Intoxifresh

Chapter Twenty-Three

Don completed his paperwork, poured a hot cup of tea, then walked into the bar area of his pub to check on things. Shocked and mesmerised at the scene in front of him, he stood mouth gaping and with his tea spilling to the floor. Nine people seemed lifeless slumped over tables, chairs, or lying on the floor. George had dosed all of them with the same liquid he'd given to Tom's brother, Jake, the day of the house fire. 'Are they... dead?' a shaken Don asked his two barmen.

'No, they'll be fine,' said one of his employees, polishing a glass.

'Then what the hell is going on? What's wrong with them?' he asked, pointing at the strange positions his customers were in.

The barmen explained everything to their manager, assuring him that the customers would soon wake up. Don calmed down and was disappointed George didn't stay as he was working out very well as a barman. He was looking forward to adding him to his team. Upon seeing movement from their customers the barmen remembered the knife the giant of a woman had charged with. Don and the two barmen discreetly left the bar and locked themselves in the back room, where they planned to wait until it was safe.

Jack Fox and Lanying Lu were the first to regain consciousness and it took them a few seconds to rediscover their bearings. They managed to get to their feet and angrily waited for the others to come to. 'Why is chair smashed?' Lanying screamed. Jack didn't know what had happened and looked to his boss for the answer.

Marco rubbed his head and stared at the empty chair opposite, he was furious.

'Where the hell is Mr Sampson? Marco jumped from his chair and looked under each table hoping that Simon was unconscious on the floor but he was nowhere to be seen.

'We go, now!' Lanying cried out at the top of her lungs. She stopped at the bar and noticed there was nobody around. 'Ming, you open, get money,' she snapped. He thumped the cash register as hard as he could and the tray of money shot out. He grabbed every note, every coin and a couple of bottles of whiskey from behind the bar and handed the money to Lanying. After stepping out of the building full of anguish, they headed back to Simon's old apartment.

That night, with everything that had happened and with the mountain of thoughts running through his mind, George's dreams didn't include Catherine.

The following morning he awoke earlier than usual as the sun sent its bright warm beams through the large bedroom window covered only by a thin curtain. He was eager to get the meeting started. Nine o'clock couldn't come soon enough.

Simon was sat downstairs at the kitchen table staring blankly at the words on Tom's computer screen. A mug of strong coffee steamed next to his hand as he reread the lengthy email Marco had recently sent.

The vicious snap of the letterbox jolted Tom from his sleep. He groggily dragged himself to the front door and picked up the single letter. He saw that the sender was the local hospital. His test results from the trip to the specialist he hadn't mentioned. He expected it to be bad news but didn't want it to spoil his friend's big day so he folded the envelope and slid it into his dressing gown pocket before making his way to his kitchen. 'Morning, Simon,' he said, turning the kettle on for his morning coffee.

'Morning, Tom. All junk mail I suppose?' Simon quipped.

'Yes, nothing important,' he replied dismissively. Hearing movement from upstairs Tom prepared two mugs of coffee and moments later all three were studying Marco's email.

Marco, his goons, and the gang from China would all be waiting at Simon's old apartment at noon and, if Simon wasn't there to hand over the pills and to wait while tests were carried out, then it would be all over for him. Tom began to roll a cigarette. 'I still think he's bluffing. There's no way any one of them can know where you're staying, Simon, so you have nothing to worry about.'