The Contract

By Michael Bray

When the deal of a lifetime is on the table, how much would you be willing to pay for everything you ever wanted? 

Melvyn Briggs is a con man, a rip off artist who preys on the rich elderly in order to fleece them of their life savings. When his one big job goes wrong and Melvyn ends up on the run from a violent gangland boss, he finds himself in a coastal town hiding out and trying to figure out his next move. It is here that he stumbles on a pawn shop called Just the Ticket. 
The store owner an old man named Muggles says he can help Melvyn get rid of all his problems if he is willing to pay the price. 

As Melvyn falls into a deeper web of lies and deceit, he begins to learn that the town and Muggles share a horrifying secret and that if Melvyn wants to survive he will have to negotiate the deal of his life, on that will potentially have a cost far beyond any he could have ever imagined.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Bray
• Release date: Jan 8, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386060253

Book preview

ONE

He went by many names.  Sometimes he was Robert Johnson, on other occasions he would be Samuel Friskins.  Today he was using his birth name, Melvyn Briggs. He sat at the hotel bar, scanning the room with. He enjoyed coming to the Hilton. It was one of those mid range hotels that sat nicely between the lower and upper classes. He allowed his eyes to drift over the room, evaluating and dismissing, making a mental diary of the people, the couples, the singles, the staff.  He considered today may turn out to be one of those less successful ventures. He knew they were a pitfall of the job, one of the downsides of being self employed. But he had learned to take the rough with the smooth, to roll with the punches. It was all about the self motivational clichés.  He sipped his beer, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror behind the bar. He was forty three, but with the combination of hair dye, fake tan and cosmetic surgery he could pass for mid thirties. He looked after himself. That was the key.  He kept his body trim, watched what he ate, and counted calories. He was repulsed by those who didn’t look after their bodies. Obesity to him showed a lack of self-control. And control was everything, especially in his line of work. To anyone who may pass and look at him, he would appear to be quite respectable, a businessman taking a quiet drink after a tough day in the office. His attention was drawn to a woman waiting by the bar entrance. She was perhaps late sixties, He looked her over, ticking the boxes of his mental checklist. The expensive choker, the diamante earrings. She looked like a woman in need of his brand of special attention.  He took another sip of his beer and thought about the best way to make his approach. That was always the most important aspect. Without the right approach, he would be doomed to fail. People were strange and unique creatures, and each required a different method in order for him to get what he wanted.  It was all part of the game.

‘Don’t bother.’

Melvyn turned, frowning at the man who sat on a few seats down the bar. He too was dressed in a suit. Thin and wiry with wavy brown hair and deep eyebrows which pointed upwards at the tips. There was something familiar about him, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

‘Say again?’  Briggs said.

The man at the bar poured a handful of peanuts into his mouth, crunching noisily. ‘I said don’t bother.’  He was looking at Melvyn with a half smile on his face.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Do I know you?’ 

‘Of course, you do.’ the man said to Melvyn, his smile growing.

‘The old woman, the one you had just marked out. Take my advice, don’t waste your time.’

Melvyn opened his mouth, then closed it again, unsure what to say.

‘You don’t remember me do you?’ the man asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.

‘I don’t recall. Remind me again?’

‘Steven Ambrose, we did time together in ninety nine.’

The penny dropped. Melvyn grinned, moving seats and shaking hands with his old cellmate.

‘Holy shit, I didn’t recognise you, hell, you lost some weight.’

Ambrose grinned. ‘Had to. Doc said I was a walking heart attack. Now I go to the gym three nights a week and eat well. I never felt better. You want another beer?’

Melvyn hesitated, glancing back to the woman by the door, who was now wringing her hands.

Ambrose followed his line of sight. ‘Seriously, forget about that one. She’s old but she’s sharp. You won’t get anything out of her. Trust me, I tried.’

Melvyn glanced at Ambrose, his competitive impulse stirred.

‘Maybe you just didn’t do a good enough job.’

Ambrose chuckled, swallowing another handful of peanuts. He nodded towards the woman. ‘That is Mrs. Henrietta Wainthrope, wife to police commissioner Henry Wainthrope.  IQ of a hundred and fifty three, twice divorced, three children all living overseas. You try your usual shit with her; you won’t see the outside of a prison cell before you hit fifty.’

Melvyn nodded. ‘Impressive. What brings you to these parts? I thought you were working up north.’

Ambrose nodded to the bartender, motioning for two more beers. He waited until they arrived before turning towards Melvyn. ‘Yeah, up north didn’t work out too well. I thought it was about time I moved on to pastures new as they say.’ Ambrose sipped his beer, Melvyn noticing the little finger on his right hand was missing, terminating just above the knuckle in a pink stub. Ambrose glanced at Melvyn, then to the finger.

‘Accident with a power saw. I was lucky I only lost the one finger.’

Melvyn nodded. There was a moment of awkward silence, neither knowing quite how to fill it. ‘So, are you coming back here to work or...’ Melvyn trailed off. He wasn’t the least bit interested in Ambrose’s issues, however competition was never good and he wanted to assess his potential rival’s intentions. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t care, but he remembered Ambrose from before, and by all accounts he was good. As if able to read Melvyn’s mind, Ambrose smiled and sipped his drink.

‘Relax. I’m not here to tread on your toes. I’m actually out of the game now. Retired.’

‘Bullshit. No way can you afford to be retired. And I know you’re not about to tell me you have a regular job.’

Ambrose shrugged and shoved more peanuts into his mouth.

‘It’s the truth. I hit the big one just before I headed back down here. That was partly the reason for the move actually. Fresh start.’

Melvyn felt a flush of jealousy combined with curiosity ‘What do you mean big one? Big money? How much are we talking here?’

‘I can’t go into details, it was one of the conditions.’

‘Come on,’ Melvyn said, his heart beating a little faster at the prospect of making a big score. ‘You know me.’

Ambrose smiled, finishing his beer. ‘Exactly. And I know how good you are. Let’s just say I made enough so that I won’t have to worry about working again or ripping off old ladies.’

Melvyn smiled, feigning disinterest as he turned back to his drink and finishing it in a single