by Katsura
Fergus had a boring mouth. A mouth that had always refused to please Hugo because Fergus was such a hard man.
Well there were plenty more hard men in this world, and Hugo just loved to get them hard.
He laughed and turned the key in the ignition.
* * *
It is odd that you can live a good few years in a town but yet still never see all of the places there. Mikhail didn't know parts like this even existed, having only ventured from the brothel to the upmarket wine bar and then latterly to The Flying Garter. This was the dark underbelly, as it were. The town's dirty little secret, and it wasn't any wonder that so many of the people had turned to crime, probably all trying to escape the fate of living here for the rest of their lives.
The limousine stood out like a sore thumb as it parked outside the high rise block. It sat between one car that had been burned out completely and another that appeared to have been stripped of any useful, and maybe even some useless, parts.
Mikhail wished that he had had more time to change before he came here. He knew that much like the limo, he looked like he didn't belong and was liable to end up like the cannibalised car if he stood still long enough. Cain watched him from the window as he walked apprehensively to the entrance. He pressed the door entry button and waited silently for it to be answered.
"Yeah?" a tired voice sounded through the metal grill, and Mikhail leaned closer to speak into the microphone. He avoided getting too close, however, for the fear that he would actually touch it with his lips.
"Vinny?" He was surprised at how tremulous his own voice sounded, but there was nothing he could do about that.
His voice was just an echo of how he felt inside. "It's Mikhail Majewski. I really must speak with you. Could you let me in?"
Vinny never answered, but the door clicked and Mikhail was able to open it and walk to the lift. He brought a tissue from his pocket to his nose as he pressed the button for floor thirteen and the doors slid shut. The small confined metal elevator smelled like it had been used recently as a toilet, and he carefully avoided standing in any of the numerous wet patches on the floor. His eyes remained fixed on the graffiti-covered doors as he prayed for them to open soon.
The lift shuddered to a halt and the doors slid open, allowing Mikhail to step out smartly. He walked across to the door with the hand written sign on it that read V. Bryan . He knocked on the poorly painted wood with a few sharp raps as there appeared to be no doorbell. After a few moments, Vinny opened the door, dressed only in boxer shorts. He looked dreadful. Like someone who really needed a sleep and a decent meal but had found it impossible to get either.
What Mikhail had to say couldn't really be said on the doorstep. He waited to be invited inside. He remembered Judas saying before that Vinny was someone who could be trusted and of course, he himself had judged him as looking trustworthy. He dearly hoped that he and Judas had been right. Vinny finally stood aside and Mikhail took this to be as near an invitation as he was going to get. He walked into the small and rather filthy looking flat that some charity for ex-cons had provided for Vinny on his release from prison, and he tried his hardest not to grimace at the state of it.
"I don't have anything to offer you unless you want a glass of water." Vinny sat down on the sofa, and Mikhail, whose academic degree was psychology, didn't need any of what he learned at university to see that Vinny was treating this visit somewhat suspiciously.
"It's okay, Vinny." Mikhail sat down on a chair and resisted the urge to wipe it with his tissue first. "I really am sorry for coming here unannounced, but I had no one else to turn to. I expect that you have heard, perhaps, that Mr MacGregor is after Fergus? Mr Campbell, I mean."
"Well I don't know where you heard that."
Vinny looked miserable. "You got it all wrong. Jude was caught. The cops got him. He never got away."
"Police are hunting for five men after a robbery at the Everdirge village branch of the Royal Alba Bank. One of the gang, who was apprehended at the scene, escaped later after overpowering an off-duty police officer who had been at the bank on personal business." Vinny reread it then looked up at Mikhail, a great smile appearing on his mouth, the first that Mikhail had seen on him since he had arrived. "Jude got away? Fuck! He got away!"
He laughed and ran his fingers though his hair then he got to his feet and paced around for a while, apparently thinking of what to do next. Mikhail stared at him then spoke still in his nervous sounding voice.
"Yes. I understand the person they refer to was captured only briefly. Hugo came to see me. He said that Mr MacGregor turned up at his house, so I suppose they are referring to him. He also said...that Mr MacGregor was under the impression that Fergus..." Mikhail took a deep breath. "He was under the impression that Fergus planned for Mr MacGregor to be apprehended and that Mr MacGregor has now gone after Fergus...and intends to kill him."
Mikhail's hands trembled more and he brought the tissue to his eyes and dabbed at the few tears that had unexpectedly sprung there.
Vinny stopped pacing and his hands fell to his sides as he stared at Mikhail. "What did you just say? That Fergus planned for Judas to be caught?" His eyes widened and Mikhail nodded, his nervous fingers now shredding the tissue in his hands.
"Yes...of course this is not true. Fergus would never have done that." Mikhail leaned forward in his seat. "You must do something...you must stop Mr MacGregor from making a huge mistake."
Vinny's demeanour changed dramatically.
He now looked furious and Mikhail recoiled involuntarily.
"Well, begging your pardon, Mikhail, but how the fuck do you know that Jude is making a mistake? You might think you know Fergus, but you don't know him like Jude does...and you don't know him like I do, for that matter. Fergus made that van drive off as soon as Jude hit the deck, and when I think about it...that seems fucking suspicious to me now. And when I was at the hideout with him...he was giving all this crap that Jude got me put away. Jude never did that! Jude fucking pleaded with me! He came to see me before the trial, when I was out on remand, and he fucking pleaded with me! He was going to turn himself in and I told him no." Vinny shook his head and the braids fell over his shoulder against the black dragon tattoo. "I told him I needed to be away more than he did. That my habit was coming back and I needed to be away from the temptation."
Mikhail shook his head. He didn't really know what Vinny was talking about. He wasn't interested in any of this. He just wanted someone to stop Judas killing the man he was falling in love with.
It suddenly hit him. He had fallen in love.
Mikhail felt dizzy. Even if he ever had thought for a moment that he could fall in love he certainly never imagined that it would happen like this. Here in this damp, poor excuse for a flat and in front of a skinny ex junky in a pair knock off designer boxers.
"You said that you know where the hideout is? Then you must take me there."
Mikhail stood and looked at Vinny with a determined expression. It occurred to him now that the loyalty that Vinny had displayed at the planning meeting was all directed towards Judas and not at Fergus.
Was it a big mistake to come here and ask for help from a man who might only have an interest in helping Judas? Someone who would maybe even decide to avenge Judas's capture and apparent betrayal himself?
Vinny started to dress and Mikhail watched him. He searched for something to say to make Vinny realise that Fergus was not the villain of the piece, but just a man who might end up dying because of another man's mistake. It also occurred to him that Hugo had maybe poisoned Judas against Fergus, lied to him even. "You know, Vinny," he said to Vinny's back as Vinny had stooped to lace up his boots.
"Hugo does not seem to me like someone who should be trusted. He likely said things to Judas, maybe hoping that Judas will do this."
Vinny looked up at him with one eyebrow raised then he laced up his other boot.
"Again, we know Hugo better than you do.
Judas looked after
him best he could when Fergus was in prison. I don't know where you are getting all these ideas from. All I know is what Fergus was saying at the hideout. He thinks Judas was a coward for not going to prison. I think he did this to make sure Judas got put away. Well, he underestimated
Jude,
and
he
underestimated me."
Mikhail sighed in despair. Fergus had more or less told him this at the fight, that people didn't trust someone who didn't do their time. Was Vinny right? Was it possible that Fergus really had set Judas up? He tried to push the thought to the back of his mind. Vinny was certainly right about one thing. They all knew each other better than he did.
"We both want the same thing, Vinny. We don't want anyone hurt. Not Fergus and not Judas." He placed his hands on Vinny's arms and looked into his eyes. "Let's go there and do something before it's too late."
* * *
He was filthy. Cold, filthy and starving.
When Judas had left Hugo's he'd decided that the best course of action was to make his way to the hideout by foot, but he hadn't accounted for the weather and with the benefit of hindsight he wished that he had stolen a car. Of course the police would be expecting him to do that and any stolen vehicle in the vicinity would be treated by the cops in an unusually serious manner. On a normal day your wee runabout could be taken for a joyride by several drunken louts, used to ram-raid the off licence, then driven up to the hills and set alight. The police would treat the crime with all the gravity of a report concerning the whereabouts of a missing cat. But throw in the fact that a fugitive bank robber may be using it as a getaway and they sat up and took some notice.
Judas hated how the people in the small village store had looked at him as though he were some kind of vagrant when he had walked back and forth outside. He waited for the chance to steal one of the loaves of bread that sat so tempting on the counter close to the till. He had to be sure first that he wouldn't be caught. All that he needed right now would be for the police to be called and he would be lifted for the theft of bread after being so careful about not being lifted over something useful like a car. But if they were called over anything it wouldn't take them long to put two and two together and he would be right back where he started. While the shop woman helped someone else, Judas had snatched the still warm loaf which he now devoured as he crouched in the stone bus shelter.
It was pouring with rain and he was aware that he smelled and although this was the least of his worries, Judas hated this fact.
When he was small his mother neglected him horribly and as a result he'd always been dressed in filthy rags, his hair and body always unwashed. No one ever played with him. He was "that filthy MacGregor boy" parents warned their children to keep away from in case the lice that frequently infested his dirty blond locks infected them too.
When he was older he made a pact with himself. He would always look sharp, always have the best clothes and smell of the most expensive aftershave. If anyone from his past ever saw him they would know how wrong they had been about him.
He wasn't a pointless, useless thing who would never amount to anything. He was successful and wore clothes and shoes most people could never afford, even in their wildest dreams.
The bread tasted good, but that didn't really matter. It had filled that painful gap in his stomach and made him feel like he had a little more energy. He would need the energy as he was still a good bit away from the hideout and would have to make his way there by foot. He was in the bus shelter purely to keep dry and not to wait for the unreliable service that would or wouldn't come by here.
It seemed so strange to him that he had to sleep rough last night and the warmth of the bed at Mikhail's place, coupled with the beautiful soft and scented skin of the two Japanese boys seemed like a million years ago. That had been an amazing night.
He leaned back against the damp stone remembering how the boys had teased him so expertly. They clearly knew how it made him wild to see them kiss each other and touch each other, and it seemed to amuse them that they had that power over him. The ability to practically bring him off without the need to lay a finger on him.
But of course they did lay a finger on him and he had returned the favour. He would have paid triple even, or more, to be in their skilful hands right now. But would he ever be? Had that actually been what he had joked with himself that it would be, the final treat?
He let out a low laugh as he pictured how he must look right now. A filthy and dishevelled tramp, sitting in a bus shelter with his only warmth coming from the hard on that was growing in his dirty trousers. So that's how it happened. That's how quickly a person could fall from being the handsome man about town to being the crazy pervert at the bus stop...
Suddenly he heard the sound of animated chatter and he saw some school girls approach the shelter. It wouldn't do for them to see him so he decided that it was time to be on the move again. He walked out into the rain and headed down to the path that ran adjacent to the river. Only school kids, outlaws and maniacs would be out in this weather, and Judas bowed his head against the sheets of rain that blew almost horizontally into his face. He tucked the remains of his stolen bread inside of his jacket.
Without any warning a loud peal of thunder
rumbled
across
the
sky,
accompanied by a huge flash of lightning.
In his fear and surprise, Judas lost his footing on the soaked leaves that he was awkwardly trudging through, and he slipped, his feet skidding as he pitched powerlessly headlong towards the vast expanse of choppy water.
There was nothing that he could do to stop the momentum and the next thing that he knew was he was in the river, which was fast flowing and treacherous. His feet tangled in some submerged reeds and fuck knows what else, but he managed to stop himself from slipping further than waist deep by bracing his feet against what felt like the hood of a sunken car. God alone knew how many such things were under there as the next most popular way of disposing of stolen cars after torching them was to let them sink into any watery place that was deep enough. He didn't know how long he could stay like this, however, as the current threatened to pull him under and his fingers scrabbled on the slippery branches to try to get a hold of something on the bank so that he could grip to pull himself out. He failed a few times, and with rising panic, he looked back at the dangerously powerful rapids and realised that if he didn't manage to get himself out soon, he was going to drown.
"Fuck!" He gave a futile cry, knowing that no-one could hear him, not with all of the noise from the water and the rain. He once more grabbed frantically for a branch that was actually attached to something and not so covered in the slimy algae as everything else appeared to be.
Someone up there clearly hated him, and with what little humour he had left in him he mentally scoffed at the premature way that he had thanked God after he had got away from the police at the bank. Was there a patron saint of bank robbers? Of wretched criminals in peril like the one now trying to cling for dear life to log after log that would slide from his numb and slippery fingers and float speedily away towards a rocky waterfall in a horrible preview of his own fate?
Probably not.
"Somebody please fucking help me!" Not exactly a prayer, more of a desperate ejaculation and lord knows he'd had a few of those in his time.
He was about to give up hope when he finally made it. A large protruding tree root was just within his fingers' reach, and he managed to grasp it just long enough to haul himself from the water and onto the sodden muddy bank where he lay gasping and as miserable as any human being could feel. The bread that had taken so much patience earlier to liberate from the bakery floated down the river. Judas stared after it, knowing that there would probably be little or no chance to find anything else to eat. He groaned and pressed his forehead against the wet earth.
There was no point in giving that any more thought, so after struggling to his feet
he decided just to press on as best as he could and do what it was that he had set out to do.
Find that bastard Campbell and make him pay for what he had done.
* * *
Vinny sat in the back of the limo with Mikhail and looked up at the rear view mirror, aware once more Cain was watching him. Well at least he assumed that Cain was watching him as his eyes were covered by black wraparound sunglasses. He was an odd one, that Cain, and Vinny allowed himself the luxury of a few moments of just ogling the man, a welcome break from worrying about Judas.
Cain was tall and with quite a generous looking mouth, and he had one or two dark little moles on his face that Vinny found strangely attractive. Odd to be thinking such things at this moment, but he couldn't help himself. At the fight it had been difficult to really look at him, but if Vinny was honest he had actually tried to. The fight had been a nice idea and he felt grateful and touched that it had been organised in his honour, but it had been a strange choice for some welcome home entertainment.
Well, what would he have organised? A meal? Naw. He couldn't remember a single occasion where he and the boys sat around a table to a meal of any sort.
Mostly if there was eating to be done they all just grabbed what they could, various takeaway things usually.
So what about a party?
A party would have been just as unusual.
What would they have done, danced? He laughed inwardly at the thought of Judas dancing, grooving away to that shite Manchester music he always liked.
In the rear view reflection, Cain appeared to smile in response to Vinny's smile.
Vinny lifted his chin and breathed in a deep sigh.
"You are very fond of Judas, aren't you, Vinny?" Mikhail broke the silence.
Vinny noticed that he had stopped calling J u d a s Mr MacGregor. He pondered briefly on the reasons for that before answering. "I am. He is the only person in the world who ever did squat for me." He turned and looked Mikhail in the eye.