Crime Always Pays

by Declan Burke

  'Really?' Mel said. 'That's sweet.'

  'For you, maybe.'

  'No,' Melody said, 'wait a minute. If Sleeps has a proposal for me, I say okay, I'll have a listen. Then, he says his piece, I'll have a proposal ready for him.'

  'Like it's a Leap Year,' Terry said, 'for guys who want to go back inside.'

  'Something like that, yeah,' Mel said.

  'And this is because,' Rossi said, 'you're keen to make the Guinness Book of Records for being a back-stabbing bitch. I mean, that'll be what, the third time you've fucked the guy? The bad fucked, like.'

  'Sleeps is the one who wants to go to prison,' Mel said. 'I'm just helping him get there.'

  'The guy wants you.'

  'Yeah, well, that won't be happening.'

  'Hey, Mel – you're the one, maybe you haven't noticed, has to go running after other guys. Y'know? First you're hijacking me and Sleeps, then you're onto Ray. Two seconds later you're canoodling with Johnny Priest. Y'see what I'm saying? There's no guys running after you. Except Sleeps, the fat moron.'

  'He's not fat, he's chunky.'

  'Guy's the Pilbury fuckin Doughboy, Mel. And right now the fat fuck's down the port negotiating with Ray, putting himself on the line to get us back in touch with Johnny, mainly because you swiped Johnny's coke, ran off.'

  'Easy, Rossi,' Terry said.

  'Actually,' Mel said, wanting to get it out there while Terry was around, the guy for some reason a calming influence on Rossi, 'that's something I should probably mention. About the coke.'

  'Do not,' Rossi said, 'tell me there's a problem with the coke.'

  Melody cleared her throat. 'There's no actual problem with the coke,' she said, 'per se.'

  Doyle

  'You know guys, ' Sparks said, 'they think it's cool, they say they'll ring, to leave it two or three days. So you can both pretend they're not pussy-whipped from the start.'

  Sparks sitting on the low wall dividing the balconies, Karen on her own balcony, smoking, watching the bathroom door of the room she'd rented specially to keep Johnny Priest stashed.

  'I got a hostage in my bathroom,' Doyle said. 'Like, Ray's hostage. So you'd expect him to make like he was keen.'

  'Even if he's not.'

  'Don't complicate it, Sparks.'

  'Me? Girlfriend, I'm not the one illegally detaining the big-time coke dealer from Amsterdam on account of this snatch artist I know fucked up, stole the wrong guy. This while I'm supposed to be a cop.'

  'A suspended cop.'

  'And you're thinking this is the best way to get your badge back?'

  Doyle with a bad feeling. Not so much Ray and the little he knew about women, off rescuing Karen while Doyle sat home, barefoot and minding his fuck-up. Or even the way it might look if it all screwed up, Doyle holding Johnny Priest, the coke-dealer under the impression Doyle was his temporary muscle. No, what was bugging Doyle was how she was at the mercy of all these unknowns, Doyle with no control, a sitting duck. Christ, at this rate she might as well be back home, at the desk right next to the corridor led to the holding cells, just sitting there waiting for the next moron to drop a case-file on the desk, the latest dead fish to stink up the joint.

  'I need to move,' she said. 'Do something.'

  'Where're you going?' Sparks said. 'No way I'm watching Johnny, if that's what you think.'

  'I'm not asking you to do anything.' Doyle stubbed the smoke, thinking. 'Actually,' she said, 'I might ask just one tiny favour.'

  Sparks groaned.

  'Just give it five minutes,' Doyle said, 'after you hear Johnny flush. Then ring me. That's all I'm asking. Can you do that much?'

  'Doyle,' Sparks said, 'you know as well as I do I'm going to do anything you ask me. Because I know, it's a gut instinct, you won't ask anything'll put me in dutch. Right?'

  'Just wait for the flush,' Doyle said. Thinking how, the mountain won't come to Mohammad, it mightn't be such a bad idea to dynamite the frickin mountain.

  Ray

  The Punto nosed up out of the village, the road snaking along the eastern flank of the shallow bowl valley behind. The sky in pain, flaming orangey-red, half-formed scabs of violet cloud above hills turning mauve as night came on. By the time they got down and across the valley floor, started climbing into the hills again, it was almost full dark.

  Ray said, 'You need to get tooled, right?'

  'I'm not carrying,' Sleeps said, 'if that's what you mean.'

  Ray leaned forward, gave Sleeps a little key. 'The glove compartment. There's a map in there too, if you don't mind doing co-pilot.'

  'No problem,' Sleeps said. He liberated the gun, Niko's Sig Sauer. 'What do I need to know?'

  'I didn't have time to check if he had a round chambered,' Ray said. 'Rack the slide.'

  Sleeps did it. 'Okay,' he said. 'Where's the safety?'

  'No safety,' Ray said. 'There's a lever on the left, it de-cocks the hammer, leaves it there just off the firing pin. Yeah?'

  'I see it.'

  'What you've done, you've engaged the double-action pull, it's a bit stiffer but still okay. Keep a locked wrist you need to get one off, else it'll jam.'

  'Wilco, Roger.'

  Passing a village now, Pano Kambos, coming up on a fork in the road, a sign for Homer's Tomb in the headlights pointing off left. 'Where to?' Niko said, sullen.

  'We're looking for Paleokastro,' Ray told Sleeps. 'You see it? Maybe a castle-shape on the map? I'm told Venetian.'

  'It's here, yeah. Go right,' Sleeps told Niko. The road starting to climb steeply now, winding around short, tight bends.

  'Hey, Gary?' Ray said. 'I don't by any chance suppose you know what Greek cops are carrying as standard these days.'

  'Apart from bad breath, no idea.'

  Niko stinking out the car with garlic. 'Think it might be a Sig?' Ray said. 'The P320, the kind you carry concealed, like in an ankle holster?'

  'Could be.'

  'But probably not.'

  'This is what I'm thinking,' Sleeps said.

  'So what's this Greek cop doing carrying a Sig?'

  'Maybe he was off-duty.'

  'Off-duty,' Ray said, 'and breaking bread with Johnny Priest.' He said, 'Niko? Feel free to jump in here, man, any time. Clear up a few details.'

  Niko just grunted, his knuckles pale under the olive tan gripping the steering wheel. Sleeps said, 'Ray?'

  'What?'

  He pointed at the wing mirror. 'There's someone behind us. Since we turned off at that fork. Came down from Homer's Tomb direction, tucked in.'

  'So?'

  'So they're tucked in. Staying back, two or three bends behind. Apart from our friend here, he's under specific orders, how many Greeks have you seen with that kind of patience?'

  'Not many on the road,' Ray said.

  'Greeks,' Sleeps told Niko, 'have a lot of virtues, don't get me wrong. But patience isn't one of them.'

  Niko, first time, took his eyes off the road. 'I'll wait for you,' he said. 'I'll do you last and slow.'

  Ray sat forward, laid the barrel of the .38 alongside Niko's neck. 'Take the next turn-off,' he said, 'nice and easy. I want you in good shape for when you meet Karen.'

  Karen

  Karen, when the Punto swept by going right at the fork, the jeep's headlights flashing across it, glimpsed the unmistakable features, the beaky vulture nose.

  'That's him,' she said. 'Pyle? The guy driving, he's the cop bust my nose.'

  'Shit.'

  'For him, yeah,' Karen said. 'Get after that car.'

  'But the Chora's that way.'

  'Screw that,' Karen said, jabbing him once in the ribs with the .38.

  Ten minutes later the road straightened out enough for Pyle to say, 'Fuck, where'd they go?'

  'Down there,' Karen said as they passed a sign saying Neraki, a turn-off to their left. The turn-off, unpaved, dipping down into a wide valley, the sea glimmering way below, a beach white under the moonlight.

  'You see them?' Pyle said.

 
'Nope. Get back there.'

  Pyle pulled in, reversed back. 'Why'd you think they went down there?'

  'They killed their lights, Pyle. Where's the sense in killing the lights, keep on going the same way, we're still behind them?'

  'None, I guess.'

  'So they're down there. Go down slow.'

  'Giving them,' Pyle said gloomily, nosing the Punto into the turn-off, 'a better target, they're maybe pulled up somewhere in the bushes.'

  'I was you,' Karen said, 'I'd duck down a little. In the movies they always aim for the driver first.'

  Sleeps

  Niko went down through the hairpin bends in third gear, no lights, a sheer drop into the gorge on their right, the cliff's ruddy rock sheer on their left.

  'Ever see The Italian Job?' Ray said. 'Where the van's left hanging over the edge?'

  'Try something with a happier ending,' Sleeps said, sweat coursing down his back, the tight suit working like a sauna. They came out of the last bend and cruised through a deserted village of tumbledown cubes, emerged onto an apron of sandstone. The beach curving away to their right, the far headland a vague looming half a mile away. An unreal greeny-black sheen on the sea under a low and nearly full moon. 'What d'you think,' he said, 'back up into the village?'

  'What about those?' Ray said, pointing at two shacks in the shadow of the near headland. 'That way no one sneaks up on us from behind.'

  'I thought,' Sleeps said, 'we were ones supposed to be doing the sneaking.'

  Ray said, 'Niko? Cut the engine.'

  In the silence Sleeps heard a gravelly, angry whine. 'What're they driving, a tank?'

  'I'd say a jeep. Get us over there, Niko. Behind those shacks.'

  'What if we get stuck in the sand?' Sleeps said.

  'Then we take their jeep. Niko?'

  Niko eased the Punto down off the sandstone lip, ploughed into the soft sand. The car coughed twice, jerked forward, then stalled.

  'Okay,' Ray said. 'Let's get over there.'

  They crowded into the shack nearest the village and put Niko on his knees, hands behind his back grabbing his ankles. Ray took the handkerchief from Sleeps' breast pocket and balled it into Niko's mouth. Sleeps'd seen sturdier Wendy Houses, the shack more of a lean-to up close, built from driftwood, split cane and spit. They peered through gaps in the wall, watching as the jeep emerged onto the sandstone lip and crawled past the Punto, then bounced down onto the beach, revving hard and spewing up sand as it reversed into position, its headlights raking the shack as it came around to face back at the village.

  'You see Karen?' Ray said, dazzled by the lights.

  'I never met her,' Sleeps said. 'Wouldn't know what she looked like.'

  'Okay,' Ray said as someone hopped down out of the jeep, 'there she is. That's her.'

  'What's she doing?'

  'At a guess, nothing helpful.'

  They watched as Karen half-jogged, crouching, towards a large boulder about halfway between the Punto and the jeep, something glinting dull in her right hand. 'Maybe she's taking a wee,' Sleeps said.

  'Because we all take guns when we go for a wee.' Ray watched Karen get comfortable, the boulder between her and the shack, cutting off their escape route to the village beyond. Pyle positioned behind the jeep, no way of telling if he was tooled. 'Specially when we're pissed with Ray.'

  'Exactly how pissed,' Sleeps said, 'do think she is?'

  'Karen just gets mad, there isn't what you might call degrees.' Ray fumbled in his pocket, dug out his phone. 'Quick question – you ever shoot anyone?'

  Sleeps, palm sweating, re-gripped the Sig. 'I never even held a gun before, Ray.'

  'Glad to hear it. Here, dial Rossi's number.'

  Sleeps punched in Rossi's number, handed back the phone.

  Karen called out, 'Hey, fuck-face? I know you're in there.'

  In the quiet of the shack the brrr-brr broke off. Ray said, whispering, 'Rossi? That you?'

  He said, 'Ray.'

  He said, 'Sleeps gave me it.'

  He said, 'A favour, man. One pro to another.'

  Madge

  'That was Ray,' Rossi told Terry. 'Guy's pinned down up north, needs the cavalry.'

  'Is Karen with him?' Madge said.

  'It's Karen has him pinned down.'

  'She thinks Ray's a rat,' Mel said, 'for running out on her.'

  'Ray ran out on Karen?' Madge said.

  'The way Ray tells it,' Mel said, 'it was Karen who told him to go. But that didn't stop Ray, when Rossi was pointing the gun at him, telling Rossi she was gone to Crete.'

  'You pulled a gun on Ray?' Terry said.

  Rossi shrugged. 'It was empty at the time.'

  'Partly,' Mel said, 'because Rossi'd already used one of the bullets on Ray's arm.'

  'It was you shot him?' Terry said.

  'And Anna,' Madge said.

  'The wolf,' Rossi groused, 'was attacking me, it was self-defence. And Ray, the guy was coming on with a Glock. What am I s'posed to do?'

  'This being the Glock,' Terry said, 'Madge used on Frank.'

  'Correct.'

  'So you have a wolf and Ray, both coming at you, you put them down. Then walk away with the swag.'

  'Until the wolf catches up with me, yeah. Rips my fuckin ear off. Then Karen strolls on with the money.'

  'You should be in Nashville,' Terry said.

  Rossi said, 'Mel? I'll be needing Johnny's gun.'

  'You're going out there?' Terry said.

  'Fuckin A. Ray's got Johnny, says I can have him.'

  'But he already told me I could have him,' Mel said.

  'Get in line. Johnny tried to fry me with a hot rod, so I got first dibs. This is justice we're talking here.'

  'I thought you said,' Madge said to Mel, 'that Ray has this Niko character.'

  Rossi nodded. 'He says he's got Johnny too. Knows where he is, who's holding him. I'm guessing the cop, Doyle. Those two, they're sneaky fuckers.'

  'What about my fifty grand?' Mel said.

  'I'm owed,' Rossi said, glancing up at the clock over the restaurant's bar, 'forty grand from Johnny. Then there's Karen, who stole my money. There's anything left over after I get mine, you can have it all.'

  'If it's the ransom you're talking about,' Madge said, 'this money Karen has, then technically speaking that's mine. I mean, I was the one kidnapped. The insurance company, they paid out that money for me.'

  'This much is true,' Terry said.

  'Okay,' Rossi conceded. 'But Karen, when I was inside, she stole my sixty grand stash, used it to keep the wolf in caviar and silk fuckin pillows.'

  'Fair point,' Terry said.

  Mel put her hand up. 'There's one thing I'm not getting,' she said.

  'You're not getting Johnny's rod,' Rossi said, 'still sitting there not going anywhere. That's what you're not getting me.'

  'This inheritance Madge is talking about,' Mel said. 'She's offering you three-quarters of a million, but you're still scuffling around after Johnny and Karen?'

  Rossi considered that. 'It turns out I'm Madge's son, like she says, which I very much fuckin doubt, then I still gotta do time to get it, mainly because Sleeps is mooning around after you, you don't give a fuck about the guy.' He sipped his White Russian, swirled the ice cubes. 'Johnny and Karen, though, they're here. Karen with a bag of cash where I'm due sixty gees, Johnny the double-crossing fuck just waiting out there for me to fork his eyes out I don't get forty grand toot sweet. You see what I'm saying.'

  'Pragmatic, yeah,' Terry said.

  'Then,' Rossi said, 'I dunno, maybe I put a round or two in the fucker's knees, from his own hot rod. For justice, like.' He said, 'Mel? Chop-chop, girl. If I know Ray, he ain't gonna stay pinned down forever.'

  Doyle

  Doyle tried the rent-a-car down on Ormos first, Jacob's, the place closed and dark, open nine to nine. So they had to take the bus up to the Chora, Johnny bitching about how he hadn't taken the bus, for Chrissakes, since the last time he bunked off school. Doyle re
assuring him it was incognito, no one expecting to see Johnny Priest on any buses.

  Then, they find a place open in the middle of the Chora, Trohokinisi, the guy has all these forms to fill in, in triplicate, a spotty Irish kid working the counter on his own, nervous, not wanting to screw up and checking every last detail.

  Doyle, finally, tucking the receipt into her back pocket, taking the keys, the free map, said, 'One last thing. Where's a nice place, somewhere romantic?'

  The guy scratched his acne thinking. 'I dunno, Paris?'

  'I mean on the island.' She jerked a thumb at Johnny, slumped down in the front of the four-wheel drive jeep she'd picked out on the way in. Johnny expecting, this being his compromise, Doyle to swing by the Blue Orange, Johnny touching base to see if Roger had heard from Niko. 'We're taking a few days out, not looking to be disturbed. Where's our best bet?'

  The kid shrugged. 'Manganari, I guess. Down south, right at the end of the island. There's a village but it's quiet, just a few bars and restaurants. A nice beach.'

  'How long'll take to get down there?'

  'Depends how fast you drive,' the kid said.

  'Say I'm driving normal.'

  'A couple of hours, maybe. You don't know the road, it's dark, maybe three.'

  'Thanks a lot,' Doyle said. 'You've been a huge help.'

  'All part of the service,' the kid said.

  Doyle hauled herself up into the jeep and said, 'Change of plan, Johnny.'

  'Oh, you think?'

  Doyle got the keys in the ignition, started up the jeep. 'We're skipping the Blue Orange. I got a feeling, call it a sixth sense, we should avoid it 'til we hear from Niko.'

  'This sixth sense you got?' Johnny said. 'I'm thinking it's maybe on the fritz it hasn't picked up the guy in the back with the gun.'

  Doyle turned. Rossi sat up showing an automatic and said, 'Last time, I was aiming to miss. This close I couldn't miss if I tried.'

  'That's not strictly true,' Doyle said.

  Rossi conceded the point. He said, 'Tell you what, though. You guarantee we got a truce until we get Ray sorted, I'll point the rod at the backstabbing fuck here, everyone's a winner.'