I don’t say anything. I’m just waiting. She licks her lips. Her eyes are half-closed. She’s panting.
‘I’m on fire. You can tell, can’t you, Daniel. You can tell I’m aching all over. You can tell I’m ready. I don’t care that there are people here. That just makes it better. I know what you want. I can see it in your face. I can give it to you. You know I can. Put that gun away.’
‘All I want is Sara and I want to get her out of this madhouse.’
She keeps walking towards me. She’s smiling. Whatever she thinks she’s going to do, it’s not going to happen. I get a sudden shiver of fear mixed with desire. It’s an interesting sensation.
‘We could have been quite something together, Daniel.’
‘I was saying that to Timmy. He wasn’t so convinced.’
She smiles. ‘I’m sure you can tell a lot of men have had me, but none of them were quite like you. I finally met someone who was as freaky as me. It was wild. It was immoral. I liked the taste of it.’
It’s only a kitchen knife, but it has a nasty-looking eight-inch blade. She’s no knife-fighter. She lifts it high above her head and strikes down, telegraphing wildly and aiming for my collarbone. Dropping the gun, I block it with my left hand while simultaneously striking her in the face with the edge of my right.
I grab her wrist and upper arm, twist my body hard to the right and bring her down, bent double, until I can walk across her and put her on the floor, bending her wrist back so she drops the knife. Well, that confirms it; the whole family is crazy. Yazmine’s suicide was probably the only normal thing that ever happened in this house.
I pick up the gun and aim it at her head. She has a nose bleed. Despite the fact that she probably could and would have killed me, I still didn’t like doing that to her. Guess I must be old-fashioned.
‘Get up.’
There are tears in her eyes. ‘I really did tell Dad not to hurt you or kill you. It wasn’t all talk. What I said about us wasn’t all talk, either.’
‘Just most of it. Stop talking, Isolda, you’re breaking my heart. And your dad’s going to kill me anyway, if you’re interested.’
‘That’s not true. He wouldn’t. Not if I asked him not to.’
‘He’s just going to find a way of doing it so you don’t find out. Do you really think I’m going to be allowed to go back out into the world when I know what’s been going on here?’
‘He might let you. If I say so.’
‘None of you have thought this through properly. Do you think you can just go back to work tomorrow as if none of this has happened? This is serious stuff, Isolda; serious stuff perpetrated by stupid, arrogant people. Is anyone likely to be armed in there?’
‘Not as far as I know.’
‘You better be right.’
I grab her left arm to help her get on her feet. She scowls at me. We walk out of the kitchen and into the hallway. I’m keeping her two feet in front of me as we walk down towards the living room. The television sound gets louder. I can hear Jennison’s mother’s stilted breathing. I can hear Jennison talking to Shortass.
‘It’ll have to be both of them at the same time,’ says Jennison. ‘Dolly’ll have to go back to work tomorrow and act normally. We’ll do it when she’s not here. You and Derek can get them in the Tourneo…’
‘You sure?’ says Shortass. ‘That’s new. What if we have to dump it?’
‘No need. No one can link those two back to here. Only Dolly.’
I push Dolly into the room in front of me. With my left hand I hold the side of her neck to keep her steady and with my right aim the P226 at her temple.
‘I hope you’re not discussing getting rid of my body, gentlemen.’
‘You’re dead,’ wheezes Mrs Jennison, enthusiastically.
Everyone here has something invested in Isolda and it allows me to control the room efficiently. None of them wants her brains over the wall, or at least I hope they don’t.
Jennison is sitting on the sofa nearest me. He starts to get up, but I give him a look that tells him it’s best if he doesn’t. He’s trembling with rage and is glaring at Shortass, willing him to do something.
Mrs Jennison has turned thirty degrees to look directly at me. It sounds as if someone has bet her she can’t suck up all the oxygen in those cylinders in five minutes and she’s desperate to prove them wrong.
But Shortass is quicker than I imagined. If I hadn’t been pumped full of all those drugs, I’d have caught that slight movement and instantly blown his head off. But I’m still not recovered and he managed to whip out a great-looking semi-automatic 9mm Luger, and is aiming it straight at the centre of my chest.
And now the dynamic of the situation has changed completely.
33
A REALLY SMART MOVE
‘Right, you prick,’ growls Shortass. ‘Get that gun away from her head and throw it on the floor.’
‘No.’
I keep my entire focus on Shortass. At the moment, he’s the most important thing in the room. I’m watching for the miniscule body movements that’ll tell me he’s about to fire the gun. If that should happen, I’ll have a third of a second in which to respond and put him down for good.
It’s difficult in my present state, but I attempt to expand my consciousness into the whole room so that I’ll sense any untoward movements or even malevolent thoughts from the others.
I don’t know whether Isolda thinks I’d really shoot her in the head, but I can feel that she’s frightened. It may not be me she’s frightened of; it could be the whole situation, but I don’t think she’ll try anything physical. I try to block out her perfume. It doesn’t work.
Jennison is fuming. He’s the second most dangerous thing in the room. I don’t think he’s got a weapon. If he did, he’d probably have it aimed at me by now. I keep him in my peripheral vision, waiting for the smallest gesture. If he tries anything, my best bet would be to shoot him first and then attempt to shoot Shortass a fraction of a second later. My gun is already aimed in his direction, or I’d go for Shortass first. This is a difficult situation and I mustn’t let my mind drift.
‘Do something, Tommy, you faeces,’ caws Mrs Jennison.
‘Be quiet, Mummy.’
‘Don’t you tell me to be quiet. I sacrificed everything for you. I sacrificed my entire life.’
‘Both of you shut up right now,’ I say.
‘If you harm a head on that girl’s head, I’ll kill you! Do you hear?’ says Mrs Jennison. It’s only now that I notice that she has no teeth and a slightly purple tongue. This outburst was too much for her and she slaps the mask back on her face and gulps down the O2 once again.
‘I’m not going to tell you again, prick,’ says Shortass. ‘Get the gun away from her head. Drop it on the floor. Kick it over to me.’
‘You’re about thirteen feet away. I’d never be able to kick it that far.’
‘Don’t get smart with me,’ snarls Shortass, getting agitated. That’s it, boy: keep the anger levels high.
Jennison moves forward. He has plans to get up.
‘Stay where you are, Dad,’ I say. ‘You don’t want your little girl to get hurt.’
‘You come into my home and put a gun to my daughter’s head? You are not going to believe what I am going to do to you, you bastard. I’m going to put Derek to work on you. We’re going to make it last a long, long fucking time.’
‘Derek’s not very well. He’s going to need a bit of surgery. Sorry about that.’
‘You’re lying.’
‘You haven’t realised it yet, Jennison, because you’re too thick. I’m really fuckin’ bad news. Now sit back in that sofa and shut up.’
He flops back, momentarily defeated.
‘Don’t let him tell you what to do, Tommy. Don’t be weak,’ says Mrs Jennison. ‘He’s just a poof.’
Jennison says nothing. His mother puts her mask back on.
Shortass is wondering what to do next. He wants to shoot me, but he knows
that could have catastrophic consequences. He’s wondering if pulling the trigger now would be worth it. At least I’d be dead, but what if he missed? What if I wasn’t killed immediately? What if I had time to shoot Isolda and then him? What would Jennison say or do if Isolda died because of his actions? I can see all of this in his eyes. He’s tense. He’s perspiring. This is all new to him.
Jennison, I don’t have to worry about. He knows this is in the hands of Shortass and me, at least for the moment. He can only be a spectator until something fortuitous happens and it all starts going his way once more.
Then Isolda starts. Her voice is calm and assured.
‘Shoot him, Timmy. Just pull the trigger. There’s no way on earth he’ll shoot me. I just know he won’t.’
I tighten my grip on Isolda’s neck. I look straight at Shortass and our eyes meet for a few seconds. Shortass holds my gaze and then looks away.
‘You’re wrong, Dolly. He’d do it. I can see it in his eyes.’
‘You’re the one that’s wrong,’ she says to him, contempt in her voice. ‘Daniel and I have something special. We complement each other physically in a way that you and I never could. You’re pathetic, Timmy. You’re barely a man. You’re a sad, bullying little child.’
Bang.
I stopped blinking whenever a gun was fired long ago.
Isolda thought she was being crafty. She thought she’d enrage Shortass with her words and he’d shoot me. Instead he shot her.
This was a really smart move. I’m almost proud of him and not a little surprised. Isolda screams and instantly drops to the floor, removing my hostage advantage in one fell swoop. In that brief moment, I swing my gun around and aim in right between Shortass’s eyes before he can get another shot off.
I glance quickly down at Isolda. There’s a red patch of blood spreading across the white fabric of her jeans. It’s a flesh wound in the upper thigh. It won’t be fatal, but she’ll need to get to a hospital pretty soon.
Not only did Shortass damage my room control prospects, but he also got back at her for what she’s done to him by sleeping with me. Two birds with one stone, indeed.
Jennison jumps up to help his daughter and I let him do it. I take five steps to my right, keeping the gun on Shortass. He still aims his gun at my chest. We’ve got a bit of a standoff going on now, which is really irritating. I can feel my heart pounding.
‘You are fucking finished,’ barks Jennison at Shortass. ‘You little fucking dwarf worm.’ He undoes Isolda’s jeans and gently pulls them down so he can look at the state of her thigh. Isolda jerks and moans as the fabric goes past the wound. There are tears streaming down her face. Despite everything, I want to go down there and help, but that’s out of the question.
‘Boss. Listen. It was the only way. As long as he had the gun on Dolly there was nothing we could do! Once she were out of the picture…’
‘Oh yeah and what are we going to do now? Call a bloody ambulance?’
Mrs Jennison powers over to where Isolda is lying. She takes her mask off. ‘Stop making such a fuss, Dolly. It won’t kill you. Get something on it, Tommy. Something to stop the bleeding until it clots.’
I take a quick look at Isolda. I’m pleased to see she’s wearing a white thong. The wound is about two inches long. She’s still sobbing. She lies on her side. The pain makes her vomit. She looks pale. Shortass is a good, accurate shot, if nothing else. Jennison produces a huge blue handkerchief and pushes it against Isolda’s thigh. He looks up at me. ‘This is your fault.’
‘You’re a dick, Jennison,’ I reply. ‘You’ve always been a dick. This is Isolda’s fault and it’s your fault.’
I still keep Shortass in my sights. I’ve got to get out this situation and find Sara. I need a miracle or something similar.
‘You! Timmy!’ shouts Mrs Jennison. ‘Shoot him! Do it!’
‘I can’t, Ma,’ says Timmy. ‘He’s got a gun aimed at my head.’
‘You useless streak of horse piss.’
Jennison has tied what looks like a tea towel around Isolda’s leg. Like the blue handkerchief, it quickly gets soaked with blood. He helps her to stand, then gets her onto the sofa, a few feet away from Mrs Jennison. Isolda doesn’t look well; she’s pale and has perspiration on her upper lip. She looks at me through heavy lids. I can’t decipher the look. She still looks beautiful despite the gunshot wound and the vomiting.
I glance away from her. I’m still waiting for the slightest twitch from Shortass. I’m focussing on him so much I’m almost hallucinating. He’s pale and shaking. He’s not used to stress of this type. Jennison stands. He starts walking towards me.
‘You can do what you like with that fucking gun. I’m coming for you, pretty boy.’
Despite the age and withered arm, Jennison is almost as tall as me and quite broad with it. He strides towards me. ‘Kill him, Tommy,’ screeches Mrs Jennison. I keep my gun trained on Shortass and my peripheral vision on Jennison. His right arm is stretching out to grab my left shoulder. Three seconds, two seconds, one second.
‘Kill him, you useless berk.’
The instant before he makes contact, I put the gun in my left hand and use my right to grab Jennison’s withered hand, crushing it in my grip. I whip his arm over my head, pulling him towards me.
I get him in between myself and Shortass and hit his shoulder hard with my gun hand, pushing him at high speed towards my diminutive new pal, who can’t fire for fear of hitting his boss.
I have no idea what I’m doing, but whatever it is, it has to be done fast. Shortass looks confused. He waggles his gun around, trying to get a shot in before we reach him, but it’s too risky. I wrench Jennison’s wrist hard, using the pain this creates to control the direction in which he’s going and ram him straight into Shortass. They both grunt with the impact.
While Shortass is coping with that, I elbow Jennison hard in the neck, following that up with a hammer fist to his solar plexus, which knocks him to the ground. Shortass looks dazed for a second, but soon recovers.
He still has the Luger in his hand. I grab the wrist holding the gun and pin it to the wall. I head-butt him, then punch him once, twice, three times in the gut. I notice he has hard abs. With his free hand, he grabs me behind the neck, pulling me towards him. I have no idea what he’s trying to do.
I smash him in the jaw with my elbow and use the butt of the gun on his collarbone, hitting the wrong part so it just hurts him rather than breaks it. I can’t do all of this while holding a weapon, so I shove it down my waistband while kneeing him in the balls. I have to get that Luger off him.
I can hear Jennison recovering, although groaning a little. Mrs Jennison swears and swears in that terrible, quacking voice. I pull Shortass’s wrist back to beat it against the wall again, but the idiot pulls the trigger and gets a shot off. The noise is unbelievable at this range. I feel like I’ve been slapped in the face and I’ve got a deafening ringing in both ears.
I turn and elbow him in the face a few times. I see his jaw break. He grunts with the pain. I hold his gun hand in both of mine. Mrs Jennison is yelling something, but I can’t make out the words. Is that Isolda screaming, too? Then another shot goes off. This one hits the floor tiles, ricochets upward and shatters one of the big mirrors on the wall. Ridiculously, I feel worried about the fish tank.
Jennison is getting to his feet. I hang on to Shortass’s gun hand and try to break his arm at the elbow or lower down. I can feel that he’s strong. I suddenly think of him climbing up the wall of Sara’s flat. I think of him being in Sara’s bedroom while she slept. Then I think of Sara. She’s somewhere upstairs. I can’t have her being shot by a stray bullet tearing through the ceiling.
My fingers are digging into his arm so deeply that they’re drawing blood. He’s much shorter than Blond Hair, but I’m going to attempt the same elbow break I did on him. His grip on the gun is phenomenal, but he’ll have to let go when his elbow is cracked and shattered.
I turn so I have my back t
o him. I quickly slide down his body to adjust to his height. I have his forearm and wrist in both of my hands, twist them around and bring his arm down as hard as I can over my shoulder. Another ear splittingly loud shot goes off, followed by a blinding white light and a thundering explosion as the bullet rips through one of the oxygen tanks and the whole world comes to an end.
34
LAST SIGH
I don’t think I was out for long. It just seemed like it. I may not have even lost consciousness. I wonder for a moment if I’m blind. I wonder if I’m somehow back in the dark room. My head feels as if it’s been in a vice and there’s a roaring in my ears.
A quick physical inventory: my back hurts, it feels like the little finger on my right hand is broken and I’ve got some sort of groin strain. There’s a weight on my chest. I attempt to open my eyes but it’s difficult. They sting as if they’ve been exposed to smoke. Now I can smell smoke. It’s a bad, caustic smell. With difficulty I open my eyes, look down and see what the weight on my chest is. It’s another human. It’s Jennison and he’s dead.
It all comes back fairly quickly, which is a relief; the bullet, the oxygen tank, the explosion. I push Jennison out of the way. He’d just got up when Shortass fired the shot that caused the explosion and his body must have protected me from the worst of it.
I manage to push him out of the way, stand and take a quick look at his carcass. It’s difficult to assess the damage; the rear of his head is caved in by a huge lump of metal and his back and legs are soaked in blood, but I can’t really see exactly what happened. Hardly matters, though.
Shortass is lying on his side. He’s not dead, but his breathing doesn’t sound good. No obvious damage that I can see, apart from his broken jaw and ruined arm, but he’s bleeding heavily from somewhere else. I look for his gun, or even for the one I was using, but I can’t see them anywhere.
Death is the New Black Page 34
