For God’s sake, they were all against me now. Several others from the company were gathered by this point too—watching, listening, nodding in agreement. This was going too far. Way too far.
“I see,” I said, as calmly as I could, still shaking, looking round at all their frowning faces. “Well, Daryl, whether you understand how much of a twat you’ve been or not, that’s about it, as far as I am concerned. You can forget about old Dave helping you to your millions. It’s over. I quit. Send me to prison if you want. Anything is better than this dump.”
Butter was looking at me sympathetically, ready to talk me out of it, I was sure. I just shook my head at him. Not now. That is enough.
“Nice to see you, Butter.” I said.
And I simply turned and walked away, my heart practically pumping itself out of its chest. I pushed through the crowd, ignoring everyone, heading straight to the door and down to the basement.
Chapter 23
I sat on the end of my bed, breathing heavily.
At least things were simple now: I had to leave. Wherever I had to go, whatever I had to do, the practicalities would have to work themselves out.
First thing next morning I’d call Molly, tell her straight up where I was at. She and her lawyer friend must be able to organize somewhere for me, even temporarily. Maybe I could stay in Manchester with that other bloke from the hearing, Clive. Anywhere. I didn’t care as long as it wasn’t Solar Ray. I’d go to prison too, if I had to. Screw it. Why be afraid? Once the other prisoners knew what I was capable of, they’d leave me alone. I could defend myself.
And if prison wasn’t permitted, if the police told me I had to stay here at Solar Ray and there were no other options, well, then I’d make a run for it. I couldn’t just walk out the door without dealing with the cops, obviously. I could burn my way out, I supposed, but angry though I was, I wasn’t homicidal. I’d do my best not to hurt anyone. Anyway, if the police knew what was good for them, they’d choose to avoid being squirted with lethal acid pee. Plus, they wouldn’t want to shoot me, would they? I mean, I was too valuable now, wasn’t I? No more Dave, no more acid pee, no more mega-dega-super-duper-carbon-whatever-it-was.
Once I escaped, I’d hide upcountry, somewhere safe and out of harm’s way with lots of fields and very few people, just as I’d thought about before. Then I’d get in touch with Molly. We could try and find a proper expert. She would know someone, maybe, and if she didn’t, she could ask around. Perhaps I’d go abroad, find someone who truly gave a toss and had the know-how and the wherewithal to make a good stab at my case. There must be people out there who’d snap at the chance.
And whether I could find such a person or not, the point was that I was going. Anywhere. As long as it was away from Solar Ray. Then everyone would know that Dave was not a bloke who took humiliations like that, that he was not some sort of total nincompoop. Of course, in many ways I was a total nincompoop, but that wasn’t the point.
Then of course I got to thinking that maybe the time was now and why not leave right that moment? Screw the waiting, the planning, the relying on other people to sort shit out for me. Just pack my bag and head on out—
Knock, knock, knock.
I was brought out of these increasingly wild thoughts by a knock at the door. I hoped it wasn’t Daryl. Perhaps it was Butter though. Or Bill.
I got up, opened the door. Two steely eyes on a shiny bald head stared at me from the dim light of the corridor: the tall figure of Frank Stalbaum.
“Dave,” he said with a frown. “Can we have a little talk please?”
I didn’t like his heavy manner, actually.
“Alright,” I said. “Give me a minute though. I’m just—”
“Now,” he said firmly, striding into my room, his face grave.
He said nothing at first, but he did slam the door shut, lock it, and pace up and down a few times while giving me mean looks and sighing to himself.
Christ, I thought. What now?
“What’s up?” I said. “Can I get you a drink or something?”
He didn’t answer, so I went to the fridge and pulled out a can of beer.
“What are you doing?” he said.
“Just getting myself one,” I said.
“Jesus Christ.”
The half-smoked packet of fags caught my eye from the table. I grabbed it and lit one up. The way I was feeling, a nice ciggie was perhaps the only way I’d make it through the night.
“Sure you don’t fancy a beer?” I said, cracking mine open.
“No! Sit down.”
He was pointing to the bed.
“No need to be rude.”
I sank onto the mattress and took a big slurp of my beer, following this with a nice deep drag of the ciggie.
Can you believe the bastard then came over and ripped the fag right out of my mouth? Yup, he took that fag to the bathroom and washed it down the sink.
“Jesus, what a dump,” he said, looking around him as he walked back out.
He stepped over to the table and half-leaned, half-sat on it.
“So,” he said. “This is about you and Daryl.”
“Er—”
“You insulted him—several times—in front of his family. And you told him you were going to quit.”
“Well—”
“Just what in the hell makes you think you can go around pulling shit like that?”
“I…” I started to say, then interrupted myself with an unplanned burp from the beer.
“Look,” he said with a laugh. “Let me give it to you straight, okay? None of that delicate-ass British reserve.”
“Okay…”
“You, my friend,” he said, “are a piece of shit.”
“Come on now—”
“No, no, no.” He shook his head. “I told you I’m gonna give it to you straight. Now don’t get me wrong. I’ve known plenty of shits in my life, most of ’em pretty harmless, nothing to write home about. I certainly wouldn’t write home about you. But a shit you are. Can we agree on that?”
I was shaking, unsure if he was really saying such words, something about his brutal manner holding me back from outright telling him to shove off.
“And by piece of shit,” he continued, “I mean a few things really, so why don’t you let me unpack that for you, okay, buddy? See where that leaves us.”
God, he was sarcastic.
“Firstly, you don’t matter. You’re not important. You are one of those people who’s happy to sink in his own shit. Unlike those who strive for something better, like Daryl, shall we say, you’re quite content, as you can drink a few beers, eat a few burgers, shove half the world’s resources into your mouth and watch sports. Am I right?”
“Er, well I’m not really into sport—”
“Just shut up for now, would you?” he snapped. “It doesn’t friggin’ matter what the hell you’re into. What matters is that your life is meaningless, and when you die, no one will give a flying fuck who or what you were, except maybe to say you were one of the many average lazy-Joe fatty pants who ruined this planet. People like you have been the problem for far too long. I guess it’s kinda ironic that you’re gonna be part of the solution now.”
Wow. I had to admit, with each hateful word, I was falling deeper into shock.
“So,” he said, “this is a very unusual situation. On the one hand, we have you, a certified piece of shit, and on the other hand”—he waved his hand absently—“we have this amazing thing going on in a certain part of your body that suddenly means you matter, that you’re important. But really, you don’t matter. And you’re not important at all. You and I know that. Your body, yes, but you, no. You might as well be anyone. Stop me if I’m wrong.”
I couldn’t answer him yet. I could only gawk.
“Now, the problem comes when a piece of shit like you starts thinking that people have to listen to him, that he’s special, that he can do what he wants and that what he wants matters.”
He leaned
over at me.
“Actually, do you know what? The real problem is when people let you think that. That’s the real problem. Because the truth is, we shouldn’t have to listen to a goddamn word you say.”
He stood up straight again and laughed to himself. It was approaching the time when I could take no more.
“You know what?” he said. “I think I will have that beer now. Don’t worry. I’ll help myself.”
He walked over to the fridge, pulled one out, and opened it.
“Not bad,” he said, taking a big gulp.
I followed suit with my own big gulp, praying that we were nearly done with this, whatever this was supposed to be. It almost felt like a telling off from the headmaster. Would he bring out the cane next? Ask me to pull down my trousers and give my bottom a good old whacking?
“So,” he said, “I just wanted you to understand the relationship here. While you may think it’s Daryl in charge here and that you can shit all over him, it’s not. I’m running things. I’m calling the shots. And while Daryl might take shit from you, I won’t. I don’t take shit from people, period.”
He laughed smugly to himself and then proceeded to down the entire can. Then he crushed it in his hand and slammed it on the table before wiping his mouth. He stared down at me over his bony nose, waiting for my reaction, I guess. Yet for the life of me, even after all his big words, I wasn’t really clear what it was he wanted me to do, aside from stay put and shut up. Possibly fear was justified, but it was more as if I was being barked at by some kind of weird American dog.
And what do you do with barking dogs? Actually, I had no idea, but I think someone once said that you look them in the eye.
“Are you threatening me?” I said, finding my nerve. “Is that it? How do you know I won’t piss all over you now, watch your body melt into a pool of green ooze?”
He laughed. “You wouldn’t do that, Dave. I know you. I’ve read everything there is about you. You’re an asshole and you’re weak. A goddamn pussy, really.”
“Where do you get off with all these insults? You really think this is going to make me stay? Do you understand that I punched Daryl’s lights out before? Does that sound like someone who is a pussy? You’re telling me you’ve had enough of my shit. Well, screw you! I’ve had enough of his shit. And of your shit too, if your shit stinks enough, and I can tell you it’s getting pretty bloody stinky right now. What’s to stop me walking out the front door right now, eh?”
I don’t think I’d ever said the word “shit” so many times. I guess his American-type banter was wearing off on me.
“Maybe you will leave.” He nodded and smiled. “But just know that if you do, if your contract with Solar Ray ends, then you’re mine.”
“No,” I shot straight back. “Most likely I’d be back with the police. Back in prison maybe. You can’t have me if I’m in prison, can you?”
Frank just laughed. “Man, you really are a dumbass, aren’t you? The Brits don’t know what to do with you, especially after what happened with that Russian. They’ve got far too many problems without having to worry about some freak like you. They’d just as soon see you disappear off the face of the earth. They’re scared out of their pompous minds, you know that? And more to the point, you think I’m gonna give Daryl millions of bucks and not make damn sure my investment is secure?”
“Yes, but what are you actually talking about?”
He laughed. “Did you actually read that contract you signed?”
“Yes,” I said. Well, I thought, sort of…
“Section Five, Clause Three,” he explained. “The Omega Clause. That gives us rights over you, should anything untoward happen.”
Oops. I could only take a deep breath. I mean, I remembered seeing that section in the document, and Daryl mentioned it, but in terms of the details, I never really stopped to consider the implications.
Frank laughed again. “You know, it’s funny. At the start, I was kinda worried this thing might not get off the ground. I mean, first there was registering the company in time, doing all the safety checks, then preparing the application, then that hearing, then the contract. But Daryl told me what kind of an asshole you were, how you’d never be bothered to read the small print, how you’d rather focus on your next meal than tax your brain with legal details. Still, I didn’t believe him. ‘Are you kidding me?’ I said. ‘This guy’s not just gonna sign his life away just like that. There’ll be lawyers, clarifications, all that corporate crap.’ That’s what I said. Of course, I didn’t know you then. Now I do. I guess Daryl was right about you.”
“I don’t give a shit about the contract,” I said, feeling increasingly desperate. “It’s just a piece of paper. You can’t force me to do anything I don’t want to—”
And would you believe, at that moment, the bugger rushed over, stood over me and pulled my head back by the hair, all in a flash. He yanked it hard too, pulling painfully at my roots.
“Oy!” I gasped, literally looking up his nose, his hateful eyes glaring down just inches from my face.
“You wanna play hardball with me, is that it?” he snarled. “You don’t have a clue who you’re dealing with here. We’ll kill you if we have to. After all, we don’t need you. We only need this.”
And amazingly, he put a hand onto my crotch area and grabbed my balls. I cried out and smashed his hand away. I pushed him back, forcing him to let go of my hair.
“Contract… schmulltract,” I said rather shakily, standing up, breathing deeply. “I could piss on you right now, you bastard. Do you want to be melted by a man’s urine? Are you some kind of pervert, is that it? What makes you think I should be afraid of you?” I mean, I was afraid of him, extremely so now, but I didn’t want him to see that. “You’re just some weird American who pulls hair and thinks nothing of grabbing a man’s privates. I guess maybe cos you haven’t got any of your own. The hair, that is.”
He laughed. “Oh dear,” he said, shaking his head. “You do crack me up. But listen, seriously, sorry to be so hands-on. I’m just trying to get through to you because I prefer clarity in business relationships. I don’t want you operating under any false assumptions. So just get it straight in your head right now. I don’t take crap. And I can be mean if I have to. Also, you gave up any rights you had when you pissed all over that square. The moment you leave Solar Ray, you come under my protection. Omega protection. That’s what you signed up for, and nothing can change that. Got it?”
“So what?” I said cockily, just wanting to fight back in any way I could. “I told you I don’t care what you say. I’ll do what I have to.”
“You should care,” he said. “Omega is way bigger than you know, bigger than even Daryl or any of the other schmucks here know. We’re rich and everywhere and we’re pretty darn hot with our tech too. We can find anyone. Do anything. You think you can fight that? You think you can piss your way out of that? We’ve been building all sorts of toys, especially for you. We’ve got big plans for you. Daryl doesn’t know half this shit. You really should be more careful. We’re responsible for more that’s happened than you can possibly imagine.”
That last bit sounded ominous, though I suppose that was his intention.
“What do you mean?”
He smiled. “Well, I probably shouldn’t tell you this but… who do you think sent that dame to fuck you up?”
He grinned at me. I found the room suddenly spinning all around me.
“You sent her?”
The implications were terrifying, overflowing with menace and, for the most part, beyond me completely. It made no sense.
“I told you we’re powerful” he said. “Holy cow, if you could see your face.”
He started laughing again. I wanted to shout at him, to piss on him, watch him scream as he dissolved. It really did cross my mind. Brutal but fair. It certainly would’ve been. Yet given the situation, what he’d said and done, what his people were apparently capable of, I’d need to play things smart.
> “But why?”
“Nope. No more,” he said, standing up. “I think we’re as clear as we need to be for now. But let me just round up this little pep talk by saying you could still come out of this a rich man if you wanted. You could live the—how do you guys say—the life of Riley? On the other hand, I won’t hesitate to play dirty. If it comes to it, I’d just as soon tear that goddamn organ right from your body.”
And finally, the bastard walked out the door.
Chapter 24
That encounter left me in a state of dithering shock. I peed on automatic and hit the red button as if watching myself from a great height, as if I was suspended in storm clouds and my luminous green wee was some kind of alien lightning striking down to invade the bitter and twisted human world below.
“Alright, Dave,” said Bill pleasantly when he walked in a couple of minutes later. “I was wondering when you’d call. Bit of a long time for you to hold on for tonight.”
“Leave it out, mate.”
It always registered as weird the way Bill took pride in his knowledge of my waterworks—he seemed to have the rhythms all worked out.
“I know you and Daryl aren’t exactly best friends, but you mustn’t let that presentation get to you,” he said, crouching to unscrew the tank. “It’s just Daryl and it’s not worth taking to heart.”
Another odd thing: our relationship consisted entirely of little chats beside my wee tank. I should have appreciated how diplomatic he was being, but he’d completely missed the mark this time. After that episode with Frank, I’d forgotten about Daryl. That all seemed like a mild irritation in comparison.
Bill grunted, carrying the tank through the door. I heard his steps recede down the corridor and then return.
“You coming back up?” He poked his head through my door. “I’ll go up with you.”
“Nah. I’m just gonna chill here for a bit, I think.”
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