Bumping Uglies

Chapter Fifteen

This was a new low.

In a career that even a charitable observer would describe as mostly nadir, this moment plumbed new depths.

We were in our third pub, The Swan, as dictated to us remotely by Tweak, and my pocket bulged heavily with fruit machine winnings.

I had seen off a couple of pints and Sophie had been through two large glasses of screw-top chardonnay that smelled like it would take the paint off your car. We had talked, but not really said anything. We had both agreed that I would get Tweak sorted out first and, frankly, that suited me. I needed the liquid courage and thinking space to try and work out what the fuck was going on.

"So, he can see what's going on through those glasses?" Sophie asked, she was standing beside me at the machine. The mesmeric flashing lights and patterns lit up her ice blue eyes. I nodded in response.

"And he's telling you what to do to win?" she continued. I nodded some more, tapping the ear buds that were tucked into my ears.

"But why?" Sophie asked.

As reasonable as that question was, I couldn't bring myself to sully her with the answer.

The first two machines seemed to have been a warm-up for Tweak, though he had given each of them a female name, he had treated the exchange with them as one might an accidental meeting of an ex in a garage forecourt or supermarket freezer aisle.

I had quickly emptied both of them of jackpots by following Tweak's precise instructions.

This last gambler, however, seemed to be The One for Tweak. The others represented mere foreplay. Tweak's instructions slowed, his breathing deepened, there was occasional grunting coming down the phone line into the ear buds I was wearing.

I had pumped about a tenner into the machine already, and each game had been a loss. I had followed Tweak's instructions to the letter; spinning, holding, nudging and guessing hi and lo right on cue. All to no avail.

"Oooh, playing hard to get, you minx..." Tweak purred into my ears.

"Tweak, give it a rest, eh?" I said quietly into the microphone. The sounds I could hear on the other end of the phone suggested that Tweak was very much not giving it a rest.

"What I don't really understand, is why you are going along with this..." Sophie mused aloud, slurring her words ever-so-slightly.

I adjusted my feet, having to peel the soles away from the sticky carpet to do so. If that was the extent of her lack of understanding of the situation, I was willing to consider that a win.

"Tweak is helping me with some of the technical aspects of the case on an, ah, consultancy basis," I replied, choosing my words carefully. "It's quite important in finding Richard and understanding his motivations. I'll explain it all once we're finished here."

"But if this Tweak gentleman doesn't want the money, then why does he want you to do this, and why doesn't he just play himself?" Sophie muttered, confused.

I smiled. I suspected that Tweak was playing with himself all right.

"What's funny? Are you laughing at me?" Sophie leaned close and I turned away from the dazzling display of the gambler to look at her. She was close enough for me to catch a whiff of her scent and the bad wine beneath it. She locked eye contact with me for several seconds. That could have been significant, but with her pupils dilated and her focus soft from the wine, it was hard to tell.

"Not at all..." I tried to recover. Sophie swayed a little toward me and for a second, I thought she were moving to kiss me.

"Touch her, she's ready Turner..." Tweak panted in my ear.