Slaughter's hound

36

Maria pocketed the flash drive, got the leash on Bear. More of a chain, really, with a plaited-leather grip. The canvases went back into the crutches. Originals, I was guessing, their fake twins hanging on walls all over the country. I wondered if they were all Finn’s work, or if he hadn’t brought some of the Spiritus Mundi crew in on the scam.

Either way, they’d come in useful the next time I saw Tohill. Nine originals in oil had to be worth at least the equivalent of ten grand in coke in a trade, especially when the oils could well be that thread Tohill was looking to pull.

We stepped out into the blazing sunshine, blinking against the glare. Bear tensed, growled low in his throat.

He was leaning back against the Phaeton, shades on, face upturned to the sun. Basking, both hands in the pockets of the waist-length leather jacket.

Toto fucking McConnell.

‘So I’m on my way over to Herbie’s to see what the story is about a certain delivery I’m expecting,’ he said, ‘because for some reason Herb isn’t answering his phone, when I get a call from one of the boys, says he’s seen Jimmy’s motor only it’s not Jimmy driving, it’s this guy he thinks he knows from the taxi rank, Harry Rigby, only he’s wearing an eye-patch so he can’t be sure. Now this is interesting, because Harry Rigby should know something about this certain delivery I’m waiting on, so I ring Jimmy to see what the score is, why Rigby has his car. Except Jimmy isn’t answering his phone either. So I tell the guy to stay with the Phaeton, keep me posted. Next thing I hear, Rigby’s down at the docks, the PA building, where the guy he vouched for a couple of nights back took a dive onto one of my cabs. So here I am, wondering what’s what.’

There was no one in the battered Golf he’d parked to one side, but that meant nothing. He could’ve had a couple of guys staked out anywhere, maybe waiting outside the yard.

‘I vouched for Finn that he’d pay for his weed,’ I said, stacking the crutches against the Phaeton’s boot, ‘not that he wasn’t suicidal.’

‘Sure,’ Toto said, ‘only Herb says you got the paying bit wrong too. What’s with the crutches?’

‘They’re for a charity Finn used to run with Maria here,’ I said, nodding back to where she stood rigid with the effort of restraining Bear. ‘They were planning to get married.’

‘Sorry to hear it,’ he said, dipping his head at Maria, a brief bow. ‘Condolences on your loss.’

‘Who’s this?’ she said.

‘Just some business I need to take care of. You get in the car.’

Toto slipped his left hand out of his pocket, held it up. ‘Stall the ball. No one’s going anywhere yet.’ The gesture, his tone, got Bear growling again. ‘Keep a good grip of that hound,’ he told Maria, ‘or I might get nervous.’ He came back to me. ‘So what’s the story? Jimmy being family, you can start with him.’ He saw something in my eyes, stood away from the car. Tightened his grip on whatever it was he had buried in his right pocket. ‘Rigby,’ he said, ‘I got enough problems right now. And the last thing I need is my sister chirping in my ear, wondering where Saint fucking James is, if he hasn’t done another runner, send out a search party. Where’s he at?’

Jimmy, as it happened, was lying prone and semi-conscious about two feet from where he stood. Sweat sliding down the back of my thighs at the prospect of Toto’s sister trying to ring him, Jimmy’s phone sounding from the boot.

‘It’s complicated,’ I said.

‘So give me bullet points.’

‘That, uh, delivery,’ I said, ‘it’s gone.’

‘Gone?’

‘I got run off the road coming back from Galway, ended up in hospital.’ I shrugged. ‘The cops have it.’

‘They found it in the car?’

‘That’s right.’

‘What’d you tell them?’

‘Said I knew nothing about it, they must have planted it there.’

‘And they just let you waltz out free.’

‘No, I bolted from the hospital when they brought me down for an X-ray.’

‘So they’ll be looking for you right now.’

‘It’s not exactly a manhunt, and no one got around to reading me my rights, but yeah. If they find me, they’ll pull me in.’

‘Fuck.’

‘Toto,’ I said, ‘it’s on me. I know that. And I’m making it good.’

‘Oh yeah?’

‘I got this gig going on, someone’s asked me to retrieve their personal belongings. Paying me ten grand to do it.’ No point in telling him about the twenty straight away, he’d want the lot off the bat. ‘Soon as I deliver, the ten grand goes to you, leaves us clean on the, y’know, delivery.’

‘First off,’ he said, ‘that delivery was needed for tonight, I was specific on that. And I was guaranteed. So there’s penalties.’

‘I know all that.’

‘Yeah? So how’re you going to pay that off, you’re up the fucking Swannee on ten grand worth of product? And where the fuck,’ he said, ‘is Jimmy?’

‘Jimmy’s guy, Gillick, the solicitor, he’s brokering this gig I have going on. His client being too posh to dirty her hands with cash. So Gillick told Jimmy, seeing as I didn’t have any transport, to lend me his Phaeton to get the deal done.’

‘So why isn’t he answering his phone?’

‘I don’t know. Gillick lives up the back of Lough Gill, out in the sticks. Maybe there’s no coverage, all the mountains.’

The shades made it impossible to read his eyes. ‘When do you kick this ten grand free?’

‘I’m on my way there now.’ I picked up a crutch, hefted it. ‘Soon as I get these loaded up.’

‘So you wouldn’t mind if I tagged along behind, just for the spin.’

‘It’s a free country.’

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘But listen, Rigby, if I get the feeling you’re-’

There came a tinny, muffled sound from the Phaeton’s boot. A mobile phone ringtone. Wings, ‘Live and Let Die’.

Toto’s head turned instinctively, just a fraction, but that was enough. It helped, too, that whatever he had buried in his pocket snagged as he stepped back already drawing. I was only going to get one chance so I swung from the knees, aiming for the bleachers. The crutch smashed into the side of his head, sent the shades flying. He staggered and reeled back, then went down on one knee, toppled over onto his side. I stepped in, Bear snapping and snarling behind me, stepped on his wrist and reached in, eased the gun from his pocket. A Beretta, if the legend stamped on its barrel was any guide, 9mm. The safety off.

I thumbed the safety on, pointed the Beretta at his face. ‘Up,’ I told him.

The crack on the head had been hard enough to put a bend in the crutch. Dazed, blood seeping from a ragged gash over his ear, he dragged himself to his feet, stood there swaying. I popped the Phaeton’s boot, gestured at it. ‘Get in.’

It boasts a roomy trunk, the Phaeton, but Jimmy was a big man. It was going to be a tight fit. Toto, eyes glazed, didn’t move.

‘Get in,’ I said, ‘or I’ll lock you into the PA with the hound.’

‘Rigby,’ he said. Sounding drunk, or delirious. ‘You don’t know what you’re doing.’

‘I’ll figure it out.’ I stepped in behind him, put a hand on his shoulder, pushed him on. A pity I hadn’t brought the masking tape from Herb’s. ‘Now get in.’

It took him a couple of attempts, but he finally clambered inside. ‘Turn over on your front,’ I told him. Once he was in position I patted him down. Came up with two phones and a four-inch blade he had taped to his right calf. Jimmy’s phone was more of a struggle, it being jammed in his pocket, but eventually I came up with it. He had seven missed calls.

I slammed the boot closed, went weak at the knees. No going back now.

Like the man said, when you’re in, you’re in.

The Beretta went into my belt alongside the.38 Special. Getting crowded back there now, a Gatling gun short of starting a revolution.

I tossed the crutches into the back seat, slammed the door. Bear snuffing at the Phaeton’s boot, intrigued by the scent of blood. I glanced over at Maria to chivvy her on and realised she was staring at me, standing stock still, her expression caught somewhere between horror and disgust.

Nothing new there, then.

‘You can get in,’ I said, ‘or you can try riding Bear all the way to Knock. Your call.’