He crashed back onto a table with a loud grunt. Screamed, ‘Fuck.’ Budge was clearly not used to people fighting back.
Trying to keep track of Budge, Kenny turned to see how the other fight was progressing. King had his father in a headlock. Peter’s face was red with effort. He was twisting to try and land some blows on King’s kidneys, but missing. If this kept up, Peter was going to run out of oxygen.
Kenny grabbed a tray from a table, knowing it wasn’t heavy enough, but launched it like a Frisbee at King’s head. He ducked and this was enough distraction for Peter to scramble free.
Movement at his side caused Kenny to twist in reflex. Budge had recovered in the split second he was distracted with his father. The twist wasn’t enough and Budge caught him on the temple. His next punch caught him in the gut.
Budge jumped, brought up a knee into Kenny’s chin. He was thrown back on to a table. He felt the corner of it stab between two ribs. Kenny struggled to get up. If he didn’t get back on to his feet, he couldn’t defend himself.
Budge came at him again. Kicks and punches rained down on him in a fury. Kenny managed to deflect some of them with his good arm, but the odd one caught his cast. Each time the pain was more blinding than the last. It was taking all of Kenny’s will and strength to stay on his feet. Much more of this and he was a goner.
As if he recognised this, Budge’s attack increased in speed. It was relentless. Blow. Defend. Punch. Swerve, twist, absorb.
Neither man spoke. It was all grunt, groan, attack and counter.
Kenny was all but on his knees. He dodged another blow, tripped over a broken table. Budge followed until Kenny lashed out. His foot caught Budge in the stomach. Hard. It felt good.
He needed a weapon. If he took much more of this beating, Budge was going to walk away with the prize. Kenny couldn’t allow that to happen.
The broken table. A leg was hanging off. One end was rounded like a club, the other end was breaking off at a sharp angle. He stretched over, twisted the leg and pulled it off so that it was like a spike.
A woman’s voice sounded shrill as a beacon in the fog of testosterone.
‘Enough,’ she shouted. ‘Everybody stop.’
Kenny looked up.
It was Alexis. She was shaking with fear, but the gun in her hand was surprisingly steady. Her eyes were locked on Budge. A shadow moved from behind her, his face hot with the need for action.
‘Calum?’ asked Kenny, climbing to his feet. He looked beyond the boy for his brother.
‘Budge got Mark,’ said Alexis. ‘Gutted him like a fish.’
‘No,’ said Kenny. ‘No.’ He closed his eyes. Poor kid. That one was on him. If he’d not given the boys the work, this wouldn’t have happened. ‘I’m so sorry, Calum.’ He locked down his grief. It couldn’t be allowed to get in the way.
Calum edged into the room. His eyes were red, his face rigid, his need for action tight in every fibre of his body. ‘You,’ he said to Budge. His voice was quiet and all the more disturbing for it.
‘Aww man,’ said Budge. ‘That was your brother?’ He smiled. ‘Sorry for your loss, dude.’
Alexis put out a hand and stopped Calum from reacting. The young man quivered like a bull waiting to attack the red rag.
Kenny surveyed the room. Tables and chairs were tossed everywhere as if a hurricane had blasted the place. Just beyond Calum’s reach he could see the baton on the floor. Kenny caught Calum’s eye and looked pointedly at the weapon.
Peter and Matt were side by side at the bar, both breathing heavily, both bruised, but both looked able to keep going for as long as it took.
Peter took a step away from his opponent, his eye on him at all times, but now there was a gun in the room the dynamic had changed considerably.
Kenny doubted that Alexis had the will or the strength to do anything with the gun and he was sure that every man in the room was thinking the same thing.
‘On your knees,’ Alexis screamed at Budge and King.
‘Now, darling,’ said Budge, moving slowly as he spoke. ‘You sure a pretty little thing like you should be holding a messy big gun like that?’ His movements were barely perceptible, but they brought him closer to Alexis with each passing second.
‘On your fucking knees,’ Alexis shouted.
King shouted, ‘Okay, woman. Okay.’ And leaning forward, did just that. This movement was enough for Alexis to shift her vision for a second. That second was enough.
Kenny shouted a warning.
Budge rushed forward, grabbed the gun, twisted it out of Alexis’ hands and slapped her down on to the floor.
‘And now the fun begins,’ Budge crowed. He lifted, sighted and shot Peter. He was blown against the bar and slumped to the floor in a heap. Kenny dived behind a table, but not before he saw Calum, stretch, roll and come up onto his feet with the baton on his grip.
Budge brought the gun round and sighted. Calum lashed down with the baton on Budge’s wrist. He screamed. The gun dropped to the floor. Calum adjusted his footing and with a vicious backstroke, caught Budge on the temple. With that power, Kenny hoped the bone would have crumbled, shards shooting inwards piercing through Budge’s brain.
Budge crumbled to his knees and fell over. His body on top of the gun. Kenny handed the wooden spike to Alexis so he could pick up the gun. He leaned forward to push Budge out of the way. Budge was heavy. Kenny pushed some more.
Budge moved. But not in the direction Kenny was aiming for. He pushed himself back onto his knees with one hand. The other was holding the gun.
The black hole of the barrel was pointed at Kenny’s heart.
Alexis screamed, ‘No.’ And lashed the spike round like it was on a tight spring into Budge’s right eye.
Budge screamed and fell forward once again. The gun fell from his fingers and bounced on the carpet. Kenny and King both dived for it.
Kenny got there first. He curled his fingers round the grip and kicked King out of the way. He watched as Calum helped Alexis back onto her feet.
King was on his knees, staring at him, glee wild in his face. ‘Go on, son. Put an end to this. Pull that wee thing. It’s called a trigger.’ He laughed. ‘Look at you. You can’t do it, you pussy.’
‘Give it to me,’ said Alexis, pushing the hair from her face. Her mouth set in a grim line. ‘I can do it. I’ll happily do it.’
Kenny held the gun before him. He pointed it at King’s face.
He knew what he wanted to do.
He looked from King to Alexis and Calum. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see movement at the bar.
Peter groaned and struggled to his feet. His left shoulder was hanging too low and was a bloody mess, but he was steady on his feet as he approached his son.
He put a hand on Kenny’s shoulder and said, ‘No. Give it to me.’
Peter took the gun from Kenny’s hand. ‘Take your friends outside.’
King stayed on his knees, his face shifting from fear to joy to relief. ‘Yes. You won’t do it either. Put the gun down, Pete. Let’s finish this the way we started. You and me. Toe to toe.’
Peter looked out of the room, through the window to the darkness beyond. ‘Is that police sirens I can hear?’ he asked. Then looked at King. ‘I should just leave you for them.’ Kenny could hear nothing.
‘Do that,’ said King. ‘None of the dead can be blamed on me. Budge was his own man. You’ll be lucky if I do any time. Meanwhile I’ll be planning...’
‘Aw for fuck’s sake, shut up, King. If I give you any more time to talk, you’ll be laughing like a pantomime villain,’ Peter said and turned to Kenny. ‘Take your friends and leave. This is my responsibility.’
Kenny read the determination and acceptance in his father’s eyes. He knew what he needed to do to end this once and for all. Kenny nodded, turned and, stepping over Budge’s body, he l
eft the room with Alexis and Calum, both of whom were silent in shock.
They walked out of the hotel and down the stairs. Kenny looked around himself, confused at how the world hadn’t changed. All he’d known for the last few minutes, hours – however long it lasted – was violence. It felt like the world was tricking him by displaying a semblance of calm.
‘Kenny, I need to...’ Alexis said at his side. She was shaking. Her arms wrapped around her waist.
He held a hand up. ‘I’m not sure that I want to listen to whatever you have to say, Alexis.’
‘Well...’ She stood in front of him, her face white and dirt-streaked, her eyes shining with defiance. ‘I had to do what I had to do. King had me. It started off–’
‘Not interested.’
‘It was a job. At first,’ said Alexis. ‘I’m not going to lie to you...’
Kenny’s laugh was ironic.
‘I’m finished lying...’ She looked up at him, trying to read him. ‘But then I fell for you. You made me feel–’
‘Shut up, Alexis,’ Kenny shouted. ‘Just shut...’ His words faded. He turned away, trying to shake the confusion from his thoughts. Even bloody and bruised, she looked gorgeous. Loveable. He wanted nothing more than to forgive her, take her in his arms and tell her that everything would be alright.
But it wouldn’t. Ever.
‘I’ll understand if you don’t ever want to see me again...’
‘How perceptive of you.’
‘I’ll just...’ she said. Then Kenny could hear her heels clip the pavement as she began to walk away. It was all he could do to stop himself from running after her and gathering her into his arms. Instead, he turned to speak to the young man at his side.
‘You okay, Calum?’
‘Aye,’ he replied.
‘Go after her, will you? Make sure she gets wherever she needs to?’
Kenny turned back to watch Calum run after Alexis and continued watching as he took up her pace and walked quietly beside her.
On the pavement outside the hotel he looked up at the building, wondering what was happening with his father and King. Were they fighting again? Had Peter taken King up with his offer to end it all with fists? Surely not, that would be suicide for Peter given how badly he was injured.
Kenny was about to walk back up the stairs when he heard it. The gunshots sounded like someone clapping.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
54
They were all sitting round the kitchen table. Words bounced off words; laughter weaved itself around and through the syllables. Over Kathy’s shoulder, through the window above a sink piled high with pots and pans, Kenny could see hills curving an outline against a bright sky.
Christmas dinner was pheasant, potatoes and carrots followed by a large helping of warm chocolate fudge cake.
‘Not very festive.’ Kathy leaned her head to the side in an apology. ‘But the kids demand it at every family occasion.’
She was an intriguing blend of warmth and steel and Kenny took to her from the first instant they met. Kathy was a good ten years younger than Peter, trim yet curvy with an expressive face. He could see what his father saw in her and in the months since he had come to know her, he was grateful for the changes she had wrought in his father.
This was the third time Kenny had visited since the shooting and they were yet to talk about any of the events of that evening. Kenny looked at his father at the end of the table. His expression was trapped in a smile as he watched the antics of his two youngest. They bickered good-naturedly with each other; the boy aware of his superior size but giving in to his sister’s sharper wit.
‘Kenny, what do you think?’ asked Joy, her bottom lip sticking out in a pretend huff.
‘What you said,’ Kenny replied.
‘That’s not fair, Kenny,’ his brother replied. ‘You weren’t even listening.’
Kenny laughed, but realised what he was doing and sent the boy a silent apology. Each time he was here, he was tripping over the kid. He leaned against him as they watched TV. He asked him questions about life when he was a child. He pulled Kenny into his bedroom to share with him his latest obsession. It was like he was his hero; and Kenny O’Neill was fit to be nobody’s icon. Now and again, he felt he overcompensated for this and made small decisions that favoured Joy.
‘Leave Kenny alone, son,’ said Kathy. ‘He came away from the city for a wee bit of quiet. Not to hear a pair of teenagers argue about who can win in a fight between Spiderman and Batman.’
A chair squeaked against the floor as Peter pushed his chair back and stood up.
‘Going for a walk,’ he said. ‘Want to come?’ He looked at Kenny.
‘Yes,’ Joy jumped in. Kathy silenced her with a look.
‘I’d love to,’ said Kenny and walked to the back door.
‘You’ll need a coat, you two,’ said Kathy. ‘The sun might be shining, but it’s really cold out there.’
‘Quit nagging, woman,’ Peter said in good humour.
‘Well, don’t come running to me,’ – Kathy reached him at the door, pecked his cheek and patted his bum – ‘when you’re full of the cold and desperate for some paracetamol.’
The teenagers made a face at each other. ‘Gross,’ they said in unison, mocking the open affection between their parents.
‘You two don’t know how lucky you are,’ said Kenny with a smile.
Peter looked at him, worried about Kenny’s reaction.
‘They know exactly how lucky they are, Kenny,’ said Kathy and patted him on the shoulder. A short time ago Kenny would have shrugged off that arm and all but run screaming from the room.
• • •
Outside, the two men walked to the end of the path and took a right down the road that would take them further into the glen. The air was clear, silent and held frost in its grip. Kenny breathed in, felt the chill fill his nostrils, the air filling his lungs.
They walked in silence for a few hundred yards. Reached the water’s edge and stared across at the hills beyond.
Both had their hands in their pockets and their shoulders hunched against the cold.
‘How’s the big city?’ asked Peter, bending down to pick up a small stone. He discarded it and picked up another.
‘Busy.’
‘Your Aunt Vi?’ Peter’s thumbs worked at the stone’s surface, smoothing off any grains of sand or soil.
‘She’s back to normal. Full of vim and sparkle. Looking after the two men in her life.’
‘You didn’t tell Ian that Colin is not his father?’
‘What’s the point?’ asked Kenny. ‘Colin might not have provided the fertiliser, but in every other way, he’s the father.’
‘True,’ Peter nodded. ‘After everything... I just worry about secrets. They have an amazing power to destroy.’ He turned to look at his son. ‘What about Alexis?’
What about Alexis?
The last time he saw her, she was heading in a taxi for the airport – destination London. Her face pale behind the car window; her gaze fixed straight ahead.
‘I think she really did love you, you know.’
Kenny shrugged. ‘Too much happened.’
‘Everybody deserves a second chance, son...’ He paused. His throat tightened as he was suddenly taken with emotion. ‘I’m grateful for mine.’
‘Ach well,’ said Kenny. ‘You come out the other end of an evening like that and it tends to give you a fresh perspective.’ Kenny then gave voice to the question that had been haunting him since that evening just a few short months ago. ‘Do you ever regret it?’
‘Killing King?’ Peter asked. He threw the stone up into the air and caught it in the palm of his hand. ‘Every day I thank God for those two kids and you. Do I regret it? Not for a second.’
&nbs
p; Kenny read the truth in the words, but he also read the changes in his father. They’d only been together for a few short hours before the gun went off, but that was enough to see that since then his father was in some ways diminished. He still held a strength in his stance and a shine in his eye, but it was all somehow less. You don’t kill a man and walk away unmarked.
He’d asked himself many times since that night if he could have pulled the trigger.
Dreams about that night visited him with alarming regularity, except he held the gun. His finger pulled back the trigger. But each time he was pulled from his dream before the bullet left the gun.
Could he have killed Matt? He’d rather not have to answer that question.
Peter crouched, whipped his arm back and sent the stone skimming across the water. It bounced four times before it lost momentum and vanished beneath the mirrored surface.
‘I never quite got the hang of that,’ said Kenny, bracing himself against the cold. ‘Most I could ever manage was to skim the stone once or twice.’
‘Want me to show you?’ asked Peter.
Kenny laughed and another small healing took place between them.
‘Met anyone else yet?’ Peter asked.
Kenny shivered, his teeth knocking together in the cold. He smiled at his father.
‘C’mon inside, Pete.’ He put a hand on his father’s shoulder. ‘It’s freezing.’
Acknowledgements
I’d like to thank my first readers on this project, Bill Kirton and Sara Bain. Thanks guys, you kept me on the straight and narrow and called me out when it was required.
Big thanks also to the gang at Saraband.
About the author
Michael J Malone is the author of two previous crime novels featuring DI Ray McBain – Blood Tears and A Taste for Malice – as well as The Guillotine Choice, a novel based on the incredible true story of an Algerian who survived more than twenty years on the infamous Devil’s Island after being wrongly convicted of a murder (co-written with the survivor’s son).
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