The Dentist Part 2

"Greetings Malcolm!" Malcolm Severin could only croak in response, his throat and mouth were utterly devoid of moisture. Instead he limply offered his hand and a nervous smile. It was meant to have been a firm handshake and a smirk with an ernestly raised ayebrow. Not that Darling and his cohorts would have noticed the difference, but it would have made him feel better. Malcolm was in no mood for small talk but he got it anyway. He wasn't really in a position to demand that Darling cut the jackanory. "I've been telling my boys here all about you Malcolm. Told them how you almost had me in the grubber during our wee poker game a few weeks ago. Isn't that right Malky?" "Uh, well, I thought I had the upper hand for a while anyway" said Malcolm, by now feeling more than just a little ludicrous. The other three men, in stark contrast to the very animated Darling looked on with sullen disinterest. They looked decidedly unenthralled by the tall, slightly balding dentist in front of them. Malcolm's alledged prowess at card games meant less than nothing to them. Malcolm looked up and glanced at his surgery door. Darling followed his gaze up the marble steps to the locked blue storm doors and immediately changed the subject. "Right boys, down to business. I trust you cleared your patient list today Mr Severin? Don't want someone stumbling in looking to get their braces tuned to radio 2, do we?" Darling chuckled at his own joke and looked meaningfully at Malcolm. "Sure, and the staff are out of the way until 1pm, there won't be any problems" Malcolm's voice was starting to get back to normal. For the past few minutes he had been talking like a hormonal choirboy who's voice had just broken. "Good boy Malcolm" Darling smirked nastily. Now, how about you do the honours and let us get about our business, we won't be long" "Business?" Malcolm had been under the rather naive impression that he would be doing dental work for either Mr Darling one of the the three stooges. A frightening enough prospect in itself. Now there was "Business". On entering the lobby of the practice, the two heavies made their way instinctively towards his main surgery room like they had been coming there to have their teeth checked since they were children. Maybe they had, for all Malcolm knew. He ceratinly hadn't treated them though. He felt sure he would have noticed the bolts through their necks, even at a tender age. The small denim clad man now came into focus a little more. Malcolm was somewhat unsurprised to find that his earlier assessment of this individual had been fairly close to the mark. The cheap tattoos were very much in evidence. So were the letters U.F.F. demurely displayed on the back of his neck. He doubted he was a Status Quo roadie though. Malcolm was ruminating upon what he might have got himself into when he felt the firm grip of Eddie Darling's hand on his shoulder as he was steered ever so gently into the reception area. He turned to face this man who's benign and easy nature had seduced him a few weeks earlier. A man who obviously never got his hands dirty when it came to the less pleasant elements of his trade. "You mentioned something about 'business' Eddie. What exactly do you mean by 'business'? I thought I was doing someones teeth this morning." Darling grinned demonically at Malcolm's wide eyed, almost childlike pleading. "Don't worry son, it's nothing you have to worry about. Consider it a favour of sorts. Me and the boys have decided to give you monday mornings off." The small man with the tattoos stuck his head round the door at this point and gave the thumbs up. Malcolm still hadn't heard him speak. He suspected there was a reason for this. Eddie Darling moved towards the door of the reception before beckoning Malcolm to follow. He did so and to his relief he realised Darling was making for the main door. Out on the street Darling gave him his final intructions. He was not to go home. Instead he would be expected to drive into the city, park his car in a designated nearby underground car park before adjourning to Mr Darlings private club in Soho for a period of time in which he would be furnished with whatever he desired before making his way back to the surgery for about half past twelve. The instructions seemed simple enough. The perks seemed conducive enough. Why the hell should he worry what they were using his dental surgery for?