The voice is so gentle it makes me want to sleep forever. It rises and falls, interrupts and then soothes. The words seem urgent, panicked, but I want to ignore them and just drift away on their glorious sounds. I know it’s her voice, although I can’t remember her name or what she looks like. That doesn’t matter because I’m not sure who I am either, or what I am. I just know she’s lovely and I want her to keep talking so she stays with me forever. If she stops I’ll be on my own. And I couldn’t bear to be alone. I’m willing her to speak, hoping again that the pause is temporary, as if she’s just finished one room and is about to start on the next as she vacuums an endless house. I’m holding my breath waiting. Will she start again or will I hear the dreaded click of the power switch and the plug being pulled from the socket? Come on, surely it can’t take that long to decide whether to start again or stop for good. I can’t hold on much longer…
Something makes me decide to inhale. It’s a deeper breath than I was expecting. And someone’s turned up the volume to full blast. It’s not the comforting sound I was waiting for. I think my head’s going to explode. There’s also a light in my face and I screw up my eyes to blot it out. I want to go back to the darkness where the sound caressed me, where I could be alone with it.
Instead, something reconnects. Somehow, I know who I am again. And that it’s Grace’s voice I can hear. And when I open my eyes it’s her face I see. I start to rationalise and my first semi-lucid thought is that there must be a heaven after all, and we’re both here together. If that’s the case, why does she look so worried? Then she smiles and I’m instantly certain of one thing. We’re both still very much alive.
I’m aware of someone else behind me and my arms are being freed. They feel numb, although the wonderful sensation of pins and needles reassures me that blood is starting to flow. I want to look around to see who is helping but I can’t move my head. And anyway, I don’t want to look away from Grace.
‘Thought we’d lost you there for a minute.’ It’s not a voice I recognise. I’m grateful anyway that he’s unravelling rope from around my waist, and moving to my ankles to loosen the slipknot.
‘You’re okay, Grace,’ I croak as recollection floods back into my head.
‘Don’t worry about me Mickey. Let’s get you up,’ she says. My legs are very shaky and I almost fall before they both support me and lead me over towards the exit. The quick movement sends a jolt of pain into my head, but it’s my neck that suddenly cries out for attention. I rub my hand carefully around my throat. It doesn’t feel like mine. I don’t remember pulling on a turtle-neck over my T-shirt earlier. There’s an indentation where the cord dug in and my skin burns in protest at the touch. I wince and Grace gives me a reassuring smile as she helps the stranger lower me onto the bottom stair.
‘He’ll be okay now,’ she says, nodding to the man who seems reluctant to leave us, until he dutifully heads off up the stairs.
‘How did you get here?’ I manage to say. Although it’s painful, my voice is starting to sound less like a Dalek. ‘I went to your flat. Your note… You said…’
‘Sorry Mickey, I had to…’ she says, looking hesitantly up to the man who is now standing at the top of the stairs in the doorway. She joins me on the bottom step with our backs to him.
‘Why?’
‘I had to talk to him...’ She lowers her voice. ‘He is my father.’
‘Huh?’
‘He thought I’d come to trick him… that I was just Terry Pinner’s daughter… and working for Riggs. I finally got through to him, persuaded him I was here to warn him. He told me about the camera on Millennium Eve… that he’d wanted to snatch me. Teach Terry a lesson. He was too drunk. He couldn’t do it.’ She pauses for a moment. ‘He started talking about my mum. Her name was Jasmine. He said he can see her in my smile…’
I put my arms around her and hold her gently. My shoulders are still getting used to bending that way. She realises my discomfort and lets me go.
‘How did you get here?’ I say.
‘They’re going to raid the place later this morning… the police. Terry told me yesterday and I got him to give me the details – I had to warn Herb. He also told me you were in serious danger from Riggs. That’s why I didn’t want to tell you I was coming here this morning. I thought if I could keep you away, I could make everyone see sense. Make things right. The last thing I wanted was for you to get hurt.’ She turns and looks up the stairs.
‘Are you okay?’ I say.
‘Yes. I’m fine. The good news is: I’ve found my dad.’
‘Yeah, well… he could have told me… earlier.’
‘Told you what?’
‘Well… that you were alright. That you were here all along.’
‘I’m fine Mickey, really I am.’
‘You are sure about him, yeah? About Herb?’
‘Yeah… I think so. Why?’
‘I thought you were dead.’
‘Dead?’ She lets out a nervous laugh.
‘Over there.’
‘Where?’ I lean forward to point to the trail of blood. Before my arm will obey the instruction from my brain, we’re interrupted by the man at the top of the stairs, shouting down at us.
‘You ready to come up here yet?’
‘Yeah, I think my legs are coming back,’ I say and turn back to Grace and whisper: ‘Is he a cop?’
‘No,’ she says. ‘He’s with Riggs.’
‘Oh! How many are there?’
‘He’s one of two… plus Riggs.’
‘If they’re in control, where does that leave us?’ I say. She just shrugs. ‘And what about Mac? Have you seen him?’
‘No. Why?’
‘There was a body, over there. He came back for it.’ Her eyes widen and her mouth falls open. I squeeze her hand and realise I have to tell her the rest. ‘I thought it was you… it looked like the toenails were painted. But now I think it must have been…’
‘Right then, you two... up here now.’ The guy upstairs cuts me off again. We both look up and he flaps opens his jacket to reveal something shiny holstered beneath his arm.
I take the stairs slowly, one at a time, and pretend to slip so that Grace comes closer, just long enough for me to say it without being seen.
‘Have they got Herb?’
‘Yes,’ she breathes into my ear. ‘That’s the bad news.’
19.
Body Blow
Herb is sitting in his favourite chair by the fireplace. Thug Number Two is standing behind him, resting the heel of a gun in one of the deep leather dimples of the high back, and Riggs is seated opposite. With his head bowed, Herb reminds me of a woodlouse under attack; two spiders waiting patiently for their prey to unroll. As we enter the room, Riggs gets up and walks towards us.
‘Any news on the Jock?’ he says, turning to Thug Number One, and the man following us in shakes his head.
‘Has he said anything?’ Number One nods towards Herb, whose hunched shoulders remain motionless, and gets the same wordless response.
‘Maybe you can talk some sense into him,’ Riggs says to us, ‘before I completely lose it.’ I hold Grace’s hand and lead her to the seat Riggs has vacated, and drag another one noisily across the parquet floor and put it alongside. Riggs takes up a position behind me, and Number One retreats to his customary place in the doorway. With the stage set, I’m not quite sure what’s supposed to happen next. I needn’t have worried because Riggs continues giving direction.
‘Tell me what you’ve done with her?’ he yells and Herb lifts his head to reveal a red lump the size of a duck’s egg under his left eye.
‘Oh, God!’ Grace brings a hand up to cover her mouth, but Herb seems unfazed by the injury.
‘Like I said, I’ve never seen your wife,’ he says slowly and defiantly. ‘And I don’t know where she is.’
Before I can react, from behind, Riggs brings his right arm around my purl-knit collar and presses the cold tip of his gun barrel into my temple. Whoe
ver said one pain can cancel out another was having me on because the agony from these two places is singularly and cumulatively excruciating. I don’t move. I can’t move. I literally stop breathing. As if to compensate, Grace visibly jumps in her chair and gasps.
‘Leave him out of it!’ she screams. Riggs has got me in a firm grip and there’s nothing I can do but stare straight ahead at Herb.
‘That doesn’t change anything,’ Herb says, remaining calm and composed. ‘I can’t tell you something I don’t know.’
‘What about now?’ Riggs says, tightening his arm around my throat, whilst moving the gun to the side and pointing it straight at Grace. This time, Herb is the one to flinch. ‘I’ll ask you again, where is she?’
‘I… don’t know,’ Herb says, failing to conceal the panic in his voice.
‘Are you sure?’ Riggs says. Now he’s the one calm and assured. In control. ‘You really have nothing more to say.’
‘I don’t know about your wife…’ Herb splutters and Riggs’ finger bends against the trigger. ‘But I do know what happened to the lad.’
‘What lad?’
‘Your brother,’ Herb says, and the air leaves my lungs like a burst balloon.
‘Go on.’ Riggs continues, holding the gun steady.
‘Tell him Mickey,’ As Herb says it, Riggs reunites the end of the barrel with its imprint on the side of my head. Only now it threatens to remove the circle of skin like a hole punched in leather.
‘Uh… oh, Jesus… yeah. He had a knife. I had to fight him off…’ I gasp.
‘You killed him…’ Riggs says and I can’t tell if it’s a question and decide not to answer. ‘What happened to him?’
‘It was an accident…’
‘What did you do with him?’
‘We fought… the knife… he would have killed me…’
‘Then what?’
‘I… ran away.’
‘You killed my brother,’ he says slowly. ‘And then… you ran away.’
‘I was just a kid.’
‘He was just a kid!’ he roars, twisting the gun. The pain is unbearable and blood starts to trickle down the side of my face. ‘What happened to him… afterwards?’
‘I don’t…’
‘Mac tidied it up,’ Herb says, rescuing me, much as he did before.
‘I knew you must have been involved, Long,’ Riggs bellows.
‘I didn’t want to be involved,’ Herb says, glaring at Riggs. ‘You involved me, when you decided to send your kid brother into my lock-up, to nick my stuff.’ Like a bullet through my brain, realisation dawns after all this time; that’s exactly what Dad had sent me to do too – to break into Herb’s lock-up and steal his stuff. And yet, Herb still helped me, cleaned up my mess, covered my tracks and let me go.
‘So what did you do with him?’ Riggs shoots back.
‘Mac… dealt with it. I don’t know what happened to the…’
‘I want to know where the boy’s resting.’
‘Then you’ll need to ask Mac… I never have.’
‘That doesn’t cut it, Long. He’s one of yours… the same as this punk.’ Riggs releases his grip around my neck and pushes my head away with the pistol. I don’t get the sense I’m off the hook. Grace leans towards me and I’m glad for her concern. I turn to her, in need of reassurance from her eyes. But they’ll no longer meet mine; instead they dart back and forth and there’s a look of panic as if she’s drowning.
‘Take him back downstairs,’ Riggs says to the man who hasn’t long ago untied me, and my brain goes into overdrive as I scramble for my life.
‘Like he said…’ I blurt out. ‘It’s Mac you should be after.’ They all stop and stare at me and, although this isn’t how I would have wanted Grace to find out, I have to make the biggest impact while I’ve got their attention. ‘All that blood down there… There was a body. I saw him taken from her flat.’
‘Saw who taken from the flat?’ she says.
‘Like I’ve been saying, Grace… I thought it was you, but then… of course, I was the only bloody fool who didn’t know you were here all along. So it can only have been… Simon.’ I look around the room at the others and repeat the name for maximum effect. ‘Simon Pinner. Mac took him. He might still be alive. You have to get after him.’
It seems to have worked and Riggs is on the move in no time. He takes out his phone and leaves the room. Number One disappears with him and Number Two steps out from behind Herb’s chair, walks over to the window and turns back to face us. He keeps his gun trained in our general direction but seems otherwise disinterested.
‘Simon… is he dead?’ Grace whispers.
‘I didn’t get a proper look,’ I say. ‘I thought the toenails were… but they must have just been blue. It didn’t look good.’
When I look at her she’s staring into space. Her face is white.
‘What is this Mac anyway, a psycho?’ I say. Herb shakes his head.
‘No…’ he says, unconvincingly. ‘He… gets a bit enthusiastic, that’s all... takes his job too seriously.’
‘Not just the driving, then?’
‘His job is to protect me and my interests.’
‘So he goes after your enemies?’
‘Sometimes you have to take the initiative…’ he says with a shrug before his body language changes and he sighs. ‘He’s always been very loyal… but just lately… I’ve had to turn a blind eye.’
‘Because he’s started enjoying it too much?’
‘I don’t think… I can control him anymore. That’s why I wanted to bring someone else on board.’
‘Well, thanks for that,’ I say. ‘He almost killed me too.’
‘I’m sorry lad. That was never my intention.’
‘Maybe he was after Grace last night,’ I say and look across at her. At first she doesn’t react. ‘Otherwise, why Simon?’
‘Why does anybody kill anyone?’ she finally says with grit in her voice. Now she’s looking at me and I’m the one trying to avoid eye contact. ‘You killed Riggs’ brother.’ It’s a statement, loud enough for everyone to hear, but there’s a question mark disguised in her tone.
‘I didn’t mean to…’ My words are empty; spoken aloud, but not for her benefit. She locks onto my gaze, crying out for me to elaborate. It’s Herb who fills the silence.
‘People die all the time, Grace. You’d be surprised how many just disappear.’ She’s still looking at me like she hasn’t heard him.
‘I didn’t mean to kill him, Grace.’ I say it quietly and search her eyes for some flicker of understanding. All I get is my own reflection. ‘It was an accident.’
‘An accident?’ she says, her words cold and sharp like a blade. ‘How can you kill someone and just get away with it?’
‘I don’t know… You heard him… He made it go away.’ I look from her to Herb as if he has all the answers.
‘My hands are clean,’ he says, and as if to prove it he holds them out like Pontius Pilate, before adding: ‘Don’t ask, don’t tell.’
‘So it never bothered you before… what Mac gets up to?’ she says.
‘I’m not his keeper.’
‘Did you know he had Simon down there?’ she says. ‘All the time we were up here talking?’
‘No,’ he pleads, shaking his head. ‘I didn’t know where he was when I called him. When you said about the police coming, I wanted him back here to make sure there wasn’t anything in the house for them to find. I didn’t see him come in and he soon loaded up the van and left. When he got back that’s when he came in and said there’s an intruder. That must have been you, Mickey.’
‘And then he had his own tidying up to do,’ I say. ‘You have to admit Herb, he might have kept it from you, but it looks like he’s been doing all this in your name. Riggs’ wife… Now Pinner’s son.’
‘And Riggs’ brother,’ she adds and I cringe.
‘Grace… I didn’t…’ I say but she doesn’t even look at me.
‘So
me advice,’ he says leaning towards her in his chair. ‘A lesson Mickey learned a long time ago. It helps if you don’t ask too many questions.’
Grace looks from him to me and shakes her head.
‘Yeah, very paternal,’ I say. ‘Fatherly guidance on turning a blind eye to the sick elephant in the room.’
‘You want to talk about father figures?’ he asks. ‘Your old man was a bloody fool, Mickey. Probably still is. I offered him the chance to become my partner after Riggs… But, no, he thought he could do it better his own way; just taking stuff that didn’t belong to him. Not only did he turn me down but he then turned against me.’
‘It was your lock-up,’ I say, exhaling deeply. ‘I never knew.’
‘Exactly,’ he says. ‘Because you didn’t need to.’
‘So I was burgling you…’ I look across to Grace. She’s still shaking her head, but I figure she already knows the worst, she may as well hear the rest. ‘And you let me go?’
‘You’d done me a favour, remember, sticking it to that kid.’ Grace draws in a sharp breath and he continues in a whisper. ‘Once the body was gone and the place was cleaned up, no one would have ever suspected. Only your old man knew you’d been there that night, and he wasn’t talking.’
‘Does he know… my dad?’
‘What, that both his sons are killers?’ Grace says, in a disembodied voice. She slumps back in the chair when Herb holds up a conciliatory hand. Number Two seems to have become distracted, watching something out of the front window, and Herb starts stretching to look over the top of my chair. I wonder if he’s thinking about our chances of making a move while we’re not being watched. Instead he settles back and continues talking.
Mickey Take: When a debt goes bad... Page 31
