Strange Ways

by Gray Williams

  ‘OK,’ he said, once they were walking. ‘What is it you want to talk about? Is it that guy?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve tried getting rid of him and it’s only made things worse.’

  ‘Has he hurt you?’

  ‘He doesn’t need to. I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like that’s worse. He’s got…’ she shook herself, not wanting to discuss it. ‘You never heard about the stuff we were making? No one’s selling some weird distilled emotion?’

  ‘I’ve been looking like you asked, but if they were, I’d have heard about it by now. I even asked a couple of people I know in Manchester and Birmingham; they hadn’t heard of anything either. If he’s selling it, he isn’t selling it on the streets. Maybe not even in the country. If you got me some decent photographs—’

  ‘I don’t dare to! If he caught me taking pictures. Especially now… You haven’t heard anything? It’s got to be going somewhere.’

  ‘Not saying it isn’t going anywhere, just that it’s not on the street. But I’m working on that, diversifying my market, spreading my customer base. Right now, you want to know about other markets, you talk to Davey. He keeps me on the street until I convince him otherwise.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean there are places drugs get sold that he won’t send me to. There are some kids I can sell to at the colleges, at the universities, in the nightclubs, but if he’s selling drugs to the suburbs for people to take with their wine and crackers, then they don’t want to talk to me. I make them feel like they’re talking to a criminal. They need a dealer who looks like a doctor so they can tell themselves it’s medicine. But that’s not your only problem. Davey’s starting to lose it. Every day he’s in my ear, asking about your product. See, he was playing it all calm, but turns out he’s been selling it as the fucking bomb up north like you wouldn’t believe. Now he’s pissed at me because I’m not giving him more. Every day he’s at me…’

  ‘Wait. Hold up.’

  ‘Every day he’s ringing. Wants to know where you are, why I’ve not talked to you, how come I don’t know when you’re making more. I swear, next time, he’s going to get violent. I’ve covered for you as long as I can, I haven’t told him anything, but—’

  ‘Stop. Talking.’ Now she got through. ‘What are you saying, he’s been making a bomb? You told me my stuff was just going in with his.’

  ‘It was, yeah. Then, I don’t know, people started asking for it. You know, specifically. So he starts putting it out special, got its own branding and a higher price. It was good business.’

  ‘When did he do this?’

  ‘I don’t know. Two, three months ago.’

  ‘And you’re just telling me this now.’

  ‘Like I said, it was business. The product was selling—’

  ‘You little shit.’ She shoved him in the chest. ‘So you’ve been buying off me the same and I bet you’ve been charging him double. You utter fucking wanker.’

  ‘You got paid, didn’t you? And I’ve got my life too. I’m the one taking the risk.’

  ‘I can’t fucking believe you. No, actually I can. I…’ She turned, thinking of walking away and realising that she couldn’t. ‘Fuck. We’ll deal with this later. Phone him.’

  ‘What? I don’t—’

  ‘That’s why I called you. I need his help. Phone him. Right now. Phone him. I want to talk to him.’

  ‘I’ve been telling you to do this for weeks.’

  ‘And now I’m taking you up on it.’ She swallowed, her throat dry, the idea making her feel sick.

  ‘But you said—’

  ‘I know what I said. Listen to what I’m saying now. Phone him. I don’t have any other choice. I need help. And I don’t have anywhere else to turn. I’m ready to make a deal.’

  * * *

  Davey sent a car. They didn’t have to wait long. But even that was long enough. For the first time, she wished that Jared would fill the silence with his bottomless chatter and come-ons. But since hanging up, all he did was swallow and stare at the ground, looking every bit as nervous as she felt.

  The car wasn’t what she expected. It was some shiny new commuter-mobile, glided silent as anything up to the kerb on its electric engine. There was no thumping music, but the tinted windows were there, so Michaela couldn’t see who was inside.

  She half expected a cloud of smoke to engulf her the moment the door was open. Instead, it was as clean as any rented car.

  The driver was a shaven-headed South-East Asian guy with soft eyes. Didn’t look like he’d be able to conjure up much trouble even if he wanted to. No guaranteeing it, of course. He might be an Abra, or there might be wards hidden in the panelling that would do something awful if activated.

  Not quite able to believe what she was doing, she climbed inside, Jared following her. The door had barely closed behind him when the car pulled sharply into traffic and they were away.

  ‘Just let me do the talking,’ he whispered.

  ‘You’ve done enough talking.’

  ‘If he doesn’t like what you say—’

  ‘Stop being dramatic. He’s got no reason to hurt either of us.’ She wasn’t sure which of them she was trying to convince with that.

  They pulled up in front of a workman’s yard, a ring-fenced patch of concrete, the view through the fence blocked by panels of cheap wood tied to the rings. The driver pointed to the gate, fixing Michaela with those big, brown eyes.

  Trying to take a deep breath and only managing a sip, she climbed out.

  ‘Well, this is fucking welcoming,’ she said to herself.

  The gate rattled open. Once they were through, it was closed again and padlocked.

  The yard was a large pitch of concrete, filled with construction equipment, trucks and forklifts parked wherever they would fit. A small, flat-topped brick shed stood to one side, its door hanging open. Ladders, pipes, planks and canisters stood behind painted lines, everything in its place, ready for use.

  But not by the men present. Michaela counted five of them, alert despite the hour, watching the new arrivals over the burning cherries of their cigarettes.

  The fences were lined with plastic, free-standing shelving. At the far end, there was a semi-permanent shelter for the more delicate goods that needed protection from the elements. Its large shuttered door was rolling open with a clatter. Floodlights blazed above; there were no houses nearby to bother. No one would hear them, even if they shouted.

  ‘Ho!’ A man in a bomber jacket in the shelter’s entrance waved them over, his hair was black, short, spiky and thinning.

  This was him. She could tell by the way Jared recovered a little of his bravado as they went over.

  ‘You all right, Davey? I found her, look.’

  ‘That you did. Come on.’ He looked her up and down before leading the pair of them into the shelter. There were more shelves inside, more construction materials and an intimidating amount of plastic sheeting, like Davey expected for there to be a lot of mess. ‘So you’re the brains of the operation,’ the man said to Michaela.

  ‘Guess I am.’ She tried to blot out the thought of the plastic sheeting. The last thing she needed now was to come across as intimidated.

  Davey snorted. ‘This streak of piss was claiming it was all his until it dried up. Should’ve seen him trying to explain it.’

  ‘He didn’t tell me you started paying him more when the product started to sell either.’

  ‘Finder’s fee, wasn’t it,’ said Jared. ‘Like being an estate agent. I deserve my cut.’

  ‘Talks the talk, doesn’t he,’ Davey pointed. ‘Real little entrepreneur. Got another dozen identical. Business I got into, built on the backs of gobshites like him. Really useful if you keep an eye on them, make sure they know what happens if they try to pull a fast one.’

  ‘I didn’t pull anything. I was just—’

  ‘Shut up.’

  Jared obeyed.

  ‘It’s the quiet ones you have to look out for. The o
nes who operate in the shadows. You can never tell what they’re up to. Soon as I figured out that he wasn’t the one making the product – and I was suspicious anyway when suddenly this one’s making Grade-A batches – I got to wondering, who’s pulling his strings? Now I’m banking, see, that he’s not been stupid enough to pull some girl off the street. Because if he reckons I’ll back off because I think I’ve found myself the real chemist, then that’s an extremely short-sighted thing to do. He’ll be in a whole heap of trouble.’

  ‘It’s her, I swear, it’s her.’

  ‘Then I suggest you find a way to prove it. Quickly.’

  ‘Here.’ Michaela reached into her pocket, pulled out the vial she had picked up from Pearce’s office. ‘Some of the product I’ve been making recently. Even stronger than the stuff you’ve been receiving.’

  ‘And how do I know you made it?’

  ‘You don’t, I guess, but you’ll find it’s better than the other stuff you’ve been putting out because I’ve been using better equipment. How else would I have got it? Even if it wasn’t me, shows the reservoir’s open again. But only if you can help me. I wouldn’t take it though,’ she said as Davey plucked the vial out from between her fingers, ‘that emotion’s pretty fucked up.’

  Davey nodded, holding the vial up to the light and peering through the clear liquid. ‘I wasn’t planning on taking it, don’t you worry. Here,’ he held it out towards Jared. ‘You take it.’

  Jared’s mouth flapped open, ready to protest, but he was smart enough to know that wasn’t going to get him very far. ‘What is it?’

  ‘The stuff I was telling you about,’ said Michaela. ‘It’s processed grief. Just smell it. Not sure what would happen if you took more. I caught a whiff once and had to rock in a corner. I was crying for hours.’

  Davey nodded. ‘Like to see that.’

  Jared looked from one to the other, hoping for a way out. Realising that he didn’t have one, he did as he was asked. Opening the vial, he waved it a foot under his nose.

  ‘Come on now, lad,’ Davey grabbed the boy’s wrist and pushed it up closer to his face, ‘breathe deep. There you go.’

  They watched the unfamiliar emotion work its way into his expression, tightening his features, furrowing his brow. Tears began to run down the sides of his nose.

  ‘No. No, no, no, no.’ He said the word over and over again until his voice cracked. ‘Jesus. Fucking…’

  Davey waved. Like cats, his men had drifted over to the entrance to watch the exchange. Though their faces gave the impression they didn’t give a fuck, one of their number snapped sharply enough to the boss’s side when summoned. ‘Take him some place quiet where he can’t hurt himself. Get him a glass of water.’

  Michaela watched as her friend was led away back outside, feeling guilty about not feeling guilty enough about what had happened.

  ‘Strange idea for a product,’ said Davey once they were alone. ‘Specialist. What is it? Sadomasochism kind of thing? Can’t even think where you would source something like that.’

  ‘That’s kind of why I’m here.’

  Davey laughed. ‘I like my business simple. If you can’t pitch it in a single sentence, then I ain’t interested. This stuff, nah, you can make as much as you like, but I got easier ways of making money.’

  ‘That’s not what I mean. I was happy selling the old stuff to you.’

  She told him the story, but she didn’t tell him everything, she didn’t mention her mother.

  ‘That’s why you’re here,’ he said, when she’d finished. ‘Want me to send a couple of boys round, give him a talking-to?’

  ‘Believe me, it’s going to take more than that. He’s got his claws into me and I need him to take them out himself, otherwise things might get a lot worse.’

  ‘Then what do you want?’

  ‘I need information to use against him. You get me the information I need, like his name, what he does and where he lives. I want to know what he’s doing with the product I’m making him. That’s all. You give me that and I can do the rest. You don’t need to get your hands dirty.’

  ‘I’ve been taking your product. I’m dirty enough from you already. You fuck it up, how do I know you won’t bring the police down on my head?’

  ‘I won’t. I get caught, I won’t even say your name.’

  ‘They all say that. That’s not nearly enough security to make it worth my while. So what do I get? Because, right now, sounds like it might be in my best interest to take you out of the equation today.’

  Michaela felt her blood run cold, her mouth dry in an instant.

  ‘You don’t want to do that.’

  ‘Don’t I? Know you’re here, does he? If I do you in now, he’ll just think you’ve done a runner.’

  ‘But you won’t get any more of my product. You said it was doing well, don’t you want more of it?’

  ‘Now we’re getting somewhere,’ he smiled.

  Michaela swallowed, realising what Davey was driving at. ‘You want me to work for you.’

  ‘Ah, now there’s a solution.’

  Michaela folded her arms. She’d known it was coming, but in some naïve moment of hope she’d thought she might avoid it. Ever since she’d started making the product and trying to sell it, she’d vowed to herself that she wouldn’t get so involved. She’d be like her mum, a contractor, doing the job, making the money, but beholden to no one. She’d never intended to get so deep.

  Men like this, they were all light and smiles, so long as they were getting what they wanted. But they made damn sure that everyone knew what their disappointment looked like. They burned through people. How long would it be until she was like Jared, forced to try some strange substance, or worse?

  ‘Want help, don’t you?’ said Davey. ‘I don’t give that kind of thing for free. I want a supply of what you’re giving me. You’d get the equipment, place to do it, security and you’d be paid more right from me, no handouts from boy wonder having a cry back there.’

  He might as well have described a prison cell. Yes, she’d be paid, but she’d have someone watching her, making sure she was following orders.

  ‘Kind of sounds like you’re saying I trade one blackmailer for another.’

  ‘No. Partners. You making the product, me selling it. There’d be some other products I’d want you to make, of course; I got a few joints making some more specialist emotions I’d want you to take over. One-on-one emotions, as it were. What I got is good, but the stuff you could make? We’d make a fucking fortune. Come on. You came to me, remember?’

  Michaela wanted to scream at him, beat him, make him give her what she wanted, but she could see the other men in the doorway out of the corner of her eye. Men with ready fists.

  ‘I don’t want him hurt. I need him to co-operate. If what you give me is enough to get him off my back, then… then we’ve got a deal. I’ll make for you, exclusively. But not until then. If what you give me doesn’t work…’

  ‘Then we’re back to square one and I’ve got to clean house.’ Davey smiled. ‘But we put you to the test. I still don’t know if you’re who you say you are. You make me a one-off product tomorrow night and you’ll get what you want at the end. Right?’ He reached out a hand and when Michaela hesitated, he scowled. ‘Don’t be making any stupid mistakes. I’m giving you everything you came to me for. Don’t be taking it all and still acting like I was a shit.’

  She took his hand and they shook. Davey’s handshake was firm with the threat that it could be a whole lot harder. He wouldn’t let her go, holding her hand in his and staring her in the eye, looking her up and down until he’d made his point.

  ‘Good,’ he said, eventually letting go. ‘We’ll be in touch. But I’ll be watching. It looks like you’ve gone back on our deal, we’re going to be having words.’

  He gestured over her shoulder and after a few moments the man came back, Jared in tow.

  The boy looked even worse than he had before, his eyes swollen from cr
ying, his cheeks wet. He was curled up on himself, shivering like he was cold, like all he wanted to do was shrivel up and die.

  ‘Weird fucking product,’ said Davey. ‘What kind of guy is he? He like this all the time? How did a guy feeling all this get the drop on you?’

  ‘He’s not like this,’ said Michaela. ‘At least, he doesn’t act like it.’

  ‘If a man feels like this and doesn’t act like it, that is seriously fucked up.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Everything hurt.

  There had been dreams. Steph’s face snarling at her over and over. Zoe panicked, looking to Amanda for help. Simon, her husband, weeping, the sound following her as she rose back to the surface.

  She felt wrung out and wet all at the same time. Beginning the slow crawl back to wakefulness, she shifted, only to feel a weight press down on her, pinning her limbs to the ground, like the floor beneath her was sucking her down into it.

  She opened her eyes to see the sun peering back at her through the trees. What time was it?

  Was she paralysed? No, she could feel her limbs trying to move, but the weight on top of her was too immense.

  Then she remembered. As the memories stepped forward, the pressure holding her down was released and she bolted upright. Her body protested at the sudden movement.

  She was soaking wet, her clothes reeking of sea salt, clinging to her skin, chilling her through.

  She was in a small hollow, some natural formation of the land that hid the rest of the forest from view. Symbols were carved into the trunks of the trees on the edges.

  The girl stood on the lip of the hollow, glaring down at her. The girl from her nightmares.

  It was really her. The last time she had seen Steph had been over two years ago. The girl had been half-conscious and fever-ridden, her mutilated hands wrapped in bloody bandages. Once Amanda had handed her into the care of a Russian hospital, she had left, eager to get back to London and her daughter.

  Steph had grown another foot since then, making her taller than Amanda by a few inches. She was leaner than she used to be. But her face made her look older than she was. Life had given a sharp edge to her cheekbones, and a hard look to her eye. Her lips and brow were set in a scowl.