Fightback

by Steve Voake

  ‘Yeah, I’ve got it.’

  ‘OK.’ Maggot sat on the bed and leaned back against the headboard. He put his hands behind his head as if he owned the place. ‘So where is it?’

  ‘Show me the stuff first.’

  Maggot looked at Ryan and nodded. Ryan unfastened the drawstrings on the top of his rucksack and pulled out a plastic carrier bag. He reached into the carrier bag, took out a brown-paper package and placed it on the bed. Kier took a step forwards, but Maggot moved his leg in front of it.

  ‘Not so fast,’ he said. ‘You’ve seen ours, now let’s see yours.’

  ‘All I’ve seen is a brown-paper package,’ said Kier. ‘For all I know there could be half a dozen sausages in there.’

  ‘What’s the matter?’ sneered Ryan. ‘Don’t you trust us?’

  ‘Oh sure,’ said Kier. ‘Why wouldn’t I?’

  He opened the drawer of the dressing table a little way and pulled out a bundle of money.

  ‘There,’ he said, tossing it on the bed. ‘That’s just for openers.’

  Ryan leaned forward to pick it up, but Maggot swung his legs over the side of the bed and got there before him.

  ‘Well, let’s see, shall we?’ He thumbed through the notes in a way that suggested he was used to counting money. ‘Five hundred pounds. That ain’t gonna get you very far, is it?’

  ‘Like I said, that’s just for openers.’

  Ryan moved around the bed and Kier saw that his fists were bunched, ready for use.

  ‘Got some more tucked away with your makeup, have you?’

  Kier pushed the dressing-table drawer shut.

  ‘If you’re not going to play fair,’ he said, ‘then I’m not going to play at all.’

  ‘You’re the one who wanted to buy it, kid,’ said Ryan. ‘Now you’re going to find out how much it really costs.’ He moved a step closer. ‘Come on. Give me the money.’

  Kier thought of still, clear water; of bright petals dancing across a stone floor.

  ‘Why don’t you make me?’ he asked.

  Ryan had obviously been a boxer at one time, because he moved quickly for a big man. Kier watched him lean slightly as if he was preparing to throw a stone, then swing his right fist hard and fast at Kier’s head. Experience had taught Ryan that a punch like that would knock most people out before they even hit the ground.

  But Kier was not most people.

  Which meant that all Ryan’s experience was about as much use to him as a concrete lifeboat.

  Kier moved smoothly beneath the punch and turned slightly so that Ryan’s momentum would unbalance him, waiting until the weight of Ryan’s chest made contact with his shoulder before twisting fast and somersaulting him into the wall. Ryan hit the floor with a thump that shook the room but he was quickly on his feet again. As he ran at Kier like an angry bull, Kier calmly cupped his hand and waited until Ryan was nearly upon him. Then he flicked his arm out like a striking cobra and, as his fingertips struck Ryan’s temple, Ryan staggered backwards and sank to the ground.

  ‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ whispered Maggot as Ryan deflated like a punctured beach ball.

  Kier turned to see that Maggot was standing by the balcony doors with the gun in his hand.

  ‘I knew you looked familiar,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah, well,’ said Kier, playing for time, ‘I like to dress down once in a while.’

  ‘What?’ said Maggot, seeming confused.

  And it was then, with a sickening feeling in his stomach, that Kier realised the truth. Maggot hadn’t – as he had first thought – recognised him from their previous encounter beneath the bridge. He had recognised him because he had been there on the night when everything changed, standing at the end of the hospital corridor with a hood over his head and a gun in his hand.

  ‘It was you,’ said Kier. ‘You were the one who killed my father.’

  TWENTY-ONE

  Maggot shook his head. ‘Not me, my friend. As I remember it, I was too busy trying to kill you.’

  With a sick feeling in his stomach, Kier stared at the man who had tried to take his life away.

  ‘But why?’

  Maggot smiled.

  ‘Because you were there.’

  Kier could feel his anger growing, dark tendrils twisting through his blood. He leaned back, resting his hand on the dressing table.

  ‘So if you didn’t kill him, who did?’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘It matters to me.’

  ‘Let’s just say my boss took care of it.’

  Kier glanced over at Ryan, sleeping like a baby on the carpet.

  ‘Him?’

  Maggot shook his head. ‘Oh no. As you can see, Ryan’s a bit of an amateur. The man who killed your father is a professional. He doesn’t like to miss. And you know what?’ He raised the pistol. ‘Neither do I.’

  Suddenly Kier’s mind was filled with images: stars glimpsed through a shattered windscreen, a desperate race through a hospital and a cool ocean in the heat of the day.

  Find out what matters and go after it the best way you can.

  Kier stared at the circle of the gun barrel and imagined the bullet inside, waiting to be unleashed by a finger’s pressure. In a split second everything would be over and his best would never be done.

  And because he didn’t want that, and because his best was better than Maggot could ever have imagined, Kier reached back and flung the apple from the fruit bowl, diving sideways at the same moment that the gun twitched in Maggot’s hand.

  As the bullet hit the dressing table, the apple struck Maggot in the centre of his forehead, knocking him backwards and splattering the walls with white pulp. Kier rolled forward, kicked Maggot’s legs away and brought him crashing to the floor. As he lay clutching his head, Kier pulled the plastic bag from beneath the bed and removed the washing line. Grabbing the secateurs, he cut a short length of line and pulled Maggot’s arms up behind his back. Then he wrapped the line around his wrists and bound them tightly together, securing them with a double knot.

  ‘Hey!’ protested Maggot, his voice muffled by the carpet. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

  ‘Shut up,’ said Kier coldly. ‘Just shut up.’

  He checked on Ryan to make sure he was still out of it, then picked up the gun, flicked the safety on and pressed the barrel into the back of Maggot’s neck.

  ‘Not smiling now, are we?’

  Retrieving the brown-paper package from the bed, Kier ripped it open and saw there were several plastic bags filled with white powder. He tore the corner off one of the bags and poured a little pile of powder on to the carpet.

  ‘Doesn’t look much, does it?’ he said, turning Maggot’s face around to look at it. ‘But I guess it’s enough to keep you in guns and trainers for a while, eh? Am I right?’

  Maggot struggled to free his hands from the washing line, but Kier had tied it tightly and Maggot wasn’t going anywhere. Realising it was useless, Maggot rested his chin on the carpet and glared at Kier.

  ‘I should have killed you,’ he said. ‘I should have killed you while I had the chance.’

  ‘Maybe you should,’ said Kier, ‘but you didn’t. So now it’s my turn.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean,’ said Kier, lowering the gun barrel and pointing it at Maggot, ‘that I’m going to give you a choice.’

  ‘Oh yeah? And what’s that?’

  ‘It’s very simple. Either you tell me who killed my father or you don’t get to tell anyone anything. Ever again.’

  ‘Don’t make me laugh,’ sneered Maggot. ‘You ain’t got the bottle for it. You couldn’t kill anyone in cold blood, any more than your old man could.’

  Kier felt as though someone had twisted a knife in his stomach.

  ‘What?’ he whispered. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Your dad had a fight with the guy who killed him a couple of weeks beforehand. When he took the knife off him, he could have finished it right there. But he didn�
��t. And you know why?’

  ‘Because he was a good man, that’s why,’ said Kier, his voice shaking.

  ‘No,’ said Maggot, his eyes focusing on the gun. ‘Because he didn’t have the backbone. Just like you don’t.’

  Kier put the gun to Maggot’s head and tightened his finger on the trigger.

  ‘Don’t make me do it,’ he said, his thumb hovering over the safety catch.

  Then, because he couldn’t trust himself not to flick it off and pull the trigger, he slid the gun under the bed and pulled out the washing line.

  ‘I tell you what,’ he said, unwinding the line. ‘Let’s play a game.’

  He sat on the back of Maggot’s legs and, ignoring his struggles, wrapped the washing line around them several times before knotting it tightly above his ankles.

  ‘What are you doing?’ asked Maggot, suddenly nervous.

  He twisted his head around to try and see what Kier was doing.

  Ignoring him, Kier tied the other end around the leg of the bed. Then he grabbed Maggot by his jacket and dragged him towards the balcony doors.

  ‘It’s a new game,’ he said. ‘I call it Truth or Dare.’

  He pulled Maggot to his feet and pushed him out on to the balcony. Then he tied another length of line to Maggot’s belt loop and wrapped the other end around the balcony rail.

  ‘Want to play?’

  Maggot struggled, but his hands and legs were tied and Kier held him in a firm grip.

  ‘Get off me,’ he said, his eyes flicking nervously from Kier’s face down to the street and back again. ‘Let me go.’

  ‘Why would I do that,’ asked Kier, ‘when we haven’t even started?’

  He tightened his grip and pushed Maggot closer to the railings.

  ‘OK, here are the rules. I ask you a question and then either you tell me the truth or I dare you to do something. Like, oh, I don’t know … jump off a balcony, for instance. What do you think? Sounds fun, doesn’t it?’

  ‘You’re crazy,’ said Maggot.

  ‘And the first question is: “Who killed my Dad?”’

  ‘I told you, I ain’t telling you nothing.’

  ‘OK, good. Sounds like you’re getting the hang of it. So you’re going for the dare, am I right?’

  Maggot curled his lip.

  ‘Like I said, you ain’t got the backbone.’

  ‘OK, ready? I dare you to jump off the balcony. I double dare you.’

  ‘I’ve told you, kid. You don’t realise who you’re messing with. And if you don’t untie me right now, you’re—’

  ‘Oh, wait, of course,’ said Kier, holding up a finger as if remembering something. ‘It’s maggots that don’t have a backbone, isn’t it? Well, I guess in that case you’re going to need a little help.’

  ‘I don’t need your help for nothing,’ said Maggot.

  ‘Oh, I think you do,’ said Kier.

  Then he stuck his foot out, bumped Maggot with his shoulder and flipped his legs up into the air, knocking him over the balcony. As Maggot screamed, Kier grabbed the line that was wrapped around the rail and heard the scrape of the bed as the other line tightened behind him. Just below the balcony, Maggot twisted desperately back and forth, shouting and cursing into the darkness.

  ‘Well done,’ called Kier. ‘Very good. Now, I’m going to ask you the question once more, and this time I want you to think really, really hard about your answer, OK?’

  ‘OK! OK!’ shrieked Maggot. ‘It’s McIntyre! The guy you want is McIntyre!’

  ‘Who’s McIntyre?’

  ‘That’s all I know, I swear!’

  ‘Fine,’ said Kier, loosening his grip on the line attached to Maggot’s belt loop so that he slid further below the balcony. ‘Maybe I’ll just leave you here while I go look him up in the phone book.’

  ‘Wait!’ screamed Maggot. ‘He’s got a car dealership. Sells top-of-the-range models.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Near Morden,’ squealed Maggot. ‘Just off the Kingston Road!’

  ‘There now,’ said Kier. ‘That wasn’t so hard, was it?’

  ‘Please!’ Maggot pleaded. ‘Just pull me up!’

  But as Kier was about to tie the line securely to the rail, he heard the faintest of clicks and realised three things.

  First, that he had forgotten one of the earliest lessons Chiang had ever taught him: Remain aware of everything.

  Second, that someone was standing behind him.

  And third, that the safety catch on the gun had just been flicked off.

  TWENTY-TWO

  ‘Move away,’ said Ryan. ‘Move away from the balcony and put your hands in the air.’

  ‘I can’t,’ said Kier. ‘In case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve got your friend hanging off the end of this line.’

  ‘Move away,’ repeated Ryan, ‘or I’ll blow your head off.’

  Kier’s mind went into overdrive. He could tell right away that Ryan meant what he said. He just hoped he’d tied the knots on the first line tight enough.

  As he let go of the second line there was a piercing scream, the other line hummed like a guitar string and the bed began to slide away from the wall. But although Maggot was heavy, the bed was carved from solid oak. Scraping slowly along the side of the night table, it creaked round a couple more degrees before finally coming to a halt against the dresser. For now at least, the line held.

  As Maggot’s desperate screams floated into the night, Kier put his hands up and realised Maggot wasn’t the only one running out of options here. Now Ryan knew what Kier was capable of, he wouldn’t give him the opportunity to try anything again.

  Kier watched him reach for the secateurs, scoop them up and throw them on to the balcony.

  ‘Pick them up.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You heard me. Pick them up.’

  Kier bent down and picked up the secateurs. Then he looked at Ryan, judging the distance.

  Ryan saw him.

  ‘Don’t even think about it,’ he said.

  Kier heard the washing line creak and strain under Maggot’s weight.

  ‘I think it’s going to break,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t think it’s going to break,’ said Ryan. ‘I know it’s going to break. And the reason I know is because you’re going to cut it.’

  Kier stared at him in disbelief. He knew that any thoughts of finishing what his father had started, of bringing some justice to the world, would be lost if Maggot fell. He would be responsible for Maggot’s death and that would make him a cold-blooded murderer, just like them.

  ‘I thought he was your friend,’ he said.

  Ryan smiled. ‘Friends are overrated. They always want to share your stuff.’ He picked up the pile of notes and pushed them into his pocket. ‘And I don’t like sharing my stuff with no one.’

  He took a step closer to Kier and squinted down the gun barrel.

  ‘Turn around.’

  Kier turned to face the balcony rail and saw the moon hanging low over the city.

  ‘OK. Cut the line.’

  ‘But I—’

  ‘Just shut up and do it. Cut. Through. The line.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Argue with me again and I’m pulling this trigger, understand? That’s it. Once more and it’s over.’

  For the first time since arriving back in England, Kier felt utterly powerless: either he cut the line and sent Maggot to his death, or Ryan would shoot him and cut the line anyway. Both ways, Maggot would die. But at least, maybe, if he cut the line, he’d have a chance of saving himself …

  Kier opened the secateurs and placed the line between the blades.

  ‘Do it!’ hissed Ryan. ‘Cut the line!’

  But at that moment, Kier remembered his father’s refusal to kill and something hardened inside him. He might lose his own life, but he wouldn’t allow himself to take someone else’s.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I won’t do it.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Ryan. ‘Your choice.’
<
br />   Kier shut his eyes and waited for the world to end. But instead he heard a thud, a groan and then the sound of someone falling heavily to the floor. Slowly, Kier opened his eyes and turned to see Saskia standing next to the now unconscious figure of Ryan. She wore a green, knee-length silk dress with a thick leather belt, suede ankle boots and a simple but very expensive diamond necklace.

  ‘Sorry I’m late,’ she said. ‘Jackson told me I needed to dress up a bit.’ She pinched the hem of her skirt between her fingers, curtsied and smiled. ‘What do you think? Do you think I’ve overdone it?’

  Kier looked at her and realised he had never been so glad to see anyone in his life.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t think you’ve overdone it at all.’

  Saskia nodded at Ryan, who was still sprawled untidily in the doorway. ‘I think you must be losing your touch. That one’s softer than a pussycat.’ She frowned. ‘And what’s that washing line doing tied to the bed?’

  ‘Oh no,’ said Kier, suddenly remembering. ‘Maggot!’

  He turned to see the washing line slowly stretching like a piece of elastic, pieces of the plastic sleeve pinging off on to the floor.

  ‘Saskia, quick!’ he shouted, leaping forward and wrapping the line around his fists. The force of Maggot’s weight yanked him off his feet and slammed him into the balcony rail. As the line cut into his hands he cried out in pain, but somehow managed to hold on as Saskia ran across and peered over the edge.

  ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Never mind,’ gasped Kier, ‘just help me pull him up!’

  ‘There’s no way we can do that,’ said Saskia matter-of-factly. ‘He’s too heavy.’ She leaned further over the rail. ‘But he’s kind of draped over the balcony down there, so you should be able to hang on while I go and sort him out.’

  Kier stared at her.

  ‘While you sort him out?’

  ‘Yeah, shouldn’t be a problem. Have you got any more line?’

  ‘Under the bed. But—’

  ‘Just keep hold,’ said Saskia. ‘I’ll be back in a sec.’

  Kier gritted his teeth while she knotted one end of the line around the bedpost and tied the other end to her belt.

  ‘See ya,’ she said, climbing on to the balcony rail.