"You're a big one!"

I looked up at the much-repeated statement whenever someone saw me for the first time. A woman was leaning on the other side of the bar; she'd obviously been watching me as I'd re-loaded some of the optics. She looked like a stereotypical gangster's moll, complete with a 1930s hairdo, fur coat - in hot weather no less - and a wad of gum in her mouth which she chewed on - and occasionally popped - lazily.

She raised an eyebrow at me before she said - "And? You got a voice or are ya mute?"

"Oh, I can speak," I assured her with a wry smile. "It's just that I hear that phrase so often, I never know how to respond anymore. "

"Yeah? Well, you are a biggun," she said. "What are ya? Seven feet?"

"Six foot four," I said and swallowed down my hint of amusement.

"That so? You look bigger. Must be the muscles," she said. "Pretty impressive, ain't ya? Ya look like a Viking or something. Your hair."

"Cossack," I corrected as I continued refilling the optics. "I'm Ukrainian."

"Yeah? Thought I heard something in that accent of yours that ain't English," she said and popped her gum lazily.

I raised an eyebrow at that - not many people actually could pick up on the fact that I had a residue accent. It was picked up from my parents who both had very strong Ukrainian accents. They'd never lost that even though they'd lived in England for years. They were proud of their accents, their culture, their heritage - as well as they should be. That I had adopted their accent by proxy never failed to please me - doubly so when it was pointed out to me by strangers.

"What part of Ukraine you from, fella?" she asked lazily.

"Chigwell," I said and grinned at her confused expression. "I was born here. My parents were the ones who came from Ukraine. Zaporizhzhia."

"Zapo-what? Sounds really exotic. I only know Kiev," she said.

I swallowed back an angry burst of bile at her admission. Ukrainians only recognised the capital as being called Kyiv and not by the old Soviet name. She didn't seem to notice my tight-lipped reaction, as her gaze was already on something else.

"Say. What say you pour me something exotic, fella? I'm in the mood for something sweet and colourful. You pick out something for me," she said and leaned still further across the bar.

I assumed she was trying to flash me her not unimpressive chest but she'd picked the wrong man to impress. She seemed a bit put out that I didn't react in the way that she'd obviously hoped.

"What's wrong, fella? You gay or something?" she all but pouted as she once again flaunted herself at me.

"As a matter of fact, I am," I said with a laugh.

She looked surprised at my candid admission before she said - "Oh? Sorry. It seems I'm barking up the wrong tree, then."

She leaned away and it seemed as though her interest had dissipated after my announcement.

"Still want that drink though," she said even as a voice barked nearby.

"OI! You trying to pick up my girl, or what?" barked the voice even as a short, bullet-headed man barreled up to the bar. "Oi you. Bloody Viking man. You hitting on my girl?"

"Hardly," I said with a snort even as his girl laughed.

"Chillax, Freddy. He's gay," she said as she examined her nails in continued boredom.

"A likely bloody story," the newly named Freddy said as he gave me a jaundiced look. "Everybody wants a piece of my girl. Why not you?"

"Because I really am gay," I said with an amused smirk at the man. "If it was a handsome man standing there in her place, the story might be different."

"You laughing at me? You taking the piss, mate?" Freddy asked with genuine anger in his tone and stance.

Once again, his girlfriend asked him to 'chillax.'

She gave me an apologetic look before she said - "Sorry, fella. Freddy's had a bit too much of the old vino tonight."

"I know. You sent to the bar for the wine," I said dryly. "It was me who served it for you."

"Right," the woman said and popped her gum again. "Come on, Freddy, leave it. The man's gay. He means no harm. Don't fight him like you fight everyone else. We don't want no Barney Rubble tonight."

I frowned at that until I remembered that 'Barney Rubble' was rhyming slang for trouble.

"Yeah. Well, he was looking at your tits, Roxy," Freddy said. "That ain't the hallmark of a gay man."

I groaned aloud at that - I should have guessed that the woman's name was something like Roxy. The name seemed suitably apt for such a woman.

"He weren't doing no such thing," Roxy said indignantly. "He barely even looked at me and I shoved them in his face."

"Oh? So you admit you were trying something on with him? What? Ain't I good enough for ya?" Freddy yelled at her and looked about to give her a shove.

"Hey!" I said sharply. "No need for that."

I walked out from behind the bar and grabbed hold of his elbow before he decided to give Roxy a really good shove for real.

"You're coming with me. Outside," I said firmly. "And you're leaving in the next taxi to sober up."

He looked up at me then and I realised then that I was almost a foot taller than he was and more in shape. Where I was muscular, he was rotund - he was obviously more used to the luxurious high life than I was.

"You bloody well right I'm not," he said and slurred his words enough to indicate that Roxy had been right with his over-indulgence with the wine.

He also wasn't making a lot of sense.

"If you want to live, then you step outside right now," I hissed at him.

Freddy's face paled then and he said - "You with Zak? You one of Zak's men? I ain't seen you before. I know all of Zak's men."

"No. I just work here," I said and jerked my head back at the bar. "I don't know what you're talking about and neither do you. Get yourself outside now before I throw you out. And leave your girlfriend here while you cool off and sober up."

I frog marched him out of the door, and I apologised to the gentler patrons who all appeared to be watching the exchange. I returned only when I'd deposited the man in the street, hailed a taxi with a sharp whistle and returned to Roxy's side.

"I suggest you find someone else to stay with tonight. Keep out of his way til he's sober," I advised her and my concern for her was actually genuine.

"Okay. Any chance of staying with you?" she asked hopefully

"Nice try, love, but I'm still gay," I said and gave her an unimpressed look.

Roxy laughed at me before she said - "Don't worry, love. I'm pulling your leg. I'm going off to my mum's. Lord knows I've pegged it over there often enough. She tells me to leave Freddy but I don't. Says he'll kill me if I do."

She looked frightened after her hastily gabbled admission and I gritted my teeth. I wondered then if the man had anything sordid in his itinerary, that I could use against him with MI5. I hastily scribbled down the phone number of my new apartment and gave it to her.

"You run into any trouble, you ring that number. I'll sort you out," I told her.

"Yeah? Are you sure you ain't mafia? Sounds like you're giving me protection," she said and added 'quotes' around her last word with her fingers in mid-air.

"Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not. Treat it as you will," I said. "But I'm still gay."

That made her laugh and she still was laughing as she made her way to the ladies' bathroom. I returned to the bar and shook my head in amusement at the exchange. Zak was there, leaning backwards against the bar and he was applauding me; I hadn't even been aware that he'd been watching the exchange yet he must have seen enough to know what had happened.

"That's pretty impressive. You do know how to handle yourself, Sasha," he said and his delight seemed genuine. "I knew I was right about you."

I just shrugged at him and continued reloading the optics. I was aware that Zak was watching me for a while and he only left when he was finally was called away by another customer; from what I could hear of their conversation, it sounded as though some kind of deal was being struck, involving bets on horses if the 'flutters on gee-gees' parts of the conversation were anything to go by.

****

I watched all evening yet nothing much else of note happened. The only excitement I received - other than the run-in with the drunken Freddy - was to place a few mics and cameras in strategic places around the 'backstage area' of the restaurant. These devices were hastily situated during my breaks - when no one else was around naturally.

I hooked up a few in Zak's office, the bathrooms and even a few in the bar itself. These last were placed there whenever I had to reconfigure some of the optics. Each device was then patched in to my phone so that I could access the files whenever I wanted - both live feeds and pre-saved stuff.

I didn't get to place as many gadgets as I would have liked - due to lack of time and people wandering around willy-nilly - yet it was a start at least.