The Rule

by David Jackson

  ‘You’re . . . you’re Joseph Cobb. And you shouldn’t swear. It’s not nice.’

  ‘No, you’re right. It’s not nice to swear. And you know what else isn’t nice? Killing people.’

  He turned to the mother again. ‘See, Gemma? Even your brain-dead son knows who I am. So why don’t you? Why are you so sure that a man called Joey Cobb couldn’t possibly be sitting here in your crappy little flat, fit as a fiddle? Why would that be so un-fucking-believable?’

  ‘The police.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The police. They showed us a photograph of a man called Joey Cobb and said he’d been killed.’

  Ronan smiled and shook his head. ‘Nice try, Gemma. What about you, Danny? Did you only see a photo too, or was I here in the flesh?’

  ‘You were here.’

  ‘That’s right. I was, wasn’t I? Only your mum seems to have forgotten all about it. Why’s that, Gemma? Why are you lying?’

  There was no time for a reply. Ronan heard a key turning in the front door.

  ‘Quiet. Not a peep, or your husband dies.’

  Ronan got up from the chair and moved behind the living-room door. He heard a ‘Hello’ from the hallway, and then saw the back of a male figure come into view.

  ‘Hey, you two! Why the silent treatment?’

  Ronan pushed the door away. The figure turned. Ronan aimed the gun at the man’s face, saw the immense expression of shock.

  ‘Yeah, that’s right. You know me too, you fucking piece of shit. Sit over there with the rest of your shitty family. Do it!’

  He watched as the man squeezed onto the sofa.

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Scott.’

  ‘Surprised to see me, Scott?’

  ‘I . . . I don’t know who you are.’

  ‘You don’t? You’re as thick as your missus, then. Only Danny here seems to know anything, and he’s not exactly working with a full deck, is he?’

  Ronan resumed his seat on the wooden chair.

  ‘Right. This is how it’s going to work. You tell me everything. No making shit up. Just tell me the truth. Right?’

  Scott raised a finger, requesting permission to speak.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’d like to ask if we can send Daniel to his room. He doesn’t understand any of this. It frightens him.’

  ‘He didn’t seem that frightened when he was coming at me in your hallway. Besides, he’s the only one who’s told me anything so far. So the answer is no. Danny stays here, with the rest of his retard family.’

  ‘He’s not a retard.’

  ‘No? What about you, though, Scott? Can you string a few sentences together for me?’

  Scott stared down at the floor. Licked his lips. Rubbed his hands along his thighs.

  ‘I’m not asking you for a fucking wedding speech here. Just start talking. Let it all out.’

  Scott finally looked up at him. ‘I’m assuming . . . Joey Cobb. You must be his twin brother, right?’

  ‘Give that man a coconut. So what about Joey?’

  ‘You’re not Joey?’ Daniel said.

  ‘No, lad. I’m not Joey. Joey’s dead. But you knew that already, didn’t you?’

  ‘My dad said—’

  ‘Daniel!’ Scott interrupted.

  ‘No,’ said Ronan. ‘Let him speak. Go on, Danny. What did your dad say?’

  ‘He said you – I mean Joey – he said you were going to be okay. He said you – Joey – just needed a nice long rest.’

  ‘A rest? Why?’

  Scott took over again. ‘What you have to understand is that we didn’t intend any of this to happen. It was an accident, okay?’

  Ronan stared. An accident? What was he talking about? Did he mean he didn’t just see what happened? That he might be responsible in some way?

  ‘An accident.’

  ‘Yes. He got in the lift with me. He became aggressive. We got into an argument.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Nothing. I mean, I think he just didn’t like the way I looked at him, or something. I don’t really know.’

  Ronan considered this. It sounded like Joey. He’d been capable of tearing someone’s limbs off just for breathing too heavily.

  But then Daniel spoke again. ‘It was about the stuff in his bag.’

  ‘Shit,’ Scott said.

  ‘Wait,’ Ronan said. ‘You were there? In the lift?’

  ‘Yes. With my dad. We went to the cinema and then we came home. I don’t like the lift, but Dad said—’

  ‘You forgot to mention this little piece of information, Scott. I swear to God, one more lie from you . . .’ He looked at Daniel again. ‘What stuff, Danny? What was in the bag?’

  ‘A gun and some money and some bags of powder. He dropped the bag in the lift.’

  ‘I see. And Joey wasn’t happy about you seeing it, is that right?’

  Daniel seemed to struggle with putting himself in Joey’s shoes. ‘I think so. He kept asking us what we saw in his bag.’

  ‘So you told him?’

  ‘Yes. I told the truth, like I always do, but it just made him more and more angry.’

  ‘And then what?’

  Scott said, ‘I told him to leave my son alone, and he turned on me. It started to get physical. I hit him, and he went down, and . . . and he didn’t get up again.’

  Ronan was on his feet, bringing his Colt to the man’s head. ‘You . . . you killed my brother? Is that what you’re telling me here, Scott? You killed my fucking brother?’

  ‘Dad,’ Daniel said. ‘That’s not right. It was Adam-9, remember? He—’

  ‘Daniel!’

  ‘He came to our rescue. He—’

  ‘Daniel!’

  ‘He stopped the bad guy like he always does. Like when those boys were attacking me, and I pressed the button on my Adam-9 briefcase and—’

  ‘DANIEL! STOP!’

  The silence was astonishing. It was as though it cleared the room for the truth to make its way in. And there the truth was. In front of Ronan in all its bright, shining glory.

  ‘It was you?’ Ronan asked. ‘You did it?’

  ‘N-no. It was Adam-9.’

  ‘How? How did he do it?’

  ‘He can use a metal robot arm. It can shoot out a long way. He used the arm to grab Joey’s neck and pick him up.’

  ‘You picked him up by the neck?’

  ‘No. Not me. Adam—’

  And then Ronan was moving the gun across to Daniel, and he was cocking the hammer and pressing the weapon into the young man’s skull, screaming at him while ignoring the pleas of his parents, demanding to know why the fuck he had killed Joey, why did he have to go and do that instead of just telling him what he wanted to hear? And then Scott made a move, tried to grab the gun, and Ronan swiped it across his head, and there was more yelling, Scott being held back by his wife and Ronan putting pressure on the trigger, asking this whole fucking dysfunctional family if they were ready to die, right here and now.

  It descended into sobbing and panting and whimpering. Ronan stood over them, a searing rage in his head.

  ‘What then?’ he demanded. ‘After you killed him? What then?’

  ‘We . . . we brought him into the flat,’ Scott said. ‘We didn’t know what else to do.’

  ‘You didn’t think to call an ambulance, maybe? Take him to hospital?’

  ‘There was no point. He was definitely dead.’

  ‘All right, Doctor fucking Timpson, so what did you do next?’

  ‘I . . . I’d rather not say.’

  ‘You’d rather not say? Oh, I’m really sorry about that. I’d hate to ruin your day.’

  ‘My family . . . they don’t know the details. I told them I’d take care of it. There was no reason to tell them what I did.’

  ‘So these two don’t know? They have no idea?’

  ‘No.’

  Ronan looked at Gemma, then at Daniel. ‘Here’s a nice bedtime story for you, Danny boy. You know
what your nice kind daddy did to my brother?’

  ‘Please,’ Scott said. ‘You don’t have to do this.’

  Ronan ignored him. ‘What Daddy did was to cut up my brother into tiny little pieces and then throw him in the rubbish, along with all the banana peels and rotting vegetables and snotty tissues. That’s how he looked after Joey. That’s how he made him better.’

  A stifled cry from Gemma.

  ‘Yeah. Nasty, huh? This is the man you married. What do you think of him now?’

  ‘I didn’t know what else to do,’ Scott protested. ‘He was dead. It was an accident, but I didn’t know if anyone would believe it. I was just trying to protect my son.’

  Ronan rounded on him with the gun again. ‘Protect him? What kind of sicko are you? My brother is dead because of you. You didn’t even have the guts to own up to it. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you all right now. One good fucking reason.’

  He took up a two-handed stance with the gun, training it on each of them. Watched as the parents tried to shrink into the couch.

  ‘You want to protect your son? Then protect him now.’

  He moved closer to Daniel. Put the gun to his head once more. The pleading resumed.

  But not from Daniel. He just sat there, staring straight up at Ronan. His face was impassive. No fear, no anger, no sorrow. Nothing. And what Ronan realised in that moment was that the target of his wrath didn’t understand death, and that it didn’t frighten him. He hadn’t understood Joey’s death either. He had truly believed that his parents had somehow managed to mend him. If Ronan told him that he was actually Joey, and that this had all been one big practical joke, Daniel would believe it.

  That’s how crazy this situation was.

  And Ronan didn’t know how to process it.

  In his head, it would have been Barrington Daley or some other low-life who had murdered Joey. That was the world he and Joey had lived in. Live by the sword and die by the sword. And Ronan would have found that piece of shit and executed him, and everything would have been right again. Balance would have been restored.

  But this?

  This family weren’t even in the game. They hadn’t killed Joey to rip him off or for revenge. All that had happened was that they accidentally stepped on the toes of a man who objected to it. It was hard to despise them for that. Even harder to justify ending their days, despite what they had done to cover up their actions.

  ‘Don’t move,’ Ronan told them. ‘Not one inch.’

  He moved to the farthest point in the room, on the other side of the dining table, where he could still see the family. He took out his phone and made a call.

  ‘It’s me,’ he said in a subdued voice. ‘I’ve found them. I know who killed Joey.’

  27

  ‘Who? Who did it? Barrington Daley? I want that bastard’s head on a plate.’

  ‘It wasn’t Barrington.’

  ‘Then who?’

  ‘It was . . . it was a family.’

  ‘A f—What do you mean, a family? Do you mean like the mafia?’

  ‘No. An ordinary family. They’ve got this kid. He’s not all there.’

  ‘You mean a retard?’

  ‘Yeah. It was an accident.’

  ‘Ronan, lad, what the fuck are you talking about? Joey was accidentally killed by some window-licker?’

  ‘Yeah. That’s about it.’

  ‘Really? Then how come my son ended up in a dozen pieces on a landfill site? Are you going to tell me that was an accident too?’

  ‘No. They tried to cover it up. They didn’t want the lad to get into trouble.’

  ‘Yeah, well that worked well, didn’t it? Because now he’s neck-deep in shit. What did you do to them?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘These people who murdered your twin brother. What did you do to them?’

  ‘Nothing yet. I’m looking at them now. I’m in their flat.’

  ‘I see. So you’re having tea and cake with them, is that it?’

  ‘Mam, don’t be like that. I’m trying—’

  ‘Like what? How should I be? You’ve found the people who murdered Joey and they’re just sitting there? What’s the plan here, Ronan?’

  ‘That’s why I’m ringing you.’ He lowered his voice even further. ‘I don’t know what to do with them.’

  She sighed. ‘Do I have to state the bleeding obvious, Ronan?’

  He wondered how bad it would be. Broken bones? A long stay in hospital? And who? All of them? Or just make an example of the son?

  He really didn’t feel comfortable with beating the shit out of a disabled lad, even one built like a shed.

  ‘They owe me,’ his mother said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You heard. Joey started out with twenty-five grand’s worth of product on him. I want it back. Ask them what they did with it. Go on, ask them!’

  Ronan lowered the phone as he walked over to the sofa. He pointed the gun at Scott again.

  ‘The stuff that was in Joey’s bag. The money and the bags of powder. What did you do with it?’

  ‘We . . . I threw it away, along with . . . along with everything else.’

  ‘Liar! All that money, and you just threw it away? I don’t fucking believe you.’

  ‘Please! It’s the truth. We thought it might be traceable. Plus, we didn’t think we should make money out of what happened. It wouldn’t be right.’

  Wouldn’t be right, Ronan thought. Listen to him. Wouldn’t be right. Like anyone else would give a shit about right or wrong when they’re holding that much cash in their hands. It just shows how screwed-up this whole situation is.

  Ronan returned to his corner of the room. ‘Did you hear that? They tossed it.’

  ‘Doesn’t change anything.’

  ‘What do you mean? They haven’t got—’

  ‘I’m not interested! I want it back. I don’t care how they get it, but I want my money. They owe me.’

  Ronan wanted to puke. This was no longer about Joey. It was about money. That was the only thing concerning her. Maybe it always had been.

  He hung up. Went back to the family. The family that looked as though they hardly had two pennies to rub together.

  ‘You owe me.’

  They looked at him blankly.

  ‘The cash and the drugs. Twenty-five grand’s worth. I want it back.’

  ‘We can’t,’ Scott said. ‘I just told you. We got rid of it.’

  ‘That’s your problem. I want my twenty-five thousand back. How you get it is up to you.’

  ‘That’s crazy!’

  Ronan thrust the gun towards him, and he backed down.

  ‘Look around you,’ Scott said. ‘We don’t have anywhere near that amount of money.’

  ‘You should have thought of that before you killed my brother.’

  ‘Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for what happened to your brother. But what’s done is done, and—’

  ‘No! It’s not done. Not until you pay for what you did. Now, either you get me my money or I tell the police exactly what you and your son did. Your choice.’

  ‘Please! We haven’t got money like that.’

  ‘Take out a loan. Remortgage. Sell your car. Rob a bank. I don’t give a shit what you do as long as you pay up.’

  ‘We can’t get a loan for that amount. And the flat is rented. My car isn’t—’

  ‘Shut up. What’s your phone number?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your phone number. What is it?’

  Scott told him, and he typed it into his contacts.

  ‘You’ve got twenty-four hours,’ Ronan said. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow, and I’ll tell you where to meet me with the money. If you don’t show up, I’m tipping off the cops.’

  ‘No. Please. I—’

  ‘Twenty-four hours. Don’t let me down. If you really want to protect your lad, you’ll do what I say. And if the name Joey Cobb still sends shivers up your spine, then wait till you see what
Ronan Cobb can do.’

  And then Ronan left, a sour taste in his mouth.

  28

  Scott sat in numb disbelief. It was as though a hurricane had just torn through their home, devastating their lives.

  Gemma stood and wandered over to the window, her back to her family. Scott stood up too.

  ‘Gem . . .’

  ‘You said it was over.’

  ‘I know. I know what I said. But—’

  She whirled on him. ‘YOU SAID YOU’D SORT IT ALL OUT!’

  He was conscious of Daniel still on the sofa, and he turned to him.

  ‘Go to your room, Daniel.’

  Daniel rose. The expression on his face was hard to read. He seemed to be wrestling with his emotions.

  ‘You lied to me,’ Daniel said.

  ‘What? No. I didn’t—’

  ‘You did! You told me you made the man better, but you didn’t make him better. He’s dead, and now his brother is really upset with me.’

  ‘All right, Daniel. Let’s talk about this later, okay? I’ll explain everything.’

  But Daniel was already storming out of the room. ‘You lied to me,’ he said again. Seconds later, his bedroom door was slammed shut.

  Shit, Scott thought. Now everyone hates me.

  He tried again with his wife. ‘Gem . . .’

  ‘You were wrong, Scott.’

  ‘Wrong? What about?’

  ‘We should have gone to the police straight away. We should have told them exactly what had happened.’

  ‘We discussed all this. We made a decision. We agreed.’

  ‘I don’t care what we agreed. I didn’t expect this to happen. You promised me it wouldn’t. And now we’ve got both the police and criminals breathing down our neck. We have to tell the truth.’

  ‘No. No we don’t.’

  ‘Scott—’

  ‘No, Gemma. It’s too late for that. We have to see it out.’

  ‘See what out? You heard the brother. They want money. Money we haven’t got. Why didn’t you listen to me about hanging on to the money?’

  Scott stepped towards her, but she backed away. ‘We’re not criminals, Gem. It wouldn’t have been right to keep the money. You know that.’

  ‘But if you’d kept it—’

  ‘I know. But I didn’t, and there’s no changing that. We have to make the best of a bad situation.’