Page 59 of Savage Protector

I shake my head. “I can handle Mehrban just fine. But I want Iftikar as well. They’re both mine.”

“Fair enough.” He glides out into the slow-moving rush-hour traffic. “We’ll lift Iftikar from the gym and bring him round to the salon. You can do the honours there, but the boss wants no mess if you can help it. And obviously, no witnesses. Nothing to even indicate we were there.”

“Agreed.” I already have my plan sorted. “He’ll get to the gym around eight.”

“Okay. We’ll collect him and be back with you by, say, quarter past.”

“Sweet. I should be all set up by then.”

14

Zayn

Tony dropsme off a five-minute walk from the salon. I cover the distance at a gentle stroll, head down to avoid any CCTV. No point attracting attention, or leaving an obvious trail. Zenith Grooming is a brightly lit beacon in the semi-darkness of the street of shops, most of them already closed up for the night.

I pause outside to peer through the plate-glass window. Mehrban is inside, lounging on one of the styling chairs, looking at his phone. The rest of the salon is deserted, four empty chairs lined up to face a full-width mirror along one wall. The decor is masculine, all dark blues and browns, and the sinks are a glossy black with tiles to match and contrasting red grouting. The whole gloomy vibe is offset by the modern lighting which casts a vaguely orange glow everywhere.

I suppose it’s okay, if you like the macho vibe. Personally, I don’t much care for it, but I won’t be here long. And I won’t be back.

I try the door. It’s locked, but Mehrban hops up and comes to let me in.

“Mr Shah?” he enquires.

“Yes. I booked earlier.”

“You did, of course. Come in.” He gestures me inside. “Sit anywhere.”

I ignore his suggestion and instead roam the perimeter of the salon to make sure there’s no one still here, in the toilets or the back room. While his back is turned as he fiddles with closing the door and drawing the blind down, I slip on a pair of nitrile gloves from my pocket. It pays to always be prepared.

I find just the one jacket hanging in the storeroom and check the pockets. I remove a phone and a bunch of keys and place them on a shelf.

“Mr Shah? Is there a problem?” Helpfully, he’s locking the door again, his back still to me. “Can’t be too careful these days,” he adds. “So, what can I do for you this evening?”

Satisfied we’re alone, I turn to face him. My gun is now in my hand. “You can die, Mehrban, that’s what you can do for me this evening.”

He whirls to face me, his eyes like saucers. He gapes at the weapon, takes a step back, reaching for the door.

“Don’t.” My tone is arctic. “You can pass the keys to me, if you would.”

He dangles them from his finger, seemingly not quite able to compute what is happening.

“Slide them across the floor,” I instruct.

He wakes up at last and drops to his haunches to do as I say.

“Thanks, Mehrban,” I remark as I bend to pick them up. “Now, you could drop the blinds, too. Then, why don’tyoutake a seat? Anywhere.”

“I… I…”

“I said, close the blinds then sit the fuck down. Or do I need to kneecap you? It worked for your dad.”

He pales, suddenly comprehending exactly how much trouble he’s in. He staggers in the direction of the huge plate-glass window. The blinds are those posh vertical ones, and he manages to close them despite his shaking hands. He really is being most cooperative, for a man with little more than an hour to live. Perhaps he doesn’t realise that quite yet.

There’s time.

“Who are you?” He sounds to be on the verge of tears.

“I think you can work that out,” I reply. “You seem to be still standing. What part of sit the fuck down wasn’t clear?”

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