Beyond the Blood Moon

by Vic Robbie

  He decided for her. ‘First, I need a beer. Deserve one after what I’ve been through. Second, I want to check out things at the bar. There’s something odd about that taxi and the guy who picked me up.’

  Flashing him a quizzical frown, she instructed the cabby, ‘Fisherman’s Quay.’ She wondered about telling him she’d sent the taxi to get him but thought better of it. He wouldn’t trust her again if he found out.

  As they pulled out, a black car, parked farther along the road, followed.

  If Barney has stopped fooling around, he’d check the CCTV. The bar owner once told him that in his line of business, it was imperative to have cameras for their protection. There were always those wanting to sue him after being involved in a punch-up outside the bar or claiming the doormen had roughed them up. It solved a lot of disputes and was cheaper than lawyers’ fees.

  The journey to Fisherman’s Quay took longer than expected. The morning traffic was heavy, and every red light appeared to take an eternity, and thirst was burning his throat. He couldn’t forget Charlie Parker’s bluesy Summertime. At first, he thought the radio was playing, but it wasn’t, and it seemed to be locked inside his head.

  For most of the time, Solo kept quiet and didn’t answer any questions. After a time, he gave up asking and watched the city unfolding, every so often glancing over, comparing her to the billboards. Sometimes you’re so involved in getting through your daily routine you don’t notice what’s around you, and this morning he saw things with fresh eyes.

  Perhaps they’d always been there.

  Cars were parked at the front of Barney’s, so the cabby let them off near the alley. While Solo was paying, he saw two men in dark suits, who had just gotten out of a black sedan, marching towards them.

  Nothing surprising about that, but something told him she wouldn’t like meeting them.

  ‘Know these guys?’ he asked.

  Solo whirled around, and her eyes widened. ‘Oh, no, they must be Ottomon’s men.’

  ‘Quick!’ He took her arm. ‘Duck in here, maybe they haven’t seen us.’ He pulled her into the alley out of sight and put a finger to his lips.

  The men were talking to each other, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying, and one made a phone call, and then everything stopped like a radio being switched off.

  He tensed and dare not breathe as they flattened themselves against the rough brick wall. He listened for a footstep, a rustle, heavy breathing, anything that would betray their position. Nothing. The longer they waited, the heavier the air seemed to become, pressing down on them until he could no longer stand the pressure.

  ‘Okay,’ he whispered. ‘I’ll check if it’s clear.’ Holding his breath, he padded on the balls of his feet and rounded the bend. There was no sign of the men. Even more carefully, he made it to the entrance and glanced left and right. They and their black sedan had gone.

  He called her. ‘All clear. Must have been mistaken. Let’s get a beer.’

  Back in the car, the men stared at each other, neither wanting to be the first to admit it.

  The driver scratched his head and flipped open his phone. ‘Will have to call this in.’

  ‘What are you going to tell them?’

  He shrugged and, after a short delay, reported to the voice on the other end, ‘We missed her. Someone else bought it, must have had her phone.’

  Holding the phone away from his ear, he waited until the tirade finished. ‘Followed the woman to Fisherman’s Quay. She ran into an alley they call Brick Lane, and we went in after her, but there was no sign of her.’

  He paused, listening, and added, ‘Yes, disappeared.’

  He listened to another question before explaining in exasperation. ‘No doors, no windows. Twenty-foot high walls. Disappeared like she walked through a fuckin’ brick wall.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘Gee, you look crook,’ Barney appraised him, opening a bottle of beer encased in ice. ‘Been wrestling with a gorilla?’

  Felt like it.

  ‘Just an exploding taxi,’ Headlock said.

  ‘Happening all the time.’ Barney shrugged as if it were a regular occurrence.

  He turned to Solo. ‘Want a drink?’

  ‘No, thanks.’ Extricating a vial from the pouch, she gave a secret smile. ‘Got my good old Qs. Reckon I need a double dose.’

  Uncertain Barney would approve, he distracted the bar owner. ‘I need a favour.’ He gave him an edited version of recent events, and Barney stared at him for some time not sure he was serious.

  ‘Sure,’ Barney said at last. ‘Saw you coming across the lot this morning. Went to get you a beer, but you’d gone off somewhere, and you come back hours later looking like this.’ He shook his head. ‘Don’t know what you’re getting into but be careful.’

  ‘The favour?’

  ‘Sure, anything.’

  ‘I need to check your CCTV for this morning.’

  Expecting an explanation and not getting one, Barney looked puzzled. ‘If you really want to, I guess.’

  He nodded.

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Something happened here earlier.’

  Barney was worried. ‘Hope you’re not—’

  ‘Nothing to do with the bar, I promise. A taxi was waiting for me when I left. I hadn’t ordered it.’

  ‘The taxi that exploded?’ Barney helped himself to a beer, thinking he might need it.

  ‘The same, I want to find out if your cameras recorded the taxi and its driver. Not sure why yet, but I guess I just have to prove to myself it really happened.’ Although the ache in his bones was a constant reminder.

  As if weighing up the request, Barney hesitated. ‘Can’t do any harm, I guess. I’ll set it up on my laptop.’ He disappeared into the small office behind the bar.

  Solo sat at a table discreetly inhaling her qualoid, and her eyes appeared to roll up into her head, and then she repeated the dose. ‘There,’ she smiled and relaxed for the first time. ‘Ready for anything, bring it on.’

  He pulled up a chair, studying her and wondering if his injuries had put him into a coma, and this was all part of the trauma.

  Is this geisha woman real?

  Uncomfortable with the attention, she turned away. ‘Still think it was better with the piano,’ she said, glancing at the Spanish galleon.

  ‘Who are you, Solo? Why are these men chasing you? Your problems are your business, and I don’t want to intrude, but when people try to blow me up, I take an interest.’

  ‘Relax, it was me they were after, not you.’

  ‘If that’s the case, their aim’s not very good.’

  Her relaxed look disappeared as fast as a mist in a breeze, and he wished he hadn’t asked. ‘Don’t know why.’ And her bottom lip dropped. ‘But if they catch me, I doubt I’ll enjoy their conversation.’

  It was impossible to tell if she was telling the truth or concealing a secret.

  ‘How long has this been going on? Is it boyfriend trouble?’

  She was affronted. ‘Only since last night. Nobody’s chased me like this before, apart from the odd stalker, but that goes with the job.’

  ‘The job?’

  ‘A model, billboard model.’ She smirked. ‘Most men recognise me.’

  A noncommittal response received a flash of disappointment, and she placed a hand on his arm, stopping him from raising the bottle to his lips. ‘Cut the gas for a minute. Are you okay?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You’ve taken a few blows to the head, and you’re acting strange. And you don’t seem to know who I am.’

  What did I do that’s strange, but she’s probably right.

  The slight echo of her voice had returned although he couldn’t admit any weakness. ‘Never been better. What have you done to have people chasing you? You must have some idea.’

  She shrugged. ‘All I know is they are Ottomon’s men.’

  ‘Who is he?’

  Again, there was a look of disbelief. ‘Where have
you been? Ottomon industries?’ She raised her shoulders. ‘The wealthiest man in the country, probably the world.’

  ‘I don’t move in such rarefied circles.’

  ‘Owns most of the Praesidium and can do whatever he wants. Suppose now you’re going to ask what’s the Praesidium.’ She flicked her head and snorted, believing he was fooling with her.

  He wanted to ask but didn’t in case she really believed he’d lost his mind. Since the trouble in the ring, he hadn’t paid much attention to the outside world. Survival took most of his time. ‘Why would he be after you, take a guess?’

  Solo crossed her legs and glanced again at the fake underwater display with a look of distaste. ‘Was at his house for a party, and he invited me to view a collection of fine art in his private gallery.’

  ‘Impressive chat-up line.’

  She scowled and shifted her position on the seat.

  ‘Why you?’

  ‘Why not? Might find it hard to believe, but some people want to spend time with me.’ She raised the vial to her nose, then thought better of it. ‘There was an absolute fortune hanging on the walls. Then he sniffed up some powder, obviously illegal, and collapsed. Went for help and saw this strange drawing of a creepy old man in a side room. Its eyes seemed to stare straight at me as if aware I was there. I swear they followed me as I moved. Must have triggered an alarm because then all hell let loose. The atmosphere in that place was toxic, and I had to get out. His men were searching for me, and they didn’t appear friendly.’

  ‘If he’s so important,’ he rubbed his chin, ‘maybe he’s worried you might reveal his drug habit.’

  ‘Doubt it. Ottomon’s so powerful he can do what he likes.’

  Mulling over what she’d told him, he returned to the bar and, as Barney wasn’t there, helped himself to another bottle.

  ‘You didn’t answer me,’ he pressed her on his return, ‘who are you, Solo?’

  ‘Told you, a model, supposed to be the top one yet you don’t seem impressed?’ She folded her arms in mock upset and turned away.

  Who could forget someone like her?

  He just shook his head. ‘Sorry, but I hadn’t noticed you before today. Don’t usually pay much attention to advertising.’

  Her disappointment was palpable, and she stared at him.

  ‘Good work?’

  ‘My billboards are all over the city, and I’m the No.1 girl.’

  ‘How did you get into that?’

  ‘Luck, I guess.’ She forced a smile. ‘I turned seventeen and ran away from home and came to the city. Learned quick. Not what you’re thinking. Girls with my looks get all kinds of offers, but I hooked up with an agent who took care of me.’

  ‘What did your parents think about it?’

  Her mood hardened. ‘My mother was drinking herself to death before I left. I never knew my father, although, in her drunken stupor, she’d boast about how important he was.’

  ‘Must have been a wrench leaving her?’

  Like steel shutters dropping, something in her eyes changed, and her voice became thicker.

  ‘If I’d known what I know now, I’d have left before. Hated her. Called me her ugly little duckling. Told me I’d have to stay with her because no man would want me. Was abusive, not physically, but mentally. Told her friends I was horrible, and I believed it. Sometimes she’d change and say I was her favourite girl, but that lasted only a day before she’d return to the abuse. Blamed me for ruining her life so every day I had to atone. Even when people tried to pay me compliments, I didn’t believe them and distrusted their motives.’

  ‘Has your look something to do with that?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  He circled his face with a finger. ‘The geisha look.’

  Her eyelashes fluttered like the wings of an exotic butterfly, and she glanced down at her gloved hands, her shoulders trembling. ‘Suppose so. I wanted to be different in the city, so I experimented with make-up using it as a disguise. My agent saw me, and it kinda took off. If I scrubbed my skin clean, it would be the end of my career.’

  It seemed to be causing her pain, so he changed the subject. ‘What’s with Solo Blue? Is it a modelling name?’

  ‘No.’ Her shrug suggested she’d been asked that many times before. ’That’s what my mammy gave me.’ And her eyes narrowed. ’Only thing I got from her. Called me Solo on account she was all on her own, and every time she said my name, it brought out her bitterness. At least she didn’t call me Sky.’

  He laughed, and she bit her lip and turned her head a little and looked at him along her eyes.

  ‘Headlock?’ Barney called from the office. ‘You can see it now.’

  ‘Come on,’ he beckoned to her. ‘Let’s find out.’

  ‘What are you looking for?’

  ‘I’ve no idea.’

  Puzzled, Barney watched him. ‘Not sure what you’re expecting to see, but it’s all yours.’ He left him to it as the office was only big enough for one.

  The CCTV showed him in the lot earlier in the day, and he hit the arrow to run the video. It ran for about ten minutes, and then he fast-forwarded. Troubled, he rewound the film and slowed it down. It was as he remembered, going over to the alley and four men arriving in two cars.

  ‘Why did you go back there?’

  ‘My brother, the cop, asked me to check it in daylight in case I remembered something about the guy who attacked us.’

  He looked bemused. ‘Barney, are you sure this is today’s?’

  ‘Yes. At the top of the screen, there’s the date and the time.’

  He sped it up, covering a period of a couple of hours, but it confused him, and she asked, ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Something’s not right.’

  ‘Show me.’

  Rewinding it to the beginning, he pointed at the screen. ‘That’s me walking across the lot and going into the alley. Then Benton’s thugs arrive and follow me in. They come out, but I don’t. That was around ten. Then…nothing.’ He let it run.

  Concern hooded her eyes as she stared at him.

  ‘Nothing.’ He stretched out his arms. ‘I was in there for only ten minutes, but it doesn’t show me coming out until I arrived here a few minutes ago. There’s no sign of anyone waiting for me and no taxi. What’s happening? Am I going nuts? I might have believed it was all in my imagination, but you rescued me from the hospital, didn’t you?’

  ‘It happened all right.’

  He already knew the answer but asked Barney, ‘Is there any way out of the alley?’

  ‘Nope. If you go in, you must come out the same way.’

  ‘Know anything about it?’

  ‘Not much. It’s been like that ever since I bought this place about thirty years ago. Apparently almost a hundred years ago, it was a cut-through to a street of houses on the other side. Then they constructed a new building, so they closed off the alley. Apparently, many locals were pleased as there had been a series of unsolved murders. Guess if you cut down an unlit alley on a dark night, you’re asking for trouble. Some call it the road to nowhere.’

  Deep in thought, Solo looked equally puzzled and said nothing, and he wondered if she’d noticed there was no sign of her coming out of the alley with him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Solo had gone quiet, retreating inward as though debating with herself what to do next. Then she glanced back at him, her fine white teeth pulling at her mouth, and her eyes running over his face as if committing every line and blemish to memory.

  Headlock averted his gaze, realising she wanted an answer to a question she was afraid to ask. He was intrigued. There was something about her he couldn’t explain. How she spoke, as if aware of something he could never understand. The way she moved like silk unravelling in the wind. And the heavy make-up of a geisha that he suspected was more a defence than a dramatic statement. Beneath the powder and rouge, he sensed a classic beauty. And there was a fragility that if held too tightly could break, yet the unsettling dep
th of her eyes disguised an inner steel.

  ‘What?’

  Hesitant, she smiled cautiously, her eyes rounded. ‘What?’

  ‘Looks like you want to ask me a question.’

  ‘Guess you’re not just muscle.’ She nodded slowly. ‘Be straight with me. Your answer might allow me to understand you.’

  For a second, he didn’t respond, unable to work out what she meant. ‘If I told you lies you liked, we’d be friends?’

  ‘Doubt it. I’m good at spotting liars. In my line of business, you need to if you want to survive.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll stick to the truth.’

  ‘Truth is what you make it.’ She inhaled from her vial of qualoid. ‘I’ve told you about me, now it’s your turn. In the hospital, I worried you might be dead, and I felt a great loss even though I didn’t understand why.’ She placed a hand on his arm. ‘You’re in a mess, but you’ll live.’

  ‘In my line of business, battered and bruised and rough at the edges is normal.’ He’d lost count of the injuries he’d suffered in his ring career. ‘What you see is what you get, and you must use your imagination for the rest.’ He laughed, and she joined in.

  She became serious. ‘Why don’t you have a chip?’ Her voice echoing as a dizziness rippled through him, and he felt he was about to fall and put out a hand to steady himself.

  ‘Chip?’ He didn’t understand.

  ‘Trust me, I’m not an informer.’

  ‘The only chips I like come on a plate with plenty of salt.’ His voice seemed to come from afar, and his vision was blurred.

  The eyebrows painted on her forehead creased together in concern. ‘It’s no joke. The StatPol were coming to take you away. If that happens, there’s a chance you won’t be seen again.’

  What’s she talking about?

  He was irritated. ‘We’ve no problems with the cops, my brother has even asked me to help them.’

  With a mixture of impatience and concern, she put up both hands in surrender. ‘Okay. Either you want to be difficult, or you really don’t understand what I’m talking about.’ Her eyes closed in disbelief. ‘I suppose not everyone’s aware.’