The Collectors

They take the lift down from the penthouse suite in silence, the girl’s head turned sideways on Reg’s shoulder to make it look like she’s sleeping, hood pulled low to hide her face. Polite smiles exchanged with hotel guests who fill the tight space like herded cattle in suits and elaborate dresses, obsessed with mirrors and phones. Luckily for Pavel, they are all too self-absorbed to notice the edges peeling just beneath his hairline.

‘Have you put her seatbelt on?’ asks Pavel.

‘Do you think I’m stupid, mate? If her neck’s broken, we don’t get paid, do we? Tell me how old she is.’

‘Alright, calm down. Jesus. Shouldn’t we strap her head back, she’ll get whipla...

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