Jake was staring at the uneven, haphazard stitches on my thigh. I clamped my lips together and pushed the needle back through my skin, groaning as I pulled the sewing thread through.
"Nothing. I got hurt, didn't I?"
"But why are you doing this here? You're aware that we live in the first world, right? You don't always have to be such a fucking tough guy, Callum, you could just go to the hospital like the rest of us."
That got my back up a little. Jake considered himself the 'level-headed' one, and part of him enjoyed playing it up, acting like I was some kind of screw-up because I decided to leave school and do a job that most people wouldn't really think of as respectable.
"Oh fuck off, will you? I'm almost finished. Get me some of that antibiotic cream from the medicine cupboard."
"The Polysporin?"
"Yes, Jake, the Polysporin. We can't all be highly educated geniuses who know the names of all the antibiotic creams."
He got the Polysporin and I finished the last stitch. It was, to put it mildly, an extremely rough job.
"That looks like shit, Callum."
I couldn't help but laugh. "I know. But it's doing the job, isn't it?"
Jake made a skeptical face. "I guess so. Biccies?"
So I sat at the kitchen table with my kid brother, eating biscuits and talking about his adventures at college for half an hour. It was a nice decompression, actually, as it probably wouldn't have been a wonderful idea to show up at the Club still completely wound up after what had gone down outside Paris. At one point he asked me about my 'girlfriend situation' and I must have given something away in my tone because Jake was immediately all over the topic.
"Have you met someone, Callum? Is that why you suddenly look all sneaky?"
I shrugged. "I'm seeing someone, if that's what you're asking."
"Seeing someone? Wow, I've never heard you use that language before. What are the women of South London going to do without you? Is it someone I know?"
Jake was being sarcastic, but that's how it was between us. If anything, it was affectionate rather than hostile.
"No, you don't know her."
"Well who is she? Have you told mum? Are you going to make me ask for details?"
"Her name is Lily. She's Canadian but she lives in Hackney. What else do you want to know?"
Jake shook his head and laughed. "You're always so full of information. I mean, is it serious? How old is she?"
The second question was actually easier to answer than the first, so that's what I did. "She's thirty, actually."
"Ha, I knew you'd end up with an older woman. Ever since that incident in the parking lot with what's-his-name's mum."
"Fuck off. She's thirty, not fifty. And to be perfectly honest she's hotter than any eighteen year old I ever saw. Hotter and a lot more interesting."
"And is it serious?"
Damn. I hadn't managed to throw him off. I squirmed for a few minutes and he continued:
"Shit. It is serious. I've never seen you all bashful over a girl, Callum. You better hope mum likes her, because if she doesn't you're in for a world of trouble. I mean, I don't think-"
I cut Jake off before he could assume too much. "Hold your horses, man. I don't know if it's serious. It might be."
My brother grinned at me. "Uh-huh. If you say so. All I know is I've never seen you with that lovesick look in your eyes."
"Fuck off."
"You fuck off, I can see it there, right now, it's written all over your face. I hope she doesn't break your heart. Although if she does you could say it was payback, of a sort. That girl Crystal still constantly asks about you."
I didn't have a single clue who Crystal was. Obviously someone I'd had some fun with at some point. Jake and I sat verbally poking at each other and eating Jaffa Cakes until he had to go. I had to go, too - to the Club. Gazza had called another 'meeting' - and I knew I had to be there.
Gazza was there when I arrived. So was Ian and another, younger-looking man I'd never seen before.
"This is Liam," Gazza told me, jerking his thumb towards the new guy. "He's Wayne's kid."
"Wayne Karswell?"
Liam shot me a look. "Yes, Wayne Karswell."
Well how the fuck was I supposed to know? Until very recently I didn't even think Wayne Karswell was anybody I needed to know about.
We all sat down in Gazza's office, crammed in too close to each other, and waited for the boss to say something first. I had a lot to say, but I also knew I was now in the position of having killed someone in the course of an illegal drug deal, and that made me vulnerable. It meant I probably wasn't in a position to start throwing my weight around and pissing people off.
Gaz leaned back in his chair and made a big show of taking his time getting out a cigarette, tapping the cigarette on the table and then staring at it contemplatively for a few seconds after his first drag. I wanted to tell him to cut the crime-boss shit.
"So, things didn't go entirely according to plan in Paris?" He said, finally.
I looked around. Ian was shaking his head a little and Liam was just sitting there. Really? No one was going to say anything? I decided I'd have to be the one to speak up - Gazza was asking a direct question, after all.
"Yeah, I'd say they went a little wrong. If you think four dead bodies is a 'little wrong.'"
As soon as the words were out of my mouth both Ian and Liam were staring at me, mouths open.
"What?" I demanded, looking around."Are we just not going to talk about this? What happened to the bodies, anyway? Did we just leave them there to be picked over and prodded by the cops? There's probably DNA all over the fucking show."
Ian turned sharply towards me. "We took care of the bodies, mate. This isn't amateur hour. And now that we're all sharing our feelings, I have to ask why you think it is you can come in here and-"
Gaz held a hand up to stop Ian talking. "Calm down, he's one of my fighters. He's not usually in on the other stuff."
I was getting angry. "Gaz, would you mind telling me just what the fuck is going on here? Did you just forget to mention that this was the kind of deal that necessitated a fucking LORRY to pull off? You know I'm always interested in any work you got going, but for the future, I'd just like to be informed if it's going to involve killing people and getting shot at. And, you know, lorries full of shit rather than a couple pounds."
Gazza took another drag on his cig, not betraying any signs of irritation - yet. "How is your leg, by the way?"
So my leg did warrant mentioning. "It's fine. Do you want to tell me what's going on here?"
He sighed. "You're a fighter, Callum. You're my best fighter. You could go pro if you wanted to, although I'm sure that life isn't for you, you'd never be able to handle it. I've used you as muscle on a few little things, here and there, you know how it goes. But opportunities present themselves, don't they, mate? And when they do, I'm the type of man who embraces them with open arms."
It was one of my dearest wishes that Gary Wilson would learn to speak in ways that weren't roundabout and almost entirely opaque, but I knew that wish wasn't coming true and I was starting to get better at deciphering his bullshit. The subtle dig at my not being able to 'handle' going pro was also classic Gaz - get the insult in, then change the subject.
"So what you're saying, when you say 'opportunities' is bigger deals, right? Much bigger deals?" I asked him.
The room was silent and, after a few seconds of studiously avoiding eye contact, Gazza nodded.
"And you want me to get in on this? Was this Paris thing a test of some kind?"
"I think you could say that, yeah. Ian said you did well. Managed to take that fucker down after he shot you, right?"
Ian leaned forward. "He did do well. He's got a level head, I could use him again. Mind you, I wouldn't object if you wanted to keep Dave back in the office."
I watched Gazza's mouth clamp shut into a tight, straight line. Ian didn't realize what a sore spot Dave Wilson was to his old man.
; "The boy's still learning," Gazza said, not managing to keep a note of defensiveness out of his voice. "I'll keep him back the next few times, give him a talking to, but he just needs to learn."
As long as it's not on another job I'm involved in, I thought to myself.
"Anyway, boys, it's payday."
Gazza took his gold necklace off - the one he'd always worn, for as long as I could remember. On the end of it was a key that he used it to unlock one of the desk drawers. Then he took out three overstuffed brown envelopes - so Liam Karswell was apparently already on the payroll - and handed one to each of us. I took mine and sat back, opening it. Inside was a gigantic wedge of hundred pound notes. I flipped through them with one finger to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. I'd never even seen a tenth of that amount of cash before. It made my head spin.
"Fuck, mate. How much is this?"
"One hundred thousand pounds."
One hundred thousand pounds. Gazza wasn't exaggerating about scaling up. Fucking hell. What was I going to do with all that money? A new car? Holiday? My mind instantly went to Lily. I could take her to one of those fancy restaurants in central London. Hell, I could take her on holiday. The Maldives. I bet she would look fucking amazing in a bikini.
"So, you in Callum?"
I looked up, away from the envelope full of money, and some tiny little voice from somewhere deep inside my head raised a protest.
"I need to think about it."
Gazza played it cool. "Sure, I understand. That's a lot of money. And there's more where that came from, Callum. We're talking life-changing cash here. You take some time to think about that, about the things you could do for your mum with that kind of clout. She's not getting any younger, you know."
I stood up. "I know. I just need to get my head around this, yeah?"
"Well you let me know as soon as you know, Callum. There's a lot of hungry young men like yourself around here, clock's ticking."
I nodded my understanding and left. Outside, under a low, gray London sky, people were going about their business, just as they had been when I'd walked into the Club an hour beforehand. Everything looked the same as it had then, but everything suddenly felt different. There was so much money in my pocket it was weighing down my jacket on one side. Jesus Christ. Was I going to be able to say no to that, if I needed to? Because cash or not, almost everything about the past forty-eight hours was indicating that no was going to be the only smart answer.
I walked back to my flat in a daze, thinking about money and risk and the fact that it looked like I was going to have to decide, possibly very soon, just how much action I wanted in my life. There was also Lily, the fixed center around which all of my turbulent thoughts orbited. I needed to see her again. Somehow it felt like if I could just see her - talk to her - the answers to all my questions would reveal themselves.
Chapter 12: Lily
A week after driving to Kent in the middle of the night, I found myself in one of the conference rooms at the station with a cup of rapidly cooling coffee in front of me. Callum had texted me every day since then and we'd spoken - on the phone - every evening. But I hadn't seen him. I couldn't see him. Something was happening between us and we both knew it. I could feel it racing towards me - inevitable and too fast, too powerful to stop. I thought if I gave it a few days, maybe a week, it might slow down. But it wasn't slowing down. Not at all. And I didn't have a single clue about what to do about it.
I jumped slightly when Superintendent Akin came bursting in.
"Sorry, Morgan," he apologized, "didn't know you were in here yet."
He sat down across from me and pulled a sheaf of papers out of his briefcase.
"We took another look at that alley, the one near the tube station. Cigarettes, coins, and," he paused for dramatic effect, "a coffee cup. Looks like the same kind the shooter was carrying, and it was in the back of a garden, sheltered under the eaves of a shed. We got DNA off it."
I looked down at the papers Akin pushed across the table at me. Photographs of a paper coffee cup, a diagram of the alley and the precise location where it had been found, and the DNA results.
"This could easily have been chucked from the alley," I said, trying to take in all the information in front of me and too afraid to hope that we might have made a serious breakthrough.
"Very easily, yes. The DNA doesn't match anyone on the database and obviously it could have come from anyone, there was a lot of rubbish about. But you know what we need now, don't you?"
"Yeah. You need DNA. From Gazza," I replied.
"And from Callum Cross."
I glanced up quickly at Akin, keeping my expression neutral in spite of the fact that my stomach had started to churn at the mention of Callum's name.
"From Callum Cross, from Gary Wilson and from anyone else who associates with them at the Club."
"That shouldn't be too hard," I said, swallowing hard. "Gazza smokes and they all drink. I'll grab a few pint glasses and cigarette butts next time I'm in."
"When are you in next? I'd still like to get that listening device on-site, but if you can't manage it it's less of a problem now with the DNA."
"Tonight, actually. Pandora texted me a couple of hours ago. I'm meeting her in Clapham for drinks then we're heading to the Streatham Club - tonight is fight night."
Akin smiled. "Good. Excellent. We need to be careful not to get our hopes up about this, but I looked at that video a few more times and the coffee cup looks exactly like the one he was carrying. As far as I can tell anyway, CCTV is shit."
Before I left the station I grabbed six plastic evidence bags with zip-tops and placed them, folded neatly, into the bottom of my purse. It didn't even cross my mind to neglect to collect a sample from Callum. Something was going on with him, with me - with the two of us. Something that could get us both into trouble. But my feelings for Callum couldn't be allowed to interfere in the investigation. Linda Trout's killer was still out there and he needed to be caught, nothing was more important than that.
I met Pandora at a wine bar in Clapham and we got a little posh-drunk before we headed to the Streatham Club. And by 'posh-drunk' I mean tipsy on individual glasses of wine that cost ten quid each rather than pints of lager. Luckily for me, the Met was paying.
When we arrived, the other girls were already there. We all exchanged air kisses and sat down to our drinks. I looked around and the overpriced wine was enough to help me convince myself it wasn't Callum I was looking around for, specifically.
Gazza was at the bar chatting to a small group of men and I recognized one of the other fighters. Callum was nowhere to be seen. The sinking feeling in my stomach just made me angry at myself.
"Where's Callum?" Pandora asked, cheekily letting me know she'd seen me and correctly surmising who I'd been trying to spot. "Did you ever go out with him?"
'Go out with.' Ha. I knew exactly what she meant and I wanted my response to be clear.
"We had drinks, yeah, but I managed to restrain myself."
"Oooh, did you?" Genie piped up. "Why?"
"Gotta make 'em wait, Genie, don't you?" I replied, keeping my tone casual. I knew they'd be all over me if I even hinted at my real feelings.
Hannah tittered and shook her head at me. "No, Lily, this is why we come here. Because these are the kind of men you don't have to make wait. And thank Christ for that."
"Cheers to that!" Pandora laughed, elbowing me in the side. "Don't worry, Lily, he'll come around. And when he does, I promise you it'll be spectacular."
I smiled tightly, not at all interested in hearing about the details of Callum's sex life from any of these women. Nor would I be drawn on talking about my interactions with him, no matter how hard Pandora pushed for it. I let them all fall back into conversation and looked around the interior of the Club again. Gazza's office door was open and I could see the mug he always used sitting on his desk in plain view. There was no way I was going to be able to get in there, though. He didn't seem to be drinking anything
at the bar, either. Fuck. I decided to just gather as many empty glasses as I could, as long as they'd been used by someone who had, at any point during the evening, interacted with Gazza. Once the fights started it would be easier to do that, with everyone's eyes focused elsewhere.
"Hello, beautiful."
All five of us looked up, like flowers tilting themselves towards the sun. Callum. He was talking to me and God help me I could not stop the rush of happy warmth that suffused my body at the sound of his voice. He looked gorgeous in his t-shirt and jeans that fit just enough to show off his muscled thighs. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his neck, but I knew I couldn't put on a display like that in front of Pandora without inviting a proper interrogation.
"Callum! Hiya! Are you fighting?" Genie asked excitedly.
He grabbed a chair and pulled it up to our table, right next to me, and shook his head.
"Unfortunately not tonight. Got myself a little injury, you may know something about that," he replied, winking at me.
I could feel all four of my companions dying of curiosity.
"You're not fighting? Aww!" Genie whined, making a pouty-face that I knew she thought was cute despite the fact that she was in her thirties. Only those under ten can make pouty faces and expect to be tolerated, in my opinion.
"Sorry to disappoint, ladies. But Michael's fighting." Callum paused for a moment, thinking. “And so is Josh."
My female companions exchanged meaningful glances and Jemima sighed. "Ohhhh, Josh. I like Josh."
Callum turned to me. "You haven't met Josh yet, Lily? You should meet Josh. He's really very popular with the ladies. They seem to like his long, flowing locks."
My first reaction to that comment was slight annoyance. Was he trying to pawn me off on some other guy? But as soon as Callum actually found Josh and brought him to our table, I understood it had just been a diversionary tactic. He introduced us and then threw Josh to the wolves - that is, to Pandora, Hannah, Jemima and Imogene - so he and I could talk without a table of curious women listening in.
"Ha," I giggled, leaning in towards him and whispering, "that certainly worked. They're going to be entranced all night."
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