“But Sam – he could have been killed as well,” I protested.
“Yes. Pity. I’ve got nothing against Sam. But it seems he’s inherited your talent for poking his nose in.” Adi looked away from me and spoke to Ignacio, who had been watching us with an expression of mild amusement. “Speaking of Sam, did Donnie find him yet?”
Donnie. Out looking for Sam. I looked over at the window, and realized why they’d drawn the blinds. So I wouldn’t see Donnie leaving, heading out of the gate. They must have decided on that as soon as they saw me walking towards them alone.
My phone was on the floor somewhere. I’d dropped it when Adi hit me. “Sam!” I shouted, hoping it was in range of my voice and still connected. “Sam!”
“This what you’re looking for?” asked Ignacio. He stepped past me and picked it up from the corner of the room. “Hey, Sam, you still there?” he said. “Only if you want to say goodbye to your pa, you’d better get over here in the next five minutes!”
He switched it off and tossed it back on the floor. “Donnie texted me,” he said to Adi. “He found the car, but no one was in it. Guess Sam went for a walk, eh? Donnie’s taking a look around, see if he can spot him. But – hey, Graham? Where’s your boy gone?”
“Police,” I said. “He’s gone for the police.”
“Yeah? Why didn’t he just phone them?”
“Because he was still listening in on the conversation.”
Ignacio laughed. “OK. Not a problem, anyhow. So he tells the police? His word against ours – and there’ll be no other evidence, I promise you!” I tried to interrupt, but he waved me down. “And now you’re going to say he’s recording it. So what? We’ve got lawyers, and lawyers love things like that. They’ll be all, ‘When was it made? How was it made? Can you verify that?’ The worst you can do is inconvenience us a little. And that’s only if Donnie doesn’t find him first. Don’t forget we know where you live. We’ll just go round after we’ve finished here.” He paused, and scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Of course, your wife might be there. Seems a pity to get her involved. So perhaps you’d like to save her the unpleasantness and us the trouble, eh, Graham? Where’s your boy gone?”
“You stay away from Sandra!” I snapped at him. “And if I were you, I’d be getting on your way. Sam will be on to the police now, after what he’s heard, and they’ll be all over this place in ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes? Really? Your British police are as good as that?” He shook his head. “Well, I kinda doubt it. But it won’t matter much. We’ve got things all prepared. Lots of places round here for hiding a few bodies. And I’ll be like, ‘Sorry, Officer, we haven’t seen anyone, but feel free to look around.’ And perhaps they will, but they won’t find anything. Nice try, Deeson, but I’m way ahead of you.”
I managed to pull myself back up into the chair. “They’ll hear gunshots.”
“Gunshots? Why would there be any gunshots? Show ’em, Carlo.”
Big Carlo reached behind a filing cabinet and pulled out a cricket bat. Actually, my cricket bat. I could see the signatures across the face. And a chip of wood had been knocked out of one edge.
Ignacio continued. “Y’know, I’ve got a nickname back in the States. They call me ‘The Poet’. Because I like to do things with a bit of style, see? A bit of poetry. Like one time, there was this guy who was into that big-game fishing thing. Had all these pictures round his place, of him standing next to the big dead fish. So I hung him off his rod, with his own line, just like one of his trophies! You remember that one, Carlo?”
“Sure do,” said Carlo. “That was a good one.”
“Right. But I’m always trying to do better. And I thought, ‘What would be more poetic than to use your own cricket bat?’ Well, I kinda like the idea, anyway.”
I looked at Carlo, who for once wasn’t frowning. I looked at Ignacio, who was positively smiling. And I looked at Adi, who looked back at me and shrugged, expressionless.
“So I had Carlo bring it along,” Ignacio continued. “He’s kinda into sports… ever played cricket, Carlo?”
The big man shook his head. “No, sir.”
“Well, today’s your chance to try it out.” He gave me a wink. “See, I’m the Poet. I get the ideas, but Carlo’s the guy who gets to – ah – execute them!” He sniggered. So did Carlo, though I wasn’t sure if he’d got the joke. I didn’t find it very funny myself, but they were enjoying themselves.
I looked round the room, desperately searching for a way out. And as I did so, my eyes flicked across the door at the far end, just in time to see the handle move.
I remembered then. I remembered Sam’s story of how he’d spied on our meetings through that door.
“Stop!” I shouted. Because if Ignacio found Sam, he’d kill him. And he was my son, and any danger to him far outweighed the danger to me.
“It’s a bit late for that, Graham,” said Adi. “I thought you believed in heaven, anyway? You should be keen to be on your way.”
He thought I’d been shouting at him, or Ignacio. Pleading for my life. He was liking it. I could see from his expression.
“But it’s you I’m worried about, Adi. I’ve been looking out for you all these years. I can’t just stop now.”
The words were bubbling out of me almost without conscious thought. I didn’t have time to think about what I was saying. I just had to keep talking, keep them looking at me, because the handle was still moving. Very slowly, but definitely moving.
“Nothing to worry about, Graham. I’ll manage fine without you.”
Adi stepped back a bit, letting Carlo come closer. He was hefting the bat, swinging it slightly and getting a feel for it. His eyes were targeting an area on the back of my skull.
“But, come on, mate, do you really think you can trust these people? How are they any different from Lonza?”
Adi sighed. “I thought I’d explained this, Graham. I’ll put in the money from this place, and when CSS are up and running, Ignacio’s boss gets paid off, with interest.”
The door handle was all the way down.
I shook my head. “They aren’t sports fans, Adi. Not soccer fans, anyhow. They’re business people. And gangsters. Why would they let all that money go into something as risky as a soccer team when they can just cut their losses, take all the profit, and walk away? After all, Lonza didn’t think it was worth a proper investment, did he? Why would they?”
“We did a deal,” Adi said. But there was just a trace of uncertainty in his voice. Perhaps it was the old habit of listening to what I told him even when he didn’t like it. Perhaps it was just that he was finally thinking past his own ambitions and considering what other people might want.
“Sure, you did a deal. What’s that worth?”
Adi looked away from me and at Ignacio.
“You know, you shoulda listened better to your pal Graham. He really is smarter than you.”
“We did a deal!” Adi said again.
“Yeah, about that.” Ignacio sighed and casually pulled out his automatic. “See, I had a talk with the boss about that. And the truth is, Deeson’s right: he’s not really a sports fan. So, while we agreed that Lonza had got some big ideas and had to be taken down, that didn’t mean he wasn’t right about your soccer team. It sort of worked as a scam, but it’s not really the kind of long-term investment we’re looking for.”
Adi had gone pale. Not with fear. Adi didn’t really do fear, never had. It was anger that was rising in him – a greater anger than I’d ever seen in him before. Greater even than his anger at me had been.
Ignacio saw it as well, and stepped back to a safe distance, aiming his pistol at Adi as he did so.
“Don’t get any smart ideas,” he said sharply.
“Smart ideas?” Adi whispered. “You think you can back off from our deal, steal my money and just walk away? You think that’s a smart idea?”
“Sure it is. We’ve got all the paperwork Lonza had cooked up, plus your friend Declan
saw you and heard from you himself that the place is closing down. The deal will go through. You don’t have to be around for it. After all, you’ve already disappeared once. Who’s going to notice if you do it again?”
The door was open. Just a crack, so far. Would the hinges squeak? It didn’t look as if Declan had done much maintenance lately, so they probably hadn’t been oiled in a while. I had to keep them talking, had to make a noise, keep their attention.
“But you can’t kill us here,” I said, as loudly as I could without shouting. “You’d leave traces. Blood traces. The police can find them, you know. Even very small amounts they’ll find. Kill us here and they’ll know it was murder they’ll be looking for you!”
Ignacio looked annoyed. “What d’ya take me for? An amateur? You think you’re the first guys we’ve offed? Don’t worry about it. Carlo’s an expert – well, not with a cricket bat so much, but he knows how to hit someone so it don’t make a mess – don’t you, Carlo?”
Carlo was nodding and smiling. “Back of the neck, see?” he explained. “One hit, you’re gone. It’s real quick, and there ain’t no blood. It’s easier if you kneel down, though. Or I’ll put you down. Whatever.”
He was quite big enough to do it, even if we’d been a lot younger and stronger. As it was, he wasn’t even going to be out of breath.
But the door was a quarter of the way open, and I hadn’t heard any squeaks yet.
Ignacio and Carlo had their backs to it. Adi was facing that way, but he was focused on Ignacio, his fury rendering him blind to everything else. I could see his fingers twitching and I knew that he wasn’t about to kneel down and quietly accept his fate.
Ignacio could see it as well, and he found it amusing. “Go on. Try something. Think I won’t shoot you if I have to? Or are you thinking it’ll leave some blood, put the cops on to us? Not a problem. We know how to clean up a crime scene. Done it often enough before.”
“Adi…” I said, and reached out to grab his sleeve. But he shrugged me off and continued to hold Ignacio’s stare.
“Y’know, I was going to leave you for later, Adi. But I like this way better. You and your old pal – did I get the story right? He saved your life once? So now you get to die together. How poetic is that?” He began to laugh. A strange sort of laugh, nasal and surprisingly high-pitched. “And how about this – a soccer star killed with a cricket bat? Is that poetic or ironic, eh?”
And now the door was fully open, and Sam was standing there with pistol raised in a two-handed grip and aimed directly at Ignacio.
“Don’t move, drop the weapon,” he said.
Ignacio didn’t move, though his expression changed to surprise, then chagrin. But he didn’t drop the gun either. Carlo had frozen, cricket bat still in hand, though he’d gone back to frowning.
“Ah, so that’s where your boy went,” Ignacio said to me. “Nice move. But now here’s the problem you’ve got. He’s not a killer, or I’d be dead already. He’s not a killer – but I am!”
Then several things happened simultaneously.
Ignacio swivelled and dropped to one knee, all in one fluid motion, bringing his gun to aim at Sam in the same moment.
Sam fired, the bullet going through the space where Ignacio’s head had been, smashing into a filing cabinet behind me.
Adi launched himself forward with a wordless shriek of pure rage and brought his stick down on Ignacio.
Carlo dropped the bat and dragged a huge revolver out from under his jacket, turning towards Sam as he did so.
I did nothing, except to sit in the chair – and send up the fastest but sincerest prayer of my life.
Adi may have been intending to hit Ignacio’s head, or his gun hand, but he missed both. Instead his stick crashed down across the gangster’s shoulder. Perhaps he hadn’t been sure what to aim for, but there was no doubting the fury behind it. The stick snapped in two and Ignacio was sent sprawling. His gun went off, but the bullet went wide, losing itself somewhere in the office furniture.
Carlo’s big pistol, aimed at the storeroom door, boomed like a cannon – but Sam had moved, hurling himself down behind one of the secretaries’ desks.
Ignacio was trying to roll over, but Adi was kneeling over him, raining blows on his head with the broken end of the stick and shouting obscenities.
Carlo fired again, putting a bullet in and through the desk Sam was hiding behind. The weapon was so powerful that the entire desk jerked backwards under the impact.
Magnum? I thought somewhere in the back of my mind. But I was finally moving – diving forward out of the chair, picking up the fallen cricket bat, and bringing it down on Carlo’s gun hand just as he fired again. The bullet ripped up carpet and ricocheted away. Carlo roared, dropped the gun, and lashed out at me with his other hand while I was still trying to raise the bat for another blow.
He caught me on the chest, flinging me backwards against the chair I’d just got out of and toppling it over.
Ignacio was firing, twisting round as he did and Adi screamed, then stabbed downwards with the broken end of the stick. There was a sort of gurgling, choking noise and Ignacio stopped shooting. I was still holding the bat, but I had a pain shooting right through my chest and into my back and I thought, My heart!
Then Carlo loomed over me. He’d pulled out a knife, the blade flicked out as I watched, but there was another gunshot and Carlo staggered sideways into the desk, dropping the knife and clutching at his thigh. Blood was spurting out between his fingers, and at the end of the room Sam was standing up again, aiming carefully.
“NO, SAM,” I shouted. “Don’t shoot again!”
I forced myself upright and swung the bat, two-handed, across Carlo’s head, and he collapsed.
“That’s how you use a cricket bat,” I told him. Whispered at him. I was having trouble catching my breath. “You weren’t even holding it right,” I added vindictively.
“Dad!” Sam was next to me, grabbing my arm. “Dad, are you all right?”
“I don’t know,” I told him, but the pain in my chest, though still bad, wasn’t getting worse, and perhaps it was just the natural consequence of being punched by a gorilla. “You?”
“I’m fine. I’m OK.”
“And Adi?” I turned to look.
Adi was sprawled on the floor, half draped over Ignacio’s legs, not moving.
Neither was Ignacio. His face had taken a terrible battering from Adi’s stick, but the final blow had been the fatal one. The broken end had been stabbed into his throat. It wasn’t a pretty sight.
I didn’t dwell on it. Instead I went to Adi, and with Sam’s help turned him over. There was blood all over his front. Probably not all his, but at least one of Ignacio’s bullets had gone into his stomach.
He was still breathing.
“Adi!” I said. “Adi! Sam – get help, get an ambulance.”
“They’re on their way, Dad.” He held up the burner. “The ‘friends’. I heard from them just before I went into the storeroom. They’re coming.”
“They need to hurry.” I turned back to Adi.
His eyes were open, and he looked at me. “Gra… Graham…” he gasped. He reached up, clutched at me.
And suddenly it was thirty years ago. A wall of water was bearing down on us. The three of us: me on the bank, Adi and Davy on the raft, but all standing close together, staring at the huge wave…
I was grabbing on to a branch, not thinking about it, just hanging on, but reaching out with the other hand.
Reaching out for Davy.
But Adi was reaching for me, clutching at me, and then the water hit us.
“Adi…” I said. And grasped his hand, holding on to him as I had done then.
But the light was already fading from his eyes.
This time I couldn’t save him.
“Dad?” said Sam. “Dad – I think he’s gone.”
“Yes. I know.” I looked at him. “Where’s that ambulance? Where are these people you’ve been contactin
g?”
He shrugged. “On their way. That’s all I know. They should be…”
The door burst open.
A man stepped in – a smaller version of Carlo with an assault rifle instead of a pistol. His jaw dropped as he stepped inside and saw the carnage.
“What the…”
Then there was a sharp crack from somewhere outside and the man – Donnie, I assumed – grunted, stumbled forward, and fell.
“Looks like the cavalry finally arrived,” Sam said.
“About time,” I told him.
CHAPTER 15
“Write anything you like about me – anything but the truth, Graham!”
Adi Varney, in conversation with Graham Deeson
ADI VARNEY – A TRUE LEGEND
By Graham Deeson
19 May, 1979.
The great thing about that day is that Adrian Varney did not die.
Because he didn’t die that day, on 20 May he scored a hat-trick for Clayland’s Youth Football Club, which won them the Challenge Cup.
Because he scored a hat-trick, he was spotted by a talent scout and recruited to the local pro club, Delford Vale United.
Because he played for The Vale, they were promoted three times in the next four seasons and won the FA Cup twice, while Adi also got his first England cap and scored his first international hat-trick.
Because of that, when he was forced to retire due to injury, he became the most successful manager in The Vale’s history. What’s more, he was able to invest his time and fame into supporting a dozen local charities that helped thousands of people.
He was truly a local legend. Schools and working men’s clubs and pubs and churches all across the city have memorials to him – plaques, photographs, signed scarves, and so on. People still talk about him with pride. He’s still one of us.
Local Legend Page 20