A Hard Day's Knight n-11

by Simon R. Green

  “Hello, Russell.”

  He turned his head calmly, not surprised or startled in the least. He nodded once, as though we’d happened to bump into each other in the street. Russell was a small grey man, always quiet and polite, always ready to do something illegal. If the price was right. He did some work for me, back in the day. Russell did some work for a lot of people. He was a grass, a runner, and a reliable supplier of dodgy items. He never got his own hands dirty; he made it possible for other people to do what they had to. He knew all the wrong people, drank in all the worst dives, heard it all and said nothing. Until you put money in his hand. No-one liked him, but everybody used him. Russell never complained. He had self-esteem issues.

  He hadn’t changed much. A little greyer, a little more rat-like. Still giving the impression that he wasn’t really there. When he spoke, it was the same old polite, self-effacing murmur that I remembered.

  “Well, well. If it isn’t Mr. Taylor. Back again, after all these years. How unusual, to find you in this old place again. Most of us assumed that you had shuffled off this mortal coil, or been shuffled off it, with important bits missing. Where did you disappear to, Mr. Taylor? No-one could find you, and some people looked really hard.”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I said.

  “Wherever you’ve been, it would seem to have agreed with you, Mr. Taylor. You are looking very well. One might even say prosperous. Do you by any chance have the money you owe?”

  “Not on me, no.”

  “Oh dear. I would have to say, that is most unfortunate, Mr. Taylor. Though after all these years, I would have to say that even if you did have the money, it would not be enough. It’s the interest, you see. The emotional interest; it accumulates. Certain people are very angry with you, Mr. Taylor. You are the one who got away. The one who set a bad example ...”

  “Why are you here, Russell?” I said, interrupting a flow that threatened to go on forever. “I mean, even I didn’t know I was coming here. It can’t be a coincidence, you turning up like this.”

  “Hardly, Mr. Taylor. Certain people have kept this place empty, but observed, all these years. In case you showed up again.”

  “Oh, come on,” I said. “I didn’t owe that much.”

  “You made certain people very angry, Mr. Taylor,” Russell said simply. “It’s no longer about the money; it’s the vengeance. No-one can be allowed to get away with defying the men in charge. It’s just not done. It might give people ideas.”

  “Well,” I said, “I’m glad I achieved something while I was here. But having given the matter some thought, I would have to say that I don’t give a wet fart what the men in charge want.”

  “They have been watching and waiting for years, Mr. Taylor, on the chance ... And here you are! Back again, after all this time. Certain people are going to be very happy about that.”

  “People have been watching my old office for years? Why?”

  “For the reward, Mr. Taylor.”

  “There’s a price on my head? I feel strangely flattered. How big a reward?”

  “A significant amount, Mr. Taylor. In fact, I would have to say, quite a substantial reward.”

  I looked at him thoughtfully. “Is that why you’re here, Russell? So soon after my return? For the reward money?”

  “Not exactly, Mr. Taylor. But you know how it is ... And if I’m here, others won’t be far behind.”

  “How long have I got, before word gets out?”

  He smiled for the first time. “They’re already here, Mr. Taylor.”

  I moved quickly over to the barred window and looked out at the street below. Several cars were parked outside that hadn’t been there before, and more were arriving. Car doors slammed loudly as armed men spilled out onto the street. They didn’t care if I knew they were there. The trap had been sprung. The men in the street were large men, serious men with serious intent. They carried their guns like they knew how to use them. I was flattered they saw me as such a dangerous threat. Everyone else was quietly disappearing off the street, including the homeless. None of them wanted to be witnesses to whatever was about to happen. Being a witness wasn’t good for your continued health.

  I smiled down at the men milling outside the building. It had been a long time since anyone had come after me with only guns to back them up. But, of course, these people only knew the old me, from when I was still hiding my gift under a bushel. I looked forward to disillusioning them. Still, given the sheer number of hard men who’d turned up, it would seem Russell was right when he mentioned a substantial reward. I turned back to look at Russell. He hadn’t moved—a small grey presence in a half-lit room.

  “It occurs to me,” I said, “that the reward isn’t for money returned but for me personally. Somebody wants to lay hands on me, and not in a good way.”

  “Somebody bears a grudge, Mr. Taylor. Someone wants you to pay, in blood and suffering.”

  There was a gun in his hand, pointing at me. I was actually shocked. I’d never seen Russell with a gun, in all the time he’d worked for me. But the gun didn’t look out of place. Something in the way Russell held his gun told me he was used to it.

  “You never used to like shooters, Russell,” I said reproachfully. “You were never a violent man. First out the pub door when the fight started. What happened?”

  “You happened, Mr. Taylor.” He was aiming his gun at a spot directly above my groin. A disabling shot but not a deadly one. He didn’t want me dead. Not yet. Which gave me the advantage even if he didn’t realise it. I raised an eyebrow, to indicate that he should continue, and he couldn’t stop himself. The words came pouring out, as though he’d been rehearsing them for years. “After you went away, after you abandoned me, I had to look after myself. Turned out I was really good at it. I never realised how much you were holding me back. I stopped working for other people and went into business for myself. And now ... I’m the boss. I’m the man. I run things in this territory. I bought up all your debts and put a price on your head. You owe me, Mr. Taylor.”

  “The money, or for not saying good-bye when I left?”

  “You never valued me, Mr. Taylor. Never respected me. Even after all the things I did for you.”

  “I paid you the going rate, like everyone else. And I treated you better than most. I thought we had fun along the way. Didn’t we have fun, rescuing the good people from the bad guys, righting wrongs, and dropping the ungodly right in it? I may not have been the most successful private eye in London, but I like to think I made my mark. With your help.”

  “Don’t talk to me like I was your friend, or even your partner. You used me.”

  “That’s what you were for, Russell. You were an informer, the lowest of the low, despised by all. You had no principles and less dignity. You would have sold your mother’s organs for transplant while she was still alive for the right offer. At least I gave you a good purpose in life. Now put the gun down, Russell. It doesn’t suit you.”

  “Oh, but it does, Mr. Taylor. With you gone, and all the enemies you’d made circling like vultures, I had to learn to look after myself. And the first thing I learned was that a gun makes all the difference. A small man can be a big man if he’s got a gun, and the guts to use it. Much to my surprise, I found I had. Actually, I enjoyed it. I’ve come a long way since you were last here, and I enjoyed every nasty bit of it. Kneel down, Mr. Taylor. Kneel down and say you’re sorry.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Then I’ll shoot your kneecaps out, for starters. Then ... I’ll take my time. Enjoy myself. I do so love to hear my enemies scream.”

  “You should never go back,” I said. “People are never how you remember them. I’m really very disappointed in you, Russell.”

  “Kneel down and beg for your life!”

  “No,” I said. “I don’t do that.”

  I stared into his eyes, holding his gaze with mine, and I saw fear fill his face as he realised he couldn’t look away. The hand hold
ing the gun trembled as he tried to pull the trigger and found he couldn’t. I stepped forward, holding his will firmly with mine. Blood seeped out from under his eyelids and spurted from his nose. He whimpered once as I took the gun out of his hand and tucked it into my coat-pocket. And then I let him go, and he fell to the floor, shuddering and crying out.

  “I’m a whole new man myself these days, Russell,” I said easily, turning my back on him as I headed for the door.

  “You bastard.” I looked back, and Russell had forced himself up onto his knees, so he could glare at me through blood-shot eyes. “You still don’t respect me!”

  “Yes, well, there’s a reason for that, Russell. I’ve flushed things I respected more than you. Now I really must be going. Important things to be about; you know how it is. A shame it had to come to this ... Don’t let the past define you, Russell. You can’t move on if you’re always looking back over your shoulder.”

  “Bastard!”

  Words of wisdom are just wasted on some people. I walked out the door and stepped cautiously out onto the landing. I could hear the armed men milling about in the lobby below. And then Russell raised his voice in a vicious, commanding scream.

  “He’s up here! Taylor’s up here! Get up here and find him! Forget the taking-him-alive shit; I want him dead! Dead! Ten grand bonus to whoever brings me his head, so I can piss in his eyes!”

  A whole army of men came clattering up the stairs, heavy feet slamming on the complaining wooden steps. I moved silently down the landing towards them, then slipped into the office before mine and hid behind the open door. Some tricks are classics. A whole bunch of very heavy people moved purposefully along the landing, slamming open each door they came to. I braced myself and took the impact on my shoulder, gritting my teeth to make sure I didn’t make a sound. The thug stepped into the doorway, looked quickly round the empty office, and moved on. Not all thugs are brain-dead muscle; but that’s usually the way to bet.

  I eased forward, peering carefully round the edge of the door. The armed men had come to a halt, clustered before my open office door. Russell was yelling at them, but they simply stood there and took it. Probably part of their job description. Russell looked like he was the sort who’d enjoy yelling at people. All of the thugs were carrying guns, in a very professional way. Mostly pistols, a few sawn-off shotguns. I counted twenty-two armed men, in all; rather a lot, to bring down one man. Especially since I’d never been considered that dangerous, back in the day. Either Russell was taking no chances on me disappearing again, or ... someone had been talking.

  Twenty-two armed thugs. In a very confined space. Oh well, you have to make a start somewhere.

  I slowly eased round the office door and padded carefully down the gloomy corridor until I could ease in behind the man at the very back of the crowd. I slipped an arm round his throat from behind and had him in a choke hold before he knew what was happening. I dragged him quickly back into the adjoining office, tightened the hold till he was well out, then lowered him carefully to the floor.

  Suzie had taught me a lot of useful grips and holds. Often during foreplay.

  I stepped out of the office, strolled casually down the corridor, and tapped the shoulder of the man in front of me.

  “Who are we after?” I murmured into his ear.

  “Some scumbag called Taylor,” said the thug, not looking round. “Word is he owes the boss, big-time.”

  “Taylor,” I said. “That’s a name from the past.”

  The thug shrugged briefly. “Should never have come back. The boss has a real hard-on for this guy.”

  “What a perfectly appalling mental image,” I said. “Is this all of us? Any more coming?”

  “No; we’re it. But watch yourself; this Taylor’s supposed to be a bit tricky.”

  “Oh, he is,” I said. “Really. You have no idea.”

  Something seemed to occur to the thug, and he turned to look back at me. His eyes widened as he realised who he’d been talking to. He opened his mouth to give the alarm, and I kneed him briskly in the balls. His eyes squeezed shut, and he dropped to the floor. Other members of the crowd before me began to turn round, sensing something was wrong. I took out the sachet of coarse pepper I always keep in my coat-pocket, tore it open, and threw the granules right into their faces. They cried out in shock and pain as fierce tears ran down their faces, blinding them; and then the sneezing and the coughing started, convulsing their bodies as their lungs heaved for air. Never go anywhere without condiments. Condiments are our friends.

  I moved quickly forward, forcing my way through the hacking, teary-eyed, almost helpless thugs, handing out nerve pinches, low blows, and the occasional really nasty back elbow when the opportunity presented itself. I slammed thugs against the wall, sent them crashing to the floor, and even tipped a few over the railings. Not one of them even managed to lay a hand on me.

  I was actually starting to feel a bit cocky when the men on the furthest edge of the crowd, and therefore furthest away from the pepper, raised their guns and opened fire. The noise was deafening in the confined space, and the bullets went everywhere. Some pock-marked the wall beside me, some hit their own men, but none of them went anywhere near me because I was down on one knee and out of sight. Gun smoke thickened on the air, confusing the situation even more. There was screaming and shouting and general uproar, and I contributed a few He’s over there!s. Just to be helpful.

  I slipped easily through the confused crowd and out the other side, ducking and dodging and bestowing vicious unexpected blows on the unworthy. Nothing like a lot of people in a tight space to put the odds in favour of the lone fighter. Particularly if he’s a dirty fighter. I waited at the foot of the stairs to the next floor, until I was sure they knew where I was, then I used one of my favourite tricks, and employed a small but useful magic to take all the bullets out of their guns. The crash of gunfire cut off abruptly, and there was a lot of confused shaking of guns. I took advantage of their confusion to run up the stairs to the next floor. And then I sat down abruptly, by the railings, and gasped for air. I’m not as young as I used to be. I peered cautiously down through the banisters to see what was happening below.

  More than half the thugs were on the floor: unconscious, bleeding, shot by their own people, or still recovering from various dirty tricks. Most of them wouldn’t be taking any more interest in proceedings for a while, and the rest were too busy cursing their fellows for being such lousy shots. Russell could still be heard screaming orders and abuse, almost incandescent with rage. I never knew he had it in him. Bullet-holes had pock-marked the first-floor wall, and all my frosted glass was gone. The gun smoke was slowly clearing, but there was still only intermittent light from outside. It occurred to me that I shouldn’t be able to see all this as clearly as I did ... And then I pushed the thought aside, as some of the thugs reloaded their guns and started cautiously up the stairs towards me, driven on by Russell’s screeching voice.

  I could feel Excalibur on my back, a fierce and dangerous presence, nagging at me like an aching tooth, demanding to be drawn and used. The sword would have made short work of the thugs, guns or no; but I didn’t want to draw it. I didn’t need a legendary sword to see off a few bad guys with delusions of adequacy. I was John Taylor, no longer trying to be normal.

  I took a flashbang out of my coat-pocket, primed it, and tossed it lightly down the stairs. I counted off five, then turned my head away and squeezed my eyes shut. The flashbang detonated, filling the stairs with unbearably bright light. The thugs screamed like little girls as the fierce-light-blasted eyes adjusted to the gloom, and they fired blindly ahead of them, peppering the stairs and the walls but not coming anywhere near me. I waited till they stopped firing, then strolled casually back down the stairs, snatching the guns out of their hands and hitting them here and there with vicious intent. One by one, I kicked their unconscious bodies down the stairs and threw their guns after them. I’ve never cared for the things. One lone thug remained, a
t the foot of the stairs. He’d managed to avoid the worst of the flashbang, and the pepper, and had his gun trained on me. He looked seriously spooked, though; his hand was trembling, and his eyes were almost painfully wide as he watched me descend the stairs towards him. I’d taken down his entire gang, and I wasn’t even breathing hard.

  I gave him my best unnerving smile. “Tell you what: you run away now, terribly quickly, and I won’t do horrible and upsetting things to your person.”

  His hand was seriously trembling by then. Sweat was running down his face. I let my smile widen a little, and he made a low, whining noise.

  “Boo!” I said, and he turned and ran for his life. Potentially sensible young man, I thought.

  I went back into my old office. Russell made a small, horrified sound in the back of his throat as he saw me. He backed away, and I went after him. He kept retreating until he slammed up against the barred window and realised he had nowhere else to go. All the colour had gone out of his face, but his wide eyes were still sharp and mean and calculating. If I was stupid enough to turn my back on him, he’d stick a knife in it. I stopped in the middle of the room and considered him thoughtfully.

  “How do you like being the big man, Russell?” I said. “Making loans to desperate people, at two thousand per cent interest, then sending round the leg-breakers when they can’t keep up with the payments? Taking your cut from all the drugs and the working girls and the protection rackets? Leeching money from all the small people, like you used to be? You were never interested in any of that, back in the day.”

  “Never had any money, back in the day, Mr. Taylor.” His voice was flat and collected, wary rather than frightened. “I’m a whole new man, with a whole new life. I don’t need you to protect me any more. And you’re out of tricks.”