Paying For It gd-1

by Tony Black

  ‘I was talking about the kiss,’ said Amy.

  ‘So was I.’

  A little crowd formed as the croupier wrote out a chit for the cash office.

  Hod appeared.

  ‘I thought you’d never been to a casino before.’

  ‘Beginner’s luck,’ I said. Amy wrapped her arms round my waist and smiled.

  Hod tipped his head, winked towards her. ‘I wish I had half your luck, Gus Dury,’ he said.

  ‘How do they pay out?’

  ‘Cash. How much is it?’

  I showed him the chit. Hod’s eyes widened, he whistled through his front teeth. ‘Drinks are on you, buddy.’

  I felt his words like a lash, I didn’t feel like celebrating after the call about Milo, said, ‘Look, guys, I’ve had a bit of news tonight. I hate to piss on your parade but a friend of mine’s died and

  … I’ve to collect the remains.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ said Amy.

  I managed a limp smile for her as she put her hands on my face. ‘Thanks. He was very old and I hadn’t known him long, but we connected, you know?’

  Amy nodded, eyes widened by my misery.

  ‘Let’s get your money,’ said Hod. He walked us over to the cash office.

  As I handed over the chit, the girl behind the perspex took one look at the amount and reached for the phone.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I asked Hod.

  He shrugged. ‘New territory for me too, mate.’

  The girl put the phone down. ‘You’ll have to take this upstairs, sir.’

  ‘Come again?’

  ‘We don’t keep that much cash on the floor. You’ll need to go up to the manager’s office where the safe is. Mr Zalinskas is expecting you.’

  I swore I heard Amy gulp. I looked at Hod, he wore a face like a Rottweiler, opening and closing his fists. ‘Looks like you’re going to see some action whether you like it or not, Dury,’ he said.

  ‘Down boy,’ I cautioned him.

  ‘What?’ Hod’s brow dropped, I swore it smacked his lower lip. The look was now confusion.

  ‘If you think I’m going up there looking for a cuffing, forget it.’

  ‘But, Gus, this is your chance to get some answers.’ He put an arm on my shoulder, raised a fist to within an inch of my nose. ‘Just a bit of persuasion and you never know — could have this wrapped up in no time.’

  ‘Are you off your head?’ I slapped down his fist, grabbed him by the collar. ‘See those?’

  ‘Cameras.’

  ‘And what do you think they’re for?’

  ‘Robbing — stop folk taking him at the tables.’

  ‘And do you think he won’t have them up there? What use do you think we’ll be to Col inside?’

  ‘Fuck it. Let’s do him anyway, we’ll take the tapes.’

  I saw I was getting nowhere fast. ‘Okay.’

  ‘Gus!’ said Amy.

  ‘No. No, it’s fine Amy,’ I said. ‘Hod wants a pagger, I’m all for it.’

  Hod smiled. ‘Well, let’s go then.’

  ‘Right-oh,’ I said. ‘One thing, though.’ I eased Hod towards the security guard who was heading over to lead us up to Zalinskas’ office. He made the boxer Nikolai Valuev, the seven-foot-plus heavyweight, look like a pillow-biter. ‘Who’s going to take care of the Beast from the East?’

  Hod stepped aside, nibbled on his lip. ‘D’you think I could take him?’

  I laughed out loud. ‘Sure. Without a doubt.’

  ‘He’s a big bastard, aye. But they’re the easy ones to take out, never felt a good punch, every bastard’s too scared to land one on them.’

  I did up my jacket, placed a kiss on Amy’s cheek, as I walked towards the security guard, I shook my head at Hod. ‘If he tests that theory, Amy, be sure to take a note of the ward number.’

  39

  Thought it best to avoid conversation on the way to Benny the Bullfrog’s office. Got the impression the pug had a limited vocabulary. Probably expressed himself best with, on good days, a baseball bat, on bad ones, a crowbar. My bones twitched. Knees and shins especially. Wondered, would I be walking back this way again?

  Jean Cocteau said: ‘Life is a horizontal fall.’ Knew for sure mine was. But every fall had to be broken.

  We passed through what seemed like a never ending tunnel of richly carpeted corridors. Chandeliers sparkled above foot-high skirtings edged in gilt. It took serious wedge to put a look like this together. Hod runs a calculator in his head to these things, me, the impact’s personal. I want to chuck out the owner, give the place to the scores of families living in B amp;Bs up and down the country. I replayed the scene in Doctor Zhivago when the Reds take over the big house. The owners get forced into the attic… until it’s decided a few more families could live there too. That’s redistribution of wealth for you. Say you want a revolution? Bring it right on.

  My face slipped into a grimace without even trying. As the goon brought me to Zalinskas’ door I wiped it away. He knocked once, I readied myself to meet the man.

  After a few seconds the door unlocked and slowly opened. I peered through the gap, nobody there.

  I walked inside.

  ‘Hello…’

  No answer.

  A wall of monitors flickered at me. Some of them showed scenes from the casino floor, others spewed statistics — cash taken, payouts, the sums were eye-watering.

  The decor here took a departure. A Siberian tiger skin covered a large section of the floor, glass eyes dead to the world but the coat still glossy. I stepped over the head of the poor beast, said, ‘Sorry, buddy.’ Felt like I’d stamped on a grave.

  In the centre of the room a circular seating area was set into the floor. I’d only ever seen this in movies, it looked very Carlito’s Way. Got the idea Zalinskas wanted to make an impression. The vibe was: ‘This is my lair.’

  A chrome rail skirted the room, glass bricks beneath lit up. Felt like I’d stepped into the Billie Jean video as I paced the joint.

  I touched the walls. Red suede. Then I saw it.

  ‘No way!’

  Zalinskas had a wolf.

  Sunk in the wall, like a giant fish tank, was a glass-walled cage. Inside, the wolf prowled back and forth, back and forth, raising its nose to the airholes and picking up a new scent.

  I touched the cage. ‘You poor bastard.’

  I wanted to find something to smash the glass, let the creature out. But I didn’t rate my chances against those fangs.

  I felt appalled, shook my head, then a haughty voice cut the air, ‘He’s a killer, don’t you know. Canis Lupus!’ said Zalinskas.

  I recognised him at once. He glided across the room towards me, wearing a black silk shirt, open at the neck. White, what can only be described as ‘slacks’ sat above a hint of belly. As he came closer I saw his shoes were white too, except for some snow leopard detailing. I’d seen something similar on punky brothel creepers, but these shouted a whole other message.

  ‘You like my companion?’

  I kept a lid on my thoughts, I said, ‘He’s… impressive.’

  Zalinskas liked that, smiled, a vicious barracuda smirk.

  ‘An amazing predator,’ his voice betrayed little of his Russian background, he’d had good voice coaches, I’d give him that, ‘almost six feet long, seventy kilograms.’

  ‘Not to be messed with.’

  The smirk again. ‘Indeed.’ Zalinskas moved towards the glass cage, leaned forward. ‘Are you au fait with the pack mentality, Mr…?’

  I let his question go unanswered. ‘Dury.’

  ‘The wolf has a highly developed social structure, Mr Dury. Only one dominant male — ’ he tapped the glass — ‘will ever be allowed to mate, he will always eat first, and all challengers to his dominance are banished or killed.’ Zalinskas ran a finger down the glass, then turned towards me.

  ‘Survival of the fittest,’ I said.

  ‘Quite.’

  ‘The strong preying on the weak.’

/>   He flung back his head, laughed to the heavens. His teeth looked neat and straight, bone white. ‘Have you ever heard the howl of a wolf, Mr Dury?’

  ‘Close up? Can’t say I have.’

  ‘It’s not a warning to take lightly.’ He turned from me, took his hand along the rail for a few steps then raised both arms in the air. ‘A drink, I think. I believe we have a rather substantial win at my tables to celebrate.’

  I followed Zalinskas to his desk; it had a black marble top, supported by giant bronze eagles, wings spread. Strange how all these petty despots like to surround themselves with this kind of symbolism. I imagined I’d seen him in some of those holiday snaps Adolf Hitler took after the Third Reich captured Paris — here’s me and Benny at the Eiffel Tower… the Arc de Triomphe…

  Zalinskas held out a brandy glass, said, ‘Armagnac?’

  ‘I won’t say no.’

  He swilled the liquid about in the glass, sipped.

  I shot mine, handed over the chit. ‘About this.’

  Zalinskas glanced at the piece of paper, I waited for an eyebrow to be raised. His face remained calm as he opened a drawer and handed over two banker’s rolls.

  ‘Should I check it?’ I said.

  ‘Don’t you trust me, Mr Dury?’

  ‘You might have given me too much.’

  Zalinskas smiled, those teeth! I thought they must play havoc with the ultra-violet lights in his clubs, he said, ‘I don’t make mistakes.’

  I trousered the cash. Now it was time to really start gambling. ‘Is that so?’

  Zalinskas sat back in his chair, reached for the bottle and topped up our glasses.

  I dived in. ‘I believe we have a common friend — sorry, had.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Billy Thompson.’

  If Zalinskas changed his expression, I missed it.

  ‘Such a tragic soul,’ he said. He flipped the lid on a cigar box, took one and slid it towards me. ‘They’re Cuban.’

  I closed the lid, ferreted for my tabs. ‘I smoke my own.’

  ‘As you wish.’

  Clouds of smoke gathered between us. Zalinskas seemed content. If there was any enjoyment to be had in this situation, I wasn’t getting it.

  ‘Was certainly dramatic, the way Billy went,’ I said.

  ‘Such a loss.’

  ‘To whom?’

  ‘I’m speaking in general.’

  ‘What exactly did Billy do for you, Mr Zalinskas?’

  ‘He was what you might call a factotum.’

  ‘He certainly seemed to juggle a lot of jobs from what I hear.’

  For the first time, his ice-cool appearance cracked. ‘Billy was ambitious, I like to reward such types.’

  I stood up, helped myself to more Armagnac. ‘Good stuff this. I could see how a taste for the finer things might turn a young lad’s head — Was that it, Mr Zalinskas? Did Billy get greedy?’

  ‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. He was a valued employee, his death was a loss to all of us. Myself especially.’

  I chanced my arm. ‘That’s not what I hear. Some say you had good reason to get rid.’ I moved over to the wall of monitors. ‘Quite a dust-up the pair of you had before his death. Did the cameras capture that?’

  Zalinskas kept shtum. Rolled the glass between his palms.

  I slammed my hand on the marble top. ‘Nothing to say?’

  ‘Calumnies are best answered with silence.’

  ‘Ben Johnson.’

  ‘You’re obviously an intelligent man. Why are you pursuing such rumours, such lies?’

  I played him at his own game. ‘What’s a lie but a truth in masquerade?’ He looked up, obviously not a Byron fan.

  He faced me, I thought he might crack, but then he smiled. ‘Dig away, Mr Dury. I can assure you there is nothing to implicate me in Billy Thompson’s death.’

  ‘Maybe not — but a little mud sticks, no? You’re already being dragged through the courts. Two cases would be very messy.’

  ‘A tenuous connection, don’t you think?’

  His cockiness pressed on the bolts that held in my anger. I felt tempted to slap some information out of him, but he seemed too secure for that.

  Zalinskas rose, moved back to the wolf. ‘You know, only the pack leader is ever allowed to raise pups,’ he said. ‘I can assure you, Mr Dury, I take my responsibilities to my pack very seriously.’

  ‘And when the time comes for the pup to challenge the leader, what happens then? Sorry, we’ve been there already, you explained. Of course. Look, Zalinskas, I know what kind of an outfit you run here. I know about Billy’s plans. I know about the…’

  Zalinskas’ eyes widened. I had him where I wanted him, rattled. But I’d get no more from him, I knew that. The result I wanted depended on his next move outside this room. I’d made him sweat, now I needed to step back and observe.

  He drew a curtain over the wolf’s cage, turned and walked back to his desk. ‘I see you have been talking to Nadja, Mr Dury.’ He pulled deep on his cigar. ‘I warn you now, her word is not to be trusted.’

  ‘Thanks for the friendly advice. I’ll store it away.’

  ‘Nadja has her own… agenda.’

  ‘Haven’t we all?’

  ‘Indeed we do, Mr Dury.’ He pressed a button on his desk and the door I’d come through clicked open, the pug and two uniformed filth walked in.

  ‘I believe this is the man you’re looking for officers,’ said Zalinskas.

  40

  Zalinskas smirked as he welcomed in the filth. A glare in my direction said he’d been messing with me, but now he’d tired of the game. I’d seen the look before, on Hannibal Lecter, waited for the, ‘Do you hear the lambs, Clarice?’

  Tried to stand my ground.

  ‘This is all very cosy, fellahs,’ I said as the cops approached me, ‘but if you don’t mind indulging me a few moments — what’s the charge?’

  One of the cops touched six feet, carried a build that said he was no stranger to the police gym. He seemed to take my query as a personal slight, lunged at me.

  I took a killer punch to the gut. Then a knee to the kidney that splayed me on the floor like the dead tiger. I felt my insides scream. I tried to cry out but my breath deserted me. For more than a few seconds I believed my next move was going to be onto a mortuary slab.

  ‘How about resisting arrest for a start,’ said plod.

  I found a dim light ignite some strength, it felt like courage. ‘Nice try. What am I supposed to be resisting arrest for?’ I rolled onto my haunches, each breath felt like acid poured in my lungs.

  ‘You cocky cahnt.’

  Plod was London. It only made me more determined to mess with his head.

  ‘Come on, I’m trying to help, I wouldn’t want you to get into any trouble with your superiors — your porcine brethren who walk on two legs.’

  He went for his baton. It flashed in the air above me, I saw this turn was well practised. I couldn’t move, braced myself for bone-shattering.

  ‘Stop!’ Zalinskas stepped in. ‘Not here — take him away.’

  I felt myself lifted by the collar, my arms jerked round to my back as I was cuffed.

  ‘Gentlemen, please, you’ll damage those bracelets if you’re not careful.’

  ‘Shut it,’ said London.

  I managed a last glance at Zalinskas, a smirk of my own. ‘Nice one, Benny, I love your work!’

  He mulled it over. I thought he might answer, show some kind of emotion but he merely turned away from me, went back to his desk, lit another cigar.

  As plod led me away Zalinskas blew smoke into the air. He had no more words for me.

  ‘Goodbye, Mr Zalinskas,’ I shouted, ‘no doubt I’ll be seeing you again.’

  ‘Move your fakhin’ arse,’ said London, sticking his baton in my shoulder blades and twisting it, hard.

  All told, I thought, not a bad little result. Sure, I wondered what awaited me at the station, but I’d made an impression on Be
nny the Bullfrog. I’d taken his casino for a few grand and, most importantly, let him know I was very definitely onto him. I’d given the bastard something to think about.

  On the floor Amy and Hod waited by the door.

  ‘Gus, Gus!’ cried Amy. ‘Oh my God, what have they done to you?’

  ‘It’s nothing,’ I said.

  ‘Shift,’ said London, he moderated his language now we were in the full glare of the public.

  Amy threw her arms around me, ‘Oh Gus, Gus…’

  ‘Quick — the cash — it’s in my pocket.’

  ‘Miss, leave the suspect alone, please,’ said plod. He clutched her arms, lifted her away from me.

  ‘Gus, I have it,’ she said, waving the rolls of cash.

  ‘Great. Hod, the cash, take it to the crem. Milo Whittle, that’s my mate, you have to pay for the funeral expenses tomorrow.’

  ‘Move,’ said London. Another prod in the back, he’d lost patience with me.

  ‘Hod, did you hear me?’

  ‘Milo Whittle.’

  ‘That’s it. The works, do you get me? I want him sent off in style.’

  I saw Amy raise a hand to her face and start to cry. It was the last thing I saw before plod threw me into the back of a meat wagon.

  ‘Wait till we get you down that fakhin’ station, you saucy little cahnt,’ said London.

  41

  The filth wasted no time throwing me down the stairs. Sorry, I slipped of course.

  London had a thing for punching me on the head, probably imagined it would be harder to spot the injuries. He had a fair punch too, knuckles like the pattern on Charlie Brown’s jumper, and plenty of energy. I prayed he’d tire himself out, bust a hand. But this was Robocop. He’d stop when he was told.

  I spat blood, but I’d been worked over before. After a dozen or so blows a numbness settles in. I watched the punches coming and relaxed into them, he couldn’t dent me. I imagined myself as Ali on the ropes to Foreman; I could take the punishment. What was the worst that could happen? He’d kill me. Well, I’d no fear of death, that’s for sure. I thought, ‘Bring it on — give me your worst.’

  ‘You’re gonna need a mop and bucket in here soon,’ I said.