Dead at First Sight

79 Wednesday 10 October

Tooth was drenched in perspiration. His head seemed as if it was filled with water slopping around. He kept having to move the car, because of a son-of-a-bitch traffic warden on the prowl. He’d lost sight of the entrance/exit to the apartment block for several minutes on two occasions, but the blue dot on his phone remained reassuringly stationary.

There was very little activity — few cars driving in and out of the building and even fewer people coming out of the front door. A couple of food delivery drivers, an Amazon delivery from a white van and an Ocado delivery van some while ago. Now, with the overcast day, the light was beginning to fail. A bleached-haired man in a fur-collared overcoat, with a dog the size of a rat, appeared and headed off. They only got a few yards before the dog pooped. Wrinkling his face, and looking mostly the other way, he scooped it up with a plastic bag and knotted it deftly before setting off again, holding it daintily some distance from him.

A short while later a taxi pulled up, and Tooth watched with interest in case his mark was trying another route. But an elderly lady emerged with a wheeled shopping trolley, which the cabbie put in the trunk before holding the rear door for her.

A text pinged in on his encrypted phone.

He thought for some moments before he replied.

Another text followed.

The traffic warden was approaching again. Tooth drove off, turned across the traffic and entered the drive of the apartment. He reversed into the visitor’s parking bay he’d used a couple of times before during the past hours. It gave him a clear view of the garage door. Then he dialled the next number in the sequence of burner phones his employer was using.

Without the formalities of any greeting, Barrey said, ‘While you’re sitting with your thumb up your backside, there’s been a development. Copeland’s dickhead sidekick has been charged and remanded in custody by the magistrates’ court to appear at Lewes Crown Court next Monday.’

‘You sure?’

‘I have contacts, I told you. I have them everywhere. This one’s a bent prison officer. Ogwang has just arrived there on remand until Monday.’

‘Will he get bail?’ Tooth asked.

‘He won’t get as far as that hearing, Mr Tooth. As I’ve told you, don’t worry about him. Just do your job and eliminate Copeland before he gets arrested, too, and starts squealing to save his bacon. Understand me?’

‘I’m outside the building where he is. I’ve been here since last night.’

‘Why the hell are you outside? Why aren’t you inside? Get in there. Eliminate him. Text me when you’ve done it. That’s what I’ve paid you for. Or are you going to screw up again? If so, tell me now and pay me back my money.’

Barrey ended the call.

Tooth was sodden with sweat and could hardly keep his eyes open. He needed medication, he knew. Maybe he should be in hospital?

Not an option.

Somehow he had to get his act together and finish the job he had come to do. He sat back in his seat, hit the recline button and leaned further back, closing his eyes, gratefully.

He slept. Dreamed.

He was back in the calm blue waters of the Turks and Caicos, on his forty-two-foot boat, Long Shot, with its twin Mercedes engines that took him out hunting for his food, with his fishing rods, most days. Yossarian sitting on the prow, long tongue out, the wind riffling his fur, idiotic grin on his face.

He woke with a start.

Rain pattered down on the roof of the car. He was freezing cold.

Still sodden with perspiration.

The conversation with Steve Barrey vivid in his mind.

Barrey was right. He wasn’t thinking straight. The goddam snake venom was messing with his brain.

Why was he outside when he should be in that building, hunting down his quarry? Finding him.

Then eliminating him.

This was going to be his last contract and he was as sure as hell not going to fail.

He didn’t do failure.