Burning Crowe

by Geoff Smith

  'Go home, Bart,' she said. 'See your friends. Get some rest. You should be proud. You did it. You're a success. You've got to take the positives -'

  And then Zack's arm wrapped around his shoulder.

  'Oh don't listen to her Bart! I still think you're a dick. Stay here. And don't forget that somewhere out there, there's a bullet with your name on it! So fuck it man, enjoy yourself! Plus, there's always more people to upset, right?'

  Francesca squeezed out from her seat and she kissed Zack on the head and said, 'Your life's motto, isn't it Zack? Always one more person to upset.'

  Zack snorted with laughter as Francesca made her way to the toilets. Lola laughed too, but Bart stood up, and he gathered up his coat and he said, 'I'm going. I made a mistake - You know, you guys can laugh about it, but Jesus, my best friend's back home with a hole in her side, and you guys aren't even worried? Seriously? Because I am! I'm terrified! I mean, maybe there is a bullet with my name on it. Or maybe it's got your name on it, Zack, or yours Lola, or even Franny's. So I'm not going home. I'm going to stay. And I'll do it because I want to stop this guy before he does it again, to any of us! So you guys laugh it up. I'll catch you later.'

  Lola fixed him with a stare.

  'You're overreacting,' she hissed. 'For God's sake sit down. Look, we're all worried, Bart. Of course we are. But think about it - what do you actually want here - you want to see us all shivering and cowering in a corner somewhere? Really? Is that what you want? And anyway it looks to us like that gunman was aiming at you. So maybe if you did go home we'd all be a lot safer.'

  Bart pulled his hat down over his ears.

  'Okay, Lola,' he said. 'So it's me he's after, is it? Then what about the break-in? Was that guy after me too? Because I don't think he was. And have you even thought about why you got off so easy? Why Mrs. Malone took a beating and yet you -'

  A clumsy hand loomed up from beneath him, grabbing his collar, pulling him down.

  'Don't you fucking upset my girlfriend, Crowe, you fucking dick!'

  People were looking now. Lola touched Zack's free hand.

  'It's okay,' she said.

  Zack relaxed. He released his grip, and he gave Lola his hand which she locked in hers. Then she gave him his hand back, standing and slipping her arms into her pale blue coat.

  'I suppose you had better come with me,' she said. 'Wait here baby. We won't be long.'

  And she kissed Zack on the top of his head and threaded through the tightly packed drinkers to the door, Bart close behind.

  They passed Francesca on the way out and Lola said, 'Franny?'

  Francesca raised an eyebrow.

  'Make sure Zack doesn't follow us, could you?'

  Francesca winked.

  'No problem.'

  And Lola took Bart outside, down a side-street, away from the smokers and the passers-by, and she said,'Okay, so you've clearly got some kind of a problem here, so -'

  Bart took a swig of his lager. Then he put the glass down on the pavement behind him.

  He crossed his arms and he said, 'I just wanted to know why you didn't get hit like Mrs. Malone? I mean, it's almost like the guy knew who you were.'

  'Maybe he just knew who I wasn't.'

  'If he didn't know who you were,' Bart said, 'I figure he would have found out, or he'd have assaulted you too? But he didn't even ask you your name, did he?'

  She pursed her lips.

  'Look, I really can't remember. I don't know, okay? Maybe I was next. The sirens disturbed him before -'

  'And why didn't he try to use you to make the old lady talk?'

  'Maybe he's just not as twisted as you are?'

  She looked uncomfortable in a way he'd never seen before.

  'Have you got your phone on you?' he asked.

  She nodded, took it from the pocket of her coat and showed it to him.

  'Lola. This is important. Did you tell your dad where Zack was hiding?'

  She began to walk away but he gripped her arm and held her.

  'Please,' he said. He released her arm. 'I do trust you Lola, but I need to know.'

  She stopped, and she turned to face him.

  'I didn't tell him anything! Of course I didn't!'

  'Listen.' Bart breathed in. 'You need to give me your phone.'

  She frowned, backed away.

  'I am not giving you my phone.'

  'Just think about it, will you? Just for a second. I get this anonymous text telling me you're going to be with Zack at The Turner. Your dad knew we'd met here last night. And then as soon as I figure out where Zack is hiding, your dad seems pretty keen to know that too. I don't tell him. I don't even tell you! And then, once you're there, suddenly someone knows. It's your phone, Lola. It has to be.'

  She looked up, and her eyes were big and her brow furrowed. He took a step towards her. She backed away. But he pushed on.

  'It's your dad, Lola. It's Glenn. He hires me to check on you. He pays Cameron to check on me. Of course he's tapped your phone. It's so his style - you've got to admit that. Give the phone to me, Lola. Please. Just for a day. My friend Noah, he's great with this stuff. Just let him look at it.'

  She looked at her phone for several seconds, and her fingers closed around it and her nostrils flared.

  'Just where do you get off?' she said. 'I mean where, exactly? Like, I've tried so hard to help you and - and I suppose I thought that you were a nice guy - but then you come out here, tonight, when I'm out with my friends, and you tell me that my dad is what, like some kind of criminal mastermind? That he hired that man who locked me in a bathroom and beat up an old lady? And you've got the nerve to say I got off easy! You think that was nice for me today, Bart? Because it wasn't nice at all. It was really, really horrible.'

  Bart slapped the wall. His hand felt dirty and wet.

  'I'm trying to help you, Lola! I like you for God's sake. I really like you. Okay? I mean I think you're beau-' And he paused, like a trolley on the crest of a hill with nowhere to go but down. 'I want to protect you, Lola. I - just I want to make sure that everything's okay.'

  'Oh Bart,' she said.

  She held her phone close in both hands.

  A couple turned the corner with arms around each other's waists, and a man walked down from the other end the street.

  Bart said, 'If you won't do it for me, do it for Zack. He's in danger, Lola. Real danger. Give me the phone. I'll go right now. I'll take it away and no one will find you here, at least not tonight.'

  She looked at the ground and then back to the corner and the entrance to the pub.

  'You guys got a light?'

  The man was standing there. He was close to them. A big man with a long, dark coat, and shoulder length hair. He wore wayfarer sunglasses at night and he had covered his face with a scarf. His voice was a gravelly cockney.

  Lola's expression froze. Only her eyes moved.

  Bart said, 'We don't smoke.'

  'That's a shame,' the man growled, 'cos the only light I got is this gun.'

  And his arm wrapped around Lola's waist. She struggled but he dug his hand into her side, the gun into the small of her back. He wore black leather gloves.

  'All right now listen,' his voice like an East-End hard man. 'Me and the girl ere, we're goin' on a trip. Now I aint gonna hurt her less you give me reason, right. But if you move from that spot in the next five minutes or if I'm followed, I'll shoot er head off, then I'll come back an I'll shoot you an' all. Plain-n-simple. Do you believe what I'm telling you?'

  'You killed Raymond Feathers?' Bart said.

  'Do - you - believe - I'd pull the bloody trigger?' the bearded man hissed.

  'I reckon you're capable of pretty much anything,' Bart said.

  'Oh I am mate,' the man said. 'I truly am.'

  And he jabbed the gun into Lola's back and she made a sound of muted fear. She had closed her eyes.

  The man backed away, and he took her back with him.

  'At The Music Hall,' Bart said. 'My frien
d. The girl. You shoot her too?'

  The bearded man ignored the question.

  'We're going,' he said. 'Remember, I got no quarrel with you, or the girl. It's Richards I want. And he knows what else. I'll be in touch. Got it?'

  Bart nodded.

  'Yes.'

  'Good. Now don't you move or I'll kill her and I'll be no worse off.'

  The man nuzzled into Lola's ear and she winced, eyes shut tight. And he whispered into Lola's ear as he pulled her back up the street, back into the darkness of the car park. Bart was rooted to the spot, watching the girl he had almost called beautiful being taken away.

  43

  'What the fuck do you mean, she's gone?' Zack said.

  'Okay,' Bart said. 'Listen. I'll say it again. Some guy - big man, big beard, black hair, semi-automatic pistol - sticks his gun in Lola's back and takes her. She's gone.'

  Zack lunged at him. Francesca had a hold of Zack's arm, struggling to pull him back.

  'If this is a wind up I swear to God -'

  'Do I look like I'm joking?'

  'So where did they bloody go?'

  'I saw a car and a van drive away down the seafront. I didn't see Lola in either, but I've got pictures. I was hoping you'd be able to tell me something.'

  Zack wobbled on his feet. The alcohol in his blood mixed with his thoughts and separated back out again. He moved his head back and blinked as Bart put the pictures in front of him - a white van and a green hatchback.

  And Zack said, 'No. I don't know them. I don't know where they've gone.'

  Bart said,'Have you still got the computer? Maybe there's something -'

  Zack shook his head.

  'Gave it to the cops, man. No choice. Had it stashed in the back of the Smart. And I lost the car too. Had it registered to Raymond bloody Feathers, didn't I?'

  A grin flashed across Zack's face before he could correct it.

  Bart said, 'What was on the computer, Zack? I mean, what was our bad guy looking for?'

  And Zack's grin popped out for a second run.

  'That would be telling, wouldn't it? I'll tell you what's not on it though.' He pulled a micro SD Card from his pocket, the same brand as the one that Bart had found in the squat. 'This!'

  'So, what's on-'

  'I'm not telling you what I've got, Crowe.'

  'Will it help us find Lola?'

  'It'll help me find her. You're going to fuck off back to where you came from. Remember?'

  'I never said -'

  'This is my business. Not yours.'

  Zack shouldered Bart aside and he forged out into the crowd with Bart following in his wake, and making apologies to the many that Zack pushed aside.

  Outside, the fine rain fell in a drenching mist and Zack held his phone to his ear as he crossed the road to the front. Bart and Francesca trailed behind him as Zack strode on, past the couples and drunkards, past The Mechanical Elephant and the bus stop, and on to The Golden Arcade. And he banged on the glass doors, pushing them open and barging inside, and taking centre stage in front of the CCTV.

  'Come on out, Golden! Come out Glenn Golden, you spineless shit!'

  And he turned and smacked the glass panel of a grabbing machine. A hundred stuffed Minions shuddered.

  Bart followed him in, but Francesca remained outside. She shook her head. Her pink coat pressed against the glass door.

  'Come and get me Glenn Golden! Come on you fucker!'

  Bart looked back at the door and but Francesca had gone. Zack was still playing to the cameras. Bart stayed close but tried to keep out of shot.

  And then the supervisor brushed past, a spotty lad, tall, skinny, early twenties, long, lank hair, dyed black. And he looked nervous, getting as close to Zack as he dared, leaning forward like a small bird looking for crumbs.

  'Okay guys,' he said. 'I'm calling the police, okay!'

  And when Zack looked at the lad, Bart saw ideas of violence flash across his face. He squared up to the young man and he raised his fists in the air, and then he turned, brought both fists down, slamming the glass of a first-person shooter, and then again, this time with both elbows. The glass thudded but it didn't break. And so he continued. Zack thumped and smacked on the glass as Bart headed to the door at the back of the arcade.

  The crack of glass when it finally broke.

  Bart turned around and Zack was grinning, and walking towards him, the supervisor following, protesting at every step.

  Glenn Golden had made repairs to the door since Bart's visit that morning. He'd screwed wooden batons across the frame and a new padlock held it shut. Bart rattled the door, but it wouldn't budge. He began to scan the arcade for something he could use as a crowbar, but then Zack came in, cracking his foot against the door, over and over, an assault, battering and denting the skin of the door and testing the batons and rattling the lock. He was relentless. And once his foot had broken the skin the top hinge was wrecked soon after.

  And the door banged and the door shook.

  Bart crossed the arcade to the booth. The supervisor had left it open. There were keys on a hook beneath the desk and Bart walked in and took them. The skinny supervisor rushed back, tried to intercept him, blocking his way and grabbing Bart's shoulder. But Bart elbowed the young man aside and his head bumped against the door-frame. Bart was surprised at how light the lad was, now holding his nose, blood dripping down the back of his hand. He was crying.

  Bart paused. He swallowed and he scratched his neck, not knowing what to say. Nothing he could say. He left the kid there and came out into the middle of the arcade. He spread his arms wide, advancing on the remaining customers.

  'Okay you lot. Out! Arcade's closed. Yes, you too mate. Come on.'

  And the supervisor shuffled towards the door with his hands over his face and blood dripping from his nose, and the remaining spectators herded out too. And they milled around outside with the crowds on the street. Bart kept his head down and covered the length of the building, locking the heavy glass doors as he went.

  At the final door the skinny supervisor twitched. His mouth spasmed as he tried to find the part of his brain that made words.

  'Uh can I uh - can I uh just get - my coat? It's just um - it's just it's - my wallet. It's just -'

  He nodded towards the booth.

  Bart pushed a fifty into the lad's hand.

  'Get a cab and come back tomorrow. We won't touch it, okay.'

  And then Bart pushed him back, locking the last door and turning out the lights. And he followed Zack Richards down the passage to Glenn Golden's office.

  44

  Zack lounged in Glenn Golden's office chair with his feet on the desk. He had helped himself to a cigarette and smoke clouded around him like thought. He leaned forward, nudging the packet to Bart.

  'You want one?'

  'No. Thanks,' Bart said. 'I don't. There's no one here, Zack.'

  'There will be soon - if he knows what's good for him.'

  'You mean Golden?'

  'Who the fuck else? Of course I mean fucking Golden. Fuck.'

  Bart moved to the window and peered out through the blinds.

  'We should go. We won't be able to find her from a police cell.'

  'I don't hear any sirens,' Zack said, tipping the ash from his cigarette onto the carpet. 'Relax man. Golden just needed a little shake. That's all.'

  Zack smiled to himself as light squeezed in through the blinds. A car roared up on the backstreet behind the arcade. Its tyres scraped on the loose asphalt. The back door of the arcade rattled, and Bart jumped back as Golden's face appeared at the window. Golden rapped on the glass and the rain fell harder in the alley.

  'I couldn't find the damned key!' he shouted. 'You'll have to come out through the window!'

  Zack swung up from his seat. He crossed the room, dropping his cigarette on the carpet, and he put his face to the window inches from Golden's.

  'Come on then, Crowe,' he said. 'Taxi's arrived.'

  And Zack unlocked the window
and he clambered through with an agility that belied his drunkenness. Bart was close behind but he was clumsier, and he fell on his hands in the street. And the two of them bundled in the back of Golden's Jaguar, rolling against the leather upholstery as Glenn Golden accelerated away.

  They heard sirens and a police car passed them as they drove through a green light, heading South.

  So you've got Sherlock with you,' Golden called from the front. 'Two toe-rags for the price of one eh? Special offer.'

  45

  It was a big place with grounds that sloped up to the road where tall ferns left crenellated shadows on the walls. An iron gate, remotely keyed, kept undesirables out. The gravel drive made white noise as they pulled in beside a modern, glass-fronted extension, and the back door opened onto a wide, open space, a curtain separating a lounge from a games room. There was a large settee. Covered in green velour. Probably antique.

  Bart and Zack sat as Golden came back with bottles of Bud from the kitchen. His pale blue shirt was unbuttoned at the top and he was bare-footed, thick toenails with yellow ends.

  'Little drinky for you,' he said. His tone was soft and he poured himself a whisky. 'You know boys, it's a shame I had to bring you back here really. I've got the keys to a - lock-up, I suppose you'd call it. And that would have been much more convenient.' And his tone changed, hardening. 'But I need to be here tonight, don't I? For when the bloody cops come round to tell me a pair of fucking idiots have broken into my arcade and made a fucking scene! He left the statement hanging. 'You know, I've got to hand it to you Sherlock.' And he raised his glass to Bart. 'You've delivered the goods my boy, in the end, haven't you? So let's hope it's worth it. So, what's the deal, Zack? After all, there's always a bloody deal, isn't there?'

  Zack drank from his bottle and rested it on the arm of the settee.

  'Where's Lola, Glenn?'

  Glenn Golden puled a box of cigarettes from the mini-bar.

  'I wouldn't know where she is any more than you would,' Golden said. 'First I heard of any of this was when you called. So you watch your tone, boy. And I'll remind you this is my daughter we're talking about.'