SuperJack

by Adam Baron

  I’d rattled Nicky’s keys, getting them in the wrong lock, and Shulpa must have heard because she opened the door to me. Her face lit into a serious smile and she kissed me, taking my face in both of her hands. She held my hand and led me into the huge living space, where Nicky was propped up on the sofa, three pillows beneath his head and a duvet round his legs.

  I was surprised to see Shulpa. I was more so when my eyes fell on Nicky. I took a step back from him. If I’d walked past him on a hospital ward I wouldn’t have known who he was.

  ‘Fuck,’ I said. ‘Fuck me.’

  ‘Pretty, aren’t I?’

  ‘You look, I don’t know…’

  ‘Like the elephant man?’

  I nodded. ‘Like the elephant man. After he’s been given a pretty fucking good kicking.’

  ‘I’m not a nanimal, I’m human bean.’

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘I’ve seen the way you go after women. You’re definitely an animal.’

  ‘Not much chance of doing that for a while.’

  ‘I don’t know. Some women like their men to look a little rough. I’ve been banking on that for years.’

  I moved toward Shulpa but she folded her arms and looked at me.

  ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I’m glad you think this is funny, Billy. Look at him. I don’t think you should be making jokes.’

  ‘She’s right. Don’t make me laugh. That is the very worst…’

  ‘And you. Look at you. So this is a joke, is it? Your face. It won’t be the same. That cut. I can’t believe you’re laughing…’

  ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Shulpa, I’m sorry.’

  ‘And him, lying there not telling me the truth. You got mugged, you tried to fight them off, it was just kids. Am I stupid? Why did Mother call me and ask what was happening? I could tell from Billy that it was something more. So, come on, are you going to tell me? Either tell me or I’m leaving, and I don’t want to see you again. Either of you. I’m not your baby sister any more, Nicky!’

  * * *

  Nicky calmed Shulpa down and I just nodded when he went through it with her. He was pretty groggy, having just woken up. He told her that he’d borrowed some money from an outfit he shouldn’t have. That it had disappeared. Shulpa wanted to know what he’d borrowed it for and he told her for some renovations that needed doing, safety things, that he couldn’t afford.

  ‘And they did this to you?’ There was a tremor in her voice that really moved me. She was right, this wasn’t something to joke about, especially with Nicky’s sister there. Nicky looked touched, ashamed by her concern.

  Shulpa wanted to know what Nicky was going to do about it. She was all for phoning the police but there was no way that was going to happen. I said I’d already started putting together a solution.

  Nicky looked at me, wanting to know if I was serious.

  ‘I spoke to a friend,’ I said. ‘She’s getting us the money to pay off the people we have to pay off. For a few weeks at least. Then we’ll owe her.’

  ‘And then what happens?’

  ‘Then Nicky will pay her back.’

  ‘If it was that simple why didn’t he just pay the people he owes?’

  ‘They didn’t give him enough time to raise it. We’ve got more time now.’

  Nicky nodded. I’d told him I was going to speak to Sal, though I hadn’t mentioned that I’d ask her for a loan. He wouldn’t have wanted me getting into it like that. If he was surprised he didn’t show it. His look said he had no further worries about the matter. I knew the look was bullshit.

  ‘Right,’ Shulpa said. ‘So. You said the money disappeared. How much was it?’

  Nicky and I exchanged glances.

  ‘Come on, you fuckers. I’ve been here looking after you all day. Why do you treat me as if—’

  ‘All right,’ Nicky said. He followed it with a rattle of Bengali.

  ‘TWo hundred thousand pounds. What?! You must be mad—’

  ‘Shulpa,’ I said.

  ‘Okay. Okay. I just…this is incredible. So.’ She put her hands on her hips. ‘Who’s got this? Who took this from you?’

  ‘That’s what I’m going to find out,’ I said.

  ‘You think you can?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I’ll find out. Whether there’ll be any of it left, is something else. But I have an idea that finding the person just might be enough.’

  I gave Shulpa the keys to my flat, and though she wasn’t happy about it she agreed to leave us alone to talk. As soon as she’d gone I told Nicky not to ask her round for a while. He said he’d keep her out of it and thanked me for what I’d done for him the day before. He kept apologizing, telling me that I didn’t have to get involved. I thought about what Sal had said, about his reasons for not telling me. He didn’t want to admit what he’d done, like she said, but he may have also been worried about what might happen to me. I wondered what he’d think if he knew how I’d spent my afternoon. I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him. Nicky was very protective towards his sister. He pretended to find her annoying, he’d never said a good thing to me about her. But sometimes I caught him looking at her with weary affection. Other times I saw the amused smile he tried to hide as he shook his head, opening another free bottle of fizz for her. I shook my head when I realized that I was more worried about what Nicky would say than what Shulpa would.

  I brushed aside Nicky’s apologies. I got a few addresses off him, then ran through what had happened with Sal. I told him what she’d said. Nicky nodded.

  ‘And this gives me more time?’

  ‘That’s right. You’ll owe a bit more at the end but no one will be coming to break your legs. For a while at least. We’ve got three weeks’ worth.’

  ‘But then they will?’

  ‘No. Because I’ll have got your money back by then.’

  ‘And if you can’t?’

  ‘You mortgage the bar. You told me you bought it outright. If the worst comes to the worst you use that money to pay Sal off and the rest to pay the Maltese. Then you’ll be paying the bank more than you can afford for thirty years like most people do anyway. The NatWest, they might send you a stiff letter. They won’t break your head open.’

  As I spoke I could see a frown taking hold on Nicky’s face.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘You said mortgage my bar.’

  I looked at him. Carefully: ‘That’s right.’

  ‘I heard you telling Shulpa that and I was thinking, it’s fine, he’s just trying to reassure her.’

  ‘Nicky…’

  ‘But you meant it?’

  I gave him another, measured, look. ‘You’re going to have to do it, Nicky.’

  He shook his head. ‘There’s no way.’

  ‘What the fuck do you mean?’ Sal had said Nicky might not have liked it, but I’d thought he would have seen it had to happen. I couldn’t believe what he was saying to me. ‘You want to get topped? Is the Ludensian more important than your life?’

  Nicky looked at me with the same expression of disbelief, now mixed with patience. ‘Of course it isn’t.’

  ‘Well then. I can’t believe you’re saying you’re not willing to mortgage the place. You do know that if I can’t find the cash you’ll still have to pay off two sets of people…’

  ‘Wait. Wait a second. I’m perfectly willing to hock the bar. I’d do it tomorrow.’ He shook his head. ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me that you were going to ask Sally for money?’

  ‘What do you mean you’re willing? So do it.’

  ‘It isn’t as easy as that.’

  ‘Why not? Why the fuck not?’

  ‘Because. Because the guy I bought it off…’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘He still owns it,’ Nicky said.

  There was a silence for a second as I looked at Nicky. I had a cold, empty feeling.

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘I’d never have got a licence,’ Nicky explained, looking away from me. ‘Not back th
en. I was a dealer, it was well known. My name isn’t on the lease. The guy I bought it from, his name is still on that and on the licence, and I put Toby on there too, a few years ago. It isn’t officially mine. I can’t mortgage it, okay?’

  I nodded. I was trying to take in what Nicky was telling me. I’d borrowed money thinking we had something to fall back on. Now I knew we didn’t. I saw Sal’s face, telling me not to do it, not to ask. If I couldn’t find the stash Nicky had lost, we’d have nothing left to pay anyone with. If the Maltese guys came back for Nicky they’d have to get in the queue.

  ‘Well then,’ I said, eventually. ‘We just better find the light-fingered cunt who took it from you, hadn’t we?’

  Nicky and I talked for an hour and a half, throwing ideas around like movie writers developing scenarios. The situation was no different, not really. The man on the flying trapeze still pulls the same moves whether there’s a net beneath him or not. I still had to get the money back. Nicky gave me some addresses and some numbers. I asked him who could even vaguely possibly have known about the money. We were still going round the houses when the phone rang.

  ‘Billy. Listen. I’m at your place. There are some police outside. They were waiting for you. I’ve just got here, I was at a friend’s.’ Shulpa’s voice sounded shaky. I let out a breath. I knew I hadn’t got rid of them the first time.

  ‘Were they in uniform? Or not?’

  ‘Not.’ Shulpa was obviously nervous. ‘A man and a woman. They wanted to come in and wait but I wouldn’t let them. Is this about Nicky?’

  ‘No,’ I reassured her. ‘Just a case I’m working on. It’s nothing, what did you tell them?’

  ‘That I was your friend. I had to pick something up.’

  ‘Right. Well, I’d just as soon not speak to them tonight.’

  ‘Okay. Okay, I’ll go home then. Do you want to come round?’

  ‘I have things to do,’ I said. ‘I could be pretty late. I’ll probably just stay at my office.’

  ‘Won’t you need your keys?’

  ‘Fuck,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll drop them off.’

  ‘Could you?’

  ‘No problem. Where shall I leave them?’

  ‘There’s a fire escape near the back entrance, the one I took you in, remember? Can you leave them, I don’t know, on the third step?’

  ‘Of course. What if I get followed?’

  ‘I don’t think you will. Tell them there was a message for you that I’d be back at eleven. That should keep them there.’

  ‘Okay,’ Shulpa said. Her voice still sounded like a radio station you were about to lose. ‘A shame, though, Billy. It would have been nice tonight.’

  I left a second. I heard Louise Draper – can this be your fault?

  ‘I know. I’m sorry. I’ll…I’ll make it up to you. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  I handed the phone back to Nicky.

  * * *

  There was a phone box on the street outside the place and I used it. I held the piece of paper in my left hand and dialled the number, looking out through the glass at the third-floor window of a converted Victorian mansion block. I let the phone ring for a long time before replacing the receiver. Then I hung up and walked outside.

  I was on Mildmay Grove, near Cannonbury Station. Not far from my office. I’d spent half an hour on Nicky’s laptop looking at the Leyton Orient website and then I’d driven over. The night was icy cold now, the pavements glinting beneath the street lamps as though they’d been sprayed with diamond dust. I let the door of the phone box swing shut and jogged up some stairs to the door of number twenty-two. I pulled my hood up and pressed the buzzer for seven, waited, then pressed it again. Nothing. There was a light on in the ground-floor flat, and I hit the buzzer marked one.

  ‘Hello. Who is it?’ The intercom crackled like eggs in a hot pan. I was glad. I took a step away from it.

  ‘I’m from number seven. From upstairs. I locked myself out taking some rubbish down. Can you let me in?’

  I hopped up the stairs quickly, in case the man who’d buzzed me in felt like checking. At the top I stopped, outside a tatty blue door with a plastic seven glued onto it. Number eight was directly opposite. I pulled my hood down, and put my ear to both doors. Nothing. I reached into the bag I’d taken out of the boot of my car, and pulled out three sets of keys. There were about forty keys in all and I tried them all in the deadbolt, one by one. I got a couple that felt right, but didn’t quite fit enough to turn. I pulled out a file and had a go at the likeliest, slimming down a couple of the prongs, and it was better but it still wouldn’t move. I stopped when I heard a noise from downstairs – a young couple coming home to a flat on the second floor.

  I shone my Maglite into the lock and bit my lip. The Yale would be easy enough to loid, and I knew I’d get the deadbolt eventually if I kept up with the filing. But it was getting near closing time. I didn’t want to be standing there with a file in my hand if the occupants of number eight rolled in. I was wondering whether I might have to give up on it when I noticed the window in front of me.

  It was an old sash window that wasn’t painted shut like most windows in communal hallways tend to be. I ran my fingers round the frame and listened again.

  No one else came home. As quickly as I could I unhooked the latches, put my fingers underneath one of the panes and pushed upwards, slowly. The window moved, not making much noise, a rush of cold air hitting me in the face. I pushed the window up until there was easily enough room for me to climb out.

  I stuck my head out first, the chill air running down my neck. I could see why no one had bothered to paint the window closed. The flats looked over a railway line – there was no way to break in from the back. On the other side of the line was a tall row of conifers. I didn’t think anyone would see me. Holding on to the underside of the window I stepped out into the darkness, my bag over my shoulder. Then I turned and pushed the window down, keeping my hands on it for balance. I was on a ledge, wide enough to edge along but fifty feet up nonetheless. I looked down onto a back yard, the outlines of a deserted barbecue and a set of stone seats visible beneath me, lit by the rectangle of light spilling out from the garden flat they were sat outside.

  I shuffled along the ledge, careful of the ice, and got lucky – the first window I came to was the bathroom, a louvered set of six frosted panels, the sort that aren’t used any more, one of the reasons being that if they haven’t been glued they’re so easy to get into. They’re not usually glued because of fire safety concerns. I tried the top one and it slid out without any fuss. I set it down on the ledge and reached for the second. That, and the rest, came out in minutes, and I laid them all on top of the first, moving as quickly as I dared. I could hear a train in the distance and I wanted to get off the side of the building before it rattled by beneath me, carriages of bored passengers gazing out into the night.

  Pushing the bag in first I squeezed into the bathroom without any trouble but slipped when I tried to lower myself to the floor. The toilet seat was down, otherwise I might have got my foot wet. I made a lot of noise and if there had been anyone home they would have easily heard me. I stopped, but I couldn’t hear anything.

  I saw a thin line of string by the door and pulled it, filling the room with a weak light. I was in a small bathroom with pale yellow walls and a plank floor painted submarine grey. I had a quick look around. I opened the boiler cupboard, went through the medicine cabinet and checked inside the plastic facing on the bath. Nothing. Then I walked out into the hall.

  I spent about thirty minutes in Toby’s apartment, knowing he was at the Ludensian. The adrenalin rush was unexpectedly high. Maybe I’d have to take up cat burglary instead of boxing. I didn’t feel bad about what I was doing. Toby could have found out about the money, he was always at the bar. If he’d taken it the son of a bitch deserved it. If he hadn’t, he’d never know I’d been there. He’d come home from his shift and find his flat as he’d left it. I went thro
ugh the bedroom first, then the kitchen and the living room. Toby lived in a small, sparsely furnished one-bed and, thorough as I was, it didn’t take me long. I looked everywhere there was to look. Pillowcases, mattresses, picture frames, drawers, behind drawers, coat pockets, suit pockets, bags, bookshelves, the books on them. I wasn’t expecting the whole stash, but if there’d been any spare cash around it might have meant something. Any new hi-fi or computer equipment, the same. But there wasn’t. I did discover that Toby was sufficiently worried about hair loss to have a bottle of special shampoo costing fifteen pounds in his bathroom cabinet and I was also surprised by the extent and nature of his porn collection. The only thing of any interest to me was a copy of Blood on the Tracks that I recognized because the cover was cracked. I’d loaned it to Nicky, ages ago. It must have been lying round the bar and Toby had borrowed it. I was tempted to take it back but I left it where it was and walked back into the bathroom.

  It still didn’t mean he wasn’t the one. Not that I had any specific reason to think he was other than he was at the Ludensian more than anyone else except Nicky. He’d know the place upside down. So he was just a good place to start. And it felt good to start. I pulled a few squares of paper from the roll and wiped my footprint from the toilet seat.

  Outside, on the dark ledge, my foot found some ice and my heart kicked like it was in CPR as my hands grappled at a drainpipe. Blood on the Tracks? Nearly, but not quite. A cat? I was more like a donkey burglar. I made it back into the hallway and closed the window.

  When I got to my office I parked in the forecourt and locked the car. There were no police waiting for me. I found my keys by the fire escape and let myself in. It was dark at the bottom of the stairwell, but I knew my way. I walked round to the lift, the orange glow from beneath the black buttons all the light there was. Upstairs there was more. I stepped out of the lift on three, and turned into the long corridor that leads to my office. Through the huge window at the far end of the corridor the moon, turned yellow now, sat like a broken tooth on a bed of dirty cotton wool.