Joe Coffin [Season 4]

by Preston, Ken

  A narrowboat chugged past beneath Leola. Its doors and windows were firmly shut and much of the boat was hidden by the dark, winged shapes of the bats.

  A small grouping of bats broke away from the chaos on the street and darted upwards and then along Broad Street, away from the city centre. Leola could see that they were keeping tight together, flying with a purpose.

  Leola climbed over the railing and onto the bridge.

  She began running after the dark, winged cloud.

  She dodged through the crowds of screaming people. A body barrelled into her, almost knocking Leola off her feet. She shoved the man out of the way with a snarl and continued after the bats.

  ‘Help me, oh God help me!’ a man screamed, his voice high pitched and descending into a wail.

  Leola kept on running. She ignored everyone and everything.

  More of the bats were breaking away and following the original group. They swooped along Broad Street, flitting over the heads of men and women cowering on the tarmac road.

  Leola kept on running. Single minded in her pursuit.

  Until she saw someone else doing exactly the same thing.

  Following the bats with no regard for what else was happening.

  A young black woman, looked like she was wearing a tattered and stained outfit, a single garment like a shroud. She didn’t look to be in very good condition herself. Her arms and legs like sticks, her cheekbones like carved pieces of granite.

  A vampire.

  Leola kept her in sight, ignoring the bats for the moment. The vampire was intent on pursuing them anyway, so all Leola had to do was follow her instead.

  They ran further down Broad Street, towards the Five Ways island. Dodged between cars, windows and doors closed, their occupants staring wide eyed at the spectacle before them.

  The bats suddenly swooped down a side street. A dark trail of blurred wings and bodies.

  The vampire ran between the cars, pounding at the windows and leaving behind smears of red. Had she attacked someone? Or was it her own blood?

  Leola watched as the vampire followed the bats down the side street.

  Where were they headed?

  Running between the stationary cars, Leola followed the vampire down the side street, but keeping her distance. The bats had paused in their flight and seemed to be drawing together, closing in on something.

  Leola saw the cloud of bats were gathering outside a large house. They landed on the roof and clung to the walls and the windows. Turning the inanimate building into a living, breathing, monstrous thing.

  The vampire had slowed down as she approached the house which was gradually disappearing beneath the mass of dark, fluttering bats. Except for the doorway.

  Leola stayed back, out of sight of whoever was in that house.

  More bats flitted over her head, catching up with their companions.

  They ignored Leola.

  It seemed they had lost interest in everything else apart from that one building.

  Or what was inside it.

  The skeletal vampire in the tattered clothes paused outside the house, head arched back as she gazed up at the bats clinging to the brickwork.

  A figure appeared in the doorway, beckoning the vampire closer. Leola’s chest tightened at the sight of it. There was something very familiar about that person, framed by the bats clinging to the sides of the building.

  Before Leola could follow that thought, try to pinpoint that feeling, that recognition, her attention was distracted by movement from across the street. Another vampire, slinking out from behind the Ikon art gallery. A man, shuffling awkwardly, as though still growing used to the new way his body moved. He was tall and gangly, older than the black woman. His skin was pockmarked with wounds and sores.

  A bat zipped past Leola, and its teeth had nipped at her cheek before she even realised it had been there. Shocked, she touched her cheek. It was wet. Blood glistened on her fingertips.

  That was twice now she had been attacked by a bat in the last few days. It wasn’t right.

  Leola returned her attention to the vampires approaching the bat covered building. There were two figures standing in the doorway now, beckoning the others on, drawing them closer.

  Leola risked moving closer herself, wanting to get a good look at these two. If only they weren’t standing in the shadows so much. As if they didn’t want to be seen. Usually Leola’s vision was sharp enough that she could pick out details of form hidden by the dark. But tonight she was having problems.

  Tonight something was wrong.

  She scurried down the road, keeping to the shadows, and found a hiding place in the entrance to a multi story car park. She crouched, waiting.

  Peering at the figures in the doorway as the other two vampires drew closer.

  Concentrating so hard on working out why that female figure seemed so familiar that she did not hear the scuffle of feet behind her, or feel the rush of air until it was too late.

  Leola’s attacker was on top of her before she even realised what was happening. Leola whipped around, snarling, teeth bared. Her attacker was too strong, too fast. The vampire swiped a clawed hand at Leola’s face, opening up a red split in her cheek.

  She staggered, dropped to the ground on her back. The vampire was a blur of motion, a clawed hand slashing another raw wound in Leola’s abdomen.

  Leola scrabbled backwards, desperate to find herself some space to move, to defend herself. The vampire was too quick, on top of Leola again before she could find enough space to return the attack. The bats swooped down low, obscuring Leola’s sight, and began nipping at her flesh. A bright red slice of pain pierced her shoulder as the vampire slashed open another wound in Leola’s flesh.

  Hands yanked at her hair, clawed at her arms and legs. Too many hands. Leola felt like she was suffocating, drowning in darkness and fluttering wings.

  The bats lifted from her, darting up and away. Leola lay on her back on the cold ground, her arms and legs pinned down by strong hands. The vampire who had attacked Leola was leaning over her, bedraggled hair hanging over her face. Leola recognised her. The missing girl, Julie Carter.

  ‘Bring the bitch inside.’

  Leola twisted her head.

  That voice, she hadn’t heard it in over a hundred years. But she recognised it immediately.

  Chitrita.

  a long queue

  Stut, Shaw and Gilligan carried the bags of cash upstairs. Coffin told them to dump them in his office.

  Gosling nudged open the door leading into the club and gazed at the girls dancing on the stage.

  ‘Now this is what I call entertainment, Joe,’ he said. ‘I’ve been thinking maybe I should get some girls meself. Who wants to see a fat bastard like me standing up all night telling shit jokes, eh?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know,’ Coffin said.

  Gosling tore his eyes off the girls and let the door close. ‘How about we have a drink, Joe? A toast to our success.’

  ‘How about we just count the money and split it like we agreed?’ Coffin said. ‘You can be on your way then.’

  Gosling chuckled. ‘Have it your way.’

  They took the stairs, Gosling puffing and panting with each step. When they walked into Coffin’s office they found everyone standing around the open bags of money, staring silently at their haul.

  ‘Bloody hell, I’ve never seen this much cash in my life,’ Shaw said, softly.

  The beat of the music pulsed through the floor. Duchess’s hips twitched slightly, in time with the beat. ‘There’s enuff theer ter keep me in in ’eels an’ lippy fer the rest o’ me loife.’

  ‘Let’s count it out, divide it into two halves,’ Coffin said.

  ‘Now, is that what we agreed, Joe?’ Gosling said. ‘I thought it was more like a sixty-forty split, seen as I told you about the money in the first place, and seen as how Stilts did all the hard work of breaking into the safe room.’

  ‘Is that right?’ Coffin said.

  Go
sling smiled. ‘After all, your men mostly provided the muscle. I provided the brains and the know-how.’

  ‘An’ doe ferget the glamma,’ Duchess said, and blew Coffin a kiss.

  ‘It’s a fifty-fifty split or nothing,’ Coffin said.

  ‘That’s right,’ Shaw said. ‘You couldn’t have done this without us and you know it. Doesn’t matter who were the brains and who were the muscle, you needed us.’

  Stilts looked up at Shaw. Stared at him, his eyes dead.

  ‘What are you looking at, you freak?’ Shaw said.

  ‘Now, now, I’m sure we can settle this amicably,’ Gosling said. ‘No one wants a disagreement do we? Not after we worked so well together this evening.’

  ‘It’s straight down the middle,’ Coffin said. ‘Or it’s nothing.’

  ‘Sound like you’re desperate for some cash, Joe,’ Gosling said. ‘You in trouble, are you?’

  ‘Doesn’t matter what I need the money for. That’s how it is.’

  ‘We could always take the money, Joe. All of it.’

  Gilligan pulled a gun out of his jacket and pointed it at Gosling’s head. ‘I fucking knew it!’

  Stilts and Duchess both pulled guns, Duchess seemingly out of nowhere, and trained them on Gilligan. Shaw, Stut and the Stig pulled their guns on Stilts and Duchess.

  ‘All right, everybody calm down,’ Gosling said. ‘There’s no need for us to go all Reservoir Dogs on each other.’

  No one moved.

  ‘I said, put your guns down,’ Gosling said.

  Stilts and Duchess slowly lowered their guns. Coffin nodded, and the others did the same.

  All except Gilligan.

  ‘Gilligan, lower your weapon,’ Coffin said.

  ‘He’s going to shaft us, Joe,’ Gilligan said. ‘He’s been screwing around with us this whole time and he isn’t finished yet.’

  ‘Put your gun down,’ Coffin said.

  Gilligan refused to lower the gun. Gosling stared at him, his face blank.

  ‘Put away the gun, Gilligan,’ Coffin said. ‘Now.’

  Gilligan finally lowered his weapon. He was breathing hard, like he’d just finished running.

  ‘Now that were fun, weren’t it?’ Gosling said, his voice soft. He was still staring at Gilligan. There was a slight sheen of sweat on his face.

  ‘Go outside, cool down,’ Coffin said.

  ‘Seems like you’re always telling me to get out, ever since we met this fat bastard and his band of freaks,’ Gilligan said. He was still eyeballing Gosling.

  ‘Just leave,’ Coffin said.

  Gilligan broke eye contact with Gosling and pushed past Coffin as he headed out of the door. He slammed it shut behind him.

  ‘He’s a hotheaded one that one,’ Gosling said. ‘You should get rid of him, Joe, before he does something you’ll regret.’

  ‘I’ll deal with my own men,’ Coffin said. ‘Let’s count this money.’

  * * *

  Emma started shivering. Since when had it got so cold? Or was it something else making her shiver?

  Like plain and simple fear.

  The fire escape door to Angellicit looked as formidably featureless and impregnable as before. There was no way she was getting in there. Except, the Priest, he’d told her to wait by the door. Said he would get her inside.

  And then he had left her, waiting alone in the dark of the parking area behind Angellicit.

  Was that why she was shivering? After all, if what Leola had told her and Joe was right, the Priest was a vampire. He might have taken a vow, or whatever it was he was supposed to have done, to refrain from taking bites out of people and drinking their blood, but what was that worth?

  Especially if he saw a nice, juicy throat ready and waiting for the taking.

  Had it been Emma’s imagination or had he been gazing longingly at her exposed neck whilst they talked?

  Whatever, he was gone now, and supposedly to make his way inside Angellicit and then to let her in through the fire escape. How he was going to get past the bouncer dressed in his long, black coat and his battered top hat, Emma wasn’t sure. But then again he wasn’t wearing jeans or trainers so maybe he would sail right through, no questions asked.

  Except for his teeth, of course. The bouncers were all checking everybody’s teeth before allowing anyone inside a club. Did the Priest have pointed fangs? Even though his teeth were the most visible part of him in the dark, Emma hadn’t noticed if they finished in sharp points. Didn’t Leola file her teeth down? Maybe he did the same.

  Emma stared at the door, willing it to open.

  If the Priest was good to his word and let her in she had to waste no time in finding Joe. Gerry Gilligan was inside that building and as soon as he saw Emma that would be the end her attempt to get to Joe, to talk to him. The bastard was probably sticking close to Joe. She had to separate them somehow, get Joe on his own. How she was going to do that when Joe didn’t trust her anymore, wasn’t even talking to her, Emma didn’t know.

  But she had to try.

  There was a metallic clang from the other side of the fire escape door and then it began opening out.

  Emma stepped back to give it room.

  The Priest looked at her.

  ‘You gone stan’ there all night?’ he said. ‘Or you gone come on inside where it warm, bout as warm as the doorway to hell.’

  ‘You sure know how to impress the girls, don’t you?’ Emma said.

  ‘I done got no need to impress the girls,’ the Priest said. ‘I done got no need to impress no one.’

  ‘I suppose not,’ Emma said, and stepped inside Angellicit.

  The Priest pulled the door closed behind her. The corridor they stood in was dark, the only light spilling from the opposite end of the hall. The throbbing pulse of the music from the club next door shivered through her chest. How loud did they need to turn that shit up? Surely it wasn’t good for you? A whole generation of kids were going to grow up not only addicted to smartphones but deaf as well.

  Or maybe Emma was just getting old.

  ‘You seen anyone yet?’ she said.

  ‘You talkin’ bout the sheep outside, I seen them and they done know it, but they headed for the slaughterhouse like the cattle they are,’ the Priest said.

  Emma raised her eyebrows. ‘You know something I don’t?’

  ‘You done know nothin’, girl,’ the Priest said, and chuckled.

  ‘What the hell are you doing here, anyway?’

  The Priest grinned, exposing his teeth. ‘I’s lookin for Leola, what about you, girl?’

  ‘Yeah, well, I’m looking for someone too. Joe Coffin, you might have heard of him.’

  ‘Oh yeah, I’s heard o’ him. He’s the dead man walking, got a Coffin for a name an’ waitin for a coffin in the ground.’

  ‘Yeah, whatever,’ Emma said.

  She started walking down the corridor, towards the light. The Priest followed her. He was mumbling to himself. Emma couldn’t make out what he was saying, but it sounded almost like a chant, or a prayer.

  The club was obviously in full swing, but Emma didn’t want to go in there. She wasn’t dressed for it, for one thing. No, Joe and his goons would be upstairs, no doubt counting their money. She looked up the stairs, thinking about the last couple of times she had been here. Both of them with Merek Guttman.

  She shivered again.

  He was dead now. Joe Coffin had made sure of that.

  Guttman wasn’t coming back.

  Ever.

  ‘What’s wrong girl, you got the heebie-jeebies on you?’ the Priest said.

  ‘Shush!’ Emma hissed.

  There was someone coming down the stairs.

  Emma shrank back into the shadows, the Priest with her. All that black, tattooed skin was where he had an advantage over her. Put him in a darkened room he was invisible. Up close she could smell him, a faint whiff of something like sweet cloves. No garlic, though.

  Gerry Gilligan stepped into view, his back to Emma and
the Priest.

  He muttered something, but Emma couldn’t catch what he said. He lit up a cigarette and dropped the match on the floor.

  He pulled out his mobile and held it to his ear.

  ‘Yeah, it’s me,’ he said. ‘I know, I was fucking there, remember?’

  Emma held her breath. She could only just hear him over the pounding of the music.

  ‘Yeah well, those jokers almost took my fucking head off too, didn’t they?’

  Gilligan listened some more.

  ‘Of course not, are you mad?’ he said. ‘I was the one who set this up, right?’

  Emma realised she was still holding her breath and let it slowly.

  ‘Aww, fucking hell, seriously?’ Gilligan listened again. ‘No, I don’t want to have a fucking meet up. What have you got in mind? Team-building activities? Or something else?’

  As he listened on his mobile, Gilligan walked down the corridor and pushed his way outside through the fire exit.

  The door clanged shut behind him.

  Good, at least that was him out of the way.

  But what was he saying? Had he been talking to someone from the Seven Ghosts, perhaps? Or his Real IRA contacts?

  Right now that didn’t matter.

  Emma took the stairs fast, wanting to get up there before she met anyone on the way down. Although she couldn’t hear him, she could sense the Priest right behind her.

  She knew where she was going. If Joe was going to be anywhere, it would be in his office. The problem was, who else was going to be in there with him?

  When Emma reached the office, she paused outside the door. The Priest hovered beside her, listening to the rumble of indistinct voices from inside.

  ‘You gone go in first, girl?’ he whispered, grinning at her and revealing his blackened teeth.

  ‘How about you do it?’ Emma whispered back. ‘You’re going to distract them from me, that’s for sure.’

  Still grinning, the Priest nodded. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  The conversation halted and for a brief moment there was silence.

  Then there was hurried movement, shouted orders for the Priest to stay right where he was.