‘I probably . . .’ said Kai eventually. ‘Probably deserved that . . .’
Kyle said nothing. Didn’t know if he was relieved, exulted or ashamed by his sudden burst of violence.
‘I just mean,’ Kai continued, ‘I don’t blame you for doin’ it. That’s all.’
Nothing.
‘If I was in your place, if you’d . . . you know what I mean.’
Kyle, eventually, nodded.
The two of them sat in silence once more.
It was Kyle who broke it this time. His voice quieter, reasoned.
‘So why am I here?’
Kai sat up, back against the wall. Neither looked at the other man, both stared ahead into the gloom.
‘Dunno.’
‘You don’t know?’
Kai shook his head. ‘Dunno. Just did what I was asked to. Me and Lila.’
‘She was the girl. The blonde one.’
‘Yeah, that’s her.’
‘You were told to . . . what? Pick me up?’
Kai nodded. Kyle felt that anger rise within him once more. He turned, stared at Kai’s shadowed profile.
‘Why me?’
Kai shrugged. ‘You were there.’ He turned to face him. ‘Sorry, mate. All there is to it.’
Kyle stared at him, unable to speak. Kai began to feel uncomfortable under the gaze, gave an apologetic shrug.
‘Sorry.’
‘So . . . it could have been anyone, is that what you’re saying? Just anyone?’
‘Yeah.’ Kai’s voice was small.
Kyle didn’t know whether this made him feel better or not. Didn’t know what to think.
‘So you must have known why they wanted me. Or, sorry, someone like me.’ He couldn’t hide the sarcasm in his voice.
‘I told you, no. They never said.’
‘Who never said?’
Kai sighed. ‘Does it matter? You’re here now. And I’m here as well. And we’ve got to get out.’
Again, Kyle saw the panic beginning in the other man’s eyes as he spoke. He remembered the symptoms. He was behaving just as Kyle had when he was first imprisoned.
‘Where’s the girl?’ asked Kyle. ‘Lila?’
Kai shrugged again. ‘Dunno. Gone. She didn’t like what she’d done either. Wasn’t happy about it. So she did a runner.’
‘And you’re here because you’re unhappy about what you did to me?’
Kai didn’t answer straight away. ‘Yeah,’ he said eventually.
Kyle said nothing. He knew a lie when he heard one.
‘So what do they want me for, then?’
Again, Kai didn’t answer straight away. ‘I dunno,’ he said eventually, his face averted.
Kyle didn’t know if that was a lie or not.
Again, silence descended.
So what are we going to do then?’ he asked finally.
‘Find a way out,’ said Kai. ‘We can do that, can’t we? I mean, there must be a way out.’
Kyle said nothing. It was his turn not to speak. Not to lie.
27
Coasters Club, Newquay. Fresh and Friendly Night. Lila stood at the edge of the dance floor, watching. Dance music pounding, she felt it in her ribcage. Lights spinning, flashing, combining with the music to send coded enticing messages around the room. Undecipherable to most, but the ones who got them really got them. Sweet sour stink of alcohol and energy drinks. Lynx Africa and Tommy Girl. Perspiration and desperation, all sweating for one reason or another: booze, drugs, dance, sex. Everyone wanting to get but not give out. And all around, shadowed nooks, crannies and corners made blind eyes easier to turn.
Danny had told them to get ready to go out. Newquay had tried to reinvent itself in recent years as a family resort with bars and restaurants instead of clubs but Coasters was a hangover from the town’s glory days as the party drugs capital of the south-west. A mixed clientele: new kids who wanted it to be like it was, old timers who refused to believe it wasn’t. Aaron, Ashley and Leon all took turns working there, put in shifts to ensure they had a presence. Clubbers knew who to talk to if they wanted anything. And they always supplied. For a small – or rather not so small – percentage the management blindly faked innocence. Sympathetic coppers on the payroll always ensured someone called ahead to inform them of any drugs raid. Everyone was happy. Everyone got what they wanted.
The boys were treated like local celebrities: free drinks, genuflection. They loved it, played up to it. Lila wondered where the local dealers were. She hadn’t seen anyone else selling since she’d come to Newquay. The boys sometimes talked of London, or rather Hackney, but not why they had made the trip, why there was no opposition to them. If she had been more interested she would have asked. But she just wanted to get as far away from them as possible with as much as she could carry. And, watching them drinking, partaking of their own stuff and letting their guard down, she thought tonight might be the time to do it. She had stayed sober, clean. Building herself up to it.
She was wearing a dress. The first change of clothes since arriving at the caravan. It was short, tight, a good job the place was warm otherwise she would be freezing. New but cheap looking. The kind of thing a teenage boy would imagine a girl wanting to wear. Which was just what had happened. When Leon had brought Danny in with him he had stopped off at New Look and picked up something for her to wear to the club.
‘You can’t go out with those hippy-shit rags on, girl, you got to style it a bit, smarten up,’ he had said, the other boys nodding along with him, experts suddenly.
From the expression on his face when he handed the carrier bag over he expected to be congratulated for it. Or even, his eyes said, repaid in some way. But once Lila put it on, felt the tight, clingy fabric mould itself to her thin body and ride up over her thighs whenever she moved, then saw the undisguised way the boys all stared at her, she knew she had nothing to thank him for. She had insisted on wearing Tom’s coat over the top of it on the walk to the club, keeping her body as covered up as possible. And she wouldn’t part with her old Converses.
‘Dance,’ said Danny, standing directly in front of her, can of Red Bull in hand. He turned, walked towards the dance floor where some heavy, slow-grinding, gangsta rap was blasting out. Didn’t even turn to see if she was following him, just expected it. Lila didn’t move.
Once he reached the edge of the floor he turned, realised she wasn’t there. Walked back towards her, features angry.
‘I said dance,’ he repeated, a chemical fire burning behind his eyes.
Her first instinct was to ignore him, stay where she was. But something in her, the thing that had hurt Arcade Phil, had made her stand up to Conroy, had kept the boys in the caravan at a distance, jumped up inside her.
‘All right then,’ she said, not waiting for him to walk to the floor this time, just crossing there herself, letting him catch up.
The other boys stopped what they were doing and turned to watch. This was serious. This was real. Danny had managed to do what they had not.
On the floor she closed her eyes, tried to let the music carry her. She danced for herself, threw out arms and legs, gyrated and moved in ways that made her feel good, and her alone. Hands in her hair, running over her body. She felt Danny’s hands attempt to touch her but moved away from them, shook them off. Kept dancing. Found a rhythm in herself that matched the music. Moved to it. Enjoyed herself for her own sake.
The song finished. She opened her eyes. Danny and the other three boys were all staring at her. She smiled, enjoying the new-found power that she had over them. Now that the sullen, dowdy-looking girl from the caravan had chrysalised into a sexy young woman, they wanted her more than ever.
‘You got some moves, babe,’ said Danny. He kept talking but she ignored him.
A thought came to her: I don’t have to leave. I could be in charge of this outfit. They’re boys. They’re weak. They’ll do anything I say. Danny’s the one who pulls the strings. If he says I’m in charge
, I’m in charge.
She turned back to Danny, gave him a dazzling smile.
‘Let’s find somewhere to sit down,’ she said. ‘We’ve got things to talk about.’
*
More Red Bull. More vodka. More speed. Lila found Danny easier and easier to talk to the more he had. Or at least to get her own way with. Get him to agree to whatever she wanted.
She leaned forward as she spoke. Her breasts were small but she knew his eyes would be drawn to them. Knew he’d be staring at them all the time she was talking. These boys always want what they can’t have.
‘So you run this outfit then, Danny, yeah?’
He shrugged, looked around. An emperor surveying his empire. ‘Yeah. These are my boys. They do what I say.’
‘You’re a long way from home.’
He sniffed. He’d taken more than speed. ‘Way it goes now, innit? Way we do business. We movin’ out of town into the little places. Takin’ over.’
‘How d’you do it?’ All breathless admiration.
If he’d had peacock feathers they would have been fully displayed. ‘Move into a small town, somewhere like this. Cuckoo someone’s house. That way we stay off the books.’
‘Cuckoo?’
‘Take over. Move in.’
She thought of Josey, how they were treating him. Tried not to let the revulsion show on her features.
‘Go on.’
‘Then bring in my homies. Set up shop. That’s it.’
‘Any opposition?’
He smiled. ‘Not here. Smooth as a shaven pussy.’ He laughed, locked his eyes on hers. Waiting to hear her response, thinking she would bask in his wit.
She didn’t disappoint. ‘Very smooth, then.’
Danny laughed. Lila laughed. She couldn’t believe it was this easy.
Her smile faded. Back to business. ‘You think they’re up to it? Running your empire for you down here?’
She pointed at the three boys. They were all disappointed that Danny was talking to Lila but trying not to express it. Instead they were talking to other girls, trying to pull off deals. They looked like three little boys playing gangsters.
Danny must have seen what she had seen in them. He looked back at her. ‘What you proposin’?’
She took a sip of her Coke, sucking down on the straw, eyes locked with his. Perfect dead-eyed blowjob pose. ‘Think you need some new blood in your organisation. In fact, I think you need some new blood running it.’
She sat back, waited for his response.
A smile split his face. ‘Who might that be?’
She placed her hand on his. ‘I think you know.’
As easy as that, she thought.
28
A night like any other at the encampment: fires burning, mongrels barking. Old buses, ambulances, vans and campers turned into homes, with oil, candles, generator-powered electricity keeping them lit. Music playing. People sitting in groups, people sitting alone. Noah holding court.
He was inside his home – an old single-decker bus – away from the rest, surrounded by his inner circle. His praetorian guard.
An emergency meeting.
He looked at the three of them gathered before him. Sitting wherever they could, the bus’s regimented seats having long since been torn out. His most trusted lieutenants. All hair, muscle, tattoos, leather and denim. Peace and love just alien words to them. Loyalty, order and violent enforcement more their style. They sat waiting for him to speak, impassive.
Kai should be here, thought Noah. Then immediately chastised himself for feeling sentimental. Kai would have been here, he told himself, if he hadn’t been so weak. He put Kai out of his mind, turned to the three before him.
‘We’ve got a problem. As you’re aware, Kai was becoming a liability. If not, he’d have been here. But he leaves us with a problem to sort out. You know what happened. You know who hurt him, who made him talk. He calls himself Tom Killgannon. He’s a barman at the Sail Makers. And he’s trouble. He’s been asking too many questions. He’s been putting things together. It’s time he was taken care of.’
The three before him perked up at his words. Here was something they could understand. A way to employ their talents. They waited while he told them what he had planned.
Noah looked at them. He loved this feeling. Power. Making people do what he wanted them to. Restructuring a little part of the world to his liking. Got a thrill every time he gave an order.
But Noah didn’t get that far. His phone rang.
He took it out of his pocket, ready to angrily dismiss whoever was calling him.
Then he saw the name.
Morrigan.
His heart skipped a beat. And in that moment he was reminded that the world wasn’t always his to rearrange. And that loss of power, of control, was something he hated. And feared.
‘I’ve got to take this . . .’
He stood up, accepted the call, and made his way off the bus.
‘We need to talk,’ said the voice on the other end.
‘Yeah,’ he said. His earlier composure had deserted him. He was no longer the boss, the one who inspired terror. He was now the one who terror was inspired in. ‘I was just going to—’
‘I don’t care what you were going to do. I hear you’ve had a problem.’
‘Yeah,’ he said, trying to shrug it off as no big deal. ‘But I’m dealing with it. I was doing that when you phoned, actually.’
Silence.
‘So, you know, no harm done. It’s all in hand.’
‘No, it’s not.’
His heart skipped another beat.
‘Meet me. Now.’
‘But I’m . . .’
‘Now.’
The connection was broken.
He looked back at the other three. Tried to get his breathing under control, tried not to show his fear before them.
Deep breath. Another. Returned to the bus.
‘Change of plan . . .’
*
The St Petroc stone circle sat in the shelter of several trees, atop a grassy plateau looking out to sea. Like other places of interest local to St Petroc it was known about but not often visited. Nine white lichen-covered stones made up the circle. Quartz in the rock sparkled when the sun’s reflection hit it. But there was no sun now. No moon, either. Just dark grey clouded night. With a chill wind coming in off the water.
Noah never admitted to being scared. Ever. Fear belonged to the scrawny kid he used to be. Now he was Noah. A leader. A figure of strength, respect. But not tonight. As he approached the stone circle, footstep after reluctant footstep, he knew he was none of those things. He was that scared, scrawny kid again.
One of the stones had fallen down over the years, lying on its side, grass and moss growing around it. Its position gave rise to fanciful rumours that it was meant to be there, some kind of monolithic sacrificial altar. Local folklore, desperate to spark interest, had never made much of an effort to correct that impression.
The altar stone was occupied. Noah swallowed hard. The figure was swathed in darkness, without shape. Folds of cloth settled all around it like the resting wings of a giant black bird. Noah’s heart beat against the cage of his ribs like a wild animal trying to escape.
‘You’re late.’
‘I came as quickly as I could.’ He tried to stop himself making excuses. Willed his mouth to shut, his voice to stop. Failed. ‘It’s . . . difficult to find this place at night. Hard not to be seen.’
The figure just stared at him. Cold, hard, birdlike eyes.
‘Sorry, Morrigan . . .’
Morrigan ignored him, looked around. Looked towards the sky, spoke. ‘Every land has its magical places, its ancient and continuing concentrations of power . . .’ Then looked directly at him. ‘But you wouldn’t know about that, would you?’
Not knowing the right thing to say he silently shook his head.
‘Or even what I was quoting?’
Another silent shake.
Morrigan took this for an answer. ‘You’ve had trouble.’
‘It’s . . . being taken care of.’
‘I know what happened. I just wanted to hear it from you.’
Again, he didn’t reply.
Morrigan continued. ‘You’ve had trouble with both of those who you chose to deliver the boy. The girl’s disappeared. And the other one?’
‘He’s . . . been taken care of.’
‘I very much doubt that. Where is he?’
‘I . . . had him placed with the boy.’
Morrigan stared at him. Noah wanted to step backwards but didn’t dare.
‘Placed with the boy.’
Not trusting his voice once more, he nodded.
‘Actually with the boy? Alongside him?’
‘Yeah. Thought it was better. Keep him out of harm’s way while this is all going on. Get rid of him later so as not to create a fuss if anyone comes looking for him. Which is highly unlikely.’
‘Alongside the boy.’
Noah swallowed. He couldn’t see a problem with his plan. Waited. Hoped Morrigan didn’t see the fear in his eyes. Knew that Morrigan missed nothing.
‘The girl’s in the wind.’
‘I’m looking for—’
‘The girl’s in the wind.’ Noah fell silent. ‘Who knows what she’s said, who she’s spoken to. And this other . . . person . . .’ Morrigan spoke the word like it was poison, ‘. . . is currently telling our boy just what we have planned for him. You think that’s a good idea?’
Noah shook his head, almost too quickly to take in Morrigan’s words.
Morrigan stood up. Like a giant bird about to strike. Noah inhaled a sharp breath. The cold hurt his lungs. He stepped back. His legs were shaking.
‘Get him out of there. Get him dealt with. And pray you’re not too late.’
‘Yes, Morrigan.’
‘What are you doing about the girl?’
‘We’re . . . looking for her. We’re watching the last person to have seen her. See if he . . . if he knows where she is. If he goes to her. Then we’ve got her.’
‘This person. Is it that barman?’
Noah just stared. ‘Yeah. How did—’
The Old Religion Page 13