Doctor Who_ Warlock - Andrew Cartmel [137]
‘What?’
‘Something I don’t want to do. But I have no choice. Justine and the baby aren’t going to be safe with you around.’
‘Okay, that’s enough threats,’ said Paulie Keaton. He moved to call for his guards but Creed had already stood up, moving away from the table. It was clear that he wasn’t about to attack, so Paulie relaxed a little.
But Creed wasn’t leaving. Everyone in the party seemed to be staring at him. It was because he was standing among their tables, tall and relaxed, his chin up at a challenging angle. Something in his posture said that he was confident and purposeful. Utterly unafraid.
Nobody stood that way around Paulie Keaton. Paulie was the dominant personality wherever he went. A few million years ago on an African sea coast a pack of pre‐humans would have responded to their leader the way this group responded to Paulie. They’d scavenge on the beach and play in the waves, but always keeping an eye on their leader’s silhouette as he stood on a rock or patrolled the littoral. His stance, the angle of neck and shoulders, reassured them that the familiar hierarchy was in operation and group dynamics remained unchanged.
Anyone who came near had to unconsciously acknowledge the leader’s power. But sometimes there were challenges. A struggle for dominance when a new male confronted the leader. And dominance wasn’t always determined by conflict. It was also influenced by the newcomer’s ability to hold the group’s attention.
Paulie had the kind of charisma you get when you have the power of life and death. He held himself like a man aware of his own importance. But now there was this young male, standing only a metre away from him, radiating leadership, and all eyes were on him.
Even Paulie’s bodyguards were drawn to him. After all, they’d seen this man approach Paulie’s table a little earlier and they’d been able to tell he was someone important. A friend of the boss. A man of power, to be respected. Maybe even someone more important than the boss.
Paulie rose to the challenge automatically. He didn’t know exactly what was wrong but on some atavistic level he knew his authority was being threatened. Without thinking about it, he stood up so he could confront Creed on equal terms.
The whole restaurant seemed aware of the primitive conflict taking place in their midst. A beautiful red‐haired waitress was the first to respond. She turned and stared quite openly at the conflict. She was the beginning of a ripple of attention and recognition. It spread among the diners the way a silence sometimes spreads out across a crowded room until everyone’s engulfed. And it holds way until finally someone laughs nervously and conversation tentatively begins again.
Like such a silence, this wave of attention spread across the room, communicating itself from person to person, rippling off their behaviour from one to another like a yawn circulating. Now everyone in the restaurant had paused in what they were doing. They were all looking towards Paulie’s table where the behavioural challenge was taking place.
Just as Paulie was standing up, Creed suddenly turned around. He wasn’t consciously aware of Paulie. He just remembered that he’d left his glass on Paulie’s table and he had a sudden urge to retrieve it.
So just as Paulie rose to confront him, Creed turned around and found himself face to face with the gangster.
It was perfect because it was such an unexpected move. Paulie’s reaction and Creed’s were nakedly obvious to everyone watching. Creed found himself suddenly face to face with the most feared man in London and his only reaction was mild surprise. He stared levelly into Paulie’s face with curiosity.
But Paulie had a different reaction.
Paulie flinched.
It was an unconscious gesture, faster than thought. He jerked back from Creed as if expecting a blow. It was only a tiny movement, hardly perceptible. Paulie quickly masked it. But it was all right, no one had noticed. He was sure no one