The Stretch (Stephen Leather Thrillers) by Stephen Leather Read Free Book Online Page B

over and picked up three slices of toast. The rule was one slice of toast per prisoner, but none of the cooks said anything. Terry picked up a mug of tea and headed back to his cell. Several of the prisoners in the queue nodded and wished him a good morning. The two prison officers who were standing on the landing looking down had watched Terry push into the queue but it was clear they weren’t going to intervene.
    Terry wasn’t particularly hungry, and he certainly hadn’t wanted the extra burnt sausage. It was all about establishing his place in the pecking order, demonstrating to the prison population that Terry Greene wasn’t to be messed with.
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    There were three bouncers at the entrance to the club, big men in dark coats with their hands clasped in front of their groins like bit players in a low-budget gangster movie. Behind them a thick purple rope ran between brass poles, the barrier through which customers had to pass to get inside Lapland.
    Sam walked to the head of the line. It had been more than two years since she’d last visited the club, and that had been with Terry. It wasn’t her favourite place, but George Kay had said that he was too busy to get away and that if she wanted to see him it would have to be there.
    One of the bouncers moved to bar Sam’s way, but another put a hand on his shoulder and nodded. He removed the rope and waved for Sam to go through. ‘Mrs Greene,’ he said, in a throaty Glaswegian accent. ‘Long time no see.’
    Sam frowned at the man. He was well over six feet tall, in his early thirties and with close-cropped receding hair and a strong jaw.
    ‘Andy McKinley, Mrs Greene, I used to drive your husband.’
    ‘Andy. I’m sorry.’
    ‘That’s all right, Mrs Greene. You were only in the Lexus one time and you probably only saw the back of my head.’
    ‘It’s not that, Andy, it’s just that I didn’t expect to see you on the door.’
    ‘Needs as needs must, Mrs Greene. I’ll show you through.’
    Sam followed McKinley down a dimly lit corridor and into the club. Three busty girls, two blondes and a brunette, were dancing around silver poles on a stage while dozens of other equally well-endowed girls moved among the predominantly male clientele, accepting drinks and performing one-on-one lapdances. There were lots of bottles of champagne in ice buckets and men in suits shoving ten-pound notes in the garters of the dancing girls. It was, thought Sam, a hell of a way to earn a living.
    ‘Busy night, Andy,’ she said, as McKinley led her through the tables to George Kay’s office.
    ‘It always is, Mrs Greene,’ said McKinley. He knocked on a door and opened it. ‘Mr Kay. Mrs Greene to see you.’
    McKinley stepped to the side to let Sam go in, then gently closed the door behind her.
    George Kay was sprawled in a leather executive chair, his feet up on a cluttered desk reading a copy of Exchange and Mart. ‘Sam, darling, lovely surprise.’ He swung his feet off the desk and waddled over to greet her, planting a wet kiss on each cheek.
    ‘I did say I was coming, George.’
    ‘Of course you did, darling, of course you did.’
    He waved her over to an overstuffed sofa opposite a large window through which they could see what was going on in the club. McKinley had moved away a rowdy group of men in shirtsleeves who were giving one of the dancers a hard time. McKinley quietened them with a few words and they dropped back into their seats as meek as mice.
    Sam sat down and George went back behind his desk. He gestured at a chipped mug by a computer terminal. ‘Coffee, Sam?’ Sam shook her head. ‘Something stronger, then? Shall I get a bottle of bubbly sent in?’
    ‘No, thanks, George. I’m driving and I’ve already had to piss in a bottle once this week.’
    Kay’s brow furrowed. He ran a hand through his greying goatee beard. He was at least ten stone overweight and was sweating despite a large air-conditioning unit on the