The Godson by Robert G. Barrett Page B

spa-bath.
    â€˜Les tells me you’re thinking of going out for a bit of a drink tonight.’
    â€˜I’m not thinking of going out. I
am
going out. Till late. Very late.’
    Eddie gave another little chuckle and sipped some more coffee. ‘Yeah, well, why wouldn’t you?’ he smiled. ‘You’re young. You’re rich. You’re not a bad looking bloke. If I was in your shoes I’d probably be doing the same thing.’
    â€˜Exactly,’ said Peregrine bluntly. ‘Now would you mind closing that blessed door.’
    Eddie smiled benevolently at Peregrine then finished his coffee and put the empty cup to the side of the bath. ‘The door?’ he said ‘Oh yeah. I forgot the door.’
    Like a snake striking, Eddie reached across the spa-bath and with his left hand, took Peregrine by the hair and yankedhim out of the water making him yelp with shock and pain. With water dripping everywhere off his naked body, Eddie frog-marched Peregrine out onto the balcony and with a grip of iron forced him up over the edge. With his right hand, Eddie whipped a .38 revolver from a holster beneath his jacket and rammed the muzzle into Peregrine’s date. It was bitterly cold out on the balcony. There was nothing under the Englishman’s face but ten floors of thin air, he had the cold barrel of a Smith and Wesson wedged in his bum and a not too happy Eddie Salita holding him by the scruff of the neck like a dog with a rat. Sir Peregrine Normanhurst III was absolutely terrified and about twenty seconds away from shitting all over the barrel of Eddie’s gun.
    â€˜Now you listen to me, you fuckin’ pommy prick,’ Eddie hissed right into Peregrine’s ear. ‘There’s a lot of people going to a lot of trouble to look after your skinny fuckin’ neck while you’re out here. Me, I don’t give a fuck about you one way or the other. I’d just as soon throw you over the edge and make it look like suicide, and save us all a lot of fucking about all round. You listening?’ Peregrine gasped a reply and tried not to look at the pavement ten floors below. ‘Now I don’t know what sort of pricks you run around with in England. But out here, we ain’t got time to be fucked around. So what d’you want to do, shithead? Behave yourself and have a nice two-week holiday in Australia? Or go hang-gliding au naturale, with your bowels blown up through the top of your head?’ Eddie nudged the barrel of the .38 a little further into Peregrine’s quoit. ‘Make up your fuckin’ mind, knackers. I ain’t got all day and it’s freezin’ out here.’
    â€˜All right. All right. Whatever you say,’ gasped Peregrine, choking back a tear.
    â€˜Good.’
    Eddie pulled Peregrine back from the edge of the balcony and pushed him inside, sliding the door closed with his heel at the same time. He marched him back across to the spabath and lowered him into the water. ‘Now,’ smiled Eddie, putting the .38 back in its holster. He picked up a towel and began wiping the water from his leather jacket and jeans. ‘Isn’t it nice to know we’ve both got a perfect understanding?’
    Peregrine’s eyes were still bulging with fear. His face was flushed and a small tear trickled down his cheek. He flinched suddenly as Eddie reached for the ice-bucket behind his head.
    â€˜Well, well, well, what have we got here?’ smiled Eddie, picking up the almost empty bottle. ‘Cristal. My, you
have
got good taste, Peregrine, This is Elton’s favourite, you know.’ Eddie finished what was left and dropped the empty bottle back in the ice-bucket. ‘I’ll tell you what, old bean. Why don’t we have another one?’ He picked up the phone at the side of the bath. ‘Hello. Room service? Yes. Could we have a bottle of ’68 Cristal to room 1012 please.’ The little hit man picked up a