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106. Sophie

Schwartz

He strode along the corridors of the newly constructed block at the Club. Business was peaking at the Club and it was late evening. Schwartz was frowning as he looked at the phone, trying to make sense of the messages that were landing on his phone. His men tailed him, Big Joe Barron and Leslie Lee. He trusted them. After what had happened with Shark, both Gaston and he were alert.

Now he was scowling. Gaston had called, his raspy voice punctuated with anger and wariness.

Dmitri was back.

***

Sophia.

I hurried along the heavily carpeted corridors of the gentlemen’s club called just that The Club.

Like it was some iconic building, I thought rudely. Like it was The White House or Buckingham Palace.

Egoistical buggers.

Just another place where men came to vent their sleazy desires.

Yes, the newly opened Fight Club in the lower level attracted a fair share of the revenue. Especially since one of the owners, a burly grey-haired man called Gaston St. Claire regularly participated
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