by Rob Ashman
‘Market intelligence? What the fuck is that?’
‘How can I put it so you’ll understand… it’s important to know what’s going on. And you are just the man to tell me.’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘I think you do, Mr Malice. I think you’re being modest.’
‘I think you’re being a dick.’
‘Your friend Burko spoke highly of you. In fact, he spoke about you a lot. But then we were being rather persuasive at the time. So, you see, Mr Malice, I know exactly what you’re able to provide. I’m intrigued to learn about the insights you can provide.’
‘Go to hell.’
‘Given my past, I might well do, but that’s a long way in the future, and I prefer to live in the moment. We will of course recompense you for your efforts. Probably a lot more than you demanded from Burko.’
‘I’m not—’
‘There will be one big difference though, Mr Malice. You see, it would appear you were the organ grinder and Burko was the monkey. It’s only fair to tell you that, going forward, I will be grinding the organ. You will find us straightforward to work with, I like to keep things simple.’
‘I’m nobody’s monkey,’ Malice half got out of his chair and a fat hand clasped his shoulder.
‘For a big man, you never see him coming.’
The man in the leather jacket eased Malice back into his seat and stood behind him.
‘I’ll fucking—’ Malice gripped the table.
‘No you won’t. Because you’re a sensible man who enjoys more than his police salary can afford. That’s where we come in. I’ll leave you now and we’ll be in touch.’ Vasco rose from the table. ‘Oh, I nearly forgot. I always like to leave my new business partners a gift to cement our relationship. Something to show you how committed we are to working in partnership,’ he reached down, picked up the bag and placed it on the table. ‘Please don’t get up, Mr Malice. Enjoy the drink. It might be colder now.’
Vasco walked away flanked by the monster in the leather jacket.
Malice clenched and unclenched his fists and watched them leave. He peered inside the bag and fished out the contents.
In his hand was a big woollen hat. The type of hat that, if you wore it, would give your head the same profile as Marge Simpson.
Chapter 33
M alice bumped his near-side tyre into the kerb, his alloy wheel made a horrible grinding noise against the concrete. Normally that would have provoked a bout of swearing, but on this occasion, there were more important things to curse about.
He rapped his knuckles against the woodwork and a light came on in the hallway. The door opened.
‘You gotta be kidding?’
Hayley was dressed in a towelling bathrobe and slippers.
‘Hey, how are you?’ Malice replied.
‘What…?’
‘Can I come in?’
‘Mally, do you know what time it is?’
‘I know, I just…’
‘Just what?’
‘I wanted a chat.’
‘For Christ’s sake.’
Hayley shuffled back into the lounge leaving the door open. Malice followed. She flicked the mute button on the TV.
‘I… umm…’ he said.
‘What is it, Mally. What do you want?’
‘Well—’
‘Daddy!’ There was the sound of scampering feet on the stairs and Amy flew into the lounge, her arms outstretched. ‘I thought I could hear you.’
‘Hiya, sweet pea,’ he said, lifting her up.
‘Amy, it’s past your bedtime,’ said Hayley folding her arms across her chest.
‘I know, mummy, but daddy’s here.’
‘How was school today?’ Mally asked.
‘We did baking.’
‘Wow! What like proper off-the-telly baking?’
‘Yup. We made fairy cakes.’ Amy fought against his grasp to get to the floor. ‘Look.’ She took his hand and led him into the kitchen where she prised the lid off a biscuit tin. ‘They’re lemon flavoured.’
Amy dug one out and gave it to Malice. He took a bite.
‘Oh, wow! That is the bestest cake I have ever tasted.’
‘Do you think so?’
‘Do I think so? I know so!’
He munched away at the tasty morsel, rolling his eyes in mock ecstasy.
‘Amy, it’s time you were in bed,’ Hayley called from the other room.
‘Come on.’ Malice took Amy back into the lounge, the remnants of the cake in his hand. ‘Oh I nearly forgot,’ he patted his pockets, ‘you don’t happen to know anyone who likes chocolate, do you?’ He waved a Toblerone in the air.
‘That’s my favourite,’ Amy squeaked.
‘I don’t believe you…’ mumbled Hayley.
‘Mummy, can I have some now?’
‘No. Off to bed,’ Hayley snatched the bar from Amy’s hand. ‘You can have this tomorrow. Go on — up the stairs.’
‘Off you go.’ Malice kissed Amy on the forehead and she scampered off.
‘Really?’ Hayley held up the chocolate. ‘At nine o’clock on a school night. You are something else.’ She slumped down onto the sofa, crossed her legs and began kicking her foot out.
‘I saw it and thought—’
‘Yeah and that’s the problem, nothing good ever comes from you thinking. Are you going to tell me what the hell’s going on?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Oh come on, Mally. First I get a call from you on the pretext of making arrangements to see Amy—’
‘Pretext? I wanted to know—’
‘Then you show up with that look on your face.’
‘What look?’
‘For Christ’s sake. I sometimes think you’ve forgotten I used to be your wife. The one who had to put up with a pile of shit every day that was dressed up as our marriage. The same look you had when you brought Al Capone to our door.’
‘Al Capone?’
‘He owned a pizza parlour, didn’t he?’
‘Well… yes… I suppose so.’
‘I might not be married to you anymore but it hasn’t gone away.’ Her foot was pumping up and down.
‘What hasn’t?’
‘My ability to know when there’s a ton of trouble about to land in my lap.’
‘You’re such a drama queen.’
Malice collapsed into the chair opposite.
‘Drama queen! You’re fucking right there. Being with you, that shit comes for free. It’s like an all-you-can-eat Khenan Malice buffet — where every plate is stacked full of shit.’
‘It wasn’t like that.’
‘Oh, which part? The part when they kicked our front door in? Or the part when they trashed our house?’
‘For Christ’s sake, Hayley. I only—’
‘Screwed up our lives. Yeah, you did that alright.’
‘Mummy, I’m cold. Can daddy tuck me in with my blanket?’
Amy was peeking around the door.
‘Of course, I can Sweet Pea.’
Malice jumped up and took his daughter back to bed. Hayley stomped into the kitchen to put the kettle on. Minutes later, Malice returned. One cup was next to the teapot on the worktop.
‘We need a more formal arrangement. This isn’t working.’
Hayley’s knuckles were white as she gripped onto the worktop.
‘Arrangement for what?’
‘You seeing Amy. You can’t just drop by whenever you feel like it. She needs routine and you swanning in and disrupting things is causing a problem. Not to mention the fact that whenever you do, I’m always the one who looks like the bad guy.’
‘Sorry, Hayley. I just wanted to check you were okay.’
‘I think it might be best if you don’t come round until you get whatever it is sorted out.’
Malice stared into space as Hayley poured boiling water onto a teabag.
‘I want you to stay with your sister for a while,’ he blurted out.
/>
‘What?’
‘It will only be for a few days. Tell her you’re having some work done on the house.’
‘Why would I want to do that?’
‘And tell the school there’s a family emergency and you have to take Amy out for a while.’
‘Take Amy out of school?’
‘A few days, that’s all.’
‘Mally, what the hell is going on?’
‘Go to your sister’s place.’
‘Mally!’
‘For a couple of days.’
‘Couple of days for what?’ Hayley pushed the cup away, slopping tea on her hand. She cursed and ran it under the tap.
‘I have something that needs sorting and …’
‘And you need to know we are out of the way.’
‘It’s nothing serious, it won’t take long.’
‘Serious enough for us to have to do a disappearing act.’ She pulled a towel from the hook on the side of the cabinet and dried her hand.
‘It’s for the best. A couple of days is all I need. Make some calls tomorrow and pack a bag, Amy will love an unexpected holiday.’
‘Doesn’t look as though I have a lot of choice.’
Malice nodded and walked through the lounge into the hallway.
‘Call me when you get there,’ he said.
The front door banged shut behind him.
Thirty minutes later the stench of burned out cars wafted through the air vents in the dashboard. Even if Malice was blindfolded, he would recognise the Claxton Estate in an instant. He parked up, popped open the boot and pulled the filthy coat around his shoulders. He glanced at his watch — still a little early for Wrigley and Bullseye. But he could wait.
‘Mind your car, mister?’ a shrill voice cut through the night air. A scruffy kid, about ten years of age, skidded to a halt on his bike. His face and clothes were the colour of the road.
‘What?’ said Malice.
‘Mind your car for a fiver?’
Malice reached over and yanked on the handle bars. The front wheel twisted and the kid toppled to the ground.
‘Fuckin’ hell.’ The kid sprawled on all fours, trying to free his leg from under the bike frame.
‘Jonas!’ another boy yelled. The back wheel of his bike skidding in an arc as he shuddered to a stop. ‘What are you doing?’
‘This wanker knocked me off. All I said was—’
‘Jonas, don’t.’
‘He knocked me over.’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Malice. He’s my cousin and he’s new around here.’
‘He’s going to get himself hurt.’
‘Who the hell is this joker?’ asked Jonas, tugging his bike upright and rubbing his knees.
‘I’ll have a word, Mr Malice.’ The second lad was a couple of years older and at least a couple a shades cleaner.
‘You do that Aaron,’ replied Malice. ‘And while you’re at it, tell him that around here you mind cars for a tenner.’ He tossed a note onto the ground and walked away.
‘I’ll sort it, Mr Malice. Don’t worry about your car.’
‘I won’t, Aaron. I won’t.’
Malice broke into a jog and was soon at the house. He grabbed the corrugated metal sheeting, slid it across and stepped through into the garden. The back of the house was in darkness. He stopped in his tracks.
It’s too quiet.
He paced to the back door and stuck his head inside. The usual human jigsaw of bodies lying on the floor was absent. He edged his way to the foot of the stairs and stopped.
It’s way too quiet.
After taking the stairs two at a time, he reached the landing. The room to his right was in darkness. He sniffed the air — it smelled of rusted iron. Then he stepped across the threshold and saw the silhouette of a man sitting in the armchair.
‘Okay, Bullseye?’ Malice hissed.
He flicked the button on his phone and a shaft of crystal white light cut through the gloom. Bullseye’s head was tilted back, eyes staring up at the ceiling, his mouth gaping open. The front of his Demin jacket was stained brown with congealed blood. A six-inch gash ran along the side of his neck.
Malice scanned the beam around the room. The place was empty and the floor had been swept clean.
Shit.
He clicked a button and the station number came up on his phone. His thumb hovered over the button. He stared at it, glanced at Bullseye, then back to his phone. He switched it off.
Back at his car both kids were waiting for him on their bikes.
‘Everything is in order, Mr Malice,’ Aaron nodded towards the vehicle. ‘And Jonas wants to say sorry.’
‘Oh, then let him say it.’
Malice unlocked the doors.
‘Sorry Mr Malice,’ said Jonas.
‘That’s okay son. You learned a couple of lessons today. Rule 1: Know who’s who; Rule 2: Know the price of everything.’
‘Erm, Mr Malice,’ Aaron sidled over to him. ‘A man came round and gave us this. He wanted to stick it under your wiper blade.’ He held an envelope in his hand.
‘What did you tell him?’
‘Jonas said if he did, he was gonna shoot him.’
‘What did the man say to that?’
‘He laughed.’
‘What did he look like?’
‘He was old and wearing a brown leather jacket.’
‘By old do you mean… like me?’
‘Yeah. He was a white guy with black hair and he spoke funny.’
‘Funny how?’
‘Like he was off EastEnders.’
Malice took the envelope and opened the flap. Inside was a picture of his daughter –the same one Vasco had shown him earlier — plus a note. On it was written:
Ryedale Park at 6am tomorrow. I’ll be feeding the ducks.
Chapter 34
M alice strode across Ryedale Park trying to visualise the person the kids had described to him at the Claxton. But all he saw was a dead man.
The bottoms of his trousers were soaking up the early morning dew. The sun was trying to break through and the cold pricked at his face.
In a few hours Hayley and Amy would be safe and he could turn his attention to ‘fixing’ his little problem. Until then, he would have to play along. He had to play nicely.
Malice wound his way along a path and crested the top of a hill. A large expanse of water surrounded by trees stretched out in front of him. He deviated from the path collecting more dew as he went.
The lake was oval shaped with heavy stonework around the edges. Off to his right he could see a man with black hair, wearing a leather jacket, sitting on a park bench near the water, reading a newspaper. Malice marched over and sat beside him.
‘You were early for the last meeting as well, so I hear,’ the man said, not looking up.
‘I like to be consistent.’
‘Consistent or predictable? Both can get you into trouble.’
‘That depends on who you’re dealing with.’
‘True.’
‘How did you get my number?’
‘We looked it up in the phone book — it was under ‘Bent copper’. Oh and that reminds me…’ the man removed a mobile phone from his inside pocket and threw it into the water. ‘Don’t bother trying to trace us.’
‘Wasn’t going to… pretty sloppy you held onto it this long.’
‘Mr Vasco said he liked you. He said you and I would work well together — make a good team.’
‘What do you want?’
‘He also said you didn’t do small talk. I see what he means.’
‘Who are you? The third fucking Mitchell brother?’ Malice said noting the guy’s accent.
‘Ha, very good. In fact, you can call me that. Mitchell… it does have a ring to it.’
‘Why are we here?’
‘Do you go grocery shopping, Mr Malice?’
‘What the hell does that mean?’
‘You see, on occasions I do the food shop. The problem is my wife doe
sn’t trust me, so every time I go she gives me a list.’
‘Fascinating.’
‘And every time she puts romanesco and samphire on the list. Do you know what they are?’
‘No.’
‘Neither do I. And do you know what I do when she does that?’ Mitchell turned sideways to face Malice.
‘No.’
‘I don’t give a fuck. Because I know if we don’t eat romanesco or samphire the sun will still come up in the morning. Do you know what I mean, Mr Malice? Life goes on.’
‘I’m surprised you’re married.’
‘Oh?’
‘You must have a really big dick, cos you’re boring as fuck.’
‘I’m only telling you the story because I have a shopping list for you — the difference is if you don’t get everything on it, the sun won’t come up for your family.’
‘You go near my family and I’ll kill you.’
‘I wish I had a pound for every time someone said that. I’d be a rich man and wouldn’t have to do this job. Actually, no, that’s a lie. I’d do this job for fun.’
‘Fun is going to be tearing you into strips.’
‘That’s not a smart move because if anything unfortunate should happen to me, Hayley and Amy will find themselves at the bottom of this pond. In pieces, wrapped in plastic.’
‘You’re bluffing.’
‘Nope, afraid not. And we’ve chosen this pond because it’s not too deep and they’ll be easy to find. There’s no point teaching you a lesson if you don’t get to see how much trouble we’ve gone to.’
‘I’ll fucking—’
‘No you won’t, because you’re a smart guy, and smart guys don’t get their loved ones killed. You seem to believe you have a choice in this. Let me tell you — as your new best friend — you don’t. We like to keep things simple.’
‘When this is over—’
‘And that’s the best part — it’s never over. It’s the gift that just keeps on giving.’
