Dirk was careful to take the pool cue from Morag’s trembling hands before turning his back on her. Even then, he first took a few steps around the circle of music-lovers who were gradually losing interest in anything except the band.
Dirk had known Morag a long time.
Noddy knelt beside the unconscious body in the bright yellow shirt, now shifting through orange to scarlet.
“Jesus. Is he still alive?”
Noddy looked up. “He’s still breathing.”
“And bleeding all over my dancefloor. Come on, give me a hand.”
Noddy screwed up his face.
“Yes, you. I need to get him to a hospital, for fuck’s sake. I never liked the dude, but I can’t let him die in the club, can I?”
“You know him?”
Morag’s voice behind him made Dirk jump. But just a little.
“Of course I know him. It’s Mario. He’s been running drugs for Mick while he was away.”
Noddy and Morag shared a look.
“What, here in the club?”
Dirk looked up at Morag, one eyebrow raised. “No, not here in the club. Mick has people for that. He’s been operating out of Mick’s flat, staying there too so he could look after the place. Now would you stop talking and help me get him to the car?”
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