What Kind of Man || Jim Moriarty

Seven

"Who? Abigail-"

"No!" Voice sharp and loud, he silenced the room in an instant. "No...her husband? Mr..." Moriarty trailed off, expecting her to fill in the gap. It took a second, however, due to his sudden change in mood and the effect the man's name seemed to have on him.

"Peter Samson." Lucy tried to keep her voice firm. She didn't want him to hear the fear he'd put in her from the outburst of his temper. "He was a businessman I think, he looked like one at least. In his mid 50s? That's who's gun it was-"

"Stop, just stop." The man interrupted her, with the palm of his hand held up and out in front of her face. He lowered it soon enough and allowed her to fully watch him take his mobile phone back out of his pocket. Realisation suddenly dawned on her as his fingers moved expertly over the small keys.

"Oh my god do you know him? He wasn't a friend or anything was he?" She was answered by a chilling laugh. Mocking her in every sense and sending a darkness over her. Moriarty's head shook from left to right painfully slow.

"More of a colleague honey." He saw the way her pupils dilated with fear. The pick up in her pulse patten was practically visible in her neck. She ought to feel that way. "You're in deeper shit than I thought...this might be worth it after all." There was amusement written all over his face; the way the corner of his mouth curled up, the glimmer in his eyes, the way he playfully drummed his hands against the table as he raised his phone to his ear to make a call. All the while, Lucy's head thumped and her chest tightened. She wanted to run away from this man and yet she was glued to her seat.

"I need everything you can get on Peter Samson and his wife." Listening to him talk to whoever it was, noticed his voice got stricter and even more demanding. "Everything, contacts, finances, jobs....what don't you understand about everything!?" His temper flared and Lucy jumped in her seat as each of his words was pronounced perfectly, syllable by syllable. "Send it through when you have it all....oh and..." Moriarty looked up then to stare at the young girl in his company. "Also send through everything you found on Lucy Scott." He hung up and placed the phone on the table.

"You looked me up?" Being the first to speak, there was a doubt of whether she should have waited for him to go first but her name had been said. That gave her the right to ask surely?

"I did more than that. I always do a light background check on my clients, let's me know what I'm getting myself into." It was obvious he did this a lot by the way he spoke so simply. Her curiosity was also growing behind her worry, which was now causing her hands to tremble again. She wanted to know who this man really was, what he had done, what he was capable of. He could talk good, but could he supply the walk to go with it?

"Good to know." Lucy nodded absently. "So who is Peter Samson? Does it make things harder?" Trying to push her scaredy cat quality to one side, she pushed forward for some answered which may or may not calm her.

"Harder isn't the word. I'll not sugar coat it for you darling, there will be people coming to find whoever has done this to their boss." That wasn't the aspiring and soothing answer she had went searching for. Not even the way 'darling' had rolled so easily off his tongue pulled her attention from what he'd said. People were going to come after her? But she was just a maid...just a woman in a city just...

"Boss?" She barely managed to whisper as her eyes glazed over.

"Peter Samson was a business man yes, but not a good one and not a very nice one. He was the head of an underground business used to smuggle illegal weaponry into Britain." Moriarty found it far too easy to explain it all, it was obvious that he knew of the man very well. He took a sip of his own drink before continuing. "That gun you shot them with? Probably one from his own stock." It may have been stupid, but the knowledge of the gun she'd shot being an illegal weapon didn't really dull the fact she'd shot two people. It was just another stress to add on to the pile...then the images appeared behind her eyes. The blood pooling on the floorboards underneath the man, the screams of his wife, the sound of her body hitting the floor.