Godsend_a gripping, fast-paced thriller

by J. A. Marley

  “I thought she was a property developer.”

  “And Kim Kardashian calls herself a star, but we both know trash when we see it, don’t we, honey chile?”

  Danny chuckled in reply, even though he didn’t know who Kim Kardashian was. “She’s not doing business with me directly, Tina, but with an associate of mine.”

  “I did not think you were a white powder boy, Danny. I might be getting a liddle disappointed in you. People like you and I should stick to the glamorous vices: alcohol and filthy, decadent lovemaking.”

  “Don’t worry, lovely Tina. I’m not into anything chemical full stop. I’m more of an accountancy type. I help people who have too much money.”

  “Ah, that’s much more derring-do… a Raffles type. I enjoy separating men from their hard-earned cash too. My money maker’s been shakin’ much longer than yours though, my darling.”

  “It’s still a sight to behold, Tina. For clarity, then, Ms Zedillo is not a bona-fide developer of condos and hotels?”

  “Oh no, my dear, but she is. She builds the most luxurious dwellings and hostelries. But her – how shall I phrase it? – seed capital is much more prosaic. You can clean a lot of messy money up in construction, sweet pea. Ms Zedillo is rumoured to be very efficient in such dealings.”

  So, Harkness was playing both ends of the deal. Treachery. It ran in his veins. It also upped the ante beyond belief. Bad enough that Danny was about to swipe drug cartel cash. But even worse, they probably knew he was coming. This was going to have to be an incredibly precise job. Danny’s thoughts were interrupted by the music changing. Some awful dance track clanged in his ears.

  “I’m going to change the subject a little, if you don’t mind, Ms Tina. At the risk of sounding crude, when did you last have some real fun?”

  “Why, I’m shocked you’d ask a lady with such an artistic bent a question so earthy.”

  “I don’t mean… sins of the flesh type fun. I mean a little excitement, the flush of a little risk?”

  “Sweet pea, my face may be angelic, and my body a little less holy, but trust me. My mind is always primed for a calculated risk. How can I help? Will it be excitement of the financially rewarding kind?”

  “It certainly will, Ms Tina. And I may need the help of some of your more artistic friends too. Boys and girls.”

  “I can supply a whole troop of creatives, all bursting with artistic ambition and questionable morals.”

  “That is good to hear, my dear lady. I’m still figuring out the details, but I will be in touch soon.”

  Danny downed the bourbon, the caramel heat of it giving him a slight glow on the way. Tina reached out and put a hand on his.

  “No time for a liddle bump and grind before you go? My dying swan is a joy to behold.”

  “Ms Tina, the pleasure would be all mine and, of course, a privilege. But business calls…” He stood and kissed her cheek, Tina resting her hand there after he had stepped away.

  “All work and no play makes Jack terribly dull. I do declare. What does a southern belle have to do round here to nab a seat on a young knave’s lap?”

  “Next time. I promise.”

  “I’m not after a promise, sweet pea. Just your filthy cash.”

  Danny had no answer to that. He felt exactly the same way about life himself.

  25

  Bless Me, Father…

  “Y’all sent a friend to Disney World? Yo sho he’s still yo friend?”

  Father Simeon laughed at his own joke around the edges of the huge cigar he was smoking as he sat in the fighting chair at the back of Danny’s boat.

  “I didn’t send him, Sim, he wanted to go of his own accord. He said he’d always wanted to meet Mickey.”

  “Dude, too many kids. I do a christening? The baby cries, I order a cab, take my ass outta there.”

  It was Danny’s turn to laugh. Simeon shifted his position and checked the two fishing rods he had on the go. Nothing.

  “We’ve had all the luck of the Chicago Black Sox today. I’m startin’ to think yo is some kind of jinx. I might have to re-think this arrangement!”

  Danny looked at his friend and saw an opportunity to start a chat he didn’t really want to have. “Funny you should say that…”

  Simeon’s head whipped round, a look of concern on his face. “What chu sayin’?”

  “My circumstances may be about to change. And it’s outside of my control.”

  “Yo never struck me as a brother with outside controllin’ influences…”

  “Everybody’s got a boss, Simeon… even you.”

  “Alleluia to that, brother! But mine is little less controlling and little bit more encouragin’. Ya feel me?”

  “I do… but I’m serious. I think today may be our last opportunity to fish. I’m going to have to move away.”

  Simeon looked at him, an expression of extreme puzzlement on his face. He repositioned the cigar between his teeth without taking his hands off the rods. “Y’all in trouble.”

  It was a statement, not a question.

  “No, no, nothing like that.”

  “Brother D, I ain’t no fool. I have always seen a shadow over yo. I may be a priest but I ain’t no jackass. Talk to me, dude.”

  “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with where this is going, Sim.”

  “Yo’ sayin’ yo’ don’t trust me…”

  “Simeon… don’t do this.”

  The big priest took a moment, looking out to sea before he spoke. “Repeat after me.”

  “What? Simeon!”

  “Repeat, dammit! Bless me, Father…”

  “I’m not…”

  Simeon stood up, pulling himself up to his full height so that both of them were almost eye-to-eye. Danny could tell he was deadly serious. “RE-PEAT! Bless me, Father…”

  Danny sighed. “Bless me, Father…”

  “For I have sinned.”

  “For I have sinned.”

  “My last confession was… make something up, Danny…”

  “My last confession was in 1999.”

  “Good enough… now go ahead. Whatever you tell me now is bound by my holy vows. Tell me Danny, what the fuck is goin’ on?”

  “It’s… complicated.’

  “Life is complicated, Brother. I can’t help yo’ if I don’t know what to help wit’…”

  Danny felt sick. Worse. He felt trapped. Not by Simeon, not because he was out on the boat in the middle of nowhere. He felt trapped by himself. By his own actions, his own choices that had led him to that moment. The reality of it crashed into him. He felt a flutter in his chest. The horizon tilted in front of his eyes, he felt his heartbeat rocket and his breathing became instantly laboured. It was another attack.

  His lungs went tight, as if someone was winding piano wire around his torso. Then, as always, the sounds began. He could hear the screams. The booms of explosives, the cries of people begging to be helped. He didn’t realise it but he had sunk to his knees. The big priest scrambled to try and help him before he collapsed fully, at risk of cracking his head on the side of the gunwales. Try as he might, his eyes could not focus. Everything was a blur as he gasped and gasped, fighting to get air into his lungs. He was only able to suck in what felt like a tiny sob’s worth with each heave of his chest.

  “Brother! Brother Danny! Look at me, look at me.”

  Simeon looked wildly around him, searching for anything he might use to shock Danny out of whatever funk he was in. He spotted the open drinks cooler just a few feet away. Stretching past Danny, he dragged it towards them. Once in reach, he grabbed Danny’s arms and plunged them both into the icy water, bottles of beer and Dr Pepper spilling out the side.

  It did the trick. Danny’s eyes pulled instantly into focus, and he took a deep, rasping breath. It sounded like a cartoon character preparing to blow up a comedy balloon.

  And then, the tears came. Big fat ones dripped down his face, as his body seemed to fold in on itself. He wept, his sobs sounding heartfe
lt and intense. Simeon sat heavily on the deck next to him, folded his huge arms around him and held him tight for what felt like an eternity.

  They sat like that for a half an hour. Some of the time, they were in silence. Some of the time Simeon gently prayed, his words barely audible, a mixture of the Hail Mary and the refrain “Jesus was lost, Jesus was found.”

  When he could finally move, Danny shuffled to rest his back against the side of the boat.

  “They’re… they’re panic attacks. I’ve been having them off and on for quite a while now.”

  “What dark shit yo’ got in yo’ life, Danny? You might as well tell me, now, cos I sure as hell know it’s bad.”

  “I’m a thief.”

  It was a revelatory moment for him. It was the first time he had ever heard his own voice speak his truth. It also felt like a huge chain had been lifted from his shoulders.

  “Because of me, an evil man was able to cause the deaths of a lot of people in London almost two years ago. And now, when I have one of my… episodes… all I can see and hear are their voices, their pain. I didn’t mean for them to suffer. But I have no doubt, I more than did my bit.”

  Father Simeon looked astonished. Danny didn’t blame him.

  When he eventually spoke, it was Danny’s turn to be astonished.

  “God forgives you, Brother. He forgives you. He knows that you got entangled. But he also knows it was never your intent to end those souls’ lives.”

  “I was carrying out a robbery. A big one. I got away with it, but the price… fuck me, it was a high price. There’s no god I know would forgive a man for that. I can’t begin to forgive myself.”

  The tears continued, as the full force of his remorse, shame and anger came out in him. It was as if the bottle he had tried to contain them all in had just been shattered into a thousand pieces simply by acknowledging the truth out loud.

  “What I’m gonna say to you next won’t make no sense right now. But I tell you, Danny, I swear to you on my momma’s life it’s true, and it will mean everything to you when you’ve had time to think on it.” Simeon took Danny’s face in his hands. When Danny tried, gently to resist, Simeon slapped him. Not a full-blooded face-slap, but enough to focus both their minds.

  “No man, and I mean no muthafucka, is defined by a single act or a single day in their life. Things happen to a person, and things happen because of us. Because of the things we think and feel, say or do. Some of those things are moments of weakness. Others are instances of great heroism and generosity. But as iddy biddy moments, they mean nothing. They do not define us. Not in God’s eyes. He doesn’t pick holes in a life because we fucked up now and again. He sees us as a totality. He sees us for who we really are. In our hearts. You might have done bad things, Danny. But it ain’t ever too late to stand up and say you’re sorry and start again. Make a change. Re-direct your life. Y’all have a good heart, Brother Danny. God sees it. I seen it. You just need to remember it too… and then try to keep it pure.’

  Danny was stunned. He sat there, looking at his friend, believing he had just heard the most generous thing anybody had ever said. Not just to or about him. But about everybody. It was then that he realised that Simeon truly believed in his version of God, and it had made him a better person. They sat in silence for another while, both watching as the twilight gathered in the sky above their heads. Simeon spoke first.

  “Have you been discovered, Brother D? Have the po-leece found you?”

  “No, Simeon. It’s worse than that. The evil man I mentioned?”

  Simeon nodded, a look of dread gathering on his face.

  “He’s found me, Sim. He has. And now, I’m going to have act. I have no choice. It’s him, or it’s me. And I can’t let him take any more lives along the way.”

  “You could always go to the po-leece. You could make it their bidness… not just yours.”

  “I did that last time, back in London. But this man’s reach is broad and far. He didn’t spend very long in their custody. And now, he’s back, and I know that it’s down to me.”

  Simeon looked at him long and hard until he sighed. “In that case, all I can do is pray for yo’, Brother D. I’ll pray for yo’ and pray to keep the rest of us outta yo’ way.”

  By the time he had piloted the boat home and shared a sombre goodbye with Father Simeon, Danny was exhausted. He didn’t even stop to offload spent supplies and used equipment from the day’s fishing. He simply trudged from his little dock, onto the decking and straight into his house.

  Once through the door, he shed his clothes, kicking off shoes, dropping his trousers, flicking off his underpants and pulling the T-shirt over his head, discarding it in the doorway to his bedroom. He looked down at his feet and immediately conceded defeat by collapsing face down onto his bed. He was asleep in seconds.

  But it wasn’t to be a peaceful rest. His dreams were a kaleidoscope of explosions, death screams and mayhem. The violent images bombarded his subconscious, becoming ever more frantic, their intensity ratcheting up like the heat of a house fire. Soon, they seemed ready to consume him, until he awoke with a start. His bedclothes were sodden, the reek of his own sweat bitter in his nostrils. Usually when he dreamed, be it pleasant or, as was more common these days, nightmarish, he could never quite remember the last image that had assailed him.

  But this was different. The last image his limbic brain had conjured up was a vivid one. It had been an image of Harkness’s face coated with sweat, close up, spittle flecking his lips, his eyes wild and rheumy. And as the image widened, like a shot from a film, it revealed a pair of white-knuckled hands clamped around Harkness’s neck. And they were tightening even further.

  Danny knew.

  He knew they were his own hands.

  He knew that his primal self was telling him what must be done. This time, he had to show no mercy. This time, he had to kill Harkness.

  26

  Details, Details, Details

  Ciaran looked an absolute sight. He had returned from Orlando with every piece of Disney-branded clothing the mouse machine had ever cared to dream up.

  A baseball cap that gave the wearer the long ears and teeth of Goofy sat atop Ciaran’s mass of wiry red hair. A T-shirt that had Mickey’s front on the front and his backside on the back was next. On his bottom half, he had a pair of horrendous plaid shorts with Mickey silhouettes secreted in the pattern. And to complete the look, the coup de grace: a pair of Crocs on his feet that were festooned with whistling Mickeys. Danny laughed so much that tears had appeared in his eyes.

  “Ye can feck aff, ye feckin’ fecker. These are an absolute revelation. Have you ever worn a pair? They call ’em Crocs. It’s like walking on feckin’ air.”

  “You look like you were caught in a Disney shop during a fucking hurricane, Ciaran. Did you try everything on in the dark?”

  “It’s your fault. Ye gave me too much money. I tink ye’ve lost yer inner child. Where’s your sense of innocent wonder? Have ye forgotten the pure joy of childish fun?”

  “I’m not sure I ever had an inner child, but I know I’m not colour blind. You’ll have to change before we go out later.”

  “Yer taking me out? Ye have to ask nicely, I’m no hooer.”

  Danny was reminded why he liked Ciaran.

  “Don’t get excited. It’s not that kind of night out. We’re going on a recce. We’re off to see where this church mission meeting is happening.”

  “See! No sense of fun… Yer all about the business, so ye are.”

  “At the minute, yes. I have another delicate matter to discuss with you, not just your ridiculous clothes.”

  Ciaran levelled a look at him that told Danny he was in no mood to be trifled with. Danny thought his friend was genuinely offended. “It’s like the boy, Yeats said. ‘Tread softly because you tread on my dreams’.”

  “It’s the beard.”

  Ciaran’s hand shot to his chin in a defensive move. ‘What’s wrong wit’ me chin?”

&
nbsp; “I’d like to see it. Your hair is bad enough but that beard makes you stand out like Samuel L. Jackson at a KKK rally.”

  “Ye want me to dye it? I’m not sure strawberry blond takes the old dye wild easy.”

  Danny creased up, laughing hard. “I don’t want you to dye it. I want you to shave it!”

  “I’m wounded. This is my pride and joy… It’s taken me ages to perfect my look.”

  “That’s no look, mate. It’s not so much a fashion statement as a question mark.”

  “Ye can go an’ fuck yerself.”

  “I’m serious. If we’re going to pull a robbery, you don’t need that beard acting like a big ‘look at me’ arrow on the way through.”

  “I’ll wear a scarf.’

  “Jesus! You’re in Florida. I’ve seen you sweat just flicking on a light switch.”

  “I’m not shaving… I don’t care who the feck ye are…”

  Ciaran flounced out of the room, leaving Danny to his tears of laughter and a hope that when he saw him next, his friend wouldn’t look like a walking advert for the Mouse House.

  It was just gone midnight when the black Lincoln MKX crept down his drive. Danny was on the deck waiting. As far as he could see, there was only the driver inside. But Danny had asked Ciaran to stay out of sight until he knew who he was dealing with.

  The car swept right up to the foot of the steps and Danny could see, sitting behind the wheel, the tall grey-haired man who had led him behind the altar when Danny had first met Vincent Cardell. He appeared to be alone. Danny descended the steps, cautiously. Knowing now that Harkness was playing all the angles, he was taking no chances.

  The passenger window of the SUV glided down. “Get in.” The driver leant over.

  Danny turned to look back at the house and whistled. Ciaran stepped out of the shadows and lightly jogged over to join him.

  “Who’s that?”

  Danny looked at the driver.