The kettle boiled. She filled all three mugs with boiling water, turned to Quint. ‘Sugar?’
‘Two,’ he replied.
She put two spoonfuls into his mug.
‘Milk?’
‘A little.’
She added a little milk, squeezed out the bag. Handed it to him.
She went back to the counter top, turned to Anju. ‘I know how you like it.’ She put some milk in Anju’s, took the bag out. Handed it to her. ‘There you go.’
Anju took it.
‘I’ll just do mine. Then shall we go back in the living room? Better than in here.’
‘You’ll go where I tell you,’ said Quint, brandishing the gun.
‘Fine.’ Lila nodded.
She took the teabag out of her mug. Added six large spoonfuls of sugar. Anju watched her, frowning. That wasn’t the way she took her tea. Lila flashed her eyes at her, hoped she remained silent. Hoped Quint didn’t catch the gesture.
‘Yeah,’ said Quint. ‘Get back in the living room. I’ll decide what to do in there. Go on.’
Anju went first, followed by Lila. Quint, gun still extended, followed behind.
As soon as they reached the living room Anju stopped dead, stared at the window.
‘Shit . . .’
Lila did the same.
So did Quint.
Outside, the night was lit up. Quint’s borrowed car was in flames.
‘What the fuck . . .’
Lila noticed he had momentarily dropped his gun arm, was no longer pointing it at them. She looked quickly at Anju, told her with her eyes that she was going to do something and to be ready. Anju looked terrified, but nodded.
It took seconds but felt like a lifetime. Lila turned on Quint and, while he was watching his car go up in flames, threw the contents of her mug into his face.
An old prison trick that Tom had told her about. Boiling hot water to burn, sugar in it to make it stick. Make it really hurt. Lila had got him right in the eyes.
Quint screamed. Lashed out.
She grabbed Anju’s wrist, made for the front door.
Quint hadn’t locked it behind him when he had barged in. She had remembered that. With Anju beside her, they ran into the night.
62
Tom loosened his grip on Baz, looked at him properly. The force of the rain had turned the glare of the headlights to a grainy TV static. He regarded his face without having to squint. Baz said nothing, just smiled.
‘Well?’ said Tom. ‘Tell me.’
Baz smiled. ‘You don’t need to cling to me. I’m not going anywhere.’
Tom loosened his grip. Waited.
Baz smiled. ‘You’re not interested in me, though, are you? Where I’ve been, how I ended up like this.’ He pointed to his face. ‘Don’t care.’
‘What happened to you?’
Baz laughed. It was a bitter, phlegmy thing. ‘Yeah, that’s right. Play along, just to find out about your niece. Say what you think I want to hear. But if you do want an answer, a ton of shit. That’s what’s happened to me. And I ended up looking like a monster. And if you look like a monster, you may as well behave like a monster, right?’
Tom thought of Cunningham. ‘Not necessarily.’
‘Well, whatever. You’re only interested in the pretty dead girl, aren’t you? Why? Do you feel guilty about her? Think you should have been there for her, saved her?’
Tom now stood next to Baz but had trouble keeping his hands down, wanting to grab him, force him to speak. ‘Just tell me what happened to her. How she died.’
Baz smiled.
And the side of his head exploded.
Tom closed his eyes as blood, brain, gore and bone smashed into him, covering him. He wiped his face, looked round, tried to make out what was going on, body now in fight or flight mode.
Blake screamed. Stared at the dead body of Baz, changed her aim to Foley.
‘You haven’t got the balls, love,’ he said, not even looking at her, gun still outstretched. ‘Anyway, you were going to get rid of him when he’d stopped being useful, weren’t you? I’ve just saved you the effort. Don’t lie and pretend you weren’t.’
Blake did nothing. Said nothing.
‘You said you were unarmed,’ said Tom.
Foley shrugged. ‘I lied. Who’d have thought?’
‘Where did you get a gun from?’
‘Prison officers, eh? Pay them enough and they’ll do anything for you.’
Anger welled within Tom. ‘He was going to tell me what happened to Hayley. He was going to tell me, and you . . . you killed him . . .’
‘Yeah, I know,’ said Foley, as casually as he could. ‘That’s why I did it.’
Tom just stared at him. Couldn’t believe he could hear him say that. ‘What?’
Foley shrugged once more. Tried to appear as nonchalant as he could on a moor in the middle of a storm wearing a three-piece business suit and overcoat. ‘You’ve probably been carrying that around for years, haven’t you? Her death.’
Tom said nothing. Just glared at him.
‘All those years of guilt, blaming yourself. I’m sure of it. Want to contradict me? Tell me I’m wrong?’
Tom still said nothing.
‘Thought so. Like I said, I’ve had a lot of time to think about these things. And you never knew what happened to her, did you? Not really. She died in crossfire, but whose bullet was it? Not yours, then whose? But you blamed yourself, didn’t you?’
Tom just stared.
‘Now maybe – as I said, I’ve had a long time to think, reflect on things – maybe that blaming yourself was all part of some misplaced guilt about what you did to me, how you fucked over the one man who was closer to you than even a brother. Who became family. Maybe that was all part of it, what d’you say?’
Tom spoke. ‘I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Dr Bradshaw that one.’
‘Dr Bradshaw’s dead.’
They both turned towards the source of the voice. So wrapped up in their own dialogue they had almost forgotten that Blake was still there. She stood over Baz’s body, the Desert Eagle pointed at both of them. She might have been crying. She might have been angry. She might have just been grimacing against the wind and rain.
‘What d’you mean she’s dead?’ asked Foley. ‘How can she be dead?’
Blake stared straight at them. ‘It doesn’t matter. That’s not important. What is important is the money. Now I’ve stood here long enough. It’s time we—’
Foley moved so fast Blake – and Tom – didn’t see him coming. Like a human volcano about to explode, he crossed to Blake, pulled her roughly up by her lapels. The action caused her to drop her gun in the mud.
‘What d’you mean, she’s dead? Tell me about it.’
‘She was coming to see me. And my boss Harmer. To discuss you, Tom Killgannon. She’d worked out what was going on. Knew I’d denied you were undercover after she’d spoken to Harmer. Well, I couldn’t . . . couldn’t let that happen, could I? No . . .’
Foley and Tom shared looks. Foley looked as angry and upset as Tom was, if not more so.
‘So what did you do to her?’ asked Foley.
Tom recognised Foley’s quiet voice, knew what it signified. The calm before the storm.
‘There was an accident. A car accident. Those country roads are treacherous at this time of year . . . Boom . . .’ She smiled. ‘And off the road she went.’ She looked between the pair of them, as if explaining something she was sure they would understand. ‘One less person to worry about.’
Foley grabbed her with one hand by the throat. Pulled the other back, still holding his gun, and slapped her as hard as he could. Then again. And again. And again. Her head went limply from side to side, the gun butt ripping at her cheek, blood arcing from her mouth, eyes rolled back in her skull, vacant.
‘Stop it!’ shouted Tom. ‘Enough . . .’
He grabbed Foley’s arm in mid slap.
‘Dean. Enou
gh.’
Foley stared at him and for a few seconds Tom wondered whether he had miscalculated and Foley would start on him next. And yes, he held the gun on Tom. Tom knew there was no way he would miss from this distance. But Foley just kept his eyes locked on Tom’s while the rage inside him calmed down.
He let Blake go. She crumpled to the ground in a heap next to Baz. A puppet with cut strings. No longer a threat of any kind.
Foley kept staring at Tom. Eventually he smiled. Tom couldn’t tell what kind of smile it was.
‘Just the two of us now,’ said Foley.
‘Then let’s talk. That’s what Dr Bradshaw wanted, wasn’t it?’
‘All right, then. Let’s talk.’
63
‘Try and keep your head down. Come on . . .’
Lila ran away from the house, Anju with her. Quint reached the front door, cursing, firing blindly. Just my luck to be hit by a stray bullet, thought Lila, after everything we’ve been through to get this far.
They dodged and weaved, making as hard a target as possible for the half-blinded assassin. Between themselves and the flaming car, not to mention the still-burning sugar on Quint’s face, he couldn’t find them. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t trying.
‘Lila!’
Lila turned at the voice. Pearl was crouched behind an old stone wall, her car parked behind that. Lila and Anju ran over and crouched down next to her.
‘Was that you?’ asked Lila, pointing towards the burning car.
‘I didn’t know what to do. When I drove up I saw a car outside that I didn’t recognise so what with everything that’s been going on recently, I parked up here and walked down. When I got to the house I looked in the window and saw him holding a gun on you both.’ She shook her head. ‘You were right about him, Lila. I should have listened to you earlier.’
‘Never mind. So it was you?.’
Pearl’s expression looked pained. ‘I didn’t know what to do. If I called the police they might take ages and he might hear them and keep you both locked in there. So I torched his car.’
‘Why?’ asked Anju.
‘To get him out of the house so you could lock it behind yourselves. Then we could call the police and get them to come and take him. I didn’t expect you two to come running out first.’
‘Lila had a plan of her own.’
‘And it was pure luck that it worked. And pure luck you did what you did, too.’
‘I’ll call the police.’ Pearl began going through her pockets. Found her phone.
‘No signal down here,’ said Lila. ‘We’d have to get to the top of the bank for that.’
They all looked back towards the house. Quint was still standing in front of it, some of his vision returning, scanning the area, looking for them. The flaming car burning through the storm, throwing off heat where there should only be freezing rain.
‘Can we get away in your car?’ asked Anju.
Pearl looked at the road up the hill, back to the house. ‘It’s too risky. I’d have to drive it out of where it’s parked and that’ll take me near to him. He might hit us.’
‘Right,’ said Anju. ‘So what do we do, then? He’ll find us if we stay here. Should we run for it?’
‘There’s a shortcut up that path to the top of the road,’ said Lila. ‘But it’s on the other side to where he is. And if we get to the top of the hill we’ve still got miles to go to anywhere.’
But we can call the police then.’
‘If we can get up without him catching us.’
‘So what do we do?’ asked Pearl.
Lila looked at the house once more. Worked out where Quint was in relation to the buildings around him. Looked at the other two.
‘I think I’ve got an idea . . .’
64
‘Put it down,’ said Tom, ‘it makes me nervous.’
Foley looked at the gun in his hand as if seeing it for the first time, surprised it was there. ‘Fair enough,’ he said, tucking it inside his overcoat, ‘wouldn’t want it falling into the wrong hands, now, would we?’
That done, Foley looked at Tom. Taking the time to really scrutinise him.
‘You look different. Well, I suppose you would after all these years. And I don’t just mean the hair and beard and everything. There’s something different about you. You don’t look like you used to.’
Tom said nothing. Foley kept staring. Eventually he smiled.
‘But there’s still a bit of you in there. The old you. The old Mick. You can’t get rid of it that easily.
‘You look just the same,’ Tom said. ‘Only more so.’
Foley laughed. ‘Prison tends to do that to a person, doesn’t it?’
The laughter stopped. Like two gunfighters, neither wanted to be the first to look away in case the other made their move.
‘So you still blame me for everything that happened to you?’ asked Tom.
‘Course I did. All I thought about. For years. You. What you’d done. How you’d betrayed me.’ No drama in his voice when he spoke that word. Just a prosaic matter-of-factness. ‘Used to lie awake at nights, planning my revenge. Picturing it in detail, real exquisite detail. Every scream, every gasp . . .’ He shook his head. ‘Didn’t sleep for ages thinking all that. And I had people looking for you. All over the country. Even abroad. Thought you might have skipped to somewhere sunny. Spain or Florida, something like that.’
Tom almost smiled. ‘Spain or Florida? Credit me with some taste.’
Foley almost returned the smile.
‘Like I said, you obsessed me. I tried everywhere. Every angle. Looking for you. Searching, hunting . . . no sign of you. Eventually, I came to the conclusion that you’d probably died. And that made me even more angry. Because that meant someone else had done you in. Or cancer, something like that. And I tried to think you deserved it but it still hurt like hell that it wasn’t me who’d done it. Like I’d been robbed of that satisfaction.’
Tom said nothing.
‘Because, like I said, I’d planned it all. What I was going to do to you . . . Christ you were going to suffer . . .’
‘And now that I’m here, in front of you? Are you still going to make me suffer?’
Tom tensed as he spoke. He was bigger in frame than Foley, but never bigger in rage. Foley was an expert at transforming that anger into physical action. Tom knew he would never best him in a fight if it was one on one.
Foley sighed. Looked up at the rain. Back at Tom. ‘What’s the point? Eh? What would it achieve?’ He shook his head. ‘You were wrong. What you said just now. That I’m not different. That I haven’t changed. The Dean Foley you knew, all those years ago . . . that’s not who I am anymore.’
Tom didn’t know how to reply, what kind of response to give. Didn’t even know whether Foley was telling the truth. Instead he gathered his thoughts. His turn to share.
‘I’ve thought about you over the years too. A lot. Obviously. I’ve been living my life in hiding ever since that night. I’ve been living in fear that you’d find me. And I knew what you’d do if you did.’
‘And here I am.’
‘Here you are.’
‘That why you came down here?’ asked Foley.
‘Yeah. Wanted to get as far away as possible. So I came to Cornwall. Lived on my own in the middle of nowhere.’
‘As far away as possible. You got that right. Still in the nineteen fifties, round here.’
‘It’s not that bad,’ said Tom, almost smiling. Despite the reality of the situation, a part of him acknowledged that it was like two old friends catching up.
‘But you were right,’ said Tom. ‘Well, half right.’
‘About what?’
‘My guilt. That’s what sent me down here. Away from everyone.’
‘About your niece?’
‘Yeah. And also about my involvement with you.’
Foley smiled, triumphant. ‘Told you. What did I say? All those sessions with Dr Louisa pai
d off.’ Then a shadow passed over him as he remembered.
Tom kept talking.
‘I said half right. Not like you meant. You showed me a side of myself that I hated. Well, you didn’t just show me, you allowed me to let it out. You indulged me, encouraged me. And it was a side of me that was cruel, heartless, arrogant. Took pleasure in hurting people in as many ways as I could. Enjoyed the power and fear that it brought. I could do anything when I was with you. Anything. You know you said once you could shoot someone in a pub on Deansgate and get away with it? Remember?’
‘Course I remember.’
‘Well so could I. I knew I could. That’s how powerful I felt. And I wanted to do it, just to see what it felt like. You were the one who brought that out.’
Foley shrugged. ‘Can’t blame me for something that was already there in you. If you didn’t like it you wouldn’t have done it.’
‘But I did like it. That was the thing. And it was only when I was with you that I behaved like that. I would never have done it otherwise.’
‘So what? You want me to apologise for existing just so you can feel better about yourself?’
‘No,’ said Tom, shaking his head. ‘You don’t understand. I’m not explaining myself clearly. That whole side of me, all of that . . . I loved it. Really loved it. And it scared me how much I loved it. How much I didn’t want it to stop. I wanted to keep going for ever. Or part of me did.’ He paused. Took a deep breath. Another. ‘So when it was time to do my job, to break up the gang, I was relieved that someone made that decision for me. Because it wasn’t just about stopping you. It was about stopping me as well. And I don’t think I could have stopped otherwise.’
Foley nodded slowly, looked down at Baz’s body.
‘He didn’t stop. He kept going.’
‘And look where it got him.’ Tom looked back at Foley. ‘You see what I mean, what I’ve been getting at? I’ve lived the rest of my life trying to be a different person. The person I am now, this Tom Killgannon, it’s more than just a name. It’s another chance. I’ve lived in fear, not just of you finding me, but that I’d go back to being who I was. I’ve worked to get rid of that part completely.’
The Sinner Page 29
