Nobody Gets Hurt

by R J Bailey

  ‘Pizza.’ Myles said it like he had just been offered truffled lobster. ‘What kind?’

  ‘The frozen kind,’ I said.

  ‘Is something wrong, Miss Wylde?’ The mother was more perceptive than the son, I’ll give her that. And, for the moment, than my wounded shooter. I recognised the little skip in his step. He’d been shot and lived. The rest of the day always seemed like a bonus after that.

  I moved over to where the gunman was sitting. The big FK was an arm’s length away from him. I pushed it closer to him. Only then did he catch the look on my face. He sat up a little straighter.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I think it’s time for a little show and tell. I’ll have that coffee if you’re making.’

  I watched him get up, the upper body held a little stiff. I don’t care what he said, that gunshot would slow him down, at least for the next twenty-four hours.

  I stared at Myles while Konrad sorted us out with drinks. His eyes kept flicking to the wall behind me, where the screen showed the front gate. It was as if he was expecting someone.

  I didn’t speak again until the coffee was in front of me. ‘OK, leaving aside my personal feelings, is it possible the subject of whatever is happening here is not you, but fallout from what Myles has been up to?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ asked Mrs Irwin.

  ‘I’m talking about rape,’ I said, making the word as ugly as possible. It isn’t difficult.

  ‘I see,’ was all she offered in return.

  ‘Alpha Chi Tau, is it? I got that right?’

  Myles was reading the label of the cognac bottle like it held the secret of eternal life. His body was set into full surly, uncooperative mode. I had a powerful urge to go over and give him a good shake. Except I knew it would probably progress to more than that.

  ‘Well, it’s something Greek.’ I turned and addressed Konrad. ‘The fraternity at the college that young Myles attends has an initiation ceremony. Well, it has lots of them. Hazing, it’s called, isn’t it?’ No answer from Myles. ‘But in this particular episode, the wannabe member has to find them a girl to gangbang at one of the parties. Apparently the unwritten rule was – is, for all I know – that she had to have the sort of sexual history that would suggest she might welcome such an event. The initiate was charged with making a film that could be edited later to suggest she was complicit. If she did complain, there was a settlement and an NDA clause. A non-disclosure agreement. In other words, silence was bought. The university has a reputation to protect.’

  Konrad simply frowned and looked at the boy as if he was pond life. Well, he might evolve into that one day.

  ‘Is that about right?’ I asked.

  A shrug.

  I took a deep breath before I continued, just to tamp my temper down, which was flaring in spurts, like the gas burn-off at the top of an oil rig. ‘They got away with this for a few years. You know American universities are notoriously reluctant to report rape claims that involve fraternity houses. Especially if the frat house has rich sponsors.’

  Now my eyes flicked to Mrs Irwin. She kept her gaze on me, steady and burning. It was like looking into the sun.

  ‘Except one of the girls from last year, who went to the campus police, the college authorities and then the real police, killed herself. The parents did some digging and—’

  ‘It’s bullshit,’ blurted Myles. ‘Total bullshit.’

  ‘Which part? That a girl was humiliated and raped or that she killed herself because nobody would believe her?’

  ‘It was never rape,’ said Mrs Irwin coldly.

  ‘Well, it’s sometimes a tricky interpretation,’ I said with a tact the situation didn’t really deserve. ‘But the journalist I have just spoken to seemed convinced it fitted any definition we care to make.’

  The lad stood up and was about to head for the door. ‘Myles, sit down,’ Mrs Irwin snapped.

  He did so and began to unpeel the foil from the top of the cognac. ‘She was game for it,’ he said softly.

  ‘Myles, you’re not helping,’ said Mrs Irwin. She looked at me. ‘Can’t we just let this drop? Is it relevant?’

  I sipped my coffee. It tasted bitter. Or perhaps that was just my mood. ‘It could be, Mrs Irwin. We can only operate on the facts we know. And the parameters for this trip keep shifting.’

  ‘Nobody ever listens to my side of the story,’ whined Myles.

  Something snapped in me. ‘Look, I am not interested in your tawdry story. Not really. I think you are a generation whose entire social world is built around instant messaging and pornography. Maybe you really do believe that every woman secretly wants to be Barbie-smooth all over and is always up for rough anal sex, preferably with multiple partners and a little light throttling, and always finishing with their faces covered in cum.’

  From the corner of my eye I saw Konrad’s eyebrows go up in surprise.

  ‘Oh, and then have images of those activities shared with the world. Does that sound like a regular Friday night in the Harrison household?’

  That was the name he went by. Myles Harrison. It was why Nina had initially missed the connection between my client and the rape case.

  ‘I don’t care for your tone,’ offered Mrs Irwin.

  ‘Right now, I don’t care for your son.’ I was sailing very close to the wind with her, I knew. PPOs didn’t say such things. Maybe it was time I looked for another job.

  ‘You don’t understand,’ Myles said.

  ‘Which part?’

  When he looked at me his face was screwed up like a fist. Disdain dripped from every word. ‘Any of it. You don’t understand how modern life works, how we hook up with girls, what girls expect. You are still thinking like, like dinosaurs. You keep judging us by your world. Your ways of doing things. But this is our world now.’

  God help us, but he might have been right.

  ‘Yet there is still a dead girl at the heart of all this. I think that’s a bad outcome in anybody’s world.’

  A huff, as if she were a mere irritation, a cancelled date or an undercooked hamburger. ‘Yeah, well, maybe they should look at her old man a little more closely on that one.’

  I got a strong whiff of a can of worms.

  ‘OK, this isn’t a court of law,’ I said.

  ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said Mrs Irwin. ‘I was beginning to wonder.’

  Konrad got up to make a second cup of coffee. He hadn’t said a word, so far. ‘I think what Miss Wylde here is worrying about is this: do the events in the United States have any relevance to our situation here?’

  I nodded to thank him for pulling me off my soapbox and back to the situation in hand. He indicated I was meant to say something.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said to Mrs Irwin. ‘This isn’t quite going according to plan. New developments don’t help. You have my apologies.’

  Her lips pursed together tighter than a whale’s anus. After a few moments, she relaxed a little. ‘Accepted.’

  ‘So, let me stress, what Miss Wylde is concerned with is not the case in the States. It is not our job to judge.’ His eyes flicked to me and I nodded my agreement. ‘It is how it impacts here. Have you skipped bail? Is there a warrant out for your arrest in the US? Could they request you be detained? Extradited? We have one Red Notice and an EAW for a white-collar crime. This one could be different. A cop who might not worry about financial skulduggery might well have stronger views on rape.’

  ‘He is not a criminal,’ his mother clucked again. I kept my mouth shut. ‘Nor is he a fugitive. Look, there was always a compelling case for Myles coming over. We have financial arrangements to make and I want Myles to take responsibility for some of the funds. He needs to be there for certain legal proceedings. When this story broke, there was something of a media frenzy. There has been a reporter from the New Yorker pestering us, day and night. Not just us, all the boys and their parents involved. The girls, too, I would imagine. I have spoken to this woman. She had already made up her mind
to crucify our boys. So it seemed sensible to change plans about Myles flying out later and for him to come with me.’

  I looked at Myles. ‘You don’t share the fear of flying?’

  It was Mrs Irwin who answered. ‘No. He doesn’t. I had a brother who died . . .’ The memory seemed to choke her for a moment. ‘You’ll never get me up in one again.’

  ‘I don’t have a problem with flying,’ said Myles. ‘Safest way to travel. But I wanted to keep Mom company. And those journalists who were hangin’ around. Just fuckin’ assholes, man. Like . . . like, lice.’ He scratched his arm to make the point.

  I turned to Konrad.

  ‘You don’t think we’ve been looking over our shoulders and seeing the wrong bad guys?’ he said. ‘In fact, not bad guys at all. You think I might have shot two reporters from the New Yorker by mistake?’ He came and sat back down with his second cup of coffee. ‘Is that a joke?’

  ‘It’s just a thought,’ I said.

  ‘Does the New Yorker normally send its people out with guns to get the story?’ he asked.

  ‘Not that I’ve heard,’ I admitted.

  ‘They weren’t reporters for anyone. They didn’t look like they could write their name, let alone a story. And journalism has changed a little if they also murder drivers, just to get our attention.’

  To my shame, I’d forgotten about the poor guy probably being extracted from under a rotting rowing boat as we spoke. ‘Unless we have two separate parties interested. One for Mrs Irwin, one for Myles.’

  ‘Again, unlikely.’

  I hoped so. I only had one Principal – Mrs Irwin. Myles was just excess baggage.

  ‘I’m just running through the options,’ I said.

  ‘The simplest solution is usually the correct one,’ he said. I felt as if I was trying his patience. Maybe I was barking up the wrong tree.

  ‘I’d like to speak to Mr Konrad alone,’ I said in a softer tone. ‘Would you excuse us?’

  ‘The water should be hot,’ said Konrad. ‘Have those showers.’

  ‘And leave the cognac,’ I said.

  Myles looked at it with puppy eyes.

  ‘Please. It won’t help. We might have to move quickly. I want you sober, Myles.’

  ‘Do as Miss Wylde suggests,’ said Mrs Irwin.

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘And keep that tablet offline please. OK?’ He scooped up the device without answering and I had to say. ‘OK, Myles?’

  ‘Yes. Whatever.’

  Such a lovely, life-affirming word, ‘whatever’. Warms the cockles whenever any teenager says it to me.

  ‘It’s for all our sakes,’ I said to Mrs Irwin.

  ‘I know. I’ll make sure he does as he is told.’

  Myles closed the door behind him and Mrs Irwin stood to follow. ‘I can sense your distaste, Miss Wylde. But believe you me, if you had children of your own, you would know how conflicted I am in this. The mind says one thing, the heart another. I would be grateful if you did not bring this up again. I can’t tell you how much it hurts to think my son had any part in those events or the death of a young lady.’

  I didn’t doubt her sincerity. ‘We won’t, Mrs Irwin, unless it turns out to have some relevance to our situation.’

  ‘It hasn’t. But thank you.’

  When the mother had left, Konrad got up and started searching the wall cupboards. ‘Where did that come from?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The part about rough anal sex.’

  It came, I thought, from having a daughter and the worry about the kind of society she was facing. If you had children of your own, indeed. I do. I have a beautiful daughter . . .

  Fuck. You’ve done it now. Let her out of that box. What about the photo that the Colonel has? What about—

  It was something of a struggle, but I managed to get the door to the compartment closed and put a mental foot against it.

  ‘It came from a woman’s perspective,’ I said eventually. ‘Was I shouting?’

  He scratched at a pockmarked cheek and gave a half-smile. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking behind those sunglasses. They were beginning to annoy me. Well, truth be told, everything was beginning to annoy me. ‘I think I heard a round of applause from the Women’s Committee of the European Parliament at one point.’

  ‘Sorry.’ I was well aware I had not just crossed the line but leaped over it like I was a regular Greg Rutherford. I was annoyed with myself. I was meant to be a professional.

  ‘Ah. Here we are.’ He put two glasses on the table. ‘The kid could be right, you know.’

  ‘About what?’ He pulled the cork out of the brandy. I waved a hand. ‘Not for me.’

  ‘About the fact it’s their world. It has to be at their age. One day he’ll end up with bank loans, mortgages and alimony like the rest of us. Society swallows them in the end. You should feel sorry for Myles. One day he’ll wake up and discover it’s the same old shit world we all live in.’

  ‘Tell that to the girl.’

  ‘Ah,’ he said softly. ‘There’s that. But we can’t let her worry us. Not now.’

  ‘No.’

  He raised his glass and knocked the contents back. ‘Medicinal. I didn’t take the painkillers.’ He pointed at my glass. ‘Go on. One won’t do any harm. The tyres will be here by late afternoon. Allow an hour to fit. We could be on our way by—’

  He stopped.

  ‘Sorry. Your call.’

  I thought. ‘I don’t want to spend the night here.’

  ‘Agreed. This place will be very vulnerable after dark.’

  ‘You asked if they’d loan us a new car?’

  ‘They couldn’t spare one. At least, that’s what they claimed.’

  It was a big ask, a car with no papers. It would have been a lot easier to pick up a new hire car than the new tyres. But that meant passports, driving licences, credit cards, entry on a database. Even buying one, at least above board, was also out of the question. Too many footprints to be followed by those who were looking.

  ‘What they are bringing is a fresh set of plates, ones registered to a 508.’

  It was my turn to apologise. ‘You’re doing my job for me.’ He pushed the drink across. ‘No. I’ll have a shower.’

  ‘And maybe a nap. You must be tired after all that driving. ‘I’ll keep my eye on things.’ He nodded towards the CCTV. ‘I’ll put Myles to work too.’

  ‘If you can find any rocks he can break in the hot sun, that would be good.’

  Konrad frowned. ‘As I said, you have to let that go, now.’

  I took a deep breath. I hadn’t met such a bloody reasonable gunman in a long time. Or ever, come to think of it. Right, right, right again. You are a PPO. No opinions, no prejudice, just protect the Principal. And, if need be, her fuckwit of a son.

  On impulse I took the drink and downed it, waiting for the burn. It didn’t come. Just a soft, caressing warmth that spread up my throat and to my cheeks. ‘Wow.’

  ‘I think young Myles found the good stuff.’ He splashed a few more millimetres in his own glass. ‘One more, then the cork goes in.’ He proffered the bottle to me.

  I shook my head. I already felt like I’d been playing truant by having the one. ‘No, not for me.’ I checked my coffee. It was cold. ‘You said there was tea?’

  ‘Coming up.’

  He stood back up. I almost missed the flicker of pain across his face. He was overcompensating for the wound. He didn’t want me to think it had taken any edge off him. Nothing wrong with me, look. This? Just a nick, ma’am. I’ve had worse scratches from my dog. He’d be doing handstands next. But I let him make the tea if it made him happy. A shower and a power nap sounded good.

  ‘You want something to eat?’

  We’d only had the pastries at breakfast. My stomach did feel hollow. But that could wait. ‘Later.’

  Konrad knelt down in front of a cupboard and began to read out names. ‘We got Assam, Darjeeling, Lapsang something, camomile, English Breakfast . . .�
�� He turned and looked at me on the last one.

  ‘Not with no milk. Darjeeling, please.’

  I let my mind empty. I needed to refocus. We were safe for the moment. Nobody could have guessed we were coming to this chateau. Unless I had overlooked something, there were no telltale signals giving our position away. I could power down a little, down to yellow.

  Konrad handed me a business card. For a moment I thought it was going to say: ‘George Konrad: Have Gun Will Travel’, but it was for Ronin International Film Services.

  ‘Just in case,’ he said. ‘These are the guys bringing the tyres and plates. I’ve told them the password is De Niro.’

  ‘As in Robert?’

  ‘He was in Ronin. The movie? They worked on it. You see it? Great car chases.’ He gave a smirk to show he was well aware of the irony.

  ‘They’ll ask if De Niro is here and I say, or you say if it comes to it, no, but Jean Reno is out back.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Why not?’

  Boys, I thought. Give them a big gun, they’re still kids at heart, playing their bang-bang games. Until, as my mother used to say, larks turn to linnets.

  I never did understand what that meant.

  I looked down at the card and ran my finger over the extravagant embossing. They were, as he said, based in Le Mans. As good a place as any for professional petrolheads.

  ‘Here.’

  I took the tea from him. ‘Shower, then thirty minutes and you’ll wake me?’

  ‘Take an hour. It’s what I’ll need to be fresh,’ he said truthfully. It was obviously painful to admit a weakness. ‘I’ll give you the same. It’s only fair, neska polita.’

  ‘What the hell does that mean?’ I asked.

  ‘Sweet dreams.’

  ‘OK. No longer than an hour,’ I warned him. ‘And if anything happens . . .’

  Konrad whistled softly to himself as he put the brandy in one of the top cupboards and moved bottles of olive oil and white-wine vinegar to cover it. He turned and smiled. ‘You’ll be the last to know.’

  At the time I thought it was an odd sort of East European humour. Only later did I realise he was telling the truth.