Harm

by Hugh Fraser

  As Juanita pours more wine, Rodrigo sits back and says, ‘Guido’s going to call Lee Masters, tell him that Manuel has agreed to do the deal with you, and get the location of the drop. He thinks it will be north of the border, near El Paso, in Texas. He’ll also be told where you need to go to meet with Lee and get the money, probably also in El Paso.’

  ‘How far to El Paso?’ I ask.

  ‘To drive, two days.’

  ‘Do you have the coke?’

  ‘Of course. For one million dollars, you get two hundred fifty kilos of pure. Special bargain price. The first of many deals we will make, no?’

  ‘Sure,’ I say.

  Rodrigo speaks to Guido, then he says, ‘He’ll call now. We go to the office.’

  We leave the table, Carmela releases Guido and we go next door. Guido goes to the telephone on the desk, picks up the receiver and dials. Rodrigo stands beside him, unclips the earpiece from the back of the telephone and opens a notebook on the table next to the phone. He puts the earpiece to his ear and makes notes as he listens. Guido, after a few inaudible opening remarks, gives the occasional affirmative grunt and then replaces the receiver.

  Rodrigo clips the earpiece back in place and writes in the notebook.

  He turns to me and says, ‘He’ll meet you in El Paso at eight p.m. day after tomorrow at a gas station on the corner of Alameda Avenue and Prado Road. He’ll drive a blue Ford Pinto. You’re to arrange to meet Manuel at nine p.m. that evening at an old farmhouse thirty miles south of El Paso, east off Highway 10, to make the deal.’

  He tears a page out of the notebook and hands it to me.

  ‘It is all there, including directions to the farmhouse. I have a copy.’

  ‘Will you be there?’ I ask.

  ‘Guido’ll bring Manuel and the coke, which is yours, along with your passport, once we have Lee. Also, we can help you get the coke to London if you want.’

  ‘And the money?’

  ‘We keep.’

  Carmela moves towards me, looks steadily at me and says, ‘Be at the farmhouse with the money and you get the coke.’

  They clearly have some notion of burning me or killing me, but it is nothing more than I expected. They are both entirely ruthless and only concerned with honing their business operations without further penetration by the DEA. I know that I will have to rely on Lee and my own resources on the day. In the meantime, I want to get back to Pilar.

  Carmela says, ‘You need to leave early tomorrow.’

  ‘What about a car?’ I ask.

  Rodrigo says, ‘We show you in the morning.’

  ‘What does a Ford Pinto look like?

  ‘Small ugly sedan,’ says Carmela.

  There is a general move to the door. Rodrigo heads towards the far end of the gallery. Carmela, Guido and I walk down the stairs to the hallway. Guido melts away behind us and Carmela says, ‘Walk you home?’

  ‘OK.’

  We step out into the hot night air. The cicadas are clicking at orchestral volume and various night birds squawk and hoot in avian protest at their domination of the airwaves. A light breeze rustles the palm fronds and wafts delicate scents to and fro around us.

  Carmela says, ‘Rodrigo tried to kill you before and he will again.’

  ‘He shot up the minister’s car?’

  ‘Sure. He hated his brother. Rodrigo was the one who paid Gonzales to have his marijuana fields destroyed.’

  ‘You’d never know he hated his brother from the way he set about Guido.’

  ‘Showtime.’

  ‘Why would he want to kill me?’

  ‘He thinks you know too much about him and he’s a major league paranoid.’

  ‘I’ll bear it in mind,’ I say.

  We cover the short distance to the door to my room and she turns to face me, looking into my eyes.

  ‘You knock me out.’

  She moves closer to me.

  I take out my key, look down at her and say, ‘I have a long drive tomorrow.’

  She presses her body into me and I feel her doughy breasts and then hard muscle and the heat of her breath on my chest. She rises onto her toes, puts her lips next to my ear and whispers, ‘Just a little comfort for a little girl?’

  When I feel her tongue snaking around my ear lobe, I suppress a wave of nausea, ease her away from me gently and say, ‘Business first?’

  She kisses my cleavage and, just as I’m about to inflict great pain on her, she pulls back and says, ‘Later.’

  She turns and walks away and I wait for her foul flavour to leave me before unlocking the door. When she reaches the concrete path beside the pool, I go inside.

  Pilar is lying on the sofa, still in her underwear. I join her and we melt into each other’s arms.

  I nuzzle her ear and say, ‘How about a trip to the United States?’

  ‘Tell me more.’

  ‘Later,’ I say, as we slide onto the floor.

  22

  I wake up in Lizzie’s bed, stretch my arms and legs out over her slippery silk sheets and reach for her, but she’s not there. I turn over and see her sitting in the glow from the fire, looking so beautiful. When these sort of feelings started in me, I knew I only wanted to be with girls, but I was too scared to let on to anyone. I love Lizzie for the way she’s understood me and helped me to become myself.

  She comes over, sits on the bed beside me and kisses my cheek. ‘What time is it?’ I ask.

  ‘About half four.’

  I get up on one elbow and say, ‘Have I been asleep since …?’

  ‘You’ve had a nasty shock, finding her like that.’

  ‘I’ve got to get back. There’s undertakers coming, and I should be there.’

  I get out of bed and put on my clothes. Lizzie reaches under the bed and pulls out my shoes. She sits me on the bed, rubs my feet and then puts them on for me.

  ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ she says.

  I can feel the faintness for a moment but then it passes. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Do you want me to come with you?’

  ‘It’s OK. Maureen’s there.’

  ‘She’s a brick, that one.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  I stand up and put my jacket on.

  ‘I should go.’

  She takes me in her arms, kisses me and whispers, ‘Come back soon, you lovely thing.’

  • • •

  It’s almost dark when I reach Portland Road. I get to the house, go in the front door and shut it behind me. As I go up to the flat, I hear a car pull up outside. The bell rings and I go back down and open the front door.

  DCI Davis is standing on the step with two uniformed coppers and a bloke in a brown raincoat carrying a briefcase.

  Davis looks me up and down and says, ‘Well, well. If it isn’t Miss Walker.’

  Maureen comes down the stairs behind me and says, ‘They’re here about your mother, Rina.’

  I stand back and they go past me and up the stairs. I shut the door and follow behind them. Maureen shows them into the flat and they go into the back room where Mum’s lying. I pull Maureen into the kitchen.

  ‘What are the coppers doing here?’ I ask.

  ‘The undertakers phoned them. They said they have to if there’s been an injury.’

  We go into the back room. The bloke with the briefcase bends down and pulls back the blanket covering Mum. Davis has a look at her and then at the broken window and the blood on the floor.

  He turns to me and says, ‘That’s your mother?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say.

  ‘Who found her?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Where was she?’

  ‘Lying under the window.’

  ‘Why did you move her?’

  Maureen steps forward and says, ‘We both moved her.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘She’d passed away. It seemed wrong to leave her lying on the floor.’

  Davis takes out a notebook and says, ‘Your name is?’

 
‘Maureen Welch.’

  ‘Address?’

  ‘I live here.’

  Davis looks at the two of us and then he closes his notebook. The bloke with the briefcase gets up.

  Davis says, ‘This is Mr Watson from the Coroner’s office.’

  Watson nods at us and goes over and looks at the window and the blood on the floor.

  ‘What do you reckon?’ Davis says.

  ‘Probably heart failure, but we’ll need an autopsy.’

  Davis looks at the window and the blood again, then he kneels down and looks at Mum’s neck.

  Maureen says, ‘She’d lost her mind. We reckon she was trying to climb out the window and she cut herself and fell down.’

  Davis stands up and says to Watson, ‘Accidental?’ Watson hesitates and then looks at the window.

  Davis goes over to him and says, ‘Saves a lot of paperwork.’

  Watson looks over at Mum and then nods. He takes a piece of paper out of his briefcase, turns to me and says, ‘Full name of the deceased?’

  ‘Alice Ivy Walker.’

  He writes on his form and puts it in his briefcase. Davis turns to the uniformed coppers.

  ‘Get the undertakers up,’ he says. The two coppers leave.

  Watson picks up his briefcase, looks at his watch and says, ‘I’ll be getting along then.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Watson,’ says Davis.

  Watson nods at him and leaves. When he’s gone there’s a knock at the door.

  Davis says to Maureen, ‘You show the undertakers where she is while I have a word with young Miss Walker.’

  Maureen opens the door to two men in black suits. One of them’s holding a stretcher and the other has a blanket. Davis follows me into the front room. He shuts the door, then he throws me down on the sofa.

  ‘Did you kill her?’ he demands.

  ‘Of course I fucking didn’t!’

  ‘How come scum like you can afford a nice place like this, eh?’ He’s got my by the collar and he’s shaking me. ‘Nice little earner from Dave Preston for a false alibi, was it?’

  He tightens his grip on me. His eyes are bulging and he’s going red. I stare back at him and say nothing. He lets go of me and goes and looks out of the window.

  He says, ‘Who else is here?’

  I cough and loosen my collar. ‘My sister and Maureen and her daughter.’

  ‘What’s your sister’s name?’

  ‘Georgina.’

  ‘And the daughter?’

  ‘Claire.’

  He writes something in his notebook and says, ‘Anyone else?’

  ‘Not now.’

  That seems to remind him about why he’s here. He looks down at the street and then at his watch. He turns and looks at me as if he’s trying to make up his mind about something. I’m wondering if he knows anything more than he’s letting on.

  After a bit he says, ‘Alright.’

  He goes to the door and opens it. The undertakers are bringing Mum through the kitchen on the stretcher. After they go past us and down the stairs, Davis turns to me.

  ‘I’m sorry about your mother,’ he says. He goes out the door. Maureen shuts it behind him and we go into the kitchen. She says,

  ‘Did he put those marks on your neck?’

  I pull my collar up and say, ‘It’s alright.’

  ‘Are you in any trouble, love?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You’ve been so good to us, Rina, I don’t know what we would have done without you and I’m so grateful, but if you’re in trouble because of it …’

  ‘I’m not in trouble.’

  Maureen goes to the sink and fills the kettle. She knows I was out all night with Claire and Sammy and I reckon she knows why. She’ll have sussed that I robbed the money to get this place for us as well, but I know it’s safer for her if we don’t speak about it.

  I say, ‘Is Georgie upstairs?’

  ‘She had her tea and went straight up.’

  ‘Claire and Sam?’

  ‘They left before the police came.’

  ‘I’ve got to go out. Can you mind her for me?’

  ‘Of course, love.’

  As I get to the door she says, ‘Hang on a minute, Reen.’

  She puts the kettle down and comes over to me. She dabs at her eyes with the edge of her apron, then she takes my hand.

  ‘You’re a good girl,’ she says.

  I smile at her and we hug each other.

  • • •

  On the way to the Elgin, to meet Dave, I pass a pub with a couple of placards leant against the wall outside. One says Keep Britain White and there’s a couple with the lightening flash in the circle. The fascist mob will have had a meeting somewhere and the lads’ll be in there getting pissed up before they go out looking for Jamaicans to beat up.

  The Elgin’s full of people and noise and the same old singer’s crooning away about Carolina being finer or some such rubbish, while the old bint on the piano thumps away behind him. I squeeze through the crowd to try and find Dave. He’s sitting at a table at the back with a couple of young Teds and an older bloke who looks like a villain. I stand near and catch his eye and then I push my way back to the door and out into the street.

  Dave comes out and walks past me and round the corner to where his Jag’s parked. I follow him and get in the front seat beside him. He looks around and then he reaches under the seat and pulls out a gun.

  ‘How’s that?’ he says.

  I take it and weigh it in my hand. It feels good. Not too big and not too heavy.

  ‘That’s a 51 Beretta that is. Italian. Good little gun.’

  He takes it from me and shows me the way to load the magazine and unlock the safety catch, and how to cock it by sliding back the top part. The magazine holds eight rounds.

  I say, ‘I’ll need more bullets.’

  ‘That’s a hundred and twenty you owe me already.’

  ‘You’ll get it. When’s the next one?’

  ‘Soon as you like.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Hatton Garden.’

  ‘Jewellers?’

  ‘You’re moving up in the world.’

  • • •

  I walk up the Grove and go along the canal towards the old gasworks. It’s dark on the towpath and I’m glad I’ve got a gun tucked in my knickers. I can only just see the edge of the canal by the light from a few windows in the buildings on the other side. I climb over a brick wall and walk between two derelict factories, then I’m over another wall and in the old gasworks. The moon comes out from behind a cloud as I walk between the two big gasometers toward the railway line.

  I find an old door that’s fallen off one of the sheds and stand it up against the wall in front of the railway tracks. I take out the gun, push the safety over, pull back the slider and fire a shot at the centre of the door. The gun kicks more than I expected and I miss the door completely. I plant my feet firmly and grip the gun with both hands. I breathe slowly, aim carefully, and put four shots dead centre.

  I put the gun away and leg it back to the canal. When I get there, I see someone looking out of an upper window. I put my head down and hurry towards the bridge. Just as I reach it, someone opens a window on the other side and chucks an old sack full of something in the canal.

  It’s gone midnight and I’m walking past a pub on the way to Portland Road when I see him. Claire’s dad, staggering drunk and leaning on the wall of the pub. His head’s down and there’s drool hanging out of his mouth. He looks up and sees me. I go to cross the road and he roars at me. ‘Come here, you fucking bitch!’

  A car comes past and stops me crossing. He lunges at me and we fall into the road. He’s like a ton weight landing on top of me. He tries for my neck, but I grab his hair, wrench his head back and roll out from under him.

  He rears up on his knees and shouts, ‘You fucking hurt me, you fucking …!’

  I kick him hard in the face. He falls backwards, cracks his head on the pavement and lies moani
ng and twitching in the gutter. I think about finishing him, but I can see an old couple coming towards us, so I turn and walk on. I get to the corner and look back. He’s still in the gutter and he’s not moving. The old couple cross the road to avoid him. I’m glad he was after me and not his wife and daughter.

  Sammy and Claire are still up when I get back. I go and check Georgie’s asleep and join them in the front room. They sit up when I come in.

  ‘I’m really sorry about your mum, Reen,’ Claire says.

  ‘It’s a real shame,’ says Sammy.

  ‘She was in a bad way,’ I say.

  ‘You should have woken us up,’ he says.

  ‘So you could say hello to the law?’

  ‘Oh … yeah,’ he says.

  ‘Any trouble?’ says Claire.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ I say.

  There’s a bottle of whisky and one of gin on the table that looks like it’s one of Mum’s. The TV’s showing the test card. The little girl reminds me of what Georgie would look like if she’d ever smile.

  I turn the TV off, pour myself a whisky and say, ‘I’ve just seen Dave.’ Claire leans forward. ‘I’ve told him I want a big score, then out,’ I say.

  ‘Has he got one?’

  ‘Jeweller’s in Hatton Garden.’

  Sammy’s woken up as well. He says, ‘Sounds good.’

  I take the gun out and put it on the table. I say, ‘You’d better get yourself one of these.’

  He picks up the gun.

  Claire takes it off him and aims it at the TV. ‘Make it two,’ she says.

  23

  A shaft of early morning sunlight creeps across the bed towards Pilar’s tender young body. I think of her imprisoned underground for years like a piece of livestock, and wonder how long it’s been since she was woken by the sun. I kiss her shoulder and she stirs and opens her eyes. She reaches for me and I fold her into my arms.

  As she ripples against me, I summon every reserve of self-control and say, ‘You have to leave now.’

  ‘Mmmm?’

  ‘Can you get over the wall and wait for me down the road?’

  She is suddenly wide awake and standing beside the bed. She hurries into her clothes and says, ‘It is late. I should not have slept.’

  The clock on the bedside table says six a.m. I follow her to the bathroom. She stands on the basin and opens the small window above it.