A Time Honoured Killing

by Samesh Ramjattan

  “I never thought that you would be capable of such…” Nick said with a reprehensive tone.

  “Deceit? I play the best hand from the cards I’m dealt. And not by choice mind you,” Miles quickly interjected with an air of scorn.

  Nick took a moment to consider his situation then exited the office. There was nothing more to be said. He felt as though he was in the eye of an unforgiving storm with no hope of pardon.

  In the distance, Ron watched with malevolent suspicion.

  ~

  Mahmoud sat on a bench in a secluded brush growth with a veiled composure. He surveyed the large boating lake before him with a casual admiration. He had always relished these expansive green spaces in the city, something that he did not experience as a child growing up in arid rural Pakistan. He had always dreamt of it. The majestic sway of trees in the coaxing wind, delicate wild flowers carpeting the forest floor and cool glassy water ebbing in the glorious brooding lake. Regents park presented a splendour that elevated his weary mind, transporting him away from his responsibility and obligation.

  Here he felt like an ordinary person, not the forthright leader that had expectation and honour thrust upon him. Here he was at peace. But that was not to last.

  He watched as McNeill approached, walking with the stance that only someone who was trying to hide deeper inferiority would do. An upright, stiff and unreasoning reproach filled with a wary stolid expression. Mahmoud sensed that McNeill only tolerated their association because there was something to be gained from it, and he knew that once that was through, McNeill would turn from ally to foe, regarding him and his kind as an unwelcome intrusive plague to be viewed with suspicion and distrust.

  “Odd that we should meet like this,” McNeill re-marked as he sat down slowly beside Mahmoud.

  “It’s a beautiful day Mr McNeil. I thought we could enjoy it,” Mahmoud replied as he admired the clear blue sky.

  “Quite,” McNeill said with a stiff upper lip, eager to get his business with Mahmoud under way.

  “What of our arrangement,” Mahmoud inquired.

  “As planned,” McNeill replied curtly.

  “Indulge my curiosity. And my family matter, what about the Iraqi?”

  “Won’t be of any further harm to anyone. Especially your family or your name,” McNeill declared diligently. “Now indulge my curiosity.”

  “The Iraqi was recruited by them last year. My sources tell me that they were planning something large,” Mahmoud waxed.

  “Large?” McNeill asked solemnly.

  “Something very close to home…” Mahmoud exclaimed slowly. “Very close.”

  “Scotland Yard?” McNeill protested. “Impossible.”

  “Think about it, a sleeper cell right inside Scotland Yard,” Mahmoud pointed out as he handed McNeil a small brown envelope. “It’s all in there.”

  “This concludes our arrangement,” McNeill declared as he rose to his feet.

  “Remember the boy is not to be tarnished by any of this,” Mahmoud confirmed.

  “Why do you choose to protect him?” McNeill inquired.

  “A promise I made to his father,” Mahmoud replied. “Besides he’s like a son.”

  15

  The breakfast rush was coming to an end as the café emptied of its usual patrons of truck drivers and construction labourers. The sun bathed the vacated tables in a hazy orange glow, highlighting the empty coffee cups, grease stained plates and crusty ketchup coated cutlery. Nick languished sombrely, tucked faraway in the back, close to the entrance of the only toilet in the building. The pungent smell of bleach mixed with the heady fumes of grilled bacon and fried eggs, about the only staple being served from the scant menu. He had been brooding at the table for over an hour occasionally sipping an over-brewed coffee that barely provided any respite from his drowsy sleep deprived state. His mind raced, and he tried to focus all of his fleeting thoughts to a particular one. He went over it again and again. And yet he still had trouble believing it. He knew that deep down he should have treated her better than he had, but he always felt that he rescued her from the life that she herself couldn’t bring herself to escape. He had always strived to have a better life, elevating himself out of the life that his father did his best to provide for him. But he knew that he could do better. And maybe that is why he took the path that he did, as a means to get to where he was going. But she seemed to accept her place in the world. For her this was as good as it would get, for no matter how much she tried she could not shake it. And even the one time that she tried, it still evaded her.

  Nick lifted his head from his lost gaze at the cream laminate table and over to the grimy wall-mounted clock. It was nine fourteen. Carley was late. He had not heard from her since that morning when she left without much to say to him. He was glad to be rid of her. That way he could focus his attention on the case. But now so much had changed in just a few days and he now felt different about everything. Even her.

  Nick kept telling himself that maybe she had no choice and Miles had put her in a corner, and that’s why she did it. But he knew that wasn’t it. He knew her better than that. She was a survivor, and this was her way of making him recognise her true position in his life. She went to Miles because she wanted to make a point. Although he could not understand what that was yet. That is why he needed to find out and he wanted to hear the words from her mouth.

  Carley burst in the door with brute force and swept through the dining room straight past the kitchen, avoiding the disapproving stare from the much too tolerant owner Rich. He was a small diminutive creature with a boney frame, greasy skin and hair, that looked as if it was soaked in the same lard that was used to cook his notorious heart stopping fry-ups. Still they had a reputation for being one of the best and Nick often devoured them after long ill-fated drinking binges, back when he drank with ferocity.

  “Late night?” Rich inquired sarcastically, as Carley emerged flustered.

  “Leave it out!” Carley announced loudly at Rich as she tied the straps of her pink frilly apron that sat in complete contrast to her plain purple top, baggy blue trousers and flat black shoes. She was uncharacteristically normally dressed, Nick thought, as she began clearing the messy tables and hadn’t noticed him yet. Carley rushed back into the kitchen, her arms loaded with plates and cups. She was not naturally suited to this sort of work or any work for that matter and was never going to be the type to follow a career path that involved university, or any vocation that involved working behind a desk or in a team. She held a firm opinion on practically everything and very often it was not a popular one, nor did she take kindly to anyone who opposed or challenged her. She saw this as an outright challenge on her very being which resulted in a ferocious defence that would never warrant yielding. Lurking deep down though, she was someone who wanted her voice to be heard and to be taken seriously.

  Carley emerged from the kitchen door with prowess and was ready to attack the next set of tables when she saw Nick and froze. For a moment they watched each other, waiting for someone to break the ice. Nick did his best to maintain a decorum, but invariably the question of her betrayal needed to be answered.

  “Why’d you do it?” Nick blurted in an insolent tone.

  “Do what?” Carley replied sullenly.

  “Munroe,” Nick implied. “You went to see him.”

  Carley stared at Nick for a moment, unable to form the words to express her bleak, pallid feelings.

  “You know why,” she then said, as she moved to clear the table next to him. “Besides it’s something you should have done in the first place.”

  “It’s not that simple,” Nick lamented.

  “For me it is!” She replied irately.

  “You have that luxury. I don’t,” Nick replied as he got to his feet.

  “The truth is not a luxury!” Carley bellowed.

  Their voices had filled the empty diner as Rich quietly retreated from the increasingly fiery exchange.

  “It’s our only w
ay out,” Carley declared despondently as she sat deflated at one of the tables. “From all of it!”

  “What do you mean?” Nick inquired as he sat before Carley.

  Carley hunched over the dirty table burying her agonized face in her hands.

  “He needed a way to get to Tyson,” Carley admitted. “And you were it.”

  “So I could take the blame?” Nick declared as he began to put things together.

  “Your partner Ron’s been a junkie for years, even dealing on the side for Tyson. Last year Tyson got linked on some dumb fucking burglary charge and he was going to talk. Give up Ron, Police corruption, the whole lot, including me,” Carley said, as she wiped away her tears and looked Nick in the eye. “Serious prison time. They knew you would do what they wanted – lie to cover their tracks.”

  “They?” Nick questioned with hostility.

  “McNeill,” Carley replied.

  “So, you used me like everyone else,” Nick stated biliously, as Carley gazed back at him dolefully.

  “Now you know what it feels like,” Carley said woefully.

  “I suppose we’re even,” Nick declared flatly. He rose to his feet and marched to the door.

  Carley shut her eyes in despair as regret overtook her and the finality of Nick’s words resonated through her being.

  “I can make this right,” Carley announced woefully. “Just tell me what you need.”

  Nick stopped in his tracks.

  ~

  Carley looked upon the car park with apprehension. Ron’s car was the only one in the middle of an array of marked bays amidst the surrounding woods. The woods were eerily silent apart from the icy wind that howled through them. She hadn’t seen Ron in months and she was unsure of what to expect. She had always got along with Ron and he viewed her with some affection, but she knew that he saw her as an object and a means to get his way. Often that meant that she had to tolerate his sloppy advances and the occasional unwelcome grope. She dismissed it as a consequence of their relationship, but she would never let anything substantial develop out of it. However, there was a time when she would have let him have his way with her, just to be able to have a policeman in her corner, and that would have made her feel safe and secure. She hated herself for having to stoop so low just to feel a degree of security, but it seemed in her chequered life she had always needed to protect herself or have some sort of means to.

  It all started when she was quite young, about eleven, and before she even took notice she began to parade the full figure of a girl aged sixteen. That immediately spurned that advances of boys much older than her, along with the jealousy of the girls too. Carley realised very quickly that she could use her new-found status to her advantage. She was never one to take her scholastic development seriously and very quickly she was failing in most of her subjects and was ordered to take an audience with the school principal. Carley knew that she would have to do something to prevent her fate being sealed into a life of menial labour, as she was kicked out of school and forced to join the ranks of the rest of her family working in the nearby steel mill. That was something she could not stand, and so she took the meeting wearing a short black skirt from the previous school year, and her sister’s white shirt with gaping holes from where the buttons battled to stay together revealing her braless budding breasts. The aptly named Mr Peerless could barely contain his leering incoherent babbling as she sat cross-legged before him, exposing her smooth athletic thighs. From then on, she never had to worry about failing another class or being expelled from school again, as she took on the role of faculty-student liaison and spent most afternoons up against his filing cabinet while he mounted her from the rear. He was her first, and while her mother had told her to wait until she was in love, she didn’t care, as it wasn’t that important to her. Their affair carried on for many years and most of the school knew what was going on, but none dare break their silence. Mr Peerless would take Carley on long drives, buying her clothing and jewellery promising to leave his frigid wife for her, declaring his love for his Lolita. But then it all came to an abrupt end when Carley’s Home Economics teacher refused to continue with the charade and blew the whistle. As it turns out, he had had an affair with her too and promised her all the same things. Peerless was promptly sacked and Carley was expelled. Her parents then kicked her out and she was alone on the streets, in need of that security that she so desperately sought once more. It didn’t come so easily at first as Carley encountered a string of engagements, even becoming the muse of a lesbian painter who would get off by painting surreal variations of her vagina disguised as ripe tropical fruit. But for Carley, that was enough, and it was the only form of love that she needed.

  But then Carley met Tyson. In the beginning his machismo and bravado mesmerised her, and for a short time Carley thought that she loved him. But he had other ideas for her. She thought Crack was harmless at first, but she tried it anyway, and it seemed to take her to places that she had never been before. It seemed to bring all of her doubts and insecurities under control and she felt invincible, almost as if nothing would hurt her. But that initial taste became a regular occurrence and then it was an obsession that she could not do without. Once that happened, Tyson had her under his spell. He got her to do whatever he wanted, provided he gave her, her daily drug fix. Dealing. ‘Muling’. And even being passed around Tyson’s friends and customers to be used like a piece of meat. She was not proud of it. She knew now how far she had gone and the reprehensible things that she had done just to get high.

  That was when she met Detective Ron Allen, and then soon after in a holy moment of clarity, she met Nick. The very sight of him made her detest herself and the life that she had assumed. The moment she lay her eyes on him she knew they were kindred spirits, and for the first time in her life she wanted to give, rather than take, protect rather than desecrate. She knew true love for the first time. She felt as though she was eleven again and the none of the unsavoury and degrading encounters had occurred. She finally knew what her bizarrely truthful alcoholic mother was talking about, for with Nick she felt like she was making love and not just ‘fucking’.

  That feeling of love overcame her once more as she thought about Nick, while pacing stoically to Ron’s car, taking a deep breath as she opened the door.

  Ron looked excited to see her and he gestured for her to get in. Carley nervously accepted, as she slid cautiously into the grey patterned bucket seats. The car smelled as though Ron had just had his dinner in it, as the aroma of chicken Kebab permeated.

  “Did you get it?” Carley asked bluntly not wanting to spend any more time than she needed to with the surly detective.

  “Here,” Ron said as he handed Carley a wrinkled brown envelope. Carley took it and quickly emptied the contents into her hand. It was a computer security access card.

  “What’s this?” She enquired as she studied it, “You were supposed to get the file!”

  “I had a tough enough time of getting that,” Ron protested. “That file is in McNeill’s personal drive. That card will get you in.”

  “How am I supposed to get in there?”

  “I’m sure you’ll find a way sweetness,” Ron sneered.

  “Fuck sakes! And the other thing?” A frustrated Carley replied.

  Ron stared at her uncooperatively, displeased that he was bowing to Carley’s wishes.

  “Carmon!” Carley barked.

  Reluctantly, Ron dipped his hand into his pocket and removed the Gold Locket Necklace, holding it in front of Carley’s face indignantly. She stared at it for a moment, admiring its unusual beauty, then she attempted to pull it away from Ron, but he held on.

  “You’ve got what you wanted, now you keep your mouth shut!” Ron warned. “That goes for that boyfriend of yours too!”

  “Whatever,” Carley dismissed, but Ron grabbed her arm tightly as she attempted to leave.

  Fear filled Carley as she tried to break loose from Ron’s steel fisted grip. Ron had had a reputation fo
r being a violent bully and he was feared by the most stalwart of street thugs. She turned back and looked at him, trying to mask her trepidation, as he moved his thick fingers up behind her neck and forcing her closer to him.

  “Maybe you do one more thing for me, like the old days,” Ron grinned. “You used to love to swallow.”

  Carley exhaled slowly as she turned and moved in closer to him, staring him in the face with abhorrent disgust.

  “Does it make you feel strong to talk to me like that?” Carley questioned, as she removed her phone from her pocket, pressed stop and then playback. Once again Ron’s voice played back; ‘You used to love to swallow…’

  “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again. Or you’ll find this on your Facebook page. Cunt,” Carley threatened.

  Ron retreated sheepishly as Carley exited the car, slamming the door on Ron’s flabbergasted reaction. She marched off across the solemn car park, smiling proudly at her newly discovered defiance.

  ~

  Carley could see the staff entrance to the Scotland Yard building, her vision obscured only slightly as she hid behind several large refuse bins. She had spent the best part of two hours cowering behind the metallic behemoths that housed fermenting trash, watching for the right person to leave the building. The cleaning crews had finished their shifts and one by one began to leave the building, and Carley knew she had to spot the one who would fit her height, build, hair colour and facial features. That way she could enter and blend in as one of the non-descript cleaning staff and get up to McNeill’s office without being detected. She felt her chances getting slimmer by the minute as she eagerly watched the unassuming aluminium glass door as it slid open producing another person who was either too short, too tall, looked nothing like her or was a man.

  The cold night air began to invade her flimsy chiffon dress, sending goose bumps along her already tense spine. Perhaps it was time to abandon her pursuits, return to Nick and tell him that she had failed to help him. She would then have to accept that he might never want to see her again, and the feeling seemed to find an overwhelming sense of woe that pieced her resolve like a bleak spectre. She felt like falling to the floor and crouching in self-degradation, feeling at one amongst the garbage. But then the door slid open once more and she didn’t even bother to look intently, apart from a fleeting glance in the direction of the retiring worker. Something about this one registered her attention and Carley stood up gazing intently at her. The woman was slightly taller, but not by much, of similar build, and had slick pulled back blonde hair. She was a perfect match and Carley beheld her inane dress sense. The woman wore figure-hugging black denim, a transparent white blouse that only slightly veiled a red lace bra, wrapped in a brown suede hipster. Carley couldn’t help but admire the ensemble and couldn’t have done better herself. The woman was a mirror image of her and she watched as the woman returned her security pass into a large leather bag. Carley watched as she passed in front of her and strode down the street. She summoned all her courage and quickly followed after her.