"Who was he?"
"Just a poor bastard who is really a good guy. That's the problem."
Joe suggested that someone was sending out a warning.
"You call that a warning?"
"So, some bastard just tried to kill you."
John shook his head.
"If he wanted to kill me, he could have."
They sat in silence for a while. There was a Chinese takeaway across the street. Joe wanted to get out, saying he was hungry.
John was late getting home. He limped to the bathroom and stared at his face in the mirror. It wasn't a pretty sight. His left eye, half closed, was swollen and bruised. Only a year ago he’d been faster on his feet. The episode had left him badly shaken. The guy means business, he thought.
Sonia was standing at the bottom of the stairs with her arms folded across her chest. He dreaded what he thought was coming next – more than likely a barrage of questions - , but she surprised him by making a statement instead.
"You've been attacked."
His throat felt suddenly dry. "Yeah," he croaked.
She ran her hand gently across his leg.
"And it would appear you have not seen a doctor."
Her expression remained neutral.
"I don't suppose you are going to tell me how this happened?"
John rolled his eyes.
"You know me and my feelings . . . they don't really go together."
"That maybe true with other people, but not with me. I am not judging you. You should know that by now, I don't know everything you do, but I have a pretty good idea. Have I ever complained?"
"No."
He gently kissed her on the cheek and told her he was sorry. In an effort to redirect the conversation he told her she was handling this pretty well.
"What do you mean?"
"I thought you'd be mad."
"I’m not exactly thrilled but I don't see how getting angry would help."
John froze in his seat and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. This was it. His opportunity to tell her everything. He opened his mouth, eyes glued to Sonia's back were she stood looking out of the kitchen window. Tell her. Say it.
It was the right moment, but once again he lost it. He stood up and kissed her on the forehead and then went into the bathroom and closed the door. He looked in the mirror, took a deep breath, and tried to figure out how much he could tell her. But the words would not come. A crippling vice had settled over his vocal chords.
Back in the living room, Sonia ran a patient hand over her hair. Then she sighed and left the room without saying another word. He watched her go, part of him madly trying to gain control of his voice and call for her to come back. Afterwards he felt angry and sullen. He took a shower to relax himself.
Early next morning, John was sitting on his back steps, ready to rip off the Band Aids and reassess the cuts on his leg when he heard the phone buzzing in the kitchen. He rushed inside, picked up the phone and clicked the answer button. It was Pedro.
"Yes," he said.
"I’m going to take care of you, John."
John slammed the phone down. He thought again that this had to be really important for him to want it so badly. It wouldn’t be safe for him to collect the tape he had hidden in the locker at the train station – Pedro was sure to be watching him.
***
He stood and looked at himself to take inventory of his pains and aches. After waking once during the night to use the bathroom and take a handful of painkillers he was surprised that his leg didn't feel worse. He took some solace in the fact that it was slightly better than last night, but the whole situation weighed on his mind, and he could see that he wouldn't get any rest until he’d sorted it.
He decided to go and see Pedro to try to come to some sort of a agreement. Driving up to the office, he spotted Pedro walking towards it. John stopped and called out to him. He got out of the car and looked him straight in the eye. Pedro just smiled and gazed up towards the sky. The clouds were low and grey. A few flakes of snow were starting to fall again and the smile faded from Pedro's lips.
"Hey, I wasn't casting aspersions. I know you're a man of thoroughly upstanding principles," John said sarcastically.
"Don't be rude."
Pedro realised that he was being mocked and wasn't really in the mood for it.
"Before we get into the finer detail," Pedro continued, "I think there's something you should see."
"I've seen as much as I need to. I think all I want to see is for you to leave me alone." John raised his eyes and smiled.
"Okay, so what if I offer you something that money can't buy?"
"And what would that be exactly?"
"Your freedom."
"No, forget it."
"Admit it," Pedro said. "Tell me there isn't a niggling doubt. Tell me that it hasn't crossed your mind, even for a second, that I could just be speaking the truth. Are you really going to let this opportunity slip through your fingers?"
"Give me one good reason why I should believe you! So what are you saying – that I will lose my freedom? Pedro, I really think you should step back for a moment, you're not thinking straight."
Pedro seemed to think about this for a moment before responding with an empty laugh.
"Okay," he said. "Just give me the tape and we can part as friends."
John replied impatiently. "I'm not really in the mood for a long conversation about what you want."
"Time is running out, so do the right thing."
"Face to face and hand to hand, it's ugly and it's been messy, and you never forget. So how do you expect me just to take your opportunity, when we don't have the trust?"
"If you're not ready to deal with that, it can eat you up," Pedro replied.
Eyes on the floor, John took a deep breath.
"It's not always that cut and dry. In fact, Pedro, it's rarely that way. You have to get comfortable with uncertainty. Can you do that?"
"To tell you the truth, John, I don't know. I can't give you an answer. But I know that's not the right answer."
"But actually, that's the right answer! Pedro, you know it is the pretence as much as anything."
"All that hypocritical crap makes my guts turn over. Good or bad, take your pick, but you can’t have it both ways."
Deep down, John wanted to sort things out but found it hard to make an effort to be pleasant.
"I need to know what's happening," Pedro said brusquely. He was getting really angry now. "Don't fuck me about, John. I don't like it. I don't like it one little fucking bit."
John told himself to stay calm. His life was already overburdened and he could hear the familiar self-pitying whine in Pedro's voice now.
"We've all got our problems. Just leave the country first and the tape is yours."
Chapter 35
Pedro had a lot of contacts within the police, but he didn't want to go tipping his hand. At the moment, everything he had was based on gossip and rumour. A little tip off-now and again would earn him a little more respect with the local CID.
Jones let out a moan that said, You have got to be kidding.
"Don't worry," Pedro said. "I'll make sure you're compensated. You get your head back in the game and get me what I need and I'll make sure you walk away with enough cash."
John had a call from the police on Saturday morning asking if he would mind attending an identity parade.
"Well, I do mind."
His voice turning more brusque, Jones made it clear that this was an order, not a request. “You fit a description."
When John arrived at the police station about 2.00 p.m., he was kept waiting for two hours in a holding room together with another man, who clearly noticed his unease.
"Don't worry," he said. "They might detain you for a while to scare you. That’s all. As for me, I'm in and out of jail all the time anyway."
After what seemed like an eternity, an officer opened the door and introduced himself as PC Thomas. He explained that
all he needed do was simply stand in line next to these other men. Realising he had no choice, John agreed, certain that this was Pedro’s way of getting to him. He stood in line and turned up his collar, immediately regretting it as it was bound to make him look guilty. The trouble was that once this thought entered your head, you really did think you were guilty. He started to feel as if he had something to hide; being under pressure from Pedro started to grind him down. The guy next to him was tall and had a dark complexion. This was puzzling – John had always thought that all suspects are supposed to look alike when on an identify parade. PC Thomas politely called out "Okay that’s it!"
The room alone made John feel faintly nervous, especially not knowing why he was there. Let’s not jump to any conclusions, he thought as he was leaving the police station.
Pedro was waiting for him outside. He was standing near the revolving door looking like a child obediently waiting for the grown-ups to collect him.
"I’m sorry to make you go through all of that. I know how difficult it must be. I’m not the bad person here and believe me, I’m not making any presumptions or passing any judgements. I’m only here to help, John."
Staring him straight in the eye, John took a moment to consider Pedro’s words. He forced his mouth into a quivering smile before clenching his fists, his knuckles turning white. He stormed towards him, but then decided to keep his cool.
"So this is what you think will make me hand over the tape? It will never work."
Pedro shouted after him as John walked away.
"Can we settle this?"
"I can’t make any promises."
Pedro called out to him again and said "Thanks." But John ignored him and just kept on moving. Although he was anxious to rush home, he eventually slowed his pace, thinking. Rows of semis formed long alleyways. Each one was a potential escape route. He could run right now. It all felt so impossible. He stopped at a shop; through the window he could see a large TV set hanging from the ceiling. A woman standing next to him reeked of cheap perfume and cigarettes. I don't know, he said to himself. All of this seemed so normal: the woman, the man in the shop, how would they react if they were him? He'd lost track of his body. He was full of forward movement. Terror was his fuel. But all he wanted to do was just stop.
By the time he returned home he knew he had to try to sort this out soon. He even considered going to the police to explain what happened. Probably not a good idea, he thought.
Chapter 36
When he walked through the door and found the house empty, he remembered that he was supposed to meet Sonia for a drink at the local pub. It was his night off; the children were with Sonia’s parents, and he hoped that an evening out would do their relationship the world of good.
John arrived a little early and sat by the window. Sonia was running late. He ordered another pint and stared dolefully out of the window. His thoughts started to drift; it was difficult to make sense of everything that had been happening lately. Sonia was already ten minutes late. He looked down at his watch, deciding to give her another ten minutes. It was possible that she’d got held up somewhere.
After nearly an hour and on his third pint, he was beginning to get a little upset: It was clear that she wasn’t coming. He tried her mobile for the third time but was put through to voicemail. His heart sank – he’d really hoped that they would be able to resolve a few issues in their relationship.
When he walked through the front door, Sonia came down the stairs and made her way to the coffee pot, ignoring him as she passed.
"Hello," he said, wondering if she'd speak or if this was fully-fledged silent treatment. Grabbing the milk from the fridge, she shot him a pointed look and turned away. "We should talk." With a huff, she spun to face him, planting her hands on the edge of the kitchen table.
"I hope it's about you how sorry you are, I was waiting for an hour." He was in a stinking mood and told her that he'd had a really bad day waiting in the police station, which had got to him.
"Poor you," she mocked.
"You should try working for a living," he snapped.
"Oh yeah," she said, "and you should try going to school twice a day to take the kids and collect them."
He shot her another look, a veneer of calm suddenly settling over his bubbling temper. He grinned at her, realising that Sonia was right and he was wrong. He’d been so wound up in all this cloak-and-dagger stuff that it was really affecting his relationship with Sonia.
"What is it? If you’re going to have another go at me, go right ahead."
"Not at all, sorry about that. I was out of order. And you were right."
Most of the time they were getting on, and he had to admit that it was usually his fault when they didn’t. She hated when he had to work late, and probably suspected that he wasn’t always at the restaurant when he said he was. He was still keeping his work for Pedro a secret from her, and had no idea how to remedy this. He shouldn't blame her. She went on a bit at times, but that was just her way of dealing with the situation: It made her feel like she's doing something instead of simply sitting at home.
"I'm sorry."
"You've said that at least a hundred times now," she said.
Relieved, John shut his eyes after having avoided another explanation of where he had been last night.
Sonia sank into the armchair in the living room. "Is there anything you're not telling me?" She huffed impatiently.
"Sonia, now is not the time."
He pulled her to her feet and gave her a big kiss on the cheek. She grunted and walked towards the mirror over the mantelpiece to stare at herself with a critical expression.
"You look fantastic," he told her.
Sonia dissolved right in front of him. There were no wracking sobs, just quiet breaths and a steady flow of tears that smashed the hell out his heart. He started to move towards her, but she held up her hand, waving him off. John latched onto her fingers anyway and sat down in the chair next to hers.
"No. Honestly. I'm just stupidly emotional." She smiled a little, got up and went into the kitchen, and asked if he wanted a coffee. She stopped talking so she wouldn't lose count as she spooned the coffee into the filter. They sat silently for a few minutes. The caffeine eventually kicked in. He told her he’d have to be at the restaurant early the following day but he’d try not to get back too late. Then came more questions. He realised he couldn't give a sensible answer to a single question. He blew her a kiss and went upstairs.
***
The traffic sucked, as usual, so when John finally pulled up beside the entrance and turned the engine off, he was already frazzled. The restaurant smelt of smoke and stale booze. Last night had been busy with a loud crowd. John had to do some food preparation, and after lunch he had a meeting with the bank manager. He was trying to raise money to expand the business. He was a little behind and had to finish off his projections and cash flow accounts.
When the restaurant door opened, he turned and came face to face with trouble. Drunk again, Joe stumbled through the door, wearing a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. After a few seconds of tense silence, John crossed his arms and shot him a pointed look. "Go home." His mind was still racing and it was hard to concentrate. Some days were good but today was already starting to get to him. It was difficult to run a business with all of this going on at the same time. There were times when he thought about just running away.
Right, he thought. When you’re going downhill, slow down ’cause it'll be dark and you won't be able to see. This had always been his motto.
It was after 7 p.m. by the time he ploughed back through the evening traffic and arrived home. What they needed was a stiff drink, a good Chinese takeaway and a few hours in front of the TV. "Grab some plates," Sonia pointed to the cabinet. "We can eat on the patio."
The children were still at her parents’, and the neighbouring gardens were quiet. It was oddly cosy. Sonia brought out the food and set everything down on the table.
"Wha
t would you like to drink?"
"Beer?' John said hoarsely. He was very off balance, as though his emotions couldn't decide where to settle. Should he still be angry? Should he be friendly? He didn't know how to proceed, and decided simply to hug her.
"Now you’re suddenly all over me, I don’t understand and I don’t know what’s going on," she said.
"Nothing’s going on."
"I can’t," she said, abruptly pulling away from him.
He stood back, confused.
"Can’t what?"
She shot cursory glance towards his groin before gazing up at him with a sigh.
"I mean I can’t just turn it on and off whenever you feel like it," she said.
"It’s been months since we’ve ... and now. I just thought –."
"I’m perfectly aware of what you thought. So why can’t we just sit down and talk," she suggested.
Sonia slowly raised her eyes. He loved her, but no matter how much he wanted to repair the relationship, he just couldn’t have that conversation and tell her everything that had happened and was still happening.
She flounced angrily into the kitchen and grabbed her bag.
"Fine, I’ll see you later."
He wondered if it was something he did – or didn't do – that might make someone behave like that towards him. What more could he do? You try this, that, anything. You cry. Shout. Beg. Threaten. Plead.
Pedro turned up at his house, unannounced as always.
"Give me the tape. I certainly am not going to harm you, if that's what you're so wrongly worried about. Then we can part ways."
John was upset that he had turned up at his house. And Pedro knew it. He told him just to go and to give him more time.
"Who was that?" He heard Sonia shout from the kitchen as he shut the heavy front door in Pedro’s face. He didn’t know how long she’d been standing there. “Why aren’t you answering me? Don’t tell me you’re drunk again.” He was annoyed at the accusation, but relieved that she hadn’t overheard their conversation. The old wooden door must be thicker than he’d thought.
The Assassin's Keeper Page 27