Suzy peered out the window of the big black BMW as it drove through the increasingly neglected streets of Bermondsey. They were now heading down the Jamaica Road toward Rotherhithe, where her client waited. The small groups of trick or treaters were beginning to dwindle, as the area was now cloaked in a grim, grey mist and it had started to drizzle, very appropriate for…..
All Hallows’ night!
Suzy hated Halloween it had frightened her ever since childhood, all those Ghouls and Ghost stories made her very uneasy. It made no sense, but it had stayed with her since childhood.
Finally, her driver and bodyguard Malik stopped the car at the front of what appeared to be an older apartment block.
Malik informed Suzy, “This is the address.” And went on saying, “I don’t like the look of it!”
Suzy was edgy about tonight, it was Halloween, and she hadn’t a clue whom her client was; apart from the fact he or she was new. The agency had left a message on her voice mail with the address and time, but the name had not recorded. It made her feel uneasy, going into a job and not knowing the name of the client. She thought to herself, maybe it was time to get out of this game. But could she do without the money, she had got used to a particular lifestyle, that being a high-class escort gave her. If she gave it up would she be able to afford the nicer things in life?
Earlier in the day she had been to her friend Caroline’s lingerie shop in the heart of Mayfair. Suzy had gone to pick up something new to wear, as she always wanted to look her best for a client particularly a new client; and it now adorned her body.
Suzy had purchased an Agent Provocateur electric-blue lacy strapless brassiere and matching G-string. Her friend Caroline had very kindly kept it aside for her.
Suzy was quietly jealous of Caroline, thinking her so lucky. Caroline had just started a new relationship with a guy called James, what a lovely man. Suzy had met James at a party a week earlier; he had mesmerised her with his smoky grey eyes.
She mused to herself why on earth could she not find a good man and get out of this game. The lingerie had set her back two hundred, but the night would net two grand, a good profit. No, she could not do without the money, so she had better get on in there. Suzy took a swig of single malt from her hip flask, then got out of the car, and dashed through the drizzle into the apartment blocks lobby. The lobby was as run down as you would have suspected, from the state of the dilapidated exterior. However, there was an entry panel, and the button for apartment thirteen seemed to work. A rather strange hypnotic voice answered.
The voice had a trace of some Eastern European accent, which Suzy could not place, asked. “Who is there?”
She replied, “Suzy, we have an appointment at 10pm.”
The voice responded, “Ah yes, Suzy, please do come in. The lift is at the end of the hall, just press the button for the fourth floor, and I will await you.”
Suzy walked to the end of the corridor, and as promised, there was a charming little lift. It was complete, except for the missing CONDEMNED sign. It was apparently operational. Oh well, double the pay, double the risk. The lift door opened, and Suzy slid the inner gate aside, stepped into the elevator and punched the button for the fourth floor as instructed. The elevator seemed to go up forever; Suzy uninterestedly counted the floors as she passed them, taking another mouthful from her flask.
The lift ground to a halt, with a few nasty little judders. After a considerable wait, the door opened, and Suzy slid the inner gate aside. Her client waited in a dimly lit doorway down the hall. Suzy took a deep breath and then swigged another shot from her flask. Reset her trouble transmitter for another 10-minute interval, it would alert Malik if there were any problems she needed him to deal with. It was always better to be safe than sorry or rather as safe as you could be in this profession. Suzy placed the flask and transmitter back into her coat pocket and started down the hall. As Suzy made her way to where the client stood, she noted that there appeared to be only the one door on the fourth floor. Her client was a man who seemed very pale and thin.
From the weak light coming from inside the room, she could make out that he was wearing a jet-black velvet robe with matching slippers. The slippers and the robe had the initials EB embroidered in gold thread.