The Barbershop Seven: A Barney Thomson omnibus

by Douglas Lindsay

  'Mummy!' came the cry from upstairs, accompanied by uncontrollable wailing. 'Mummy! Hoagy said I'm a zombie!'

  'I did not! She's lying!'

  'I'm not a zombie!'

  'I didn't say that!'

  'He did!'

  More tears from the bottomless well.

  Garrett Carmichael laid her hands on the table and engaged both of the men in the room.

  'I'm away to turn out the light. If, in my absence, anyone arrives at the door asking to kill me, tell them I'm unavailable.'

  She smiled in a certain way and rose from the table.

  Barney watched her go, and then took another drink of wine when she was finally out of view and he could hear her wading into the morass of her two children. Turned to look at Randolph, but he was too occupied with his own failings and foibles.

  Life, he thought, is like a dodgy stomach after a big dinner. It never throws up exactly what you think it will.

  The doorbell rang.

  Barney laughed and looked at Randolph.

  'The next assassin,' he said, and rose from the table.

  Randolph waited until Barney was gone from the kitchen before looking up. As he slowly recovered his composure, he was beginning to wonder whether he should have said everything he had. Ephesian, if he should find out, would be furious, although it would be Jacobs he would have to answer to.

  Barney opened the door.

  'Arf.'

  Barney smiled and opened up for Igor to enter, then stuck his head out of the door and checked along the street for anyone nefarious, before retreating from the cold. Igor was standing in the kitchen doorway looking suspiciously at Randolph. Barney walked through and put his hand on Igor's shoulder.

  'Thought you might make an appearance,' he said.

  Igor nodded. He may have made himself available to the likes of Ruth Harrison and Gently Ferguson, but he was in love with Garrett Carmichael, and at some stage over the previous three days Barney had managed to work that out.

  'Today on the news,' said Barney, 'on the orders of Ephesian, Randolph here was going to try to kill Garrett by use of some cheese, but has failed. Meanwhile, there's a secret society on this very island protecting the descendants of Christ, and tonight they will be carrying out some weird ritual which will involve blood. Garrett's blood, so they were thinking, but we're not going to let that happen.'

  Igor, with his muppet-like face and hunchback contorting in an exaggerated manner, looked shocked. He turned and snarled at Randolph. Barney once again placed his hand on Igor's shoulder.

  'It's all right, Igor, she's safe. We're here, we can look after her until they've finished whatever it is they're up to tonight. And I don't think we have to worry about heid-the-ba' here anyway. The only problem will be if that psychopath Jacobs shows up, but we can deal with that if we have...'

  The doorbell rang. Once. Somehow managed to sound ominous, as if the inner workings of the bell knew that it was Jacobs outside, come to collect the blood of the unwilling victim.

  'Oh for crying out loud,' came the voice from upstairs, 'did you lot hand out party invitations. I'm trying to get the kids to sleep.'

  Barney and Igor exchanged a glance. Barney was unconcerned, but the mute hunchback of the two of them could be a little thin-skinned sometimes when it came to women, and took it personally.

  Barney trudged along the corridor and opened the door. Sure enough, there in the pale, creeping flesh, stood Jacobs, all brooding malice. As the day had progressed and Ephesian had retreated more and more into his dark, impenetrable shell, Jacobs had sunk further and further into bleak malevolence.

  'Why am I not surprised?' he muttered darkly.

  'I could say the same thing, cowboy,' said Barney.

  Jacobs stared cruelly into Barney's eyes and then looked over his shoulder. From where he stood he could make out the outer reaches of Igor's hump.

  'The gallant crime-fighting double act has moved on,' he said caustically. 'Aren't there any other women you need to protect?'

  'I don't know,' said Barney. 'Are there any other women whose blood you want to use in some weird ceremony this evening?'

  The anger flashed across Jacobs' face. He stared back over Barney's shoulder, mind racing, trying to work out how Barney could already know such detail.

  Igor? Could Igor know that much?

  'Randolph!' he suddenly exploded, and then with two quick strides he pushed passed Barney and stormed into the house. Barney, for his part, allowed him access as he wanted him in there. An identifiable enemy like this was better within.

  Jacobs stormed into the kitchen.

  'Randolph!' he shouted again.

  Randolph cowered in the corner. Barney appeared in the kitchen. Jacobs turned and looked bitterly behind him. Igor stared at the intruder.

  'Where is she?' barked Jacobs.

  'Arf,' muttered Igor, threateningly. Keep your stinkin' hands off her, he wanted to say, something which he managed to communicate reasonably well, even to a man such as Jacobs.

  Jacobs scowled at Igor and Barney in turn, then looked round at Randolph.

  'Where is she?' he repeated.

  'Upstairs,' said Randolph, eyes attached to the floor. 'Putting the kids to bed.'

  Barney moved across the door, blocking the way. Jacobs glared at him and then pulled out a seat at the table.

  'I'll wait,' he said.

  More angry glances were thrown around the room, and then slowly the tension settled and the combatants relaxed into the temporary lull of a bizarre situation. Jacobs had come round to murder Garrett Carmichael, and was sitting in the kitchen waiting for her to appear, with two men who knew that that was what he wanted to do and were intent on not letting him do it. It was absurd, and Barney was of a mind to open up a discussion about it. However, he chose instead to stand by the door and wait to see what moves Jacobs intended to make.

  Footsteps behind him and he stood back to let Carmichael enter the room, confident that there were plenty of things to be said before anyone tried to do anything stupid.

  Carmichael looked around the room, taking in each of the men in turn.

  'Well, isn't this nice?' she said, acerbically.

  'We need to talk, Mrs Carmichael,' said Jacobs.

  'Whatever,' she said. 'But make it fast. I'm pissed off. The kids are pissing me off, my mother's pissed me off. I had an all right day at work, then I've been home for five minutes and my confidence is shattered, I feel like a crap mum and a crap person and a crap lawyer and I could kill someone. And looking around this room there appear to be four stupid men as candidates, so make it fast and then fuck off.'

  There's nothing scarier than a woman on the edge.

  She was met with silence.

  Spilled Blood

  Ephesian pulled gently on the copy of Virginibus Puerisque and watched as the large hidden door in the library wall slid inwards. He gestured for Ping Phat to go ahead of him. Ping Phat reciprocated the gesture. Ephesian accepted the innate lack of trust which was bound to exist between them, flicked the switch for the dim lights down the steep stairwell and walked in ahead of Phat. Once inside, he closed the door and the two men began to walk downwards in silence.

  Ephesian felt backed into a corner. Problems seemed everywhere and all-consuming, and in this particular problem he had quickly accepted his fate. Ping Phat was pushing for as much involvement in proceedings as he could get; Ephesian had still to speak to his son about replacing Lawton in the Brotherhood, something which he had been reluctant to do in any case. So Ping Phat was about to be admitted to the Brotherhood, with none of the usual checks, with no consultation between Ephesian and his senior lieutenant.

  They reached the bottom of the stairs, where the cellar opened out to the large room with the thirteen-seated table at its heart. Now Ping Phat walked ahead of Ephesian, his eyes open in awe. He turned and smiled at Ephesian, although the man was staring at the chair at the head of the table, wondering if they would ever have the opportunit
y to fill it.

  Finding himself ignored, Phat turned back to the table, pulled out one of the chairs and sat down. His hands ran up and down the old wood, feeling the grooves and marks which had accumulated over the years.

  'So this is the very table at which Christ took the Last Supper,' he said.

  Ephesian looked at the back of his head.

  'You misunderstand,' he said.

  Phat turned sharply. Ephesian quickly lowered his gaze.

  'Joseph fled Israel with Christ's family. He took with him the chalice from which Jesus had taken wine at the supper. He was in no position to take any of the furniture.'

  'I see. And you have lost the Grail?'

  Ephesian did not respond. They had already spent half an hour talking about the lost Grail.

  'And this table?' said Phat, accepting that his cheap Grail jibe had been ignored.

  'It was made in the mid-nineteenth century and was initially placed in the cathedral. When this chamber was constructed a few years later, the table was disassembled and brought down here.'

  'Ah,' said Ping Phat. 'Not the table of Christ, but auspicious nevertheless.'

  Ephesian did not reply. He didn't want to be down here with Ping Phat, he didn't want to be making small talk. He wanted to know that Jacobs was carrying out his tasks and if he had retrieved the Grail from Roosevelt. Instead he was stuck holding the hand of the visitor, like some five pound-an-hour tour guide.

  'So,' said Phat, 'there is the business of my initiation into the Brotherhood, no?'

  Ephesian stared at the ground, and then he walked to the back of the room, opened the drawer at the top of the small cabinet, and took out the long thin piece of maroon cloth, three candles, a bowl of rose petals and the large ceremonial dagger.

  ***

  'So, you,' said Carmichael, pointing to Jacobs, 'you first. Is it true you want to kill me? And don't bullshit, because I've had enough of that in the last half hour.'

  Jacobs stared at her for a few seconds, then glanced at Barney. The situation was insane and here he was, push coming to shove, and he was proving to be as small-town inept as everyone else.

  'The Society has a meeting of the utmost importance tonight,' he replied, going off on a politician's tangent, addressing a question he had not been asked. 'There are certain items which we need to collect for the ceremony to take place.'

  Carmichael put her hand on her hip.

  'Like my blood,' she said.

  Jacobs did not reply. Igor scowled, although he made sure to replace the scowl with a look of dog-like affection when he stared at Carmichael. But although she too was secretly in love with Igor, she was in no mood for dog-like looks of affection from anyone, even from a little guy with a roguish hump.

  'How much do you need exactly?' she asked, looking witheringly at Jacobs.

  This one caught him off guard a little.

  'What?' he said.

  'You need all six pints or just a cup? Do you freaks up there want to bathe in it or are you just after a quick drink?'

  Jacobs had been thrown firmly on the back foot. Felt a bit like a criminal who'd just been asked by the police what kind of vehicle he'd like them to provide for his escape.

  'What?' he repeated.

  Barney stared at Jacobs and asked, 'Why Garrett?'

  'I'm doing the talking, Bucko,' said Carmichael, who was flowing and enjoying the power that a full-on fucked-off woman has over men. Barney held up his hands in a backing off gesture. 'So, aye,' she said, turning to Jacobs, 'why me?'

  Jacobs gritted his teeth. He'd been sucked into the mess. Without saying a word it was already acknowledged that he was here with the intent to kill her. And, despite the knife in his pocket, he wasn't sure how he was going to do that, surrounded by three other men, at least two of whom would try to stop him.

  'The blood needs to come from a woman, to represent the Sacred Feminine.'

  'You've been reading too much pulp fiction,' interrupted Carmichael, rolling her eyes.

  'She needs to be a mother,' continued Jacobs unabashed. 'She needs to be someone who is versed in the way of the society.'

  'You know that Ian told me,' she said as a statement of fact.

  Jacobs looked into the weary eyes of a widow whose heart died every time she thought of her husband in the hospital.

  'We ordered him to,' he said coldly.

  The sadness went. She shook her head, smiled ruefully.

  'You knew he was dying, you took advantage of him, and you thought it wouldn't matter if his wife also died some day.'

  'Exactly.'

  'Did you tell him why you wanted me to know?' she asked, the thought troubling her as soon as she'd asked the question. Had her husband knowingly set her up?

  'We told him we'd decided to take on female members and that you'd be taking his place. He thought he was doing you a favour.'

  She laughed bitterly, pulled a seat away from the kitchen table and sat down. Stared at the table top for a few seconds then looked up at him. Waved her hand dismissively.

  'And if the kids are orphaned, who cares?' she said. Could feel her emotions swinging wildly all over the place. Igor wanted to reach out and hold her hand.

  'Yes,' said Jacobs, 'if you want to be brutal about it. There's a higher purpose here.'

  'And what would that be?' she asked sharply.

  Jacobs began to drum his fingers on the table. He needed a plan, he needed to get out of this situation, he needed to get away from Barney and Igor.

  'Come up to the house with me and we can speak to Mr Ephesian,' he said.

  'No!' said Barney.

  'Arf!'

  'And who's going to look after the kids?' she replied. 'Tonight, and for the next fifteen years after you've slit my throat?'

  'We can talk,' said Jacobs, wittering on. 'Maybe we can make some kind of arrangement.'

  'Arrangement? That would be where you only killed me a bit? Or maybe you'd just hack off a limb? Would that give you enough blood?'

  'Mr Ephesian can be very accommodating,' said Jacobs.

  'Whoop-de-doo.'

  'Get out,' said Barney quietly.

  Jacobs looked brusquely round at him.

  'I'm discussing matters with Mrs Carmichael,' he said.

  'You're discussing how you're going to kill her. This is insane. Get the fuck out of her house.'

  'Arf!'

  'It's all right, Barney,' said Carmichael, holding up her hand. And she looked round at Igor and gave him the kind of look which made his heart dissolve into mush, and she mouthed It's all right silently to him.

  'So,' she said, turning back to Jacobs, her wildly fluctuating mood having settled into some sort of resignation, borne of the unreality of the whole thing. Just could not take seriously that they were sitting in her kitchen matter-of-factly discussing her murder. 'Why do you have to actually kill me?'

  Jacobs drummed his fingers some more, a rhythmless beat as he was a rhythmless man.

  'People give blood donations, don't they?' she said. 'You don't die the second you hand over your pint to the blood transfusion service. At least, I didn't the last time I went.'

  Jacobs drummed on. Not yet considering what she was saying, barely listening, trying to work out how he was going to be able to do this without killing everyone in the room.

  'You are, surely,' she continued, 'a Christian society. It doesn't sound very Christian to have to sacrifice someone. Is it actually laid down by the hand of God somewhere that you need to kill the person? If you just ask nicely, you can have some of my blood for your stupid ceremony. I don't care. Take it.'

  Barney looked at her as if she was insane, as did Igor, who this time did reach out and take her hand.

  'It's cool,' she said to them.

  The words finally sank in for Jacobs. He stared at her, everything not yet really computing. Trying to decide if this was just another diversionary tactic and if he should even be allowing himself to consider the idea.

  He and Ephesian had
thought all along that she would have to die. Just asking for her blood had never even crossed their minds. But was it actually laid down anywhere in the old teachings, the documents first written down by the Knights Templar over nine hundred years previously, that there had to be a sacrifice?

  'Garrett,' protested Barney, 'really, shouldn't we just get this comedian out the house? Why are you even entertaining this guy? Call the police.'

  'Arf!'

  'And say what?' she said. 'There's a secret society who wants my blood? Are you kidding me? And the police around here means Gainsborough, and I suspect he's probably one of the flippin' brothers.' She looked at Jacobs, who said nothing.

  'Call the police on the mainland,' urged Barney.

  'Same question,' she said. 'What do I say to them?'

  Barney did not reply.

  'So how much blood do you need?' asked Carmichael again.

  'Half a cup, maybe,' said Jacobs, a little non-plussed.

  'Cool,' she replied. 'I'll get a bottle and a knife. Any of you practiced in medicine in case I faint?'

  Barney and Igor looked shocked.

  'I'm kidding,' she said. 'I'm not going to faint. I'll make a cut in my hand and see how we're getting on, all right?'

  'This is stupid,' said Barney. 'You owe them nothing.'

  She thought about it; who she owed and to whom her life belonged.

  'I owe Ian, and he'd want me to do this. And if it gets you lot out of my house, then we're the better for that. And when you're gone, I'm going to go upstairs and sit and watch the children sleeping, because I'm never angry with them when they're like that. And tomorrow and the day after tomorrow and the day after that, I'm going to try to keep that feeling of not being angry.'

  They exchanged a glance. Barney appreciated the thought, even though he would never truly appreciate the wonderful hell that it is to have children.

  'And you,' she said, turning to Jacobs, 'do we have a deal? I presume for all your brooding malevolence, you don't actually want to have to kill anyone. I'll give you credit for that, even if you don't deserve it. I give you the blood and you can toddle off back to your master up the hill.'