by Ray Connolly
But he said none of this as he returned to Kate. Making breakfast had been his escape from embarrassment.
‘Have you brought breakfast in bed for many girls?’
Charlie was surprised at Kate’s question. Was this her way of keeping the conversation away from Canada and the police? ‘One or two,’ he said. ‘Why?’
‘I was just wondering,’ said Kate, and munched her toast.
At ten-thirty Charlie dressed and tried to phone Marty again. It was a silly attempt. It would take the engineers at least a day to get around to fixing the phone, but something was bothering him enough to make it seem worth the effort. The radio news had dropped any mention of Barbara. By now he was becoming consumed with curiosity.
He popped his head round his bedroom door again. Kate was lying staring at him: ‘Look, I’m just popping out to buy a paper,’ he said. ‘I want to know last night’s football results …’ he lied, ‘and you never know there might be something more on Barbara than was on the radio. The BBC would only get interested in Barbara if she’d had it off with half the Government.’
For a second he thought he caught the glimmer of an ironical smile from Kate.
‘Anyway, I’ll only be five minutes. Okay?’
She nodded and pulled herself further down into his bed. And with one last look at her he closed the bedroom door and let himself out of the flat.
The paper shop was about five minutes’ walk away on the corner of Ladbroke Grove and Hollan Park Avenue. Quickly Charlie bought all the morning tabloids and began his walk home, scanning through them as he went. The Daily Mirror had given Barbara a picture and a short caption story; the Daily Express described her as a model and a frequent night club attender; the Daily Mail came up with a line about her being the former escort of a couple of unfamous film stars, while the Sun had a topless picture of her taken several years ago when she was still a model. All carried the line about foul play not being suspected. Even the tabloids weren’t overly interested in the death of Barbara Bachman.
Not very good notices, thought Charlie. He didn’t know anything about Barbara, but if she was anything at all like Kate she had to have been worth a bit more than this.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Kate lay cosily in the middle of Charlie’s bed, sinking into a valley in the mattress where the springs had become stretched. With Charlie she felt safe and secure. It was a warm feeling.
From the hallway she heard a scraping, and then the sound of the lock opening and then falling back. That was quick, she thought, and pulling herself up in the bed waited for Charlie to come back into the bedroom.
Instantly Kate realized her mistake. The bedroom door opened, and with a face plastered in self-satisfaction Daley sauntered into the room. Behind him came Keith, his assistant, folding up a steel jemmy and slipping it into his pocket. Kate remembered too late that she should have bolted the door after Charlie had gone out.
‘Well, well, well, what have we here? A little love nest? You been playing truant, my girl? Been playing hooky? Or has our friend been playing with his little bit of free nooky?’ Daley was in fine form.
Kate cowered under the bed covers. Suddenly she felt dreadfully cold. The shock had knocked all other sensations out of her.
‘You know, Keith, I do believe our little friend has been sleeping without her nightie. Hope she hasn’t caught a nasty chill on the chest,’ said Daley. His style of talk never altered. He always played to his audience.
Kate found her voice: ‘What do you want?’
‘Sarah wants a little talk with you. She got upset when you went missing. She’s had us cover half London looking for you, since you gave us the slip the other night.’
‘You killed Barbara.’
‘Suicide, darling. Didn’t you hear the news? The inquest’s just a formality.’
‘You were there. I saw you.’
‘Well, if that’s what you saw you should have told the police, shouldn’t you, instead of coming hiding here in this grotty little hole.’
‘I will.’
‘You won’t.’ Daley’s face was glazed and expressionless. ‘Your sort never does. Come on now, girl. Out of bed. Can’t keep Sarah waiting.’
Kate searched her mind for some delaying tactic: ‘I’m not getting dressed in front of you two,’ she tried lamely. Two days earlier it would have worked.
‘Oh no? Well I never took you for a modest little thing. Always thought you were a bit of a slag actually,’ said Daley, and stepping forward he tore the sheets from the bed leaving Kate struggling suddenly naked. ‘Well, isn’t that nice, Keith? Isn’t that lovely? Wouldn’t you just fancy a little bit of that? You and Big Willie. Just think of the time you could have with that.’
Keith giggled almost hysterically. Kate tried to reach forward and grab Charlie’s robe but Daley was too quick for her. And as she moved forward he caught hold of her arm and pulled her up to a sitting position.
‘Now, that’s better. Tell you what, if you want to get dressed, you just go ahead and don’t worry about us. We’re both gentlemen, lot like some of those greasy wogs you’ve had it off with. Come on now. Hurry up. Go and get your clothes. We’ll just stand here and enjoy the show.’
Kate’s clothes were at the far side of the room. Very carefully she prised her wrist away from Daley and tried to get past him. As she did he pushed her gently so that she fell against Keith. Again the younger man giggled hysterically, and put his hands out so that they slithered all over her stomach and thighs.
‘Like satin, isn’t it Keith?’ said Daley.
Keith giggled again, as Kate tried to pull herself free of his racing, probing fingers.
Charlie was almost home again when, looking up from his newspapers as he turned the corner into Lansdowne Road, he saw the red Ford Granada parked outside his flat. Instinctively he pulled back into the hedge out of sight of the car. A man was sitting in the driver’s seat smoking a cigarette. Charlie watched for a few moments from the hedge. From time to time the man turned his head, surveying the road, waiting for someone. Charlie searched his mind for rational, unmenacing explanations. Maybe the man was just an innocent passer-by, he thought. A boy-friend waiting for one of the girls from upstairs; or perhaps a carpet salesman making a call. Charlie stared at him again. He knew that he was neither. From the way the man was sitting, so tall and straight and so alert, he knew that it could only be one man – Big Willie. The appearance of his attackers in Sicily was still etched in his mind.
But if Big Willie was out there keeping guard? Suddenly Charlie was hurling himself across the twenty yards to the car, dropping the newspapers as he ran, his enormous frame crashing forward in manic ferocity. Big Willie saw him just as he reached the car.
‘Bastard,’ screamed Charlie, his arm going through the open window to grab Willie by the throat.
Aiming a return blow at Charlie out of the window Big Willie pushed from the inside and the car door began to open. Gripping hold of the handle Charlie tried to hold it closed. Then as he saw Big Willie’s hands come around the door frame to get a better grip he suddenly released his pressure, so that Big Willie lost his balance and fell forward slightly. And at that moment Charlie threw his whole weight back against the door, slamming it shut again.
Willie screamed. As the door closed Charlie felt the crunch of bones as Big Willie’s fingers became caught between door and car. Blood spurted from them. Unbelievably Willie pushed back. Again Charlie slammed, harder now. And then again. This time as Willie screamed, the resistance ended. Pushing his own hand inside the car past the trapped, bleeding, moaning man, Charlie snatched the ignition keys and dropped them into his pocket.
Willie’s eyes were closed, his face a contortion of agony. ‘In the name of God,’ he whimpered, ‘open the door.’
Charlie looked at his helpless broken hands and crumpled useless fingers and he remembered another time. ‘Open it yourself,’ he said, and for the first time in his life he experienced the thrill of retribu
tion.
Caution, had it been given a voice, might have bade him stop and wait, but the desire to hurt back was consuming him now. Without even pausing to consider the dangers he might be heading into he raced down the basement steps to his flat. The door had been left on the latch. He slipped inside, and then stood silently in the hall listening. Big Willie had been guarding the door: so Daley and his other assistant wouldn’t be expecting him. From the bedroom Charlie could hear the sound of voices, mainly one voice, a thin, high-pitched Cockney sound which turned every statement into a question, a voice which was answered repeatedly with a hysterical giggling. He could hear no sound from Kate.
Charlie looked around the hallway. A pruning knife, an antique really, with an ornate ivory handle, hung from a bronze hook. He hadn’t used it for years, but he had always taken a pride in regularly polishing and sharpening it. He didn’t like to see beautiful things neglected.
The sound of talking and laughing came to him softly, sneeringly from inside his bedroom. He knew what he had to do. His hand reached up and he grabbed hold of the knife. The pattern of the handle pressed into his skin, as he gripped it. Moving now silently he stopped at his bedroom door. He had no idea where anyone was or what they might be doing. There was still no sound from Kate. Suddenly he heard a loud laugh. Someone, the person who had been doing all of the talking, was just on the far side of the door. Suddenly Charlie leapt. He flung the door open and almost before he was aware himself of what he was doing he had an arm around the neck of a fair-haired man, while the pruning knife pressed firmly but gently at the pink bull neck of his captive.
‘If you move I’ll slit your neck open,’ he shouted, as much to convince himself of the validity of his threat as to frighten the potential victim.
‘No … no … no.’ Daley screamed in terror as he felt the coldness of the blade pressing his artery.
Charlie looked across the room. Another man, younger than the one he was holding, was struggling off the bed. Kate was pulling herself away from him. She was naked.
‘You bastards,’ screamed Charlie. ‘I’ll kill you.’ Suddenly the knife in his hand seemed to have a will of its own. They had broken into his home and attacked and humiliated Kate. He struggled to control himself.
Daley must have felt the blade tightening at his neck. His body was rigid with fear: ‘For Christ’s sake … it was only a bit of fun … we didn’t hurt her … tell him, for God’s sake,’ he shouted to Kate. ‘We didn’t do anything.’
‘Charlie, no.’ Kate was by now pulling a blanket off the bed around her. Charlie watched her nakedness disappear. It was the first time he had seen her body. They’d even spoiled that moment for him. ‘Don’t, Charlie,’ she repeated, as though reading his thoughts. ‘They didn’t hurt me. Please, Charlie.’
Charlie held the blade firmly on the artery. His eyes crossed to the younger man, who was stunned with fear and indecision.
‘Just a bit of fun,’ repeated Daley over and over again … ‘just playing about.’ His voice was now dry and high. The sneering mockery had gone out of it. ‘Sarah said we could tease her a bit.’
‘Was it fun?’ rasped Charlie savagely, looking at Kate. She was huddled in a corner of the room, her eyes now luminous with shock.
‘Please, Charlie …’ she murmured. ‘I’m not worth it.’
But she was worth it, thought Charlie. She had to be. If she wasn’t then nothing was. The blade tightened again on Daley’s neck. ‘You bastards made one mistake in coming here,’ he said. ‘You work on the principle of bullying people and people are frightened of you because they know that you don’t care who you hurt. Well, I’m not frightened. Remember Sicily? You did that, didn’t you? Broke my arms and face. Remember? Gave me a lesson, I suppose. Well it worked, because now I’ve become a vicious animal like you. Someone should have told you never to pick on a madman because you never know what he’s going to do. Well, I’m a madman now. I’m stark raving mad.’
Charlie stopped. His left hand was clutching Daley’s hair, pulling his face up into the air. The knife moved deliberately tighter into Daley’s neck. It would be almost too easy, thought Charlie.
Across the room Kate and Keith waited. The moment seemed frozen. Kate’s expression was tormented with grief. Charlie looked at her. She was so beautiful. How could they have wanted to hurt her? Her face fell away as his eyes caught hers. There was no contact there.
Gradually reality was returning to him. The fury was wearing away. He had been living an act as a violent man, but it wasn’t him, although for a few minutes it had seemed that way and he had felt the joy of excitement that his own power had brought. Now the resolve was flowing from him as the anger was replaced by fear of himself and an overwhelming desire to be alone again with Kate.
‘Get out,’ he half-whispered to the other man. ‘Get out and look after your friend outside …’
Kate sensed the change in Charlie’s tone. She looked up. Charlie was allowing his eyes to stray towards her. She saw the danger before he did.
The slightest sign of weakening was enough for Daley and Keith. With no more than an exchange of eyes thay acted. Daley’s elbows shot backwards into the pit of Charlie’s stomach with every bit of violence and force that his hugely-developed shoulders could muster. Charlie buckled over. The knife flew from his grasp. Instantly Keith’s hand flew to his inside pocket and grabbing hold of the startled Kate he shoved a gun into the flesh of her stomach.
With a gasp of relief and triumph Daley kicked the pruning knife across the bedroom before turning back to Charlie. His confidence was quick to return.
‘You might be a big man, but you’re also a very stupid man, Mr Fairweather,’ he said, and lunging forward he kicked Charlie smack in the face with all the force he could muster. ‘Your little friend should have told you that you can’t start mixing it with people like us unless you really mean it.’
He kicked again. Charlie lay in a heap on the carpet trying to protect himself. The gun pushed deeper into Kate’s flesh.
‘You see, we enjoy our work. That’s why we’re good at it,’ Daley went on, and with a last kick that bedded deep into Charlie’s body just below the heart he pulled himself clear.
Kate watched in silence. She had brought this on Charlie. If she had gone to the police as he had wanted then he would have been safe.
Daley turned to her: ‘You’d better get dressed.’ He looked at Keith. ‘And you’d better see what happened to Willie.’
Kate pulled the bath-robe hurriedly around her body as Keith let her go and falling to the floor she leant over Charlie. His eyes were closed. ‘Charlie … Charlie,’ she whispered, aware that Daley was hovering over her. Charlie’s eyes flickered open. His hand moved to his chest.
‘He’s all right,’ scoffed Daley. ‘Come on, girl, get dressed like I told you.’
Reluctantly Kate pulled herself away from Charlie and began to pull on her clothes. Charlie was now conscious again. He pulled himself to a sitting position, rested his head in his hands, and felt his rib cage delicately.
Just as Kate was finishing dressing Keith returned with the wounded Big Willie. His hands were covered in blood, and he held them away from him so that his fingers seemed to be draped from the ends of his wrist.
Daley took in his injuries with scant sympathy: ‘Thought you were supposed to be looking out for him,’ he muttered. ‘Lucky he didn’t have a shooter, aren’t we?’
Willie didn’t speak but retreated into the bathroom to wash his broken hands.
‘Anyone see any of this?’ asked Daley of Keith.
Keith shook his head.
‘Well, we’ll have to wait and see what Sarah says before we can get him patched up, stupid bleeder. You watch these two while I give her a bell.’
He went out of the bedroom in search of the telephone. Keith watched Charlie and Kate carefully.
‘I’m sorry, Charlie.’ Kate was on her knees holding Charlie’s head in her hands. ‘It’s my fault and I’m sorr
y.’
‘I shouldn’t have left you,’ he said. ‘I would never have believed they could have found you so quickly. I suppose that’s the price of fame.’ He tried to joke, but his chest hurt where Daley had aimed his final kick.
‘Can you stand?’
Charlie nodded, and began to pull himself to his feet. Keith watched from the other side of the room. ‘Could have been worse,’ said Charlie. ‘It was last time.’
Kate smiled at him. She didn’t want to say what they were so obviously thinking: that it wasn’t over yet.
After a few moments Daley returned. By now Charlie was sitting on the edge of the bed, with Kate at his side.
‘Well, isn’t that nice? I’ve got some good news for you, Mr Fairweather. Your young lady’s employer wishes to make your acquaintance. So let me tell you what’s going to happen. We’re all going out of here and you aren’t going to be any trouble at all, because if you are I’ve had instructions to blow her away. Understand?’
Charlie nodded. He didn’t doubt that he was already living on borrowed time. Probably Sarah didn’t fancy the idea of any more bodies being found in empty flats. This way they could make him walk to his execution. But what choice had he?
‘You’ll have to drive, Keith. Willie’s hands are in a right mess. I’ve sent him out to wait in the car. I’ll be in the back with these two. She wants us over at Limehouse now.’
Keith nodded and stood by the door. Neither he nor Daley ever took their wyes off Charlie or Kate for one moment.
‘Right, well there’s just one more thing … I think you’ve got our keys, Mr Fairweather.’
Charlie nodded and feeling in his jacket pocket he produced the car keys. For one mad moment he contemplated hurling them into Daley’s face, but it was no more than a wild, hopeless thought. He handed the keys over. Daley took them at arm’s length.
‘Now, if you’ll just straighten the bed …’ he said. ‘Don’t want anyone to think that you aren’t house-proud, do we?’
