by HC Michaels
“G’day mate, how ya doin’?” Theo always ended up sounding like he lived in the western suburbs when he spoke to Bruno. It didn’t happen intentionally, but he didn’t try to stop himself either. Clients like that felt more comfortable dealing with people on their own level. If Bruno noticed he didn’t speak like that in court, he never said anything.
“I’m at The Commercial. Meet me here.” Bruno had an edge to his voice. “It’s urgent.”
Theo hesitated. Bruno wasn’t the sort he’d normally say no to. But how could he let Skye down again? He’d never forgive himself. “Mate, I can’t tonight.”
“I said it’s urgent.” Bruno sounded more than a little annoyed. “I wouldn’t ask ya otherwise.”
“Okay. I’ll be there in ten minutes,” said Theo, before realising Bruno had already disconnected the call, confident he’d be on his way.
He turned his BMW around, enjoying the way it responded to only the slightest pull on the steering wheel. Most of his peers drove German cars, although they went for the more conservative models, whereas he preferred the sportier look of the M4 coupe. It was red, of course, and able to turn any woman’s head at the traffic lights. His car was the epitome of success. He deserved it with all the bullshit he had to put up with when he wasn’t driving it.
He dialled Skye’s number.
“Hello,” she said, her voice a whisper.
“Babe, it’s me.” His heart was already breaking at the sound of her voice.
“I know.” She laughed softly. “How are you?”
“Don’t worry about me. How are you?” He frowned. “Why are you whispering?”
“Other patients are resting so I’m just trying to keep it down.” Her voice sounded croaky, as in sexy croaky, not like when someone wasn’t feeling well. He had to remind himself she was in hospital and probably not up for any pillow talk.
“You don’t have your own room?” he asked, horrified at the thought. “I thought you were admitted as a private patient.”
“All the single rooms were full,” she explained. “It’s okay. They’re taking good care of me. I can’t talk long, though. Are you coming in?”
“That’s why I’m calling.” He gripped the steering wheel harder, hating what he had to say. “I was on my way to see you, but then Bruno called and...”
“Don’t worry,” she said quickly. “I understand.”
He knew by her voice that she did understand. She was used to him having to dash away at strange hours to represent clients in interviews or meet with them to discuss the current state of their freedom. It was rare for her to get angry with him. Rin would’ve had a fit if he ditched visiting her in hospital to go and have a beer with Bruno.
“You’re the best, most beautiful, most sexy, most amazing wife in the world.” He smiled widely.
“Stop it,” she giggled. “Save it for when I get home.”
“I spoke to Elle.” He swallowed down yet more guilt. “She said you’ll be home tomorrow.”
“Yeah, the doctors are really happy with me,” she said, still keeping her voice low.
“Fantastic. Bet they’ve never had a patient in your kind of shape.” He paused, deciding to get the next part of the conversation out of the way. “Listen, I’ve organised Sophie to pick you up. I hope that’s all right?”
“That’s fine,” she said, sounding genuinely okay about it. “Elle told me.”
Relief swept out of Theo’s body in a deep sigh. Maybe there was hope for Skye and Sophie, after all. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow at home then?”
“Can’t wait. Love you.”
“Love you, too, babe. I’m sorry again.”
“Don’t be sorry. Drive safely. Don’t drink too much.”
“I won’t,” he promised. “I mean, I won’t drink too much. I will drive safely. Bye, babe.”
“Bye.” She made a kissing sound then disconnected the call.
He felt like a pig for not going into the hospital. Bruno’s timing was appalling. But then again, most things about Bruno were appalling. He hadn’t gotten so rich by being a nice guy.
He wondered if the same could be said about him.
Theo could tell Bruno was stressed out. It wasn’t that he looked worried, it was more that he was smiling.
When Bruno smiled it was generally time to be concerned. Usually his smiles were directly connected to one of three things.
1. He’d just made some kind of deal (almost always illegal).
2. The deal had paid off without him getting arrested or murdered.
3. The deal had not paid off and he was facing either arrest or murder.
On the surface, the third reason didn’t look like much to smile about, but Bruno had long ago learnt the value of giving the appearance that everything was fine. Better than fine. Everything was great. Fantastic! Nobody wanted to do business with a loser.
If things were going badly, he had to smile all the harder to convince everyone he was okay.
Given the panicked phone call Theo had just received, he thought he could safely assume option number three was at play here.
Great. Just what he felt like doing tonight. Digging Bruno out of a pile of his own stinking shit. He cursed himself for ever getting involved with him. He’d been young and stupid when they first met, his hungry ambition blinkering him to the danger of linking his name to Bruno’s.
It was too late now. Once a man like Bruno latches onto you, you’re not the one to decide when the bond is broken. Unless you want to end up dead, which Theo most certainly did not. Although he sometimes wondered if his connection to Bruno would cause him to end up dead anyway. It’d happened to plenty of people before him.
“Mate,” Bruno called out, spotting him approaching from the other side of the bar.
He was an ordinary looking bloke in his fifties with wispy hair carefully combed over the rapidly increasing dome of his head. He wore a leather jacket he favoured to the point it’d become a uniform, and jeans that hung low on what used to be his waist before it turned into a gelatinous mound of wobbling flesh, poorly disguised under his black t-shirt.
Theo was glad he’d changed into jeans and a Ralph Lauren polo shirt after his workout. It helped him blend in. A bloke in a suit in this grungy pub would be asking for trouble.
Being a weeknight, it was fairly quiet, with only a few regulars scattered about the place, some sitting on their own either by choice or circumstance, others clustered in small groups. They were all men. It wasn’t that women weren’t allowed in a pub like this, it was just that somehow, they were able to resist the allure of the dim lighting, stained carpet and peeling paint.
“How are ya?” asked Theo, putting out his hand.
“Never better. Ne-ver better.” Bruno pumped his hand, more forcefully than necessary. It was an action that did little to disguise the fear in his eyes. Whatever shit he’d gotten himself into, it was serious.
Theo took a seat at the bar beside him, pretending not to see the dark marks on the fabric of the stool. Who knew what they were from. If you sprayed some luminol around and turned out the lights, you could turn this place into some kind of disco.
The bartender slid two beers across to them without being asked. He knew what Bruno liked to drink and it went without saying that whoever was with him would be drinking the same.
Bruno nodded at the bartender who scuttled to the other end of the bar. He was smart for a young guy. Theo wished he could go with him.
“Hope I didn’t pull you away from anythin’ important,” said Bruno, in an unusual gesture of politeness.
Only visiting my sick wife in hospital.
“Nah, it’s okay. It’s good to see you, mate.” Theo knew better than to ask about the reason for his summons. Bruno would get to that in his own time. Sometimes it took him hours, but he always got there eventually.
Hopefully it wasn’t hours tonight. He was knackered. It would be nice to get home in time to check up on Amber before she went to bed. That’s i
f she could pull those stupid headphones off her ears and spare five seconds to talk to him.
Bruno handed him a piece of paper. “Have a gawk at this.”
It was a printout of an email addressed to Bruno. A short email, although its contents must be bad. Bruno hadn’t even bothered with the small talk.
He took a sip of his beer, wishing it was a nice glass of red and began to read.
Bruno. Do you like movies? I came across a most interesting one recently. And you know what? It was starring you as the main character, handing over a big wad of cash to Neville Simmons. Oh, and by the way, you’re going to need to hand over another wad of cash. Put $50,000 in a sealed zip-lock bag and leave it in the cistern of the middle toilet in the men’s room at The Commercial. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it doesn’t block the plumbing. Do it by 10pm tomorrow or I’ll send the video to the police so they can decide if they want to nominate you for an Academy Award.
Theo glanced to the top of the page. It had yesterday’s date. He looked at his watch. It was just after eight. Only two hours until the deadline. No wonder Bruno looked worried.
Theo knew exactly what video the email was referring to. Neville Simmons was a thug who’d been arrested several months ago for murdering one of Bruno’s associates. The detectives on the case had pushed hard to prove Bruno had paid Neville to carry out the hit. It was their big chance to put him behind bars, only hindered by lack of evidence. Ultimately, they’d had to let him go.
Unbeknown to the police, some grainy but damning video evidence was taken by a security camera at The Commercial. Bruno hadn’t even realised it was there.
Theo had.
When the whole Neville Simmons thing started to hit the fan and Bruno was spilling his guts in Theo’s chambers, Theo had calmly stood and caught the next available taxi to The Commercial, dragging a confused Bruno with him.
He wasn’t confused for long, turning white when Theo requested the footage for the day in question from the manager.
The manager, a reserved man named Chris, knew better than to say no to a request from Bruno’s lawyer and handed it over. Theo didn’t need to tell him to keep his mouth shut. Bruno took care of that when he asked Chris to give his best to his wife and kids. The fact he knew their names was frightening enough.
Theo had slipped the disc into his suit pocket, telling Bruno he’d destroy it. He did too—after he’d made a copy of it on his home computer. You never knew when having evidence against a man like Bruno could come in handy.
“I thought you destroyed that footage,” said Bruno. His voice was level. It wasn’t a direct accusation, but Theo felt the threat.
“I did.” Theo’s heart was pounding but he kept his exterior calm. “Unless there was a backup here at the hotel we didn’t know about...”
Bruno nodded, seeming unconvinced.
“What could possibly be in it for me for that footage to get out?” Theo wasn’t taking any chances. He needed Bruno to believe he had nothing to do with this.
“Relax.” Bruno held up a palm. “I got it. It wasn’t you.”
“If you go down, I go with you.” This wasn’t strictly true. Not even loosely true, but it wouldn’t hurt for Bruno to believe it.
“Where the fuck’s Chris?” Bruno slammed his raised palm down on the bar. “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him.”
The young bartender approached. “Is there a problem here?”
“Yeah, there’s a fuckin’ problem and it’s name’s Chris.” Bruno leaned forward as he sneered. “Tell him to get the fuck out here.”
“He’s in Thailand.” The bartender took a step back, wiping his hands on his jeans.
“Then get him on the fuckin’ phone, all right.” Bruno turned a shade of purple as a look of fear crept across the bartender’s face.
“Jesus, Bruno,” said Theo. “He’s only a kid. Let it go for a minute.”
“Who the fuck are you to tell me to let it go?” Bruno was standing now, his eyes wide with fury.
“I’m your fuckin’ lawyer,” Theo reminded him. “You know, the bloke who’s going to keep you out of jail. Now sit back down and let’s talk about this sensibly.”
The bartender hovered, unsure as to whether or not he’d been dismissed.
“Just bring us another round, mate, and leave us to it,” Theo instructed in what he hoped was a calming tone.
The poor guy couldn’t scurry away fast enough.
Bruno sat down. “What the fuck, Theo?”
“The last thing we need here is for you to make a scene.” Theo kept his voice down, hoping Bruno would follow suit. “Think about it. Whoever sent you that email is probably watching you right now, waiting for you to head to the bathroom. Let’s be smart about this.”
They glanced around the room at the dwindling crowd.
“I don’t think it’s Chris,” said Theo, feeling guilty for giving Bruno that impression.
“Why?” Bruno grunted.
“Because for a start, he’s in Thailand.” Theo shrugged. “Any one of the staff here could’ve taken that video. If they were going to use it then it makes sense for them to wait until the boss goes overseas.”
Chris was a nice guy. A decent bloke working hard to make a living. Theo didn’t want Bruno hassling him. He didn’t ask to have Bruno as a loyal customer, just like Theo hadn’t. Bruno had chosen them, not the other way around.
The bartender placed two beers in front of them and hurriedly returned to the sink to stack some glasses, making the task look much more labour intensive than it was.
Bruno stood again.
“What ya doin’ now?” asked Theo.
“I’m going to the fuckin’ dunny to stick fifty large in it. Then I’m gonna wait and see what dumb cunt goes in to get it.” He patted his pocket, indicating he’d come prepared with the ransom.
“Like they’re gonna do it while you’re here.” Theo swivelled on his chair to face Bruno.
“They might.” Bruno stuck out his chin. “Depends on how desperate they need the cash, doesn’t it?”
“Nobody’s that desperate. It might take them days to pick it up. You gonna to set up camp in there?” Theo raised his brows as he waited for the answer.
“If I hafta.” Bruno crossed his arms like a defiant toddler.
“Was there a video attached to the email?” asked Theo. “This whole thing could be a bluff.”
Bruno shook his head. “You willin’ to bet my freedom on that?”
“Hey mate,” Theo called to the bartender. “You got a permanent marker handy?”
The bartender shuffled through a drawer and tossed him a pen.
Theo raised his hand and caught it with ease.
“Come on then,” he said to Bruno, heading to the men’s room.
There were three filthy toilets in the bathroom with black, plastic seats and brown stained cisterns. The green tiled wall behind them could barely be seen underneath all the graffiti. Theo would have to be dying from dysentery before he’d consider taking a crap here.
The flush button on the cistern was tight, but it undid with a bit of pressure from Theo’s right hand. He lifted the lid, revealing the inner workings of the toilet.
Bruno reached in his pocket and pulled out a ziplocked pack of neatly folded notes.
“Put it back in your pocket,” said Theo, snapping off the lid to the pen.
“What ya doin’?” asked Bruno.
“Breaking the law. Shh, don’t tell the graffiti police.” Theo smirked as he wrote a message on the inside of the porcelain lid.
Give me the proof and I’ll give you the cash.
“That should do it.” He leant back so Bruno could read his message. “Let’s flush out the truth.”
Bruno didn’t laugh, so Theo replaced the lid and screwed the button back in place.
“They’re bluffing you, mate,” he said.
“Yeah, they’re fuckin’ bluffing me.” Bruno pursed his lips and nodded like a chicken pecking for its dinner. “T
o think I nearly gave them fifty grand. I’ll give the prick fifty fuckin’ bullets in the chest if I ever find out who it was.”
Theo went to the sink and turned on the hot tap. Bruno wasn’t joking. If he ever managed to carry out his threat, he doubted he’d be able to save him. Fifty bullets in the chest generally wasn’t a crime people got away with.
He squirted soap onto his hands and began to scrub. As disappointed as he was not to have seen Skye tonight, he was glad he came to the hotel. If he hadn’t, Bruno would probably have stuck his money in the toilet and killed the next poor unsuspecting bastard who came in to take a dump.
He needed to find a way to extricate himself from Bruno’s clutches. And he needed to do it soon.
40 Days Before The Break
Sophie approached an amber light and pressed her foot to the accelerator. She was running late. Very late.
Normally, punctuality was her specialty. Hopefully Skye’s doctor was also running late on his rounds and she hadn’t been discharged yet.
Her phone chimed letting her know she had a text message.
Don’t look at it. It’s dangerous. Don’t look at it. Don’t text and drive.
She repeated these words over and over, giving herself the same advice she always gave her kids. Lukas would be getting his licence next year and she wouldn’t want him reading a text message while he was driving. It was probably just George asking her if she’d picked up Skye. It couldn’t be her kids. They were in school. Unless it was the school calling to say one of them was sick. Maybe she should just have a quick look at who it was from?
No! Don’t look at it. It can wait five minutes.
She put on her indicator and swung the car around a corner, hitting the kerb with such force it caused her to slam on her brakes. She jolted violently as the car behind drove straight into the back of her.
“Damn it!” She banged her fists on the steering wheel. George was going to kill her. This was the second time this year someone had rear-ended her. The first time was her fault, too. Thankfully the insurance company disagreed with her on that point, as they would no doubt this time too. There was only so much damage her ancient CRV would be able to take. It was getting to the point where it may not be worth repairing.
