In the Dark

by Mark Billingham

  ‘World’s gone mad, Clive, you ask me.’

  ‘Tell me about it, Billy,’ Clive said.

  EIGHTEEN

  ‘Where d’you get the suit?’

  ‘Charity shop,’ Easy said.

  ‘It stinks, man.’

  They were in a line of slow traffic moving across Vauxhall Bridge, heading for an address in Paddington. Easy was driving the Audi, with Theo in the passenger seat. Mikey sat in the back, flicking through a copy of Loot.

  ‘I didn’t have time to get it dry-cleaned, you get me?’ Easy glanced over. ‘It looks OK, that’s the main thing. A smart suit and that nice, innocent face.’

  Theo didn’t own a suit as such, but he had a few decent jackets. Designer stuff, nicer than the ill-fitting, stinky shit he had on now at any rate. But he had not wanted to leave the flat in his best gear; to try to explain to Javine why he was getting dressed up. Easy said that it didn’t matter, that he’d take care of everything. He’d picked up the suit earlier in the day and Theo had got changed in the car.

  ‘I can’t find this damn ad,’ Mikey said.

  ‘Keep going,’ Easy said. ‘It’s the section at the back, after the caravans. I’ve circled the ones we can do tonight.’

  Mikey turned the pages, and read: ‘“Dark Desire. Curvy ebony princess”. Curvy means fat, right?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Easy said. ‘Probably got bigger tits than you.’ Mikey stuck one finger up above the paper, waved it at the mirror. Easy shrugged and accelerated towards an amber light. ‘Listen, long as the bitch has been getting plenty of business, I don’t care how big she is.’

  They pulled up twenty-five minutes later at the end of a road between St Mary’s Hospital and the station. Theo checked the number of the flat and Easy ran through things one last time.

  ‘Ten minutes should be about right,’ he said. ‘Just to make sure she’s nice and relaxed.’

  ‘He’s the nervous one, innit?’ Mikey said. He leaned forward and poked Theo in the shoulder. ‘If it ever got into the bedroom, I reckon he’d be limp, man, like a dead worm.’

  Theo got out of the car and walked to the door of the flat without looking back. The road was well lit and he wondered how many people would be able to see his face if they were staring out of their windows at that moment.

  The woman who answered the bell was not as large as Mikey had predicted, but there was plenty of her. She was in her forties and darker skinned than Theo. Nigerian, he reckoned. Her make-up was serious and he thought her hair was probably a wig, but the smile looked genuine enough.

  He could see how a man, one who hadn’t come here to rob her, might find her sexy.

  ‘I’m Carlton,’ he said. ‘I called earlier to make an appointment.’ It was Easy who had made the call. He had picked the name too, and enjoyed telling Theo all about it.

  The ground-floor flat was small: a living room with a galley kitchen off it and a doorway through to what Theo guessed were a bedroom and a bathroom. It was clean and modern. There was a row of African masks above a dark leather sofa. There were smooth stones in wooden bowls and a curtain of beads separating the living room from the rest of the place.

  ‘You like a drink, lover? There’s wine and beer, or Coke.’

  ‘Can I have a beer?’

  ‘Whatever you want.’

  She handed Theo a warm bottle and held aside the curtain of beads. ‘You want to come through?’

  Theo sat down and raised his bottle. ‘I’ll finish this.’

  ‘It’s your time,’ she said. ‘Speaking of which . . .’

  Easy had agreed to a hundred pounds on the phone. That would cover one hour and all the basics. Theo handed over the cash and watched as she put it into a small wooden trunk against the wall.

  She handed him a laminated card. Said, ‘In case you want any extras.’

  Easy looked at the card as if he were studying a menu, while she played the part of the helpful waitress, asking if there was anything he wanted explaining. There were a couple of items he wasn’t too clear about, but he was happy to stay in the dark.

  ‘How old are you?’ she asked.

  Theo saw no reason to lie.

  ‘I’ve got a boy about your age,’ she said. ‘And a girl two years younger. She’s at school and he’s going to university next year.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘We’re doing all right,’ she said. ‘Doing very nicely.’ She grinned and cupped her breasts, jiggled them, her black bra visible through the sheer housecoat. ‘Thanks to these.’

  Theo had been inside the flat no more than five minutes. ‘I need to go and get some cigarettes,’ he said.

  ‘I have some.’ She took a packet from her handbag.

  ‘No, I need Silk Cut. I’ll nip across the road.’

  She shrugged. ‘Up to you. The clock’s running though . . .’

  Theo walked out into the narrow corridor and opened the front door. When he walked back into the living room fifteen seconds later, Mikey and Easy were following him.

  Both were wearing balaclavas and pointing handguns.

  ‘Don’t scream,’ Theo said.

  ‘Don’t fucking scream.’ Easy pushed past him, moved fast towards the woman, the gun pointed high, at her head. Held sideways.

  She staggered back against the wall and dropped to the floor, her eyes wide.

  ‘Where’s the cash?’

  Theo showed him, then stood back as Easy took the money from the trunk. ‘There’s about a grand here,’ Easy said. ‘Bet she’s got plenty more, under the bed, somewhere.’

  ‘There’s nothing else,’ the woman said.

  ‘Shut her up.’ Easy nodded to Mikey and pushed through the curtain of beads. Mikey dug out a thick roll of black gaffer tape from the plastic bag he was carrying and pulled the woman to her feet.

  Theo saw the look on Mikey’s face. ‘Just tie her up,’ he said.

  He followed Easy into the bedroom, watched as he emptied out drawers and overturned the mattress. There were candles burning on the window ledge and a small metal bowl filled with condoms by the side of the bed.

  ‘Why are we doing this?’

  ‘You see that cash, man?’

  ‘Why the likes of her?’

  Easy smiled, only too happy to reveal his genius. ‘Because the likes of her don’t go crying to the police so much. Piece of piss.’

  ‘It doesn’t need three of us, man.’

  ‘It never hurts to be careful, T.’ Easy opened a drawer, casually emptied out underwear. ‘A few of these bitches have maids and shit. Filipinos and Thais. Some of them know kung fu and all that.’

  ‘You’ve got a gun,’ Theo said.

  Easy made a face like he didn’t understand, and carried on trashing the room.

  When they went back into the living room, Mikey was sitting next to the woman on the sofa. Her hands and feet had been bound together, and the thick black tape had been wound tight around her head and shoulders. A sliver of flesh was visible below her nose; left uncovered so that she could breathe. Her eyes had been left uncovered, too. Theo wondered if that was because Mikey had wanted to see her reaction.

  Mikey waved Theo over and handed him his mobile. ‘Get a picture,’ he said. ‘Show everyone.’

  With a whoop, Easy crashed down onto the sofa on the other side of the woman and leaned in close to her.

  ‘Come on, man,’ Mikey said. ‘Take a couple.’

  Theo held up the phone and framed the picture.

  ‘Give us a smile,’ Mikey said. The woman moaned behind the tape. Easy thought that was funny and said so. Mikey put one arm round the woman, leered at the camera and placed a fat hand over each of her breasts. ‘So smile with your eyes then,’ he said.

  Theo took the picture and tossed the phone back to Mikey.

  The next one that Easy had circled was ten minutes away, in Bayswater. A dominatrix calling herself Vixen, who had been happy to take the money from a nervous young boy who needed a little discipline.

  Fi
fteen minutes after opening her front door, she was tied to a chair in her bedroom, struggling to breathe through the mask of black tape.

  Theo had watched Mikey work. He had seemed more agitated this time, as had Easy. They had been rougher; angry that there wasn’t more money on the premises.

  ‘Bitch not dominating anybody now,’ Mikey said, when he’d finished.

  ‘I thought there were plenty of freaky fucks who liked this weird stuff,’ Easy said. ‘Whips and dressing up like babies.’

  ‘Maybe she’s giving it away too cheap.’ Mikey bent down and gently slapped the woman’s face. It sounded dull and wet against the tape.

  ‘We should go,’ Theo said.

  Mikey wandered off towards the kitchen like they had all the time in the world.

  ‘Relax, T,’ Easy said.

  ‘I’m fine. Can’t see the point in hanging around, that’s all. What if she has another appointment?’

  ‘We paid for an hour,’ Easy said.

  ‘There’s nothing else here.’

  Easy walked around the bedroom as though there were plenty for him to enjoy, picking up sex toys, pulling faces. ‘Look at all this stuff. I don’t even know what some of this shit does, man.’ He picked up a black latex bondage mask and pulled it over his head.

  ‘Come on, E, leave it.’

  ‘This smells rank, man.’ Easy walked back to the chair and leaned down close to the woman’s face. Said, ‘Snap.’

  Mikey came back in from the kitchen carrying a small knife. He knelt down next to the chair and raised his hand.

  ‘What’s that for?’ Theo asked.

  ‘I’m helping her to breathe,’ Mikey said. ‘Listen to the poor bitch snorting and puffing.’ He placed the tip of the knife against the tape. Said, ‘You’d best open your mouth nice and wide if you don’t want to get cut up.’

  The woman howled behind the tape, but it came out like the whine of something electrical.

  Theo took a step forwards, but Easy raised a hand, and Theo watched as Mikey cut a hole in the tape. Saw a red bead bloom, and dribble down the gaffer onto the woman’s neck.

  ‘Shit,’ Theo said. ‘You’ve cut her.’

  ‘It’s nothing.’ Mikey got to his feet. ‘She’s fine. See?’ He wiped a hand across his mouth and began to undo his jeans. ‘That’s perfect.’

  The woman continued to howl, rocking on the chair.

  ‘The hell you doing?’ Theo shouted.

  Mikey ignored him, and grinned at Easy. ‘You should do it with that mask on,’ he said.

  Theo said, ‘I’m going to the car,’ and backed away towards the door. Easy shouted something at him but Theo couldn’t hear above the noise in his head, above the woman’s whine, as he walked quickly out of the flat and jogged down to the street.

  Ten minutes later Easy and Mikey came out. Theo watched them in the mirror as they strolled along the pavement like they were taking the evening air. They were both grinning when they slid into the car.

  Theo looked at them.

  ‘We didn’t do anything,’ Easy said. He started the car. ‘What do you think?’

  Theo thought plenty, but he kept it to himself as they drove away. Easy and Mikey talked enough for all three of them; gabbling about the cash and the buzz of it, and the big fat spliffs they were going to enjoy when they got back to their ends.

  After fifteen minutes or so, when they’d crossed the river, Theo said, ‘Why d’you need to wear balaclavas anyway?’

  Mikey leaned forward from the back. ‘Stupid fucking question.’

  ‘What’s your point, man?’ Easy asked.

  ‘Just seems like, if it all goes tits up, only face anyone sees, anyone can describe, is mine.’

  My innocent face . . .

  ‘Can’t be helped. Don’t make no sense them knowing what we all look like.’

  ‘I know what you look like,’ Theo said.

  The Audi slowed and stopped for lights. Theo manufactured a smile and lightened his tone; tried to make it clear he was joking. ‘So maybe you should bear that fact in mind when we’re splitting up the cash later on.’ He turned to Mikey. ‘You check me, blood?’ Then he looked at Easy. Neither of them seemed to find it very funny.

  NINETEEN

  There was a late-night grocer’s a few streets down and Helen always enjoyed the conversations with the grizzled Turkish owner and his wife. Tonight’s had been more difficult, as she’d taken the opportunity to tell them about Paul. They had been lovely, asked if there was anything they could do to help, and Helen could see the man hesitate about charging her when she took out her purse to pay.

  She headed slowly back up Tulse Hill, with bread, milk and several packets of cheese-and-onion crisps in a plastic bag. It was a warm night, but the wind was building. Traffic on its way to or from the South Circular roared by her in the dark as she walked.

  Past the row of odd, thirties houses whose mock-Tudor beams and pebbledash always struck her as bizarre. Past blocks much like her own: Baldwin House, Saunders House, Hart House; four or five storeys in every conceivable shade of brown that had probably been desirable in their day. Past the entrance to Silwell Hall, a nineteenth-century mansion now home to St Martin’s in the Field High School for Girls. The ornate pillars and domed roof had been there far longer than the school itself, but still it had easily outlasted both local fifties-built secondaries, including the one Ken Livingstone had attended.

  Helen turned off the hill and dug into her bag for her keys. Thinking about schools: about the shortage of decent ones in areas where she could afford to buy; about maybe getting out of London before it became an issue. As she approached the main doors of her block, she saw a man step out of a car on the other side of the road and walk towards her. He was tall, with shoulder-length blond hair. Well dressed, but even so . . .

  She saw him look at her and gripped her key a little tighter. It was the closest thing she had to a weapon. The man kept coming, and she felt stupidly grateful for the automatic security light that came on as she neared the door.

  She took the last few steps as quickly as she could. Heard the man behind her, the change rattling in his pocket. She reached towards the lock and he moved up close to her, as if he were another resident waiting for her to open the door for them both.

  ‘You’re the girlfriend.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘Soon as Ray described you, I figured it out. Who you were, and the fact that you were talking to him off your own bat.’ He smiled. ‘That you weren’t there in any . . . official capacity.’

  Helen looked. Figured out who he was.

  Kevin Shepherd put his hands in his trouser pockets and took a step back. As though he wanted to get a good look at her.

  ‘Did you want something?’ she asked.

  ‘See, Ray’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer,’ he said. ‘Claps eyes on a warrant card and makes all sorts of presumptions. Well, most of us do, don’t we? But I know all about what happened to Paul and it’s pretty obvious that whoever’s investigating it isn’t looking at the likes of me.’

  Helen waited. He clearly had plenty more to say for himself.

  ‘Probably looking for someone a bit younger than me. A bit blacker. And even if your boyfriend hadn’t just been unlucky, been in the wrong place at the wrong time . . . even if he’d been shot in the head, I don’t think they’d be sending someone like you after whoever did it. No offence.’

  Helen shrugged, like there was none taken.

  ‘Certainly not on their own, at any rate.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So, you’re probably just trying to work out what Paul’s doing knocking around with me. You’re thinking the two of us wouldn’t normally have much in common.’

  ‘You going to tell me?’

  ‘I’m telling you that it might be best to leave it.’ There was a good deal of concern in his voice. It was how many threats were issued.

  ‘Best for who?’

  He nodded at her. ‘Jesus, lo
ve, look at the state of you. You should be thinking about the future, about how you’re going to cope. Trying to get hold of a nice, black maternity dress.’ He shook his head, turned the concern up another notch. ‘Why go around digging shit up? Asking questions you might not like the answers to?’

  It was the same question Helen had asked herself. Now she was standing in front of the man who knew the answer. Who looked as though he was itching to tell her.

  ‘Well, thanks for the warning.’

  ‘Not a warning.’

  ‘Whatever.’ She stared hard at him. She wanted to go inside, but not before he’d been the one to turn and walk away. Suddenly the light went off. They’d been virtually motionless for two minutes and the lamp had timed out. ‘Time to leave,’ she said.

  A few feet away from her in the darkness, Shepherd sighed, as though he’d been pushed into a corner. Given no choice but to reveal what he’d far rather have kept to himself.

  ‘Look, if it helps, just tell yourself that he needed a bit more money coming in, what with a kid on the way. That he was doing it for you.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘Come on, it’s not like he’s the first copper I’ve done business with. You telling me you’ve never known anybody find three kilos of coke and hand in two? Nobody who ever helped himself?’

  Helen felt the sweat prickle and start to run. The key was warm and wet in her fist. ‘Did you ever give money to Paul?’

  ‘Never had the chance, unfortunately, but we discussed the terms. He’d’ve done all right out of it, I can promise you that. You wouldn’t have gone short of baby clothes.’

  ‘Fuck off!’ she said.

  ‘Language . . .’

  She repeated it, and, after a few seconds, Shepherd did as he was told. His movement reactivated the security light, and Helen watched as he jogged back across the road to his car. Change jangling, digging for the remote. She heard him push the music up loud once he’d turned the ignition, and saw him look back at her, just before the light inside the car faded and he drove away.

  Faster than he needed to.

  Afterwards it took her a few seconds longer than normal to get inside. She stood at the door like a drunkard, the key tapping and scraping against the lock as she tried to steady the tremble in her hand.