Dead Pretty (14 page)

‘Kelly, let's go the window, to look at the beautiful day.'

‘No way.'

Kelly sprang up and tried to make it to the door but the big man caught him up and lifted him off his feet. I'm not going to get out of this, Kelly thought. No way. The thought cut through the whisky but it diminished his fear, rather than added to it. A decision was being taken for him. The big man tried the window while Angelo held him upright. He solved the problem of the paint-stuck frame with one kick. The sound of traffic, and Sunday people drifted up. It was a perfectly normal sound.

‘This room needs air,' Angelo murmured in Kelly's ear, ‘we need some air.' He gestured to the big man, who took Kelly by the scruff of the neck and threw him out.

Kelly might have been drowning. Donegal flashed up in millisecond scenes, the village dead before tourists could save it, his mother who did her best, the old man who beat the shite out of him, the torn black and white photo of his only girlfriend, the one who went away, taking his life with her. He heard a woman screaming, he'd never had that effect an any of them before. But maybe the scream is mine, Kelly thought, my final sound in this world, as the pain he'd felt in his arm exploded to all parts of his body. Time did not exist. and his eyes focused on nothing.

‘Go and get the car and pick me up at the back,' Angelo said. ‘His arm will just be one of many injuries now. They'll say this Kelly killed himself. He was down, now he's out. The police will not bother about him too much. Why should they?'

‘But what if he did know something?'

‘No, impossible. Go.'

Angelo stood in the bed-sit for another minute, lighting up an untipped cigarette. The room reminded him of his past. His first place in Tirana, shared with four others. He wished Stellachi hadn't killed the girl.

*

Mark tried to keep Lena from his mind as he cut into the beef. It was medium rare, how he'd always liked it, but as he put a piece into his mouth his mind rejected it. He saw the pink-red centre of the beef and dropped his fork onto his plate, splashing Julie with gravy.

‘What's up with you?'

‘Sorry, maybe it's the beer. I never drink at this time these days.'

‘God, things
have
changed. Too much of that vegetarian nonsense from your ex, as well, I bet.'

‘Leave the boy alone, Jool.'

‘Ganging up on me already, are you?'

Julie pretended to be cross but Mark knew she was pleased. Carl was warming to him.
Hope springs eternal
, it had always been on the kitchen wall in the estate house, a cheap plaque made of plastic wood, with a flower motif at its edges. That saying had become a joke between them, and she'd taken it down after Shane's disappearance, but Mark could see that the words were still ingrained in her.

Mark ate what he could of the meal, feeling Julie's eyes on him the whole time. Carl also watched him, but in a different way. He was checking Mark out, knowing that he was here for other reasons and wondering what they were. Mark remembered talking to an ex-army guy who'd worked for the agency. He'd told him about Ireland, the feeling he had when he walked down dangerous streets, how the hairs on the back of his neck twitched in expectation of a bullet. Anytime. All the time.
You never get rid of it, even when you're home from fucking leave, the man said.
Maybe Carl still had it. Maybe Mark had given it back to him today.

‘You want another pint, Mark? Carl asked.

‘OK.'

They sat on the patio at the front of the pub's dining room, enjoying the best of the sun. To Mark, the sea looked strange, for it was not part of his land-locked world. It was full of shifting movement, a sluggish turning of itself. Stretching away from all that the land held for him. It would be tempting to accept its invitation, but it would be useless to go abroad. He'd lose any edge being home might give him, and, even now, flying was still out. He saw himself a gibbering wreck in an airport lounge, disarmed by his phobia, a sitting duck for Stellachi, or anyone halfway good.

As they sat and drank a wind started to get up, whipping the tops of the waves into foam.

‘White horses, they're called,' Julie said, ‘Carl told me. She zipped up her jacket. ‘The sun's going. Come on, let's get back, it's getting a bit parky.'

His mother was tipsy but not in the way Mark remembered, when she'd totter home from the local club full of booze and recrimination, let down by one man, used by another. Sometimes obeying the plaque by bringing home a punter, who'd disappear with the new day. His childhood and her prime time, or it should have been. Suddenly, Mark wished he could change it all, give Julie another chance, not continue to smash her life with what he had always brought to it. She thought she had a new start now. Perfect fucking timing. If he'd known Carl was on the scene he wouldn't have come here. Whatever was going to happen could at least have been kept away. But Mark didn't know about Carl, because they were crap at communicating. He'd been absorbed in Lena and where she might lead.

Julie ran her hand over Carl's shoulder as he drove. Mark watched as she toyed with the back of his neck. These two seemed to have something real, and if he hung around Julie would think her new world was complete. Telling her he was not staying would be difficult, Mark tried to think of something but his brain would not play ball. As the last of the sun came back out, Mark dozed, like a tired boy on his way home from the seaside. Like it might have been twenty-five years ago, if they lived a different life, in a different place.

Mark was alert when they got back to Julie's flat. It was hard to imagine any action here, but bad things happened anywhere. He knew Carl was watching him in the rear view mirror. He knows I'm on the lookout, Mark thought, he knows the signs, but there was no one around, no gold Lexus parked nearby.

‘It's bin a lovely day,' Julie said, ‘I'm going for a lie down. I think I drank a bit too much.'

‘Want a brew?' Carl said, ‘you look like you could do with a coffee.'

‘Ta.'

Carl made the drinks and they sat down in the main room.

‘Want the telly on?'

‘Nah, don't use it.'

‘That must make you some kind of freak in this day and age.'

‘Probably.'

‘I usually watch a bit of sport Sunday afternoons.'

‘Don't let me stop you.'

‘No, it's okay.'

They were silent for a while, each man drinking his coffee and weighing the situation up.

‘So what you running from?' Carl said eventually. ‘Police? Your girlfriend?'

‘What makes you think I'm running from anything?'

‘I know the signs. I learnt them well in the forces, apprentice in Ireland, graduated in the Falklands. You got twitchy written all over you. You haven't relaxed a second, not even when you nodded off in the car.'

‘So, you were in the Falklands, as well.'

‘Aye, but I haven't told your mother. Some of the guys like to bang on about it, I'd rather let it lie in the past, where it belongs. She don't ask much anyway. You haven't answered, Mark.'

‘The police aren't after me. I've kept my nose clean since I did a stretch in a young offenders' place.'

‘Aye, Julie did tell me that, but something's up, something more than being dumped by a girlfriend.'

Mark shrugged.

‘Maybe it's my natural state. I'm not much of a mixer. Look, I'll be gone soon. Going tonight, as it happens. Things to do, like.'

‘Your mother's gonna be upset. She'd like you to stay.'

‘How about you?'

It was Carl's turn to shrug. ‘It's her place. And it's a big sofa.'

‘Thanks, but I've got plans.'

‘What, Sunday night, and no car?'

Mark realised this guy wasn't going to give up. ‘I'm meeting up with a few guys I work with,' he said.

‘What, you're on a job down here?'

‘That's it, but don't tell Mam. It's nothing much anyway, routine surveillance stuff.'

‘Sounds interesting.'

‘No, not really. That's only in the films. I'm going to the bog,' Mark said.

When Mark went back into the living room Carl had the holdall by his side. It was open.

‘My old sergeant used to have one of these,' Carl said. ‘He took it off a Yank mercenary on a hillside near Goose Green. Shot him in the head with it. Bit of a museum piece now, I'd say. This other one is much more like it. German, I think, but the name and number's been scratched off.'

Carl picked up the automatic in his other hand.

‘Two-gun kid, eh? Better tell me, Mark, and quickly.'

‘Perhaps I'd just better go.'

‘Like fuck you will. ‘Carl jerked a thumb towards the bedroom. ‘You can't think much of her, bringing these here. And the S and W has been used recently. Blow a hole in a wall, that would, and other things.'

Carl put the guns on top of the holdall, carefully, neatly, they nestled there like a kid's toys.

‘Julie will be waking up soon. Better start.'

Chapter Nine

Angelo sat behind Agani's ornate desk. He liked the view from the window, and the way the sun brought up the finish on the polished wood, like rich gold. London spread out all around him, so many stone and glass fingers pointed upwards, each one announcing its wealth. Sometimes in his village someone would have a tattered magazine and he'd see cities like this. All the big ones in all the big countries, dripping with money. Even on worn pages they shone and the people also seemed to glow. Angelo fingered one of the gold rings he wore on each little finger. Those fingers were not good for much and rings gave them a purpose. A ring like this could buy that village, and the people in it. He was ten years older than Agani, it had taken him longer to get where he was. He was not so clever, but he was steady, sure, and he learnt. There was an intricate design carved on Agani's table, two eagles flying. Agani had brought someone over specially to do it, to remind him of home, he said. Angelo did not want any reminders.

The big man came in and he stood before Angelo, like he'd stood before Agani. Angelo thought that maybe this Richards has done him a favour. Amsterdam would need a replacement, so why not him? Angelo would let the matter end now, if he had his way. An eye for an eye, and it was over. He doubted if this Richards would ever bother them again, and it would be better not to bother him. As Agani said, it was business. But those in Amsterdam clung to old ways. The Welshman had been a fool to let them live.

‘What's happening with Kelly?' Angelo asked.

‘They came, took him away. A policeman who looks like he should be in school stands outside that pigsty. In that bar he drank in they say he jumped. They say they could see it coming.'

‘Good. We have an address for this Richards from the girl's flat, somewhere near Cardiff. His mother lives there.'

‘Where's Cardiff?'

‘Near his birthplace. Less than two hundred miles west. Another country, they say, but not another country.'

‘What are you talking about?'

‘They even speak another language there, I think. It's the way this Britain is.'

‘I have not got very far with English.'

‘I've noticed, but we're a long way from the village.'

The big man smiled, his two gold teeth putting on their own display.

‘Yes, we are, so was Agani, but he died in a girl's gown with his head on this wall.'

‘It was his time. Get a car ready. We'll go down in the morning.'

‘The Lexus is being fixed. Shall I take Agani's Mercedes?'

‘You mean
our
Mercedes.'

The big man smiled again. ‘How do you know he's gone there?' he said. ‘He could be anywhere.'

‘I know, but Lena told Tony that this man will not fly. He will never fly she said. In his position I would go to the place I know the best. My homeland.'

‘Won't fly?' The big man's grin became wider. ‘What about Stellachi?' he asked.

‘He won't come unless we need him. Get my things ready. We'll go early.'

The big man is getting old, Angelo thought. Still as strong an ox, but also as slow-thinking as one. They were both getting old. He would not have been surprised by this Richards even five years ago. London had made them soft. Richards was like Stellachi, he moved fast like Stellachi, had the same sharp eyes as the Romanian. But Angelo had seen him kill and he was not like Stellachi in that. He'd seen Richards' face when he pulled the trigger. This man was fighting himself, and he'd be fighting himself now. His woman was gone, and he had killed. Maybe this man was soft at the centre, but Stellachi had no soft, he was a man who hated every second of life. Angelo understood this, and feared it. He stretched out his hands so that his rings flashed, and he saw his reflection amongst the eagles. He hoped they weren't coming for him.

*

Mark began to talk. He told Carl everything, keeping his voice low, like one of Carl's old comrades reporting on a Falklands hillside. He couldn't believe how easily it all came out, and what a relief it was when it did. By the time he got to the end it seemed like he was describing a film he'd seen the other day.

Carl did not interrupt or say a word until he'd finished.

‘By Christ, I knew it was something bad, when I found the guns,' Carl said, ‘but nothing like this. This is the last place you should have come.'

‘I know, but it's done now. Even if I hadn't come down, they'd know where Julie lives. They'll have found her address in our flat, or maybe Lena told them. You being here is a bonus, Carl. Julie might have been alone when they came, not knowing who the fuck they were or what was happening, and not being able to tell them anything. That doesn't bear thinking about. We have a chance to get her away now.'

‘We?'

‘OK, you'll have to do it, if you're up for it. They'll know nothing about you. You do have your own place?'

Carl was silent for a long moment, looking at the guns, and moving them slowly around in his hands.

‘Fucking hell,' he muttered. ‘Only a few hours ago I was reading the Sunday paper, thinking I've met a good woman, and looking forward to a bit of quality time. Thanks a lot, Mark.'

‘I wouldn't blame you if you just walked out that door.'

‘No, but
I
would blame me. Yes, I have got a place. Swansea way. It's only an old council house. The divorce was messy, and it cost.'

‘What about your kids?'

‘Long gone. The boy's in Australia, and Megan is an au pair in Florida. They both wanted to get away when their mother and I fell apart.'

‘Does anyone know you around here?'

‘Nah. I've only been on the scene a few months and Julie keeps herself to herself.'

‘Does your ex know about Julie?'

‘There's no contact now. She's with her new fella, further west. He's minted, and she's still not bad looking. It's all right, I'm well out of it. At least I thought I was. Now you bring me this.'

‘Bit different to ‘Dad I got drunk and hit a copper,' eh?'

‘Just a bit. Look, Mark, I'm sorry about this Lena. I don't know how you've held it together today. Your mother is oblivious to it.'

‘Oh, she knows something is up all right, but she's used to thinking that's normal with me.

‘Surely it would be better to go the police, for Christsake.'

‘They'll think I'm barking. They'll never find any sign of Lena or Agani, and if they did take me seriously, with my form, they'd put me in the frame for Lena straight away. And I wouldn't trust that lot to protect Julie. No, people like Agani never really exist. They have false everything. You never know what their real names are, or where they're from. I'm not sure now that I knew Lena at all. That's the worst thing. Two years that might have been just a game, and me the stooge.'

‘What
are
you going to do?'

‘Go back to the valley, lie low. Let them come to me and see what happens. It's not much of a plan, but the only one I've got. I'll pick up some gear tomorrow morning.'

‘I get it. Meet 'em on your own ground. Do you think they'll track you down?'

‘If they don't, then I'll try to find this Stellachi. It won't be over for me until I do.'

‘None of this is fair on your mother.'

Despite him saying this, Mark could sense the excitement in Carl. His worn eyes took on new life. He was running from fire in Bluff Cove, bending in the wind on the Falklands hillside, wishing he had eyes in the back of his head in the Falls Road. Carl was alive again, alert to each passing second, sucking in life with every breath and glad of it. Mark caught the mood, and knew why soldiers liked to work in teams. They had killing in common. Carl had witnessed a summary execution on the battlefield, he might have shot that Yank himself, murder in the eyes of some, but a just killing in his eyes. In his head his mates would still have been burning. Not many men experienced stuff like that.

‘What about these?' Carl tapped one of the guns. ‘It would be best to get rid.'

‘No, things have gone too far. I'd be naked out there without them.'

‘If anything goes down here the police are bound to get involved. You can't go shooting up the bloody hillsides, man. This isn't Texas.'

‘Maybe they won't. If I go down, they'll make me disappear, like they did with Lena, and Agani.'

‘They went public when they ran over that Tony.'

‘Not really. It was hit and run. It happens every day on the roads and if they'd got me it would all be over. I've seen these people, Carl, they don't give a fuck about life or death.'

There were sounds of Julie stirring.

‘How the hell am I going to fix this,' Carl muttered, ‘what can I tell her?'

They looked at each other.

‘Well, let me put the artillery away for a start.'

Mark pushed the guns to the bottom of the holdall. He was zipping it up as Julie came back in.

‘You two look nice and cosy. Had a good chat, have you?'

‘I'll be getting off soon, Mam,' Mark said.

‘What? You only just got here.'

‘I know, but I'm not meant to be here at all. I'm working. I've got to get over to Bristol tonight. There's a car waiting for me in Cardiff.'

‘Oh. I see.'

Julie looked at him the same way she used to when he came home from a job, wondering if the police would be there minutes after him. Mark felt like shit, and he was dishing more of it out. Why didn't Lena tell him what was going on, just shown a little faith, just believed in him enough to include him? Now he was passing the buck to Carl.

Carl looked at him helplessly. He was Mark's one piece of luck. Anyone remotely normal would pick up the phone as soon as he was gone, but Mark didn't think Carl would. The man had only been on the scene a matter of weeks, looking for a bit of comfort after a bad domestic. He'd have every right to scarper, but there was something real about the man, something true. As a man who could hardly spell
trust,
Mark still thought this. He had to. He had to trust Carl, like he'd trusted Kelly. Two alien acts in one weekend, and it made him think how limiting it was to be always on your own. He'd needed an Irish bum and now he needed an ageing ex-army man. He was glad Carl had found the guns. If he'd said anything before he might have thought him just a nut spouting nonsense but guns were good for concen-trating the mind, he'd learnt that in the last few days.

‘Stay and have a bit of tea, at least,' Julie said.

‘I'm still stuffed after that pub, Mam.'

‘You hardly ate anything,' Julie muttered. ‘I'll make you a cup of coffee, you
have
got time for that?'

‘Course I have.'

‘Do you want one, love?' she asked Carl.

‘Okay.'

‘Get her down to that house of yours in the morning,' Mark whispered, as soon as Julie was in the kitchen. ‘If they find me they won't be interested in anyone else.'

‘How am I going to do that? She's got her job and everything.'

‘The job's no problem. Just phone her in sick. As for getting her down there, you'll have to think of something. Do this, please, Carl, for both of you.'

‘Both of us?'

‘You can be good for her. Good for each other. Listen, when I was growing up it was one long line of wankers. It wasn't her fault, it was just our situation. I thought it would never change, but it has. Even if I've fucked up again it doesn't have to change that. Keep her down your place as long as it takes. Gimme your mobile number and I'll stay in touch. If you don't hear within a week, expect the worst. Oh, you better keep a check on the news too.'

‘Expect the worst, by Christ. What do I say then? You're her only son.'

I am now, mate.
Shane's baby face loomed large in his head. If he lost out with Stellachi how
would
Julie cope with it? Another Richards disappearance, as final as the first. And if he got lucky, what then? Banged up for life? That would really bring some cheer into her life. Mark began to notice the unintentional movement of his hands, the way his fingers made shapes that his brain had no part in.

‘I've made one for all of us,' Julie said, ‘and there's some biscuits too.'

Perhaps he should have also told Carl about Shane but there was only so much the guy could be expected to take at one time.
Mark tried to pick up a biscuit but it crumbled in his hands, pieces of it falling into his drink.

‘That's what I call a dunk,' his mother said.

Julie sat close to him on the sofa. He could feel her warmth on his leg, and for a moment was back twenty-five years, waiting for her to smother him after she'd slammed the door on another loser.

‘That girl hurt you, didn't she?' Julie said quietly.

‘What?'

‘That Lena. It's obvious, been obvious all day. Was there someone else?'

‘Sort of. It's over, Mam, best let it alone.'

‘You sure?'

‘Oh aye, I'm sure about that.'

‘And you
have
to go?'

‘Yip.'

‘I'm going to the loo,' Carl said.

‘You got Carl now,' Mark said. ‘Seems all right to me.'

‘God, I never thought you'd say that about one of my boyfriends. Remember all those fights we had over them.'

‘Well, you certainly could pick 'em, Mam.'

‘But I couldn't though, could I?'

‘We've moved on a lot since then. Maybe this Carl will be good for you. You deserve it.'

‘It's early days yet, but I think he might. Thanks, love … listen to us, we're almost doing a normal family routine.'

‘Had to happen sometime.'

‘When will I see you again?'

‘Not sure. I've lots of work on.'

‘I can't believe you live in London. I never thought you'd leave the valley, 'specially the hillsides. Don' you never want to come back?'