by Jon Grahame
They both laughed, good unfettered laughter.
‘What did he say?’
‘He never spoke to me again. No loss. He was a prat.’
The chuckles continued until Kev said, ‘Actually, I do have another tattoo. Two in fact.’
‘What is it?’
‘I was very young, very drunk and very stupid.’
‘Weren’t we all.’
‘No, I mean very stupid.’
‘Not Ludo on your dick?’
‘My dick’s not big enough for Ludo. I had a tattoo on my arse.’
‘Of what?’
Kev grimaced and said, ‘A pair of eyes. One on each buttock.’
Alec laughed and said, ‘Go on, then. Show us.’
‘Bugger off. I don’t mind showing them in the pub but not in a half lit garage with one bloke for company.’
‘I take your point,’ said Alec, still laughing. ‘Two eyes?’
‘Not just ordinary eyes. Big fluttery come-to-bed eyes. Barbie eyes. I had it done in Amsterdam. I should have gone back and killed the tattooist. You can stick a cigar up me bum and call me Groucho. In fact, I often did. It was my party trick in the mess.’
Alec laughed louder and shook his head. ‘One day, I’ll get you in a pub and remind you.’
‘When that happens, I’ll show you.’
Chapter 17
SHIRLEY AND MYRA DECIDED TO LEAVE HAVEN THAT EVENING. They hadn’t come to be involved in war, they said. They were looking for somewhere peaceful to settle. Perhaps they would head north. They were given supplies for the road and waved off. Arnie stood in the square with the others and watched them go.
‘You staying, Arnie?’ the Rev Nick said.
‘I’ll sleep on it,’ he said. ‘Maybe I’ll head north like the ladies. Maybe I’ll stay.’ He glanced round in the late evening of summer. Lamps were lit in some of the windows of the cottages. ‘This is a lovely place. I can see why you want to keep it, but I’m not sure if it’s my fight.’
‘Sleep on it, then,’ said Nick. ‘It’s your decision.’
‘Where’s Reaper?’
‘Out patrolling. He never sleeps.’
‘Do you approve of him, padre?’
‘Reaper guided us here. I was one of the originals. We have a lot to thank him for.’ He fell silent for a moment. ‘But sometimes, I just wish he wouldn’t be so quick to fight.’
‘Sounds like he needs religion.’
‘Oh, he has that. With Brother Abraham in York. He’ll be there again tomorrow at noon. I think the number of deaths for which he is responsible is beginning to prey on his mind. All those people he has killed. He is in need of greater absolution than I can give, which is why he visits Abraham. He takes his guilt straight to God. Just him and Brother Abraham at high noon, doing penance on his knees at Clifford’s Tower.’
‘What’s Clifford’s Tower?’
‘It’s the site of an ancient massacre. Brother Abraham has declared it a holy site and instigated the fifty-five steps.’
‘And what are they?’
‘There are fifty-five steps up to the Tower and Reaper will climb them on his knees. He’s done it before. A prayer on each step. It’s a steep climb.’
‘Sounds barmy.’
‘It’s medieval. But that’s Abraham’s influence. Reaper’s done it before and I suppose this time he’s doing it in the hope of plenary indulgences before he goes to war again. I sometimes wonder ...’
‘What, padre? What do you wonder?’
‘Nothing, Arnie. I’m a pacifist and Reaper isn’t. We’ve been in conflict before but we agree to disagree.’
‘With respect, that’s an impossible thing to do. You still disagree. You want peace and he wants war. Someone has to give in.’
‘True.’
‘And Reaper never gives in?’
‘It would take an act of God to make Reaper change his mind.’
‘Maybe God will talk to him in York tomorrow?’
‘We can but pray, Arnie.’
John Steel sprawled on a sofa in the puce lounge bar of the private hotel. An attractive woman in her early twenties lay on the sofa, her legs up, cuddled beneath his arm. Battery lamps were lit and had been placed on the bar and the tables. Chef, without his leather overcoat, sat on a high stool drinking coffee. Sheila and Myra sat side by side on a long settee and Arnie had an armchair. Alec was away from the light, a listener on the periphery, in an easy chair. The lamps gave the gathering the texture of a painting by Edward Hopper.
‘I don’t like it,’ said Chef. ‘It’s too easy.’
‘You don’t like anything,’ said Steel.
‘I can smell a con.’
‘I don’t think so. They wouldn’t risk taking their militia to York for an ambush and leaving Haven wide open. And they can’t stage an ambush with half a dozen girls.’ He looked at Arnie. ‘They were girls?’
‘That’s right. All dressed up like Angel was, vests and guns. They look the part. But they might not even be there. Reaper sent them out loaded with rations. I reckon they’re keeping watch on the other side of the bridge.’
‘So,’ said Steel. ‘He could be on his own. And if he’s not, all he’s got are a bunch of girls. Maybe he has a thing about women in uniform.’
‘You’re taking him too lightly,’ said Chef.
‘He has a reputation, but against what? My nan could have put the frighteners on the locals in this town. Anyway, I don’t smell a con. He hasn’t had time to set one up. All he’s doing is fortifying Haven. The other places will stay out of it. When push comes to shove, the other towns won’t send any men. They’ll stay put and wait to see what happens. It’s human nature. They don’t want to provoke anything so that, when it’s over, they can be our friends.’ He grinned. ‘And give us everything we want.’
‘We could do with some more women,’ Arnie said.
‘I’m sure some of their ladies can be persuaded,’ said Steel. ‘And there will be a lot of widows if it comes to a fight.’
‘It’s a nice place,’ said Shirley. ‘They’ve made it work.’
‘I’m very pleased for them,’ Steel said. ‘We’ll try not to damage it too much, so they can keep on making it work for us. But, if we do this right, we won’t have to damage it at all.’ He looked at Arnie again.’ There are those who don’t like the way Reaper operates?’
‘The vicar’s pissed off. Maybe that’s partly because this Brother Abraham has most of the glory at York Minster. But some of the others on the council seem pissed off, too. From what they say, Reaper has gone overkill. Maybe he’s losing it. The vicar suggested as much. That’s why Reaper goes to York. Bigger church, a bigger God on his side.’
Steel laughed. ‘That’s a very poetic way of looking at it. Maybe he’s gone mad, like that wandering stray told us. Him and Abraham both. Two mad people trying to find salvation.’
‘You’re talking shit,’ said Chef. ‘He’s setting you up.’
‘What? You think I’m going to York to face him down, man to man? Now you’re saying I’m mad. If I go to York, I’ll be taking plenty with me. Enough to remove him from the game, even if it is a con.’
‘It’s not a game and it is a con,’ said Chef.
‘You worry too much. Take here and now as a bonus. We should all have been dead a year ago. But we didn’t die. We’re the lucky ones. Enjoy the journey. Enjoy the adventure. Enjoy the carvery.’
The last remark gained Chef’s attention. ‘You’ve decided about our visitor?’
‘Not really. He may have been sent by Reaper or he may be a lost soul. Either way, he’s disposable and we can’t let him go. In the morning, you can have Kevin whatsisname. Happy now?’
Chef didn’t look happy. ‘What are you going to do tom
orrow?’
‘I’m going to York. It’s a chance to end it before it begins. I don’t want to go fighting a well-armed militia. You say they’re well dug in, Arnie?’
‘Around the manor house, up on the hill and by the front gate. Back gate too, I suppose, although I didn’t get to look there. Mortars and machineguns.’
‘Mortars and machineguns,’ Steel said to Chef. ‘They could do a lot of damage. It’s best if we take them into our protective custody before they are fired at us in anger. Don’t you agree?’
‘You think you can do this by killing Reaper?’
‘Oh yes. Remove him and the rest will be happy to have peace. Especially if we garland it with lies. And once we’re in charge, they won’t be able to complain. Anyway, they won’t have time. They’ll be working too hard for us.’
‘How will you do it?’
‘I’ll do it quick. I’ll take the Thunderers. Drive straight to this Clifford’s Tower just after noon, when Reaper is on his knees. And kill him.’
‘And if he’s expecting you?’
‘If he’s expecting me with his little girl soldiers, then they’ll get a surprise, because I’ll be taking the Donny Boys as well. I’ll give them an incentive. I’ll tell them they can have the girls.’ He glanced at Arnie. ‘Didn’t you say they were fit, Arnie?’
‘As butchers’ dogs.’
Steel grinned at Chef. ‘Don’t you just love it when a plan comes together?’
‘But whose plan?’ said Chef.
Kev was awakened in the middle of the night by someone unlocking the door. When it opened, Alec stepped inside carrying a lamp. The shadows were deep but Kev could see he still carried the cosh on a cord around his wrist. He stepped to one side and revealed Chef.
The lamplight didn’t improve the man’s appearance. It accentuated the sharpness of his face so that he looked like a Gothic vampire. He pulled open the leather coat he wore and rested his hands on his hips. It was a pose reminiscent of a Gestapo officer. Yes, we have ways of making you talk. He took a razor from his waistcoat pocket and opened the blade with a practised flick of the wrist.
Kev remained in the deckchair. Chef took two steps towards him and kicked him on the knee. He screamed and fell out of the chair and rolled into a corner, tins and pieces of wood falling over. The kick had come from a steel capped boot and Kev wasn’t sure whether his knee cap was smashed or not.
‘Tomorrow, you’ll be my responsibility,’ said Chef, casually. The man crouched near him and Kev wondered whether he could reach him in time to throttle the bastard. He turned his head but such a move was not possible. Chef held the razor in his right hand. Its curved blade had a wicked sheen in the lamplight. ‘We’ll talk then. After breakfast,’ he said. ‘I’ll carve.’
He made moves with the razor in front of Kev’s face before laughing, getting up and walking out. Kev rolled onto his back and looked towards Alec but he had gone. He heard the key turn in the lock.
What another brilliant cock-up he’d ridden into, he thought. Just like his life.
And, as he lay on the concrete, he let the memories in, not the ones from his navy days, but the precious ones from his marriage and his family. He remembered all the good times with Ali and Bethany and the tears came and he didn’t try to stop them.
Alec returned to the garage before dawn. He carried a lamp, turned low, and a flask of coffee. He waited until Kev had opened the flask, poured the coffee and begun to sip it before he spoke. ‘You’re from Haven,’ he said.
Kev looked up at him from the deckchair, trying to read his expression in the shadows.
‘Have they sent you to question me, matey? Make friends, then question me?’
‘You’re from Haven,’ he repeated. ‘We sent people to spy on you and they sent you to spy on us.’
‘If I was from Haven, what would happen?’
‘Chef would kill you.’
‘Chef’s going to do that anyway.’
‘No, just your nose and ears.’
‘That’s nice. A comforting thought.’
He sniffed the coffee. He should make the most of his nose while he still had it.
‘They said Haven is a good place,’ said Alec. ‘People work hard but the returns are good.’
‘Do they?’
‘They say the Reaper has gone mad with all the killing and surrounds himself with girls in uniform.’
‘Lucky man. That’s the way to go mad. Surround yourself with girls.’ Kev sipped his coffee.
Alec watched him. ‘You’re from Haven,’ Alec said, ‘and it doesn’t matter whether you admit it or not, because Chef will carve you up so badly you’ll want to be dead.’
‘All right. I’m from Haven. And you’re right. It is a good place. A place worth fighting for. Dying for.’
Another silence.
‘Have you cried any more?’ Alec said.
Kev looked him in the eyes. ‘Yes. Thought I better had while I had the chance.’ He smiled. ‘I feel better. You know why? Because now I can let the memories back in. I can think of them and smile. There’ll still be tears, but I have the memories back.’
Alec nodded in understanding.
‘How about you?’ Kev said. ‘Have you decided about life, yet?’
‘Not yet. But I’m thinking about it.’
Kev drank coffee and dawn crept nearer. ‘Steel will have a fight on his hands, you know,’ he said. ‘It won’t be a walkover. My people are trained, prepared and well armed.’
‘Our reports say all the Reaper has are the girls. And they’re just girls.’
Kev smiled.’ I wouldn’t want the girls to hear you say that.’
‘Reputations get blown out of all proportion. That’s what they say.’
Kev shrugged.
‘They also say the Reaper isn’t liked any more. That the rest of them at Haven would make a deal without a fight if they could only get rid of him.’
‘They say that, do they?’
‘They say that.’
‘What do you want me to do? Confirm it? Deny it?’
‘I’d like to know if he does have support.’
‘So you can tell Steel?’
‘Steel has already made up his mind. You have a priest at Haven? A vicar?’
Kev nodded.
‘The vicar said the Reaper is now best pals with Brother Abraham at York. That he goes there for confession and absolution. That he’ll be there today at noon. All alone, except maybe for Angel. There for the taking. That’s what the priest said and Steel believes it.’
Nice one, Kev thought to himself.
‘Chef thinks it’s a con,’ Alec added.
The Chef would.
‘Steel is not stupid. He’s taking his top crew with him. Thirty blokes, all street fighters, all well armed. They’re battle hardened. The Thunderers. They all wear the same boots with steel toecaps. When they are on the march, you can hear them coming but there’s fuck all you can do to stop them.’
Kev nodded. If Reaper just had Sandra and the team with him, the odds would be dangerous with seven of them facing down thirty.
Alec said, ‘He’s also taking extra insurance. The Donny Boys. Surprise, surprise, they’re from Doncaster. They’re a hard gang, been together a year. They don’t have a lot of discipline but they’re brutal. Steel says they can have the girls. A sort of incentive.’
If Reaper was setting up an ambush, it was in danger of going drastically wrong. And he was sitting in a deckchair in a garage in Cleethorpes drinking coffee.
‘Why are you telling me?’ he said.
‘I thought you’d want to know.’
Kev judged the distance between them, how quickly he could get out of the deckchair and whether he could beat the swing of the cosh that hu
ng from his captor’s wrist.
‘You wouldn’t make it,’ said Alec.
‘What time is Steel leaving?’
‘Nine o’clock.’
‘What time is Chef coming to carve me?’
Alec shrugged. ‘Sometime after they’ve gone.’
‘You could help me?’
‘That would get me killed and I’m still thinking about life.’
‘What about my bike?’
‘It’s still there. The keys are in it.’
‘So all I have to do is reach the bike?’
‘Then ride it through an army.’
Chapter 18
THE SPECIAL FORCES MET ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF YORK at midnight and left their vehicles down a side street so they would be out of sight of any patrol that Foster might send out. They walked to the apartment in Monkgate that they had used before, ensured a blackout before lighting a dim lamp in the living room, and settled down to wait. Seven of them crowded the small room, but they were off the street and in reasonable comfort. They used the sofa and the armchair and the twin beds and tried to rest.
An hour before dawn, Sandra kicked them alert, although only James was asleep. She had taken the last watch. They checked their equipment and moved out through the darkness, heading north of Monkbar along a road called Lord Mayor’s Walk that paralleled the wall towards St John University buildings. They moved into the cover of trees on the grass embankment that fronted the castle wall. Reaper had scouted the area earlier. One of the trees was close to the wall itself, and with the help of a rope he soon climbed the tree until he was level with the crenellated rampart.
He went over it silently and with great care, although he was convinced that Foster would only have a few guards on duty and that those would be at the obvious entry places. Like everything else about the world the man was creating, the security of the city was built on pretence.
