place, their conversation short and conspiratorial. They were talking, but they didn’t seem interested in the girls. They were edgy, looking around, discussing things while they looked around the room. Jess was no expert, but their edginess made Jess think ‘junkie.’ They looked ready to do something any second, but Jess wasn’t sure what. Jess began to move to the bar, spying the now familiar radio set laying on the bar beneath the big security man’s chin.

  She looked back across the room and saw the men were now looking at her. The shaven headed one was grinning at her like a sex pest on happy pills, while the baseball capped one was snorting with laughter.

  “Hey sweetheart. Are you next up on stage?”

  “You can rock around my clock any time, sweet tits.”

  Rock around the clock. Funny. It was a joke about Jess’s fifties style clothing, the big skirt and the tightly tucked blouse. These guys were jerks of the highest order. Now she needed to get moving before th
ey did anything else beyond the merely moronic. She got to the bar, but something in her gut told her they were following. The barman turned. The security guy stiffened, stood tall and seized his radio.

  “What’s going on with those two?” Jess asked. The security man looked confused. Clearly 1950s girl throwbacks were not supposed to visit this establishment, and if they ever did, why would they come asking about two aggressive idiots like those. The confusion was justified.

  “They’ve come in to cause trouble. I’m just waiting to see what kind. What’s a girl like you doing here, while we’re about it?”

  “Oh, I’m just here for the culture.”

  The security looked at her deadpan. Had he understood the joke? He wasn’t laughing either way.

  “I’m looking for a friend, that’s all.”

  Before the security guy could respond, they all heard the voice behind her.

  “Hey, tough guy. Stick her up on stage now. She’s the main event, right. The big attraction, am I right?” It was the shaven headed guy, his shoulders overhanging his wraithlike body, his hollow eyes glinting as he spoke.

  “No, not this one, pal. This one’s just leaving, aren’t you?” said the security man.

  “Maybe in a minute, yes,” said Jess, hesitating, looking around the bar room.

  “After her performance. We want to see you perform, babe. You know exactly what I mean.”

  “I just need to see if my friend is here…”

  “We’ll be your friends, won’t we?” said the baseball cap to the shaven head, nudging him.

  “I’ll be your dog!” said the other one, copying the old juice commercial. They laughed. They were hyperactive, moving all over the place. The security guy was getting increasingly tense, while the barman guy grew still with fear.

  “What is this about, boys? This is an entertainment venue. We don’t want trouble, is that understood? If you want to enjoy the show, then fine. But if you want trouble, then it’s time to go.”

  “Oh. Big man. I get you. You went to the gym once, injected some chemicals and now you think people should be scared of you. We ain’t scared, are we? I’m not scared. I tell you what, you stick Diana Dors here up on stage, tell her to get her puppies out then buy us a drink, and then there won’t be any trouble at all. I guarantee it.”

  Puppies. Sick sad bastards. The very worst kind. Jess didn’t think much of any of the men staring vacantly at the sad women on stage, but these two creatures were on another level. And the problem was that Jess had given them an opportunity to do wrong. The security man seemed to think so too. It was easy to see. He gave her a hard stare and screwed up his mouth before turning back on the others. They were too close to Jess for comfort. She stepped away, but the guy in the baseball cap closed in and filled the gap before she could use it to escape. Silently Jess said the word ‘help’ but it never left her lips. Eva was in deadly trouble, Jess was the one she needed on stand-by and yet somehow she’d managed to mess up yet again. Big time. There was a gentle thud behind them. If not for the tension, none of them would have noticed it. The security guy looked up, and the look on his face was confusion, and then maybe fear. They all looked round to see a man by the bar door. The girls on stage stopped walking too, and drew together to look and whisper. And when the show stopped, the vacant drinkers turned away from the stage to see what the hell was getting in the way of their slack-jawed sex fix.

  Standing by the door in the half-light - it was him. He was thin, but upright. He was wearing a black bomber jacket with military type pockets all over it, and wore the lapel collar on his jacket high up around his neck. The harsh stage light hit him and put the man in full definition. His legs were slender but strong looking. He stood tall and confident. But the first thing Jess saw most clearly was that he had upgraded his mask. This was a tight fitting balaclava, not the woolly army and navy kind, but some other kind of slick material. He stood confidently, fists by his hips, watching them all.

  “You again,” said the man in a gruff voice. He was speaking about Jess. Was the voice put on? Did the guy think he was the Dark Knight? Was he for real? Jess wondered all of this, but all she said was “Hi.”

  “This is your friend, right?” said the security guard. “I’d better call this in.”

  Jess looked back and shook her head. “You won’t need to. You don’t want the police here, do you? Just give him two minutes.”

  The security guard listened to her and gave a left-right nod of his head as he weighed up her suggestion. Then masked man nodded at Jess, maybe a thank you, and walked forward. Jess felt a little surge of happiness, there was now some tiny connection between them. It was silly, but she almost felt proud of the unknown stranger who was taking a stand. Lois Lane eat your heart out, she thought, berating herself for being so ridiculous.

  “You boys want some trouble? What type of trouble do you want?” he said in a gruff voice. Oh man. This guy loved the theatrics, and Jess didn’t mind at all.

  “This guy is a lunatic,” said the shaven headed one.

  “Where’s your cape, knob head?!” said the other one.

  “You’ve just made my day, you nutcase,” said the shaven head. He ran across the room, arms raised. Jess saw the man was going to try to use his momentum to overcome the vigilante, but the guy in the mask was unfazed and didn’t move a muscle. At the last second he shifted on his feet slightly, and when the shaven head got near, he swung his body forward and threw a long straight arm through the shaven head’s face. The man’s head swung back on his shoulders like a coconut shy at the fair. The masked man quickly swung his body around the other way, and with a fast sharp kick, sent the shaven head man to the floor.

  “You should have stayed at home today,” said the masked man. “What about you?” he said, gesturing to the one in the baseball cap. The man’s face had completely changed. It had softened. He was afraid.

  The security man leaned across the bar, and snatched the baseball cap man by the pony tail which hung out the back of his hat. The man groaned as his head slammed onto the bar. When it landed there, the security man dropped his own anvil forehead squarely on the guy’s face. Jess saw the man’s nose pop. The security guard looked up and looked self -consciously. “Sorry about that,” he said. He let go of the man in the hat, and he slid to the floor, holding his face.

  “Oh, no problem,” said Jess.

  The man in the mask seemed disappointed, his fun ended prematurely. He looked around, but there was no one else to deal with. One of the drinkers cheered him, but the man shook his head and the cheering abruptly stopped. “You got any more trouble?” asked the vigilante. The security man gently shook his head. “Nah, mate. It’ll be fine from here on. Fancy a pint?”

  The man shook his head like it was an insult, and turned away towards the door.

  “Hang on. I need to talk with you.”

  “Out of the question. I don’t talk to anyone,” he pushed at the white door.

  “But I know you’ll want to hear this, believe me.” Jess ran after the man, out into the hallway by the stairs to the outside world. He was on the steps, still in full mask. He hesitated.

  “Then speak,” he said. Jeez. This guy thought he was the real deal. He was a jerk, he was cool, and he was attractive, all in one strange hit.

  “My friend… she’s in grave danger. Deadly serious.”

  “What do you mean? Are you sure?”

  “I’m telling you the truth.” Jess started to hesitate. What the hell was she doing? This guy was violent, and had possibly more than one screw loose.

  The masked man continued to appraise her, waiting on the lowest stairs. There was a silence which lasted for a few seconds. His dark eyes blinked at Jess.

  “I believe you.”

  Jess wished she could take her words back. Now they were out of her mouth, the genie was out of the bottle.

  “You know what… maybe I shouldn’t be talking to you about this, after all.”

  “Of course you
should. You worked hard to find me so you could ask me for my help.”

  “But you don’t do that kind of thing to order, do you?”

  “Absolutely not. Not usually. But I’m the only person who can help, is that right?”

  Jess began to nod, but held it back and bit her lip. Maybe if she stayed quiet long enough the guy would get bored and change his mind. She’d call Eva and see how she could help. But then the masked man began to do something she never expected. He tugged at his mask and rolled it up. Nope. This guy was definitely not Dan, not in a million years after plastic surgery. The man was narrow faced with a big stubble filled chin, the stubble was so long it was basically a beard. His eyes were dark. His face was soft and mean all at the same time. The guy was aged anywhere between thirty and maybe even forty. And now, Jess was glad she spilled the beans. Because right now, as the man rolled his Balaclava up to make it look like a cheap winter woolly hat, she saw that this hero was lean, mean and one hundred per cent hot. He wasn’t her usual type in the least. As she walked out into the street pacing along by the side of the dangerous stranger, Jess felt contempt for herself. She was stupid. She was weak. She was in the process of making a mistake. But she also knew he was confident, violent and strong. Maybe in what was coming up that would count for something. She knew all that. But what she couldn’t yet process was the other feeling emerging in her nervous system…the strange feeling that right now, as they walked down the street, they were being watched.