Fearless ; The Smoke Child

by Lee Stone

  ‘Does that answer your question?’ Jimmy asked, ignoring her.

  The smile was back. Jimmy Penh enjoyed his work. Lockhart took a breath. A certain amount of pain was inevitable. Suck it up, he told himself.

  ‘That doesn’t answer my question at all,’ he said, and he saw Jimmy spin the bat in his hand again. ‘He wasn’t limping when we heard him coming upstairs, was he?’

  Doubt crossed Jimmy’s face, almost imperceptibly and only for a split second. Lockhart took his chance.

  ‘We all heard his footsteps,’ he pushed. ‘Think about it. They were regular as a drumbeat. So why’s he limping now? Why’s he playing you?’

  The bat hung in midair, and so did the question. Jimmy’s eyes flicked from Lockhart to Leisler again.

  ‘Sit down Jake,’ he said, and he nodded Leisler towards a chair in front of the desk. ‘Tell me about Siberia.’

  Lockhart answered before Leisler got a chance.

  ‘I wanted to cut a deal with you,’ he said. ‘A big one. I bet he didn’t tell you, did he? I showed him the cash. I told him I wanted to talk with you, but he wanted the job for himself. He’s cutting you out of the loop, Jimmy. Bit by bit. Cutting you out of the loop. Not just with me.’

  Jimmy Penh’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘How would you know about that?’

  Lockhart stretched out his bruised thigh and felt the dull ache where the baseball bat had landed. He pushed into the blossoming bruise with the ball of his palm, trying to rub the pain out.

  ‘Does it matter how I know?’

  Leisler shifted uncomfortably. Jimmy turned towards him, leaning on the bat and weighing him up.

  ‘How much of it’s true?’

  Leisler half raised his hands, as if to say he was half guilty. Half caught with his dick out.

  ‘We met. Sure. I was going to talk to you about it.’

  Lockhart noticed how still Jimmy Penh had become. He was watching Leisler intently. He wasn’t blinking. Wasn’t breathing.

  ‘You were going to talk to me?’ he repeated slowly. ‘When?’

  Leisler frowned.

  ‘I was going to talk to you, Jimmy. What do you want me to say?’

  Silence.

  Lockhart gave it a nudge.

  ‘I know why Ta Penh is angry,’ he said.

  Both men looked at him, Jimmy curious, and Leisler nervous. Both of them surprised.

  ‘I know what was in the suitcase,’ Lockhart continued. ‘I know what you’ve lost. It was him who took it.’

  ‘Bullshit,’ Leisler said, and he laughed nervously.

  ‘He’s limping because he wants you to think he’s weak,’ Lockhart pushed. ‘But he’s been scheming for weeks.’

  ‘Bullshit,’ Leisler said again. ‘You’re a little guy in a big fucking mess. You’re chained to the fucking wall. You’ve bitten off more than you can chew. And now you’ll say anything to talk yourself out of trouble.’

  It was partly true. The trouble for Leisler was that Lockhart’s allegation was partly true as well. And Jimmy Penh could sense it. He looked between the two men like a judge getting the measure of two opposing lawyers. His grip tightened on the baseball bat. Leisler took a breath, but wavered, unsure what to say. Lockhart threw down his ace.

  ‘Leisler has the Smoke Child.’

  The room froze, and Lockhart instantly knew he’d hit the money.

  ‘All that I found at Matilda’s place was money, still wrapped. She hadn’t touched it. She only left it here because she was scared to take it through US Customs. Right?’

  Matilda nodded, but Jimmy’s eyes were still on Leisler.

  ‘You put her in an impossible position Jimmy, and she thought she’d found a way out. She didn’t want your money. She wanted her baby back. She definitely didn’t care about the Kun Krak that you wrapped in the black shroud for Ta Penh. But by the time I opened the case, someone had already taken it. Who would do that, Jimmy? Who would profit if Ta Penh thought you’d cheated him?’

  In the corner of his eye, Lockhart saw Matilda trying to draw the Moses basket a little closer to her, out of harm’s way. She was smart, because harm was coming. Thunder vibrated through the guts of the Elbow.

  ‘Ta Penh thinks you’re the only man who would understand what the Kun Krak can do. He thinks you’ve stolen it. He’s sent a guy from Phnom Penh to deal with you. An old guy. Vicious.’

  Lockhart watched Jimmy take it all in. Calculating. Leisler knew he was cornered and was bracing himself for Jimmy’s reaction.

  ‘Leisler planned it to frame you, Jimmy. The case was supposed to arrive without The Smoke Child in it, and Ta Penh was supposed to have had you killed. And Leisler would have moved right into the space you left behind.’

  Jimmy had heard enough. He lunged at Leisler with the baseball bat. His earlier control deserted him and the features of his face twisted, his lips pulled over his teeth and his brow furrowed into a ball of anger between his black eyes. The bat smashed into Leisler’s arm and even though he had risen to meet it, the blow knocked him clean out of his seat and onto the floor. The chair toppled, and he scrambled to find his feet. He was still off balance when Jimmy reached him, swinging at him again and crunching into his ribs. The blow was enough to put Leisler back onto the floor. He coughed blood onto the polished wooden boards and pulled his knees up in pain. Jimmy dropped the bat and ran at him, kicking into his stomach like he was punting a football. Leisler vomited, choking as he yelled out in pain. He rolled backwards, and Jimmy Penh lifted his foot high, ready to stamp his heel into Leisler’s face.

  But he never got a chance.

  For the second time, gunfire cracked through the apartment. Two viciously efficient shots tapped off fast, and all of Jimmy Penh’s explosive violence stopped. Forever. He fell backward as his body folded and thumped against the floor.

  ‘Fuck me,’ Leisler groaned as he struggled to his feet. ‘You had that coming.’

  He seemed oblivious to Lockhart and Matilda. He stooped to pick up the baseball bat and threw up again with the strain of it. After a moment he straightened up and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. Then he strolled back across the room to where Jimmy Penh was lying. His eyes were open, blank and unseeing as the two chest wounds stained blood into his shirt. Leisler took a leisurely swing and brought the bat down as hard as he could into the dead man’s knee. Then he did the same with the other.

  ‘I owe you those,’ he said, and then he slammed the bat hard into the side of Jimmy’s head. His skull held firm, but his entire head cranked slightly on his shoulders so that his neck looked broken and unnatural.

  ‘And there’s a cherry on top,’ Leisler said.

  He wandered about the room dazed, unsure of his next move. Eventually he righted the chair he’d fallen out of slumped back into it and focused on Lockhart.

  ‘You tried to burn me,’ he said. ‘So now I will burn you. I’m going to burn this fucking room to the ground. And nobody will come. They’ll say it was a lightning strike. Bad luck for Jimmy. And bad luck for you, because you’re not going anywhere.’

  Lockhart had met people like Leisler before. Sometimes criminals. Sometimes politicians. Sometimes co-workers. They were unfeeling people, and yet they maintained a sense of judgment.

  Leisler was different to Jimmy Penh. He would get no particular pleasure from killing him, or from knowing how painfully he died. In Leisler’s mind, there was simply a score to settle. Lockhart had set him up, and now the natural order of things was that Leisler would pay him back. No joy, and no particular malice. Just a transaction. An equation that needed balancing. There was no point in trying to negotiate. Without a word, Leisler left. They heard him head back down the stairs, limping for real now, until he was out of earshot.

  It was Matilda who spoke first.

  ‘How did you find me?’

  ‘Long story.’

  She paused. ‘Well, thank you. However you did it.’

  Footsteps returned, followed by the soun
d of smashing glass.

  Matilda looked nervously at Lockhart.

  ‘He’s smashing bottles,’ he said. ‘Probably brandy. He’s not lying about burning the place down.’

  ‘Leisler,’ Matilda called towards the door. ‘Take Jessie, Leisler. Take my baby.’

  More glass smashed. No reply.

  ‘Take Jessie with you,’ she said, her voice cracking. ‘He’s a fucking baby, Leisler. You were quick enough to take him before.’

  Nothing. Silence. And the whoosh of fire crossing the floor. It took seconds before they heard the sounds of licking flames and saw the light dancing in the hallway.

  ‘Jesus.’

  ‘Don’t panic,’ Lockhart said.

  ‘Don’t fucking panic, Charlie?’

  Lockhart shuffled his legs forward and stretched out across the floor, arms above his head until the metal cuffs were straining against the heating pipes and cutting into his wrists. He closed his eyes and felt the hardwood floor under his back. He swept his leg in an arc until he found what he was feeling for: Jimmy Penh. He hooked his foot under his arm and pulled at him. Slowly, the corpse moved. His foot slipped a couple of times, but eventually he got a good purchase and felt the body move. He hooked his other foot under Jimmy’s other arm and pulled, slowly working until he’d dragged the dead weight across the floor to him. When he was close enough, Lockhart twisted round and grabbed Jimmy’s collar and pulled him the rest of the way. Matilda watched as he patted the dead man down until he found the key to the cuffs in his jacket pocket.

  Smoke was rolling into the room as the fire took hold next door. In seconds Lockhart was free, and he moved quickly across to Matilda.

  ‘You okay?’

  She smiled.

  ‘I am now.’

  He slipped the key into Matilda’s cuffs.

  It wouldn’t turn.

  ‘Where’s the key?’ he asked her.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I didn’t see.’

  Lockhart went through Jimmy’s pockets. There was nothing else. The smoke had reached the baby who began crying. Lockhart spent a few seconds searching over Jimmy’s desk.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Shit.’

  He picked up the Moses basket and put it on the desk away from the thick smoke that was rolling across the floor and consuming Jimmy Penh the way morning clouds roll over a mountain ridge. Time was tight. He grabbed the baseball bat and rammed it behind the pipe that fed the radiator.

  ‘Watch out,’ he said, before ramming the bat hard between the metal and the brick, and levering the pipe away from the radiator. The connection gave way on the third violent thrust, spraying water across the wall and causing Matilda to topple backwards. She laughed, the exhilaration of freedom spiking an instant endorphin hit.

  ‘You’re stronger than you look,’ she said.

  Lockhart grabbed the Moses basket and moved towards the door.

  ‘You realize that’s not a compliment, right?’ he muttered as they walked.

  ‘I do,’ she said, and she squeezed his shoulder as he led the way through the flames.

  49

  The top floor of the Elbow was well ablaze by the time Lockhart and Matilda reached the bottom of the fire escape. The storm still raged around them, and they huddled together, bent against the wind as they headed for the Spectra. Music and light still spilled out of the ground floor of the Elbow and Lockhart wondered how long it would be until they realized the building was alight, and if they’d ever find Jimmy Penh. Leisler was good at covering his tracks. It also meant that Leisler would never know Matilda had escaped. The world had offered her and her baby a chance at another life. Lockhart glanced at her in the rear-view mirror. She was watching over Jessie who was fast asleep in the basket, none the worse for his ordeal. Lockhart knew Matilda would make it work. She was a survivor.

  ‘This is the world’s worst limo, Charlie,’ she said, watching the glow from the streetlights revealing his eyes in the mirror.

  He raised an eyebrow and smiled.

  ‘Some people are never happy.’

  She settled back in the seat. She let him drive and didn’t ask where they were going. The rain had turned to hail and was hammering on the Kia’s thin metal roof. The sound of falling ice cocooned them. The white noise drowned out conversation and dulled thought, and they drove slowly on in silence. Eventually the hail died down, and Matilda stirred in the back.

  ‘Are we running away?’ she asked.

  ‘Not really,’ he said. ‘There’s no need. Not tonight at least. Jimmy’s gone and Leisler will lie low for a while.’

  He turned down the blowers and the blades, and everything felt a little calmer.

  ‘Is there anything keeping you in New York?’

  She understood the question.

  ‘I guess not. I might head out to…’

  Lockhart cut across her.

  ‘I don’t want to know.’

  For a second she looked hurt.

  ‘Don’t tell me,’ he said more softly. ‘It’s safer that way.’

  In the mirror she nodded, and then she looked down at the fragile girl in the basket.

  ‘What’s a Smoke Child?’ she asked. ‘You mentioned it earlier.’

  Lockhart didn’t pull his punches. He figured it was best that she knew.

  ‘That’s vile,’ Matilda said, and then after a moment her eyes flicked between Lockhart and the Moses basket as she struck on what Lockhart had suspected all along.

  ‘Jessie?’

  ‘Yes,’ Lockhart said, and he kept driving. “I think that was his plan.’

  They drove three more blocks before Matilda said, ‘Thank fuck he’s dead.’

  Lockhart pulled the sun visor down and checked the address written on the card behind it. They were getting close. They plunged into darkness around Pelham Parkway, the power cuts having blacked out block after block. An ancient red brick warehouse was ablaze, lighting a whole street, and for a moment Lockhart wondered what shape The Elbow would be in by now. Who cared? They never had to go back. He pulled the Kia up to the curb five minutes later, in front of tall apartment block washed blue with moonlight. The hailstones had piled up, blown by the wind into corners and gullies.

  ‘Cloud’s lifted,’ Lockhart said, staring up at a sliver of bright stars. He got out and opened the door for Matilda. She passed the basket to Lockhart and then got out cautiously, staring up and down the deserted street.

  ‘Think we’ll get a ticket for parking here?’ she asked, holding her face straight for a second before breaking into a relieved smile.

  ‘Come on,’ Lockhart said, and he smiled back at he as he led her into the building. She looked around as she followed him inside.

  ‘Where are we, Charlie?’

  ‘Somewhere safe,’ he said. ‘Somewhere you don’t know. Somewhere your friends don’t know. Somewhere that can’t be tied to you. That’s the trick.’

  They took a flight of stairs and he knocked quietly on the first door they came to. For a long minute, nothing happened, but Lockhart waited patiently.

  ‘Wanna knock again?’

  ‘She’s got kids,’ Lockhart said. ‘She’ll come when she’s ready.’

  Soon enough there was a movement behind the door, and eventually it opened a couple of inches, on a chain. A pair of shrewd eyes appeared in the gap, flicking from Lockhart to Matilda and glowing warm when she saw the basket.

  ‘Better late than never, I guess,’ a honeyed voice said. The gap closed, the chain rattled, and then the door opened wide. Standing on the threshold was the barista from the Siberian Café.

  ‘You realize I had to walk all the way home?’ she said, her eyes warm and her voice playful. Behind her, candle light licked the walls of her modest apartment.

  ‘It’s only a block away,’ Lockhart said.

  ‘Did you see this weather?’ she said, all huffs and puffs. ‘I damn near drowned.’

  Lockhart smiled wider and shook his head.


  ‘Well, I’m glad you didn’t,’ he said. ‘Can I introduce you to Matilda and Jessie? They’ve both had a tough couple of days, so don’t blame them for my misdemeanors, okay?’

  ‘Your misdemeanors are your own affair,’ the barista said, but she didn’t waste any time getting her hands into the basket and pulling back the blanket an inch. ‘Oh, now he’s beautiful. You’re a lucky woman Matilda. Come on inside.’

  Matilda glowed and took the basket from Lockhart as the barista led them through a narrow corridor into the lounge. Lockhart closed the door and reattached the chain before following the two women. The room was set for family life. There were toys and books, and the world’s smallest television set propped up on a coffee chest in one corner. A hundred flickering tea-lights in jars and glasses gave the place a romantic edge. There were two sofas set against the walls and at the far end of one of them was a man who was a similar age to the barista, and who wore the lines and curves of a man who had been well fed and cared for over many long years. He had a newspaper folded on his lap and a pencil tucked behind his ear. Even in the candlelight, Lockhart could make out the crossword grid across the page. His eyes were closed and his breath was catching in his throat.

  ‘All my babies are asleep,’ the barista smiled, looking at him.

  Matilda gave Lockhart an enquiring look, waiting for an explanation of what was going on.

  ‘I had to bring the car back,’ he told her.

  ‘You lent this man your car?’ Matilda asked. ‘He’s only been in town for two days.’

  ‘He saved me a thousand dollars earlier,’ the barista said. “He had me over a barrel.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Long story,’ Lockhart said. ‘Anyway, I’ve brought it back, and it’s mostly in one piece.’