He gave me the standard gloomy look. ‘If you go down the hall, Mr Keen’s office is the last door on the right.’ He pointed to a poorly lit corridor leading to the back of the building, and I followed it down, not bothering to knock when I reached the last door on the right.
Raymond was smoking a fat cigar and poring through a number of open files spread out in front of him. God knows what they contained. It could have been anything. VAT receipts, profit and loss accounts, information so valuable people had to die for it …
He looked up and smiled broadly as I came in. ‘Dennis, this is a rare honour, and most unexpected too. Please, take a seat.’
I sat down in a comfortable, high-backed leather chair that probably cost what I got paid in a month. ‘Yeah, sorry about the intrusion, Raymond. I thought it might be easier if we met here.’
He continued smiling. ‘Really? And why’s that?’
I met his stare and held it. ‘Suffice it to say I’m a little bit nervous at the moment.’
‘Yes, I’m sure you must be. That photofit of you was a remarkable likeness. Frighteningly so. The question is, what do we do about it?’
‘There’s nothing we can do. We’ll just have to sit tight. It’s highly unlikely anyone who knows me’ll think I did it.’
‘I should hope not. If they did, it wouldn’t say much about you, would it?’
I lit a cigarette, thinking that Raymond almost certainly didn’t know about the police questioning me near the scene.
‘Well, you asked to meet me, Raymond. So what can I do for you?’
‘Too many people know about what happened. Your mate, the one who drove you, he’s one of them…’
‘He’s all right. He won’t say anything.’
‘How can you be sure of that?’
It was a very good question. Hopefully, because he’d left the country. I hadn’t heard from Danny the previous night after my e-fit had appeared, so I assumed, or hoped at least, that he’d taken my advice.
‘The reason I took him was because I knew I could trust him not to start panicking.’
‘Have you spoken to him since?’
‘Yeah, when I gave him his share. He was pissed off he’d been lied to about the targets, but then so was I … but it wasn’t a major problem for him. He’ll be all right.’
‘You’ve not spoken to him since the photofit came out, then?’
‘No, but he told me the other day he was off down the Caribbean for a couple of weeks. To spend a bit of his money.’
‘A wise move,’ he said, shuffling some of his paperwork around the desk. ‘And you’re sure that’s where he’s gone?’
‘Well, as far as I’m aware, yeah. What are you getting at exactly?’
‘Just making sure. I wouldn’t want to think he’s got all worried and gone to the police.’
‘He wouldn’t do that.’
Raymond eyed me closely. ‘So you’ll vouch for him, then?’
‘He won’t cause any problems. Like I said, that’s why I took him.’
‘Good, good.’ He nodded his head slowly. ‘I only wish I could say the same about the other guy.’
‘Which other guy?’
‘Our man. The one there on the night, out the front. Waiting for them to arrive. That’s what I wanted to see you about.’
‘What do you mean?’ As if I didn’t know.
‘He’s a nice lad, don’t get me wrong, and it’s a hard decision to have to make, especially as I know his mother so well, but…’ He sighed, then looked at me as if inviting some sympathetic understanding. ‘He’s a liability too. I think we’re going to have to deal with him.’
I’d never actually met Raymond’s man, the one who’d radioed in the victims’ arrival, but I remembered he’d sounded youngish, no more than twenty-five, and although he’d put on the tough-guy act when talking to me I knew he’d been shitting himself on the night. You can always tell. There’s always something just that little bit shaky in the voice of someone who’s battling unsuccessfully to control fear. Not that he’d had much to worry about. All he’d had to do was watch out for the Cherokee and inform me when it turned up. I’d had the hard part. I assumed I was going to have the hard part now.
‘So, what are you telling me for?’
‘You know exactly why. You’re my most reliable man, Dennis. A difficult job like this requires the touch of an expert touch, not some rank amateur.’
I dragged hard on what was left of my cigarette and shook my head. ‘Jesus, Raymond. This is getting out of hand. We can’t just keep on fucking killing people.’
‘He’s the last one, Dennis. You can claim a bet on it.’
‘You said that to me five days ago. Your exact words were: “It won’t happen again.” That was Monday. Today’s Saturday. What are you going to want me to do next week? Assassinate the fucking Pope?’
‘Look, I wasn’t to know that the little bitch who saw you’d have a photographic memory, was I? I told you you should have shot her. The fact is, this fucking photofit’s got everybody nervous. Very nervous.’
‘And that’s another thing, Raymond. Who exactly is this everybody you’re working with? I hear on the news that I’ve killed an accountant who, as far as anyone knows, had an unblemished record. So, tell me, who are your associates, and what did they want this guy dead for?’
‘The more you know, Dennis, the worse it’ll be for you. You know that. Think about it.’
I sighed. ‘If I take out this other guy, then what’s to stop me being the next on the list?’
‘Dennis. At the moment, you’re all right. I know you can’t go to the police and make any sort of deal. Everybody knows that. You’re too heavily involved. There’s so much blood on your hands, it’s dripping onto the carpet.’
‘Thanks.’
‘I’m just trying to make you feel better, that’s all.’ He shot me a smile that I think was meant to show he knew how I felt, and pointed his cigar in my direction. ‘And if you don’t know anything about the reasons behind what happened then, again, you’re no threat to anyone. No threat means there’s no point in taking you out, so you stay alive. Which is what you want.’
‘And Danny?’
‘Your mate? Well, if you say he’s all right, he’s all right.’
I sighed. ‘I just don’t like the way things are going, that’s all. It’s getting out of hand, and in my experience that’s when things start to go wrong.’
‘Look, Dennis, I don’t need it either, but it’s what’s got to happen. The bloke’s name is Barry Finn. He’s been walking round the last few days like someone’s got a pair of shears wrapped round his bollocks. He’s jittery, and it’s noticeable. It’s not a situation we can allow to continue.’
‘And how much are you offering in payment?’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Dennis, this is all about making sure we all stay at liberty, not about making a quick profit. Be serious.’
‘Fuck that, Raymond. This whole thing’s about profit, and don’t pretend otherwise. You want me to kill him, you’re going to have to pay up. I’m taking a risk here.’
‘You’re taking a bigger risk by not doing it, I promise you.’ There was the first hint of a threat in his voice.
I looked up at the nicotine-stained ceiling, focusing on a flimsy, dust-covered spider’s web that hung forlornly there. I looked for the spider, but guessed he was long gone.
‘When do you want him taken care of?’ I asked wearily, knowing full well that I had no choice.
‘As soon as. Preferably before the end of the weekend. Definitely by Monday.’
‘It’s not going to be easy. If he’s as paranoid as you say he is, he’s going to expect someone to take a pop at him.’
‘Did he see you on the night?’
I shook my head. ‘No. We just talked on the radio. I couldn’t even tell you what he looked like.’
‘That’s another reason to use you. He’s worked for me for a long time so he knows what most of my peo
ple look like.’
‘And if I do it, I want it to be the end of it. Understand?’
Raymond nodded. ‘Yeah, I understand. It will be.’
His mobile rang. He looked as though he was going to ignore it, then decided it might be important, and took the call.
I took the opportunity to light another cigarette. Raymond listened to whoever was talking on the other end for what seemed like quite a long time, told the caller to get over to the funeral home straight away so they could discuss whatever it was that needed discussing, and pocketed the mobile. It sounded like our meeting was over.
‘You’re going to need to give me all the details on this guy,’ I told him. ‘Photograph, address, any other relevant information.’
He smiled. ‘No need.’
‘What do you mean?’
He patted his jacket where he’d replaced the mobile. ‘That was him. He’s on his way over here now.’
20
‘This is what I call a stroke of good fortune,’ Raymond said, rubbing his hands together.
‘Don’t tell me you want it done here?’
‘Why not? It’s as good a place as any. In fact, better. Are you carrying?’
I was. A six-shot 2.2 I’d bought from Tomboy years back which I kept for emergencies only. I considered my current plight to be as close to an emergency as I was likely to get and I was fully prepared to use it to defend my liberty and maybe my life, although I didn’t like the idea of turning it on someone who presented no direct threat.
‘I am, but I don’t want to get it dirty. I need it for protection, and if I have to fire it again down the line I don’t want to have to worry about this thing getting back to me.‘
‘Don’t worry about that. No-one’s ever going to find the body.’
‘How can you be sure?’
‘Just take my word for it. It’s not going to be found.’ Have you got a silencer?’
‘Of course not. I wasn’t planning on carrying out any assassinations today, believe it or not.’
He shrugged. ‘No matter. The walls are thick in this place. It was built when things were made to last. No-one’ll hear anything.’
‘Raymond, for fuck’s sake. This sort of thing needs planning. I can’t just take someone out off the cuff. Not with ten minutes’ notice.’
He stood up and fixed me with a hard stare. ‘Of course you can. Think positive, Dennis. The problem with you is you’re too fucking negative about everything.’ He looked at his watch quickly. It was a Cartier or Rolex. Flash bastard. ‘Now we’ve got to get things sorted out. He doesn’t live too far away so he’ll be here soon.’
I started to say something but he shifted his bulk out of the chair and walked past me towards the door, leaving me no option but to follow. He strode purposefully down the hall and up to the front desk. Vincent was still there.
‘I’ve got some business that needs sorting, Frank, so I’m going to have to shut up shop. We’re not expecting any deliveries, are we?’
‘No, not today, Mr Keen,’ he answered in that funereal drawl of his.
‘Well, do me a favour and make yourself scarce, there’s a good man.’
He didn’t need asking twice. He’d obviously had to piss off at short notice before. I didn’t like the way he looked at Raymond either. There was fear in his expression. He knew things about Raymond he’d rather not know, that was my impression. He nodded, got his coat, and went out the door without another word.
‘So, how are we going to do this?’ Raymond said, looking about him for pointers. One word described his overall attitude: excited. He seemed genuinely excited at the prospect of committing murder. ‘Come on, Dennis. Help me out here.’
I thought about trying to reason with him but knew there was no point. I could have walked out and left him to it, but it wouldn’t have done me any good. One way or another, Raymond’s man was going to die, and at that moment I guessed that if I co-operated in his demise I might be helping myself at the same time.
‘The best thing is to put me on reception. When he arrives, I’ll let him in and tell him to go down to your office. He’ll go down, you’ll start talking, then I’ll come down and knock on the door. You’ll ask me to come in, so in I come. I’ll have a couple of coffees ready. I’ll put them down, you carry on talking to him, and when his back’s turned to me, I’ll shoot him.’
‘I don’t know, Dennis. I don’t really want it done in my office. Can’t you just do it in here?’
‘How?’
‘Well, either when he opens the door, or when you’ve directed him down the hall. Maybe you can just walk up behind him and pop him while he’s en route.’
I shook my head. ‘It wouldn’t work.’
‘Why not?’
‘Too risky. If he’s as nervous as you say he is, he’ll probably suspect something like that. He’ll be watching his back on the walk down to your office, and if I try anything, chances are it’ll fuck up. Same with shooting him when he walks in the door. There’s too much scope for failure. It’s got to be done in an enclosed place where he can’t escape.’
He nodded slowly, digesting my words. ‘All right, fair enough. But we’re going to have to do something about your clothes. You look far too casual to be working in a place of rest, even on a Saturday.’ He disappeared into one of the rooms off the hall and reappeared a few seconds later with a shirt and black tie. ‘That should fit,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing I can do about the jeans. Hopefully by the time Barry notices them he’ll be half a second away from a fully ventilated head.’
I took the gun out of my leather jacket pocket, removed the jacket and the sweatshirt I was wearing underneath, and chucked them down behind the reception desk, out of sight. I then hurriedly pulled on the shirt and tie and stuffed the gun down the back of my waistband. The shirt was a bit small and I couldn’t do the top button up – not without choking myself, anyway – but I didn’t suppose Barry would be paying too much attention.
‘You’ve got to sound very respectful when you speak as well. We’re very customer-orientated in this business. Try to talk slowly, and sound like you’re thinking about what you’re saying.’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’
I sat down behind the desk and lit a cigarette.
‘Blimey, Dennis, you can’t just sit there with a fag in your mouth. It doesn’t set the right fucking tone. Respectful, remember.’
‘It’s Saturday, and we’re not expecting punters. Call it a perk for having to work odd hours.’
He shook his head in an annoyed fashion, but let it go. ‘Right, let’s get this straight. You send him down to my office, we start talking—’
‘You offer him a cup of coffee because you’re having one yourself. You phone through to me in reception, and I go and make it. Now, where’s your coffeemaking equipment?’
‘That door behind you goes into a kitchen. All the stuff you need’s in there.’
‘Fine. I’ll bring it down, and we’ll take it from there.’
I couldn’t help thinking what a mistake I was making getting involved in such a hastily planned murder. Some time soon my luck was inevitably going to run out.
Raymond appeared to read my thoughts. ‘All this’ll be over soon, Dennis. Then we can get back to making money, pure and simple.’
I nodded, taking a drag on the cigarette. ‘I’m thinking … after this I might do what my driver’s doing – you know, take a long holiday somewhere. Maybe even permanent.’
‘The crime figures’ll go up without you, Dennis.’
I managed a humourless smile. ‘Somehow, I don’t think so.’
The sound of wheels on gravel outside stirred me from my thoughts.
‘He’s here,’ Raymond said, looking out of one of the lattice windows. ‘I’ll get down to my office.’
I straightened my tie, feeling almost like a new guy on his first day in the office, and put out the cigarette.
A few seconds later the buzzer went and I leaned down
to the intercom speaker and asked, in as grave a voice as I could muster, who was there. I’m not a bad mimic, and it came out pretty well.
A flustered voice asked for Raymond. ‘We are closed at the moment, sir,’ I told him.
‘He’s expecting me. My name’s Barry Finn.’
I told him to hang on while I checked with Mr Keen, sat there for a few seconds, then came back on the line. ‘Please come in.’ I pushed the small red button on the intercom, which I assumed released the lock and was pleased to find out that it did. That could have fucked things up, if I couldn’t even open the door.
Barry Finn was slightly older than I’d expected, about thirty, no more than five feet seven tall with a mop of dirty blond hair. He had the pinched, wary features of a small-time villain and his eyes were darting about in overdrive. Just like Len Runnion’s always did. This was a man carrying a lot of weight on flimsy shoulders. Immediately I knew Raymond was right to want him out of the way, although it didn’t say much about his judgement that he’d used him in the first place. Still, maybe you could have said the same about mine.
I gave him a stern, headmasterly look and pointed him in the direction of Mr Keen’s office. He didn’t say a word and took off down the hall. It felt strange knowing that he only had a few more minutes of life left in him, and a bit sad to think it was going to be spent worrying about something he could do nothing about.
Now it was time to wait. Raymond, however, was not hanging about. Within two minutes he phoned through, gruffly telling me to get him a coffee, not bothering to say please. I was glad then that I wasn’t a full-time employee of his. He had the sort of brash attitude with his staff that gives capitalism a bad name.
I checked the gun for the second time since sitting down and took the safety off before replacing it in the waistband of my jeans. Then I went into the kitchen and put the kettle on. While I was waiting for it to boil, I gave the place the once-over. I’ve never been in an undertakers’ kitchen before, and wasn’t sure what to expect. Maybe a few jokey pictures of the employees posing with the corpses, or some coffin-shaped fridge magnets. But there was none of that. Everything looked depressingly normal. Clean and tidy as well. Scattered about the walls were postcards from various far-flung destinations. One was even from Dhaka in Bangladesh, which struck me as an odd destination to spend your holidays. The photograph was of a toothless, bare-footed rickshaw driver smiling at the camera. I took it off the wall and saw that it was from Raymond. He said that the weather was too hot and he was looking forward to getting back. If the photo on the front was the best the Bangladeshi tourist industry could do, I couldn’t blame him.
Die Twice Page 16
