Page 7 of Fury

“Hi Fury,” the young woman on the reception desk welcomed me, her cheeks colouring just a little. That hadn’t been the only cheeks I’d seen when we’d needed a means of getting into the local crematorium one night six months ago. She’d blushed then, too.

“Hey, Daisy.”

“Poppy.”

Shit.

“Sorry. Poppy.” Yet she didn’t seem put off, twirling a finger in loose brown hair that fell about her shoulders.

“Haven’t seen you for ages. I thought you were gonna ring.”

“I was, baby. I was. Dropped my phone down the bog. Had to get another. Lost all my contacts.” I waved the device in the air, as if I needed to convince her. Her eyes lit up. “Dave around?”

“Yeah. I’ll go get him for ya.”

“S’ok. I know where his office is.” I wandered towards the door almost in front of me, the dark, stained front pretending to be real mahogany.

“No. He’s not in that office anymore. He’s through the back. I’ll go get him.”

She jumped down from her chair, suddenly reminding me how small she was as she scurried off to find Dave.

I glanced round the reception area, at the dated wallpaper and the fake flowers, the gentle music that trickled from some speakers fixed on top of the old picture rail. The thin, industrial carpet under my feet was worn from thousands of footsteps. The same carpet that had been there when we had brought fallen Kings’ members through the doors in droves all those years ago.

And that feeling hit me again. Thick and onerous. Foreboding and threatening. Crawling through my veins and making my blood feel heavy. This had never been my favourite place. Even if the pussy on the front desk was tight and sweet, or the manager helped us tidy up occasionally.

“Fury! Hi. I was expecting Indie.”

“Aye. He’s busy. What’s going on, mate?” My voice boomed around the reception, bouncing off the walls and coming straight back at me.

Dave glanced over his shoulder nervously, towards the door in the far wall, to where his office once stood. He flicked his head, gesturing to me to follow, out of earshot of the new manager, who must be cocooned within Dave’s old office. For now, they were safe. At least until I found out from Dave what the fuck was going on.

I followed Dave along a corridor with doors lined along one side. Three, I counted, but I’d never been down this far before. It had always been the first office we’d been led into. And that same thud of dread thumped me in the stomach as I eyed each one. The sudden fear of seeing a dead body, even when I’d seen them die in front of me, and in my arms. The stab of anxiety before you walked into the room of soft lighting and gentle music, the smell of sterility and the coolness that grabbed at the hair on your forearms. That was as sharp in my memories as watching someone draw their last breath.

I shook my head. Swatting out the thoughts. Regaining my composure. Following Dave into the back room, ever closer to the lines of freezers and chillers containing soulless bodies. And somewhere in there, behind the thick metal double doors, our ex-president lay.

“So, what’s the craic, mate?”

“Dunno. It’s all cloak and dagger at the moment. I didn’t even know she was coming until the other day.”

“She? New boss is a she?”

Dave nodded. “Don’t get any ideas, Fury. She’s not one you can win over with a flick of your hair or a flex of your muscles. Not like young Poppy out there.”

I grinned. I’d always like a challenge.

“She’s the owner’s daughter. Grown-up some since I last saw her. An accounts auditor from London. Don’t know why she’s here. Rocked up a few days ago and has been digging into everything ever since. The Kings’ accounts in particular.”

Dave frowned, scrubbing the palm of his hand over the top of his balding head.

“Any tips on how to handle it?”

Dave shrugged, a look of defeat in his eyes.

“You’d better introduce me then.”

I had a game plan. The same one that had never failed me. Posh bit from London was no different, even if she was the daughter of the Big Wig owner.

The man in front of me drew a deep breath, bracing himself and then pausing, as if he was about to say something else, but then thought better of it.