by Geoff Smith
And Wayne grabbed Bart by the collar and pulled him roughly from the van. He twisted Bart's arm up behind his back.
Steve Hasland was shifting his weight from foot to foot, looking back towards the house.
And Simmonds noticed his nervousness.
'Are you all right, sir?' he asked.
'Just cold,' Steve said. 'Look, maybe you should bring him inside. Sort this out back in the warm.'
And he hugged himself and he stamped his feet.
'Why is your detective in my van?' Tony said.
'Well,' Simmonds said, 'I imagine he thought there might have been someone else in here before him.'
'You too -' Tony said and he looked at Steve and his eyebrows raised in the middle.
'Who did the picture, in the van?' Bart asked. 'It's you isn't it?'
'What that? That's just my niece. She likes to play in there sometimes, when I visit.'
*
Back in the bungalow, Bart sat in the leather armchair, Steve and Tony on the sofa. Simmonds stood by the fireplace, inspecting the ornaments, the photos and trophies.
'You're proud of your business, Mr. Sullivan?'
'I've worked hard. Look, Officer - really - do you think we could do this tomorrow? It's getting on for four in the morning.'
'I'll be brief,' Simmonds said. 'So as I was saying before, a girl went missing at approximately nine o'clock last night and your van, Mr. Sullivan, was seen at the scene immediately afterwards. Now, Mr. Hasland, would you like to change your story about the off-licence? I can check the times of any transactions of course.'
'No, Mr. -'
'Simmonds.'
'No, like I said before, I was in town to buy wine. And no, I didn't keep the receipt but I'm happy for you to check of course.'
Bart raised his hand.
He said, 'Sorry everyone, I need the uh - you know - sorry.'
Simmonds nodded at Tony.
'End of the corridor on the right,' Tony said.
Bart pulled the bathroom door closed without going in. Instead he turned left into the bedroom. On the floor by the bed was a blue holdall. It contained neatly pressed clothes. A black shirt, dark jeans and underwear. He slid his hand down the side of the clothes. Underneath them was a large wash bag. He removed it and carefully released the popper.
A dark wig.
A fake beard.
A pair of Wayfarers.
And a 9mm Heckler and Koch automatic pistol.
A rush of blood, a rising in the stomach. Bart refastened the popper and slipped the packet back beneath the jeans and the aftershave.
Coming back into the living room, he silently cursed himself. He had forgotten to re-open and re-close the bathroom door. Forgotten to pull the flush. He shivered and he whispered into Simmonds ear as he passed. 'I found the gun.'
Simmonds tried not to react but he straightened slightly, the slump of his shoulders lifting like a topped up inflatable.
And then Hasland was walking towards them. Simmonds' chest expanded as much as a skinny man's chest can expand, and he moved his legs slightly further apart.
'Please sit down, Mr. Hasland.'
'Sorry Sergeant Simmonds, but if I'm not under arrest I want a beer. I'm going to the kitchen. Would you like -'
Simmonds stepped aside.
'No. Thank you,' he said.
And Hasland disappeared into the kitchen. They heard the whump of the fridge door.
Tony said,'Look Officer I'm not being difficult, honestly. But I think we've told you all we can.'
A drawer opened and a bottle top popped.
'Just one or two more things I need to clear up,' Simmonds said. 'I do appreciate your time Mr. Sullivan.'
A clink, a bottle top landing on the tiled floor.
'Okay,' Tony said. 'Shoot.'
And Steve came from the kitchen with a bottle of beer. He had put a denim overshirt on over his t-shirt. As he passed Simmonds and he let the bottle fall. A black bladed knife slid out from his sleeve. He caught it, and, hooking his left arm around Simmonds' neck, he swung his right arm upwards and plunged the black blade into Simmonds back. The blade like a shadow. And Simmonds' breathing stalled. His eyes widened, glazed with shock as the blade jammed in.
Tony clambered over the settee and he crouched against the back wall.
'Christ! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!'
And Hasland's eyes were fixed on Tony as he stabbed Wayne Simmonds a second time and then a third. And the policeman shuddered with each thrust of the knife. Then Hasland let him fall. He came towards Bart, slow, and swaying like a tiger, a cool predator. Blood dripped from the blade, from his knuckles and fingers.
'Okay,' Bart said. 'Calm down okay, Steve. I'll do whatever you say all-right. Just calm. You don't need the knife for me - okay? Okay?'
Hasland feinted left and he jabbed to Bart's right. Then he stood tall, and he smiled broadly. It was a smile of exhilaration. He spread his arms wide and he took deep breaths. And when he spoke he was almost friendly.
'Okay then. On the floor, guys. Lie down. Both of you.' And he pointed the knife at Tony. 'Come on, Tone.'
Hasland pulled cable-ties from the pocket of the overshirt and he knelt between them. He bound Bart's hands behind his back and bound his feet together. Hasland left him there and fetched two chairs from the kitchen. He sat Tony in the chair and he bound his arms to the chair. And then he lifted Simmonds into the second chair. Bart looked at the tall policeman. Still breathing - at least for now. And the sergeant's head lolled forward and Hasland had to double tie his arms to the back of the chair to keep him in place. Then, he leaned in close to Tony, and he cupped the other man's face in his hands.
'Whatever happens now, Tone, always remember I loved you, all-right,' he said, 'more than anyone else. Anyone ever.' And he kissed him on the lips.
And Tony shook with fear.
On the floor, Bart tried to move but Hasland had pulled the ties so tight, it hurt to stay still! Then, wrapping an arm around Bart's stomach, Hasland pulled him to his feet and then he clapped a pungent cloth over Bart's mouth.
50
His vision blurred under the weak electric light. Angled struts. Chipboard. And then himself, bound up like a worm, his body numb. There was a dead-weight in his head and a burning sensation in the back of his throat. His phone was gone. His wallet. His watch. There was something glittery in the haze, and his eyes worked to bring it into focus. Pale ankles. Sequined shoes.
'Lola?' Bart said. 'You're here.'
'Hello,' she said. 'You're here too.'
She didn't sound like a girl afraid.
'I like your shoes.'
'Thanks.'
Bart said, 'I thought you'd be, like, you know, like upset, or something?'
'Oh I've been here for hours, Bart. And, you know, until you got dumped up here, nothing at all has happened. Fear gets boring really quickly.' She took a sip of wine. 'Listen okay, Steve - all he wants is this photograph, and a memory card or something? And he says he has to talk to Zack about it. Look Bart, Steve's a bit crazy but I can handle him. I promise. I'll talk him round.'
Bart's saw Lola's ankle was cuffed to a bench. The bench was built in, bolted to the floor and to the struts. But her arms and her other leg were free, and she had a small table with two open bottles of wine. She had a glass and it was half-full.
She took a sip.
Lipstick on the rim of the glass.
'He's treating you well.'
'Well apart from taking my phone and cuffing me in a loft,' she laughed. 'Look, he's really not a monster, Bart. Really. I don't expect you to understand.'
Bart twisted up and around until he was kneeling before her, and he almost told her about the policeman who was bleeding to death in the lounge downstairs. But it felt somehow childish and mean.
'I seem to be a little more restricted than you,' he said.
'I suppose he doesn't quite trust you yet,' she said and she offered the wine glass up to his lips. But Bart turned his hea
d away.
'You do know what Steve did? I mean, you know he burned your dad's casino?'
She stroked a hand past her cheek and rested it on her neck.
'Oh,I know,' she said. 'He told me,you see. But Bart, he's had a life you could never know. And anyway, if I hate Steve for what he did,well then - that could get a little awkward for me.' She took another sip of wine. 'Turning into quite a night though. You sure you don't want some?'
'Actually yes. I will. Thanks.'
So Lola leaned forward and she tipped the glass. Wine dropped into his mouth. It felt hot, and it soothed his burning throat. A little stream of red trickled down his chin.
'So about Steve?' he said. 'I mean, you were saying?'
'Listen Bart, Steve and my dad have known each other since they were kids, okay? My Dad would look out for him, and sometimes pay him for jobs - the kind of jobs that he doesn't really do anymore. So, when Dad wanted the casino done Steve agreed like he always has. I think he feels like Dad and me are family in a way. I'm kind of like his unofficial niece I suppose. It's weird, okay. I'm not going to say it's not weird, but it is actually pretty nice. And he really does care about me. More than Dad does sometimes. And you know Zack really shouldn't be doing what he's doing anyway. Because my dad can take it, but it's really hurting Steve. He's more sensitive.'
'Could I have some more wine?'
She leaned forward and poured more wine into his mouth, more of it dripping down his chin.
'Listen, Bart,' she said. 'If this thing goes right, I mean tonight, everything could get sorted out, like that. If Zack hands over those images, well, then Steve can go back to living a normal life again - he can marry Tony - Dad can get back to his property portfolio and his dumb arcade, and Zack will be done with this whole mess and Steve and Dad will forgive him, because they'd know he was giving the whole revenge thing up for me. And Zack will see that -'
Her lips pursed and her eyebrows closed, just a fraction.
Bart said, 'What will Zack see?'
'He'll just see,' she said. 'That's all.'
'And Raymond.'
'Raymond? What about Raymond?'
There was a metallic creaking sound and Hasland's head pushed up through the hatch. Seeing Bart trussed up and kneeling in front of Lola, he grinned.
'I would say get a room,' he said, 'but - I've already taken care of that one, haven't I? Honestly, it's a shame to disturb you two, but we've got to move.' And his hands pushed through the hatch and he pointed the gun at the pair of them. 'So - let's just do exactly what I say, all right - unless you want to argue with this - and I think by now you know that I'm quite serious about that, don't you Bart?'
51
Lola walked ahead of him, past the wooden shells of old slot machines. Her hands were bound but not as tightly as his own. Hasland had one hand locked around Bart's collar, and the barrel of the 9mm pushing into Bart's back with the other.
The storeroom took up the whole of the arcade's first floor. There was a box room on the far side of the space. It had thin, board walls and single-glazed windows. It may once have been a staff room but now was dusty and neglected. There were cushioned chairs facing each other on both sides of the room and Steve shoved Bart onto one of them, cable-tying Bart's ankles and wrists to the chair's chromed frame. Lola sat opposite and Steve bound one ankle to the chair. There was a filing cabinet in the corner. Hasland rattled it open. Green tea cups, a tray and a couple of spoons.
'So who fancies a cuppa?' he said.
And he left them there while he went downstairs, cups clinking on the tray as he walked.
*
And Bart said, 'My God, Lola, doesn't it scare you to see how relaxed he is? How relaxed you are? Because, my God, I've got to tell you, I'm not relaxed at all.'
She frowned then, and she looked almost angry.
'I told you. It'll work out. Zack will come. Everything will get sorted out. Just you wait and see.'
And Bart kicked his legs but the binds wouldn't budge.
'For God's sake Lola, listen, Steve just stabbed a police officer - at the bungalow - and he did it three times! A police officer! And I'm sorry, but picture or no picture, he's not going to be able to sort that. And you can see how happy he is! He's left two witnesses to a murder, and one of them is me! He's going to end us tonight Lola, you have to see that?'
Lola's shoulders hunched. She leaned forward.
'You're making it up as you go along,' she said and she twisted away from him.
'Oh come on. You think I'd lie about something like that? I'll tell you what. Why don't you just ask him? See what he says. Because, you know what Lola, if you're in on this, you'd better start getting yourself out of it.'
And then Hasland was weaving through the slot machines with a plastic tray, three cups of tea and a Heckler and Koch self-loading pistol.
'There we go,' Steve said, placing the tray on the cabinet. 'You know, this little get together is actually quite nice under the circumstances, isn't it?'
Neither Bart nor Lola spoke. Hasland sat opposite Bart. He tasted his tea and his face contorted before he dribbled it back out into his cup.
'Urgh look at that. I forgot the bloody sugar. My own bloody cuppa as well!'
Lola laid a hand on his leg. She said, 'Let me go get it for you, Steve. I know where it is. You can trust me.'
They looked at each other.
Then Steve drew the combat knife from his jacket and held it in front of him, gazing for a while at the subtle inflections of light on the matte-black blade.
'All right but -' And he stroked the blade of the knife against Bart's cheek. 'if you're not back in three minutes -' He pressed the point against Bart's nose until he drew blood. 'This Crowe's going to lose his beak.'
And Lola said, 'I won't let you down, Steve.'
Steve breathed out, long and slow as if in meditation, and he blinked a few times, and he looked deep into Lola's eyes for several seconds and said, 'All right.'
He cut the tie from her ankle and Lola stood. She leaned down and she kissed Steve on the forehead. The big man slumped back into the chair as she left for the stairs, lost in thought, turning the blade.
Then Bart said, 'Why did you burn the casino, Steve?' And Steve sat up, tensed and alert. His lip raised up on one side and his cheeks tightened as Bart continued. 'Because that's what this is all about isn't it? The casino, I mean. The one you burned. Like, I feel sorry for you, Steve. I do. You did the wrong guy a favour, and you had some bad luck. But what I don't understand is why a guy like you would do something like that. I mean, I don't know how much Golden paid you but-.'
'I didn't do it.'
'Yes you did. And you killed Torin Malone in the process.'
And Steve's tight-lipped tension became a smile, and it was a smile to club you to death with.
'Bart,' he said. 'I like you, right. I really do. I've always liked you, but you need to be careful here. Because if you're not careful you'll annoy me.' He brought the knife close to Bart's face. 'And if I get annoyed I might cut off that nose anyway - or I might kill you.'
A shudder ran through Bart's body, the blood drying tight at the corner of his nostril. But he steeled himself and he said, 'So I think we're all here because Glenn Golden hired you to burn down a casino for him. He's known you for years. And maybe he's got something on you. So you did it. You burned his casino, just like he asked. Except it all went wrong for you didn't it, when a young man - someone who knew you - snapped you at the scene and died. So when you found out that Zack Richards - who you already hated - had the picture and was blackmailing Glenn Golden with it, you had to act then, didn't you?'
Steve tapped the end of the knife on Bart's nose. Then he stood and stretched. He had a powerful frame. Gorilla-like. A silverback.
Bart said,'Except when Raymond Feathers broke into Zack's room and stole the photo. He put the squeeze on you direct then, didn't he? So Golden gave you the address of that squat the guys were dealing from and you we
nt over there - and maybe you just wanted to end it, to get the memory card and move on - but Ray was more determined than you thought he'd be. He wouldn't talk. So you shot him, didn't you?'
And Steve lifted the pistol from the coffee table, spinning into a gunfight pose, James Bond or Jason Statham, and he pointed the gun at Bart's head.
'Bang!' he said, and he laughed out loud. Then he looked at his watch and said, 'Looks like you're losing that big, beaky nose of yours Crowe.'
'You didn't find that photo though, did you?' Bart said. 'But I did. I found it. And when you heard about that through Lola you decided to take me down. And so you went to The Music Hall, hoping to catch me on my own, but then, when you were behind the hall, and it was so secluded and quiet, it was just too tempting, wasn't it? You took a shot at me and you put a bullet through my friend. But then, after all that, you found out that Zack still had a copy of that picture as well. That must have made you like insane! So when Golden fed you the address of the flat where Zack is hiding with Mrs. Malone, you figure you have nothing to lose. But Zack's not there, and you wonder if anything will ever go right, so you turn the place over anyway, rough up the old lady. But you come up short - again. And of course you don't attack Lola because -'
They heard Lola's feet on the stairs. Both men stopped for a moment.
Bart said, 'Did Lola know you were coming to Mrs Malone's place? Did she know about you? About all of this?'
And then Lola was there. She put down the tray and she hopped over Hasland's legs.
Sitting next to Steve she said 'Sugar?'
'Ah you're a good girl,' Hasland said, transformed and grinning, all sweetness and light. He checked his watch. 'Two minutes and forty seven seconds. Down to the wire eh Bart?'
He reached out and he wobbled Bart's nose between thumb and forefinger.
And Bart looked at Lola and said,'Did you know that Steve was the guy in Mrs. Malone's flat?'