The Damnation Game Read Online Free PDF Page A

his life to its creation. He chooses, however, not to be as visible as he once was—”
    A front-page photograph suddenly developed in Strauss’ head. A man with his hand up against the glare of a flashbulb; a private moment snatched by some lurking paparazzo for public consumption.
    “—He shuns publicity almost completely, and since his wife’s death he has little taste for the social arena—”
    Sharing the unwelcome attention Strauss remembered a woman whose beauty astonished, even by the unflattering light. The wife of whom Toy spoke, perhaps.
    “—Instead he chooses to mastermind his corporation out of the spotlight, concerning himself in his leisure hours with social issues. Among them, overcrowding in prisons, and the deterioration of the prison service generally.”
    The last remark was undoubtedly barbed, and found Somervale with deadly accuracy. He ground out his half-smoked cigarette in the tinfoil ashtray, throwing the other man a sour glance.
    “When the time came to engage a new personal bodyguard—” Toy continued, “—it was Mr. Whitehead’s decision to seek a suitable candidate amongst men coming up for parole rather than going through the usual agencies. “
    He can’t mean me , Strauss thought. The idea was too fine to tease himself with, and too ludicrous. And yet if that wasn’t it, why was Toy here, why all the palaver?
    “He’s looking for a man who is nearing the end of his sentence. One who deserves, in both his and my own estimation, to have an opportunity to be reintroduced into society with a job behind him, and some self-esteem to go with it. Your case was drawn to my attention, Martin. I may call you Martin?”
    “Usually it’s Marty.”
    “Fine. Marty it is. Frankly, I don’t want to raise your hopes. I’m interviewing several other candidates in addition to yourself, and of course at the end of the day I may find that none are suitable. At this juncture I simply want to ascertain whether you would be interested in such an option were it to be made available to you.”
    Marty began to smile. Not outwardly, but inside, where Somervale couldn’t get at it.
    “Do you understand what I’m asking?”
    “Yes. I understand.”
    “Joe … Mr. Whitehead … needs somebody who will be completely devoted to his well-being; who would indeed be prepared to put his life at risk rather than have harm come to his employer. Now I realize that’s a lot to ask.”
    Marty’s brow furrowed. It was a lot, especially after the six-and-a- half year lesson in self-reliance he’d had at Wandsworth. Toy was swift to sense Marty’s hesitation.
    “That bothers you,” he said.
    Marty shrugged gently. “Yes and no. I mean, I’ve never been asked to do that before. I don’t want to give you some shit about me being really keen to get killed for somebody, because I’m not. I’d be lying through my teeth if I said I was.”
    Toy’s nods encouraged Marty to go on.
    “That’s it really,” he said.
    “Are you married?” Toy asked.
    “Separated.”
    “May I ask; are there divorce proceedings in the offing?”
    Marty grimaced. He loathed talking about this. It was his wound; his to tend and fret over. No fellow prisoner had ever wrung the story out of him, even in those three-in-the-morning confessionals that he’d endured with his previous cellmate, before Feaver, who never talked of anything but food and paper women, had arrived. But he would have to say something now.
    They surely had the details filed away somehow anyway. Toy probably knew more about what Charmaine was doing, and with whom, than he did.
    “Charmaine and me …” He tried to summon words for this knot of feelings, but nothing emerged but a blunt statement. “I don’t think there’s much chance of us getting back together, if that’s what you’re after.”
    Toy sensed the raw edge in Marty’s voice; so did Somervale. For the first time since Toy had entered the arena the officer began to show some interest in