Ex-soldier Birmingham-gangster bets his life on luck and illegalities, adroit wit and burning passion streaking his blood-stained fingertips as a dire quarrel commence between himself and the disturbed Dane who purloined his lover.
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LONDON CALLING
WITH SUCH KIND THOUGHTS Frank Nitto had gone out of his way and offered Ines his company in walking her back to The Ritz. It had gone dark out in the London sky, the streets, however, in spite of the late hour and the weekday, still roamed boasting men and women, some dressed up, some not.
As far as Ines could tell, Frank was far from conceited and extremely erudite on everything business. He was an Italian hoodlum but these days everyone seemed to be tied to criminal activity anyhow, so she thought none of it. During their talk, he showed interest in Ines, in her opinions, her life. Even if only for the politeness of all, he had learned from an early age to smile and nod in order to get where he wanted. That was a lesson from his mother, whereas the Mafia life had taught him no different, only a simple variation. And so he listened to this foreign woman's voice, how she revealed things about herself—through her tone and through her eyes, her features and how they pulled and her gestures. She was oblivious to how he inspected her, while he innocently smiled and nodded. And truly it was no more than so, innocent. He had no intentions to do her harm, no get beneath her skin, it simply was a habitual assessment, one he could not restrain himself from.
Frank finally spoke and as he did a modest look drew in on his face and a hand came to scratch his freshly shaven jaw. The Ritz was not far. "I have to say I feel a little embarrassed. The Outfit recently discontinued dealings with your husband."
Ines' head turned with curiosity. Studying him while she processed the words, a looming smile found its way to her lips. She then commented as if she knew of what he talked about. "Yes, we were forlorn to hear that. Truly I cannot tell if it's my sanctimonious husband simply denying me involvement, or if you renounced us with no explanation as to why. Nikolaj is always making trouble where he should not—I really would hate to make enemies where none is needed."
Frank Nitto wet his chapped lips. So she does know, he thought, only she was in uncharted waters and in deep of that. She wondered what affiliation Nikolaj had with a gang in America. "You needn't worry. It was more of a professional action, so to speak. Matter of circumstance, more than anything, seeing as we have to be precautious with everything going on with the Changrettas."
Tilting her head, Ines showed her ignorance on the matter.
"You haven't heard?" His voice gave it away but his face remained composed, only a slight change in his features. How could she not?
"As I said, my husband keeps a great deal from me. He clings to this belief; the less I know, the better. Says he does not wish to sully me, although I think that ship has sailed. I would love to hear more about it."
"Oh, yeah?" hummed he and chafed his hands, blowing into his palms to gain warmth. It was seldom he crossed path with such gumption. The lights from The Ritz were sure to illuminate the whole city and casting a glance to where a doorman stood behind glass, in the foyer, he could practically feel the welcoming warmth from inside the foyer.
