The Day of the Lie

Chapter Thirty-Four

A thick-set man in jeans and a leather jacket quickly opened the rear doors of the light blue Nyska van. The engine chugged, pumping sickness into the cold evening air. As John was thrown into the back, a fist crashed into the side of his head. A siren screamed. The van lurched forward and the two big lads standing over John lost their balance.

At a police station they kicked him into a holding cell. As the man in jeans ripped the film out of the camera, John spat the blood from his mouth and said, ‘When you’ve finished dial 55876. Tell him Conrad needs a dentist.’

The door slammed shut. Footsteps sauntered back to the main desk. John rolled over on the bed, seeing Roza in the hands of those louts. He lived out the scene as if he were watching a film reel jammed on the same few seconds, the figures juddering back and forth. Two hours later a key turned in the lock and a man in a long camel overcoat sauntered into the cell. With affected delicacy he used one finger to close the door, leaving the guard in the corridor to turn the handle. John sat up, staring at the man in astonishment.

‘Well, well, well,’ said the Dentist, shaking his head. ‘You have been a silly boy’

This was the first time they’d met. Until now, their dealings had all been verbal, over a secure telephone line using a secure number. But this was a face he’d seen before… in the cemetery.

‘You shouldn’t have given them the number,’ said the Dentist, critically.

He’d opened the buttons on his overcoat and sat on a chair, hitching his trousers at the knee. He was very smart. The shoes were brand new, with that mirror-shine. The socks were pulled high.

‘They wouldn’t let me use the phone. They kicked me in the teeth instead.’

‘I didn’t think you’d go and take pictures.’

‘That’s what journalists do. I collect news.

‘Not when it can burn the hand that feeds you. My hand.’

‘I didn’t know you’d be there.’

‘Maybe we should talk more often.’

The Dentist shrugged inside his camel coat. He seemed uncomfortable. The material of his grey jacket was bothering his neck. The knot in the silk tie was fat, making a sort of maroon pedestal for his face. He was well shaved, his skin shining. Short, parted hair had a faint tinge of oxidised brown.

‘Well, did you get to meet the Shoemaker?’ His greenish eyes flashed a passing interest.

‘No. Thanks to you.

John swallowed the complaint. The Shoemaker had been there. He’d been within reach. If only the blockhead had stayed in his office, wherever that might be. If only he’d left John alone to get on with his job.

‘You’ve not been following me, have you?’ John’s leg began to bob up and down.

‘What did you say?’ The question had stung. It had struck at the heart of their relationship. ‘Who the hell do you think I am? Do you have any idea how much I’ve done for you?’

‘I’m sorry it’s just that I got a beating in the van, and I…’ John stroked his swollen jaw Confusion erupted at the thought of Roza walking calmly towards the Dentist. She knew him. How could Roza know the Dentist?

‘I want you to let her go:

‘Who?’

‘Roza Mojeska.’

The Dentist frowned. His top teeth stabbed at his lower lip. ‘You’re not serious:

‘I am. Let her out.’ John had influence and he was going to use it. ‘Otherwise the deal’s off.’

‘My goodness, you are serious.’

Unless John was completely mistaken, there was a hint of humour in his voice. The faint mockery riled him. ‘Do you think I’m joking?’

‘No, of course, not. It’s just that, well, I’ve got a job, too, you know You seem to think I can just pick and choose my fights.’ He stood up, shrugging his coat again, thrusting his hands deep into the wide pockets. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

‘No, that’s not enough. She has to walk free. It’s not my fault a wheel came off today And I want to see her…’

‘You’re going too far,’ said the Dentist. ‘You’re wading out of your depth. You’re heading into my waters. They’re dangerous.’

All at once the Dentist looked tired; even bored; and possibly… sad. He examined John from afar, nodding to himself His eyes moved around his clothes and features, just like John’s had moved over his. The mutual appraisal was like that awkward weighing up when someone new enters the family What you think doesn’t really matter; they’re here to stay You put the best foot forward and hope for the best. And, by the look of the leather, the Dentist had gone for Churches, the Oxford style. He’d put on his Sunday best.

‘I want her address.’ John stood up as if finding height over the Dentist might add some pressure. ‘Don’t you see? I have to tidy up what happened in the graveyard. I was there. You were there:

The Dentist made a face, as if to say he hadn’t thought of that. Part of his remote sadness predisposed him to being helpful. His teeth nipped his bottom lip. ‘Thirty-seven Miron Buildings, Niska Street. You say nothing of me, do you understand?’

‘Yes.’

‘Nothing.’

‘Okay’

‘Don’t get tetchy’ The Dentist moved towards the door. ‘You’ve compromised me once already’

Turning around he studied John with a new intensity. ‘You shouldn’t have called, you know It complicates things.’

John nodded. He’d made a mistake. He made lots of mistakes.

‘We can’t meet again, do you understand? Our relationship is over.’ The Dentist looked aside, absorbed by his thoughts. ‘For now, the deal’s on hold.’

‘Okay’ replied John, uncertainly As far as he was concerned, nothing need change. There was still a lot of work to be done. They needed to talk more, that’s all.

‘See if you can get her out,’ said the Dentist, standing up.

‘Who?’

‘Roza,’ snapped the Dentist, his voice low and running. ‘You’re right. She’s seen us together. If you can persuade her to jump, I’ll get the passport.’

The Dentist knocked on the door and waited for the guards, rocking impatiently on his heels, his back to John. When they came, he stepped outside without even a glance behind.