It was not too long before Harry found himself locked up in Martin O'Grady's basement cellar for the second time. And big Mick and a hand gun was not the right person to argue with, as he sat watching him with a constant evil and cold stare.
"Mind if I have a piss?" Harry asked. Mick pointed to the stainless steel bucket in the corner of the freezing cold room. "Oh very nice. I see that everything I need has been taken care of. So, when do I get the pleasure of Martin's visit?"
Mick remained silent and Harry made the best of the empty bucket. It was so cold; Harry thought it might freeze as he peed. "I suppose he's busy with family, being Christmas Day and all that? And I can guess a Chinese guy such as you don't mind working during the festive season?" Again Mick remained silent. For the first time when Harry was picked up from the street hours ago, he realised that if Mick wanted to talk, he could.
"I hope you're not going to beat the hell out of my teeth again. I'm just about recovering from the last instalment." Harry held his bottom jaw as he spoke. "Big hitter, hard fist, much damage. Oh for fucksake Mick, why the silence. I know you can talk."
"I chose not to." Came back the reply. "So sit down and be quiet before I hit you again harder." His accent was pure local English. Although it did not surprise Harry. There were plenty like Mick in China town.
"Look," Harry began to plead, "I didn't steal Martin's money. He's got it all wrong. I've got a steady girl now and we are happy together. I don't need this shit. You can understand that, can't you?" Mick continued his silent stare, unimpressed. And Harry realised he was not getting or going anywhere.
"So, what's planned for me? I can't shit money I didn't take." He sat down and took a long chug of the beer from the bottle provided for his refreshments. "A mince pie would be nice. I'm starving."
"Good." Mick replied. "Me too. Boss never gave me any food either. You have a beer."
"Look, you and I could sneak out and find a place to eat. The boss wouldn't mind. You can bring me back later."
"No. The boss is on his way and he's angry."
"Well that's his problem. He could have picked a better day."
Few minutes later the basement door opened and down the steps Martin entered in his festive white roll neck jumper and slacks. He looked as if he had just finished Christmas dinner with his family. He seemed his usual self, a smile and obviously an uncertain mood. Harry jumped to his feet to face his host. "Ay Harry, how's your Christmas day going?" Martin asked pleasantly.
"Well it was until Mick here abducted me. All I wanted was a pack of ciggies. And if you're going to ask about the dosh I was supposed to have purloined, I don't have it and never did. I'm the wrong guy, ok?"
"Don't worry Harry me lad. I know. And I also know who stole it. Sorry about the beating you got off Mick here. I would like to compensate for damages if I can?" Martin was too pleasant for the hard man he was, and still alive. Harry wondered when Hoffman was going to do the do. "I found out who it was. Someone you know I believe." Martin continued. "A man called Hoffman?"
Harry tried hard not to look surprised and cast his mind back to the suitcase of money half spent. "I'm not sure. The name doesn't register with me."
"Come come me lad. You know this man well. He just cut my nephews' throat a few days ago in front of his family. He told his distressed wife who he was and who arranged it." Martin pointed Harry's chest hard with his finger. "He left a note too. Admitting he stole the money."
"Bastard," Harry exclaimed in a quiet voice. One to look sympathetic and another to express being annoyed at the dirty trick Hoffman pulled, landing poor Harry now firmly in the mess. Martin took the letter from his pocket and handed it to Harry.
"Read the rest. I think you'll find it interesting lad." Martin said, with a grin from ear to ear. Obviously Harry barely made out a few words. "He explains that he left an apartment and my money, waiting to collect the keys from you. So, may I?" Martin held out his hand. "Please?"
Harry had to think fast...very fast. Handing over the keys to the apartment would put Saskia at certain risk, but the sound of Mick's knuckles cracking was encouragement enough. He dropped the keys into Martin's expecting hand. "Good lad. I'm keeping you here a little longer in the company of your best friend Mick. I know you two love each other so much." Martin said, turning to Mick with a grin. "I'm sending Shaun. He can check the place out. Maybe find my money"
She opened her eyes and threw back the duvet. Naked, she dashed to the bathroom to tend to her ablutions and afterwards noticed the door to David's office was open. She could hear him downstairs busily preparing dinner and quietly made her way inside. There was an open note book on the desk, a kind of diary. She picked it up and began to read it. The last entries described what had happened earlier that morning. She read back, discovering snippets of more documented information and she began to realise things she never knew before.
Helen sat in the armchair with a glass of mulled wine whilst David continued to prepare their Christmas dinner of turkey and everything that went with it. The manor was warm enough for her to sit in panties and an open white lace shirt. Cosy. She felt at total ease with what she had experienced. She even began to enjoy David's smooth jazz music which prolonged her feeling of tranquillity even after an early morning sleep and something she had accidentally discovered. David entered the lounge and looked at her with admiration for her youthful beauty and then poured himself a glass of wine from the terracotta jug. "Are you warm enough my love?" he asked. Helen rested her head back and glanced at him through half open eyes and just nodded her reply with a smile. "Good. Dinner should be ready in a few hours." He raised his glass and almost in a whisper he wished her a happy Christmas for the umpteenth time that morning.