Fair Game by Stephen Leather

line. There was no call for her ringing him up and asking for money and trying to use their kid as leverage.
    ‘Someone’s at the gate,’ said Sunny, pointing at the CCTV monitors.
    Crazy Boy paused the game and looked over at the bank of monitors. There was a black Bentley parked in front of the gates, its grille only inches from the bars. ‘We know anyone with a Bentley?’ he asked Two Knives, who’d gone over for a closer look at the screen.
    ‘Bentley’s for old men,’ said Two Knives. As he stared at the screen, the front passenger door opened and a heavy-set man in a dark suit climbed out, rotated his neck as if it was troubling him, then walked over to the entryphone that was set into one of the concrete pillars.
    ‘Looks like an Arab,’ said Crazy Boy, standing behind Two Knives.
    ‘Maybe he thinks the Indian still lives here.’
    The entryphone buzzed and Crazy Boy picked up the receiver. ‘Yeah?’ he said.
    ‘Is Mr Simeon Khalid at home?’
    ‘Who wants to know?’ asked Crazy Boy.
    ‘Mr Mamoud al-Zahrani is here and requests an audience with you,’ said the man. He had a square face and a thick moustache and slicked-back hair that glinted in the security lights. His eyes were hidden behind dark glasses.
    Crazy Boy looked at the small screen as he chewed his khat. The windows of the Bentley were heavily tinted so he couldn’t see who else was in the car.
    ‘I do not see visitors at my home,’ said Crazy Boy.
    ‘Mr al-Zahrani understands that but hopes that in his case you will make an exception,’ said the man, his voice a dull monotone as if he had memorised a script.
    ‘Do you know him?’ asked Two Knives.
    ‘Him I’ve never seen before but al-Zahrani is the guy that the Arab was talking about,’ said Crazy Boy.
    ‘How does he know where you live?’
    ‘That’s a good question,’ said Crazy Boy.
    ‘What does he want?’
    ‘Another good question,’ said Crazy Boy.
    The man on the screen turned back to the Bentley. The rear window had opened slightly and someone inside was obviously saying something. The man turned back to the entryphone. ‘Mr al-Zahrani does not make a habit of visiting unannounced but he feels that this matter is of such importance that it is necessary on this occasion, and for that he offers his apologies.’
    ‘There could be three or more assassins in a car that size,’ muttered Two Knives.
    Crazy Boy nodded slowly. Two Knives was right. ‘Tell Mr al-Zahrani that I will receive him, but he must come alone,’ he said into the intercom. ‘The car and anyone else in it must remain outside.’
    ‘I am Mr al-Zahrani’s bodyguard, he goes nowhere without me,’ said the man.
    ‘Very well, you can accompany him, but no weapons of any kind are to be brought into the house.’
    The bodyguard nodded and went back to the car. He spoke through the rear window and then the door opened and a tall Arab got out. He was light skinned, wearing dark glasses and a suit that fitted so well it could only have been made to measure. Al-Zahrani adjusted his cufflinks as he looked up at the security camera. He had a hooked nose and a receding hairline that he compensated for by growing his hair long at the back.
    Crazy Boy pressed the button that opened the door to the side of the main entrance. Al-Zahrani pushed open the door while his bodyguard reached into his jacket and then handed something, presumably a weapon, through the window.
    ‘You’re letting them in?’ asked Two Knives. He pulled his Glock from the back of his trousers and checked the action.
    ‘Search them, but be gentle, yeah?’ said Crazy Boy. He nodded at the gun. ‘Keep that out of the way, we don’t want to spook them.’ He turned to the blonde girl lying on the sofa. ‘Hey, bitch, get upstairs and wait for me in the bedroom.’
    The blonde scowled at him and flounced up the stairs. She was wearing one of Crazy Boy’s white shirts and nothing else and she turned and flashed him while she was