Slaughter's hound

38

He stood in the double doorway with a hand on Maria’s shoulder, the Beretta nuzzling her ribs. Blood drying on the side of his neck.

Maria looked to be on the point of vomiting, a faint bulge to her eyes.

‘Arthur,’ Toto said without taking his eyes off mine. ‘Arthur?’

Gillick gave a sock-muffled groan, turned his head towards the sound like some light-dazzled mole dug out of a burrow.

‘First you lose my coke,’ Toto said, ‘and then you batter my brother-in-law. Now you’re hammering my solicitor.’ A bleak smile. ‘I was the paranoid type, I might start thinking you’ve some kind of vendetta going on.’

He was generous enough not to mention my assault on his dignity with a crutch. Or maybe he was trying to pretend it had never happened.

‘Nothing personal,’ I said.

He made a clicking sound, regretful. ‘Put the gun down on the ground,’ he said, ‘slide it over here.’

I shook my head.

He raised his right hand, tapped the Beretta against Maria’s stomach. She closed her eyes. ‘Don’t think I won’t do it,’ he said.

‘Seriously?’ I said. ‘You’re going to blow her away, you don’t even know who she is, for this piece of shit?’ This last being directed in Gillick’s direction. ‘Think about it,’ I said, lifting the.38, pointing it at his face. ‘Because it’ll be the last fucking thing you’ll ever do.’

Toto took it all under consideration. ‘So where are we now?’ he said.

‘I was just leaving,’ I said. ‘Taking her with me.’

His grin was a cold slash. ‘Just like that.’

‘Something like it, anyway.’

‘You know that’s not going to happen.’

‘That’ll be Ted’s call.’

‘Ted?’

‘There’s something he should probably know. About Gillick here, what he just told me.’

‘Tell me.’

‘I’ll tell Ted.’

He thought about that, his eyes on mine, not the gun. ‘You want us all to arrive at Ted’s,’ he said, ‘a three-ring fucking circus.’

‘Ring him.’

That put him in a bind. To ring Ted he’d have to let Maria go or put the Beretta away.

‘Okay,’ he said. He released Maria, put a hand in the small of her back, urging her towards the nearest seat. So she was still in his theoretical field of fire. ‘Sorry, love,’ he said. ‘No harm meant.’

Still looking at me, waiting for the quid pro quo. I gave it a beat, lowered the.38.

‘So go ahead and ring Ted,’ Toto said, nodding at the phone on the floor beside the desk.

Which would have been hilarious, me hunkering down to dial some number Toto was calling out, getting a kick in the side of the head for my troubles.

‘Gillick’s phone,’ I said, ‘is on the table.’

He thought it through, then backed away to the table. Still facing me. Scrabbled through the detritus of Gillick’s meal.

Once he found the phone, though, it was relatively straightforward. Coming forward again, stabbing a couple of buttons. Gillick with Ted McConnell, former INLA killer turned post-Peace Process Robin Hood, on speed-dial. The boys back at Blackhall would surely have been proud.

Toto’s eyes never left mine.

The call connected. ‘Ted?’ he said. ‘It’s me.’

He was sharp, was Toto. It took him about thirty seconds to sketch it all out, this including a number of his own yeahs and uh-huhs. Then he pressed the speaker button, held out the phone. ‘You’re up,’ he said.

‘Ted?’ I said.

‘This Rigby?’ A faint metallic hum charged with feedback.

‘Yeah.’

‘Go.’

‘Your boy Gillick just mentioned that my kid’s in hospital.’

‘Yeah?’

‘My kid was in a coma.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Now he’s dead.’

‘So?’

‘So the only person who knew my kid was in hospital, in a coma, was a guy called Tohill.’

‘And?’

‘This Tohill being Detective Sergeant Tohill.’

Silence. Then, ‘Oh yeah?’

‘You mightn’t have heard of him yet. He’s been seconded here from CAB.’

‘CAB?’

‘The Criminal Assets-’

‘I fucking know what CAB is, Rigby.’

‘Right.’

A metallic click, a faint echo of feedback, and the phone went dead. Toto and I made eyes at one another some more to a soundtrack of a sandpaper symphony of Gillick choking something back behind the sock.

Maria sitting rigid on the chair, hands clasped between her knees.

The phone rang again.

Toto took the call. ‘Ted?’

More yeahs and uh-huhs, the cold grey eyes drifting away down to Gillick. A final, definitive nod. He tossed me the phone.

‘What do you know about Gillick and this Tohill?’ Without the tinny effect of the speaker-phone, Ted McConnell had a surprisingly mellow baritone.

‘Someone told Gillick about my kid. Tohill’s the only one who knew.’

‘They’re in bed?’

‘I’m telling you what I know.’

‘Yeah.’ Silence. Then, ‘I’m thinking I should probably have a chat with Gillick.’

‘He’s all yours.’

‘Then I’ll be wanting to talk to you.’

‘That’s doable, yeah. Just not right now.’

‘You don’t tell me when-’

‘Ted,’ I said, ‘I’ve given you Gillick.’ Toto wincing at my interrupting Ted. ‘And let’s be crystal fucking clear on this. I’m walking out of here now. Anyone gets in my way, I’m putting him down. End of story.’

A long silence this time. ‘Can’t say I like your attitude, Rigby,’ he said finally. ‘Can’t say I like what was done to Jimmy, either. Gillick’s one thing. Jimmy’s family.’

‘Fuck you and what you think about my attitude,’ I said. ‘Jimmy, okay, I can say there’s ten grand in it for him.’

‘Ten?’

‘I’ve twenty grand cash here right now. Ten’s owed to Toto. The other ten’s Jimmy’s. Final offer.’

‘Put Toto back on.’

I tossed the phone across. Toto went through another round of yeahs and uh-huhs. Then he hung up, untucked his shirt, gave the phone a good wiping down. Dropped it.

‘Alright,’ he said. ‘The deal is this. Jimmy gets his ten grand, I get mine, we take Gillick for a spin. You and me, we were never here.’

‘Only one can say we were,’ I said, ‘is Gillick.’

‘And her,’ Toto said.

‘She’s leaving the country,’ I said, ‘in a couple of hours.’

He nodded. ‘Okay. Give me a hand getting Gillick to the car.’

‘Fuck off.’

‘Fair enough.’ He went and hunkered down beside Gillick, slapped his cheek. ‘Let’s go, fat-chops,’ he said. ‘Time’s money.’

I told Maria to go ahead, wait for me outside. She stalked out, her face pale, although whether that was because she was holding down a puke or repressing her fury I couldn’t tell.

I left the blood-spattered notes where they lay, put the wad in my hand on the desk.

Toto had Gillick propped against the wall by then, Gillick emitting some gravelly groans. Toto’s hands smeared with blood.

‘Ted’ll try to square it with Jimmy,’ Toto said. ‘But I’m making no promises. Jimmy’s his own man. Might be no harm to go missing for a while once he’s back in business.’

‘Run once,’ I said, ‘and you never stop.’

Toto rubbed his bloody hands together, cracked a bleak grin. ‘And wouldn’t that be just fucking grand?’ he said.

‘You and me,’ I said. ‘Where are we now?’

He sat back on his haunches, considering. ‘Let’s get the business sorted first Rigby. Then we’ll talk personal.’

‘You’ll want to confirm this with him,’ I nodded at Gillick, ‘but he just told me Jimmy was working a little freelance Thursday night, down at the PA.’

‘Oh yeah?’

‘Yeah. Keeping himself busy while I was upstairs talking with Finn and Gillick.’

‘Busy how?’

‘Finn came down on top of the cab when he jumped,’ I said, ‘blew it to shit. The cab sitting directly under the window because Jimmy directed me into that exact spot.’

‘So?’

‘So cabs, or any kind of motors, don’t tend to blow up just because someone lands on top of them. Unless it’s a movie you’re watching.’

‘What’re you saying, Rigby?’

‘Our boy Gillick,’ I toed his foot, ‘reckons Jimmy’s a dab hand at improvising petrol bombs from the good old days. A wee magnet to clamp it to the petrol tank, a mercury-tilt switch, Finn hits hard enough to rattle the lot …’ I shrugged. ‘I’m telling you what Gillick said. Maybe you’ll get more out of him.’

‘But why the fuck would they want to blow the cab?’

The sixty-four thousand dollar question. Actually, the one-point-eight million question.

‘Point I’m making,’ I said, ‘it’s Gillick and Jimmy on the hook for what I owe.’ I nodded at the desk. ‘And Jimmy’s ten grand is just sitting there.’

He pursed his lower lip. ‘It’s tidy,’ he said. ‘This providing Gillick backs it up.’

‘Tell him if he doesn’t,’ I said, ‘I’ll be coming for his other eye.’

‘Okay,’ he said. Nodding to himself, slow. He touched the tips of his fingers to the gash above his ear, had a look at the blood. ‘So now, you and me, all we’re left with is personal.’