Double Cross (17 page)

And then it would be my turn.

There was one more week left before the school term
ended. Not that it mattered. One week or one month, I
just couldn't go back. My plans had to be changed
completely. I had other matters to take care of now. I
broke out my phone and speed-dialled. It took a good
twenty seconds before my call was finally answered.

'Hi, Tobey,' said Dan before I could say a word. 'How
are you? You OK? That was some shit on Saturday, yeah?'

Dan's tone was all friendly concern. It took a couple of
moments before I could muster up a reply.

'Dan, I need to see you.'

'We're meeting this evening for football practice, so I'll
see you then,' Dan pointed out. 'And we missed you at
our football match yesterday.'

After everything that'd happened, that was all he had to
say to me? My grip tightened around my mobile phone.

'You do know about Callie, don't you?'

'Yeah, I know.' Dan's voice took on a more sombre
timbre. I for one was glad to hear the end of his jolly,
bouncy tone. 'I'm sorry.'

Sorry . . .

So much I wanted to say. So much I couldn't.

'Where're we going to meet?' I asked quietly.

'When?'

'Now.'

'Now? But it's the arse-crack of dawn. What about
football practice later? Aren't you going to come?'

'Not in the mood. I've got more important matters to
deal with,' I said. 'I'll meet you in twenty outside the
cinema. OK?'

'But it's not even open yet—'

'Dan, I'm not inviting you to watch a film,' I snapped.
'And by the way, did you tell McAuley what I said about
grassing him up if the police came knocking?'

Silence.

'Thanks a lot.'

'You sounded like you meant it,' Dan protested. 'What
was I supposed to do?'

You were supposed to have my back.

'You were supposed to know I'd never do that.'

'That's what I told Mr McAuley, I swear,' Dan rushed
to explain. 'I told him it was just talk.'

I shook my head. Dan still hadn't connected all the dots.
He was never very good on cause and effect.

'The cinema, Dan. Twenty minutes.' I hung up, then
waited to see if he would phone me back. He didn't. It
was only as I stared down at the phone on my lap that I
realized with a start I was still wearing the same bloodstained
shirt I'd worn at the Wasteland. Callie's blood had
dried into the material, which had now stuck to my skin.
And I could smell it. Why couldn't I smell it before? By
the time I pulled off my shirt, I was shaking. Balling it up,
I dropped it in the bin by my desk, then headed for the
bathroom. I stripped off the rest of my clothes and got into
the bath tub before turning on the shower. I didn't do my
usual of allowing the water to run warm before I even let
a toe get wet. The water was freezing, but I didn't care. It
didn't matter. After a couple of minutes it was hot enough.
I washed my hair and soaped my body. But it didn't matter
how much or how hard I scrubbed, I could still feel
Callie's blood sticking to my skin.

I stepped out of the house, carefully closing the door behind
me. Mum was still working nights so was fast asleep, as was
my sister. Just recently, Jessica always seemed to be tired.
Revising for her final exam this week, maybe? I didn't want
to wake up either of them. Answering questions was not at
the top of my list of priorities right now. I stepped onto the
pavement when a question had me whirling around.

'Excuse me, but are you Tobey Durbridge?'

A tall, willowy Cross woman with braids falling like a
waterfall round her face stood in front of me.

'Yes, I am.' I frowned.

Who was this woman? I'd never seen her before in
my life.

'I understand you were with Callie Rose Hadley when
she got shot?' said the woman.

'Yes, I was.' My frown deepened.

The woman's eyes lit up. 'Got one!' she called out. She
brought her right hand out from behind her back. She was
holding a microphone. A Nought man stepped out from
behind the unmarked white van parked in front of our
house. He was holding a TV camera. I stared in horror as
the man came straight at me.

'Who are you?' I asked, taking a step back.

'Josie Braden. Channel Nineteen News,' said the
woman as if she was delivering all I should want or need
to know. 'You wouldn't believe how hard it's been to find
a witness to Callie Hadley's shooting.' She turned to her
colleague. 'Are we up and running, Jack?'

'In a moment,' Jack replied, checking his camera. A red
light appeared at the front, like a small demon's eye
unblinkingly focused on me. Jack hoisted the camera onto
his shoulder and started pointing the thing at Josie.

'Three. Two. One,' Josie Braden counted down before
speaking into the camera lens. 'This is Josie Braden outside
Callie Rose Hadley's home in Meadowview. I'm here
with Callie's neighbour Tobey Durbridge, who was with
Callie Rose, Kamal Hadley's granddaughter, when she got
shot.' Josie turned to face me, as did Jack's camera. 'Tobey,
can you tell us what happened?'

The microphone was thrust under my chin. The red
eye waited for me to speak.

I said nothing. Josie looked at me expectantly.

'Excuse me,' I said before turning round and heading
off in the opposite direction.

A few steps on, I turned my head. Josie drew her hand
across her neck. Jack lowered his camera. They both
watched me, disappointment written in capitals on their
faces. I was out of there. A medieval tongue-extractor
couldn't've made me speak to the press. Hopefully she'd
be the first and the last reporter to try and bother me
and my family. Jess and Mum didn't know anything so
what could they say? And if I said nothing then what
could they report? All I could do was cross my fingers
and hope against hope that my face and name didn't end
up plastered across the TV or in the newspapers. It
wouldn't take much more than that for McAuley to
firebomb my house. The saying – there's no such thing
as bad publicity? Well, that was crap. In Meadowview,
there most definitely was such a thing as bad publicity.
The kind of publicity that could get a person deader than
a roast chicken.

'I must be mad,' Dan kept muttering. 'Mr McAuley's not
going to like this . . .'

Dan had been whinging ever since we'd met up and
I'd told him what I needed from him, which was an
audience with McAuley. I didn't bother telling him about
the reporter outside my front door. Dan was worried
enough as it was. I buried my hands deeper in the pockets
of my denim jacket, my hands clenched so tight, my
knuckles cracked.

'You're going to get us both into big trouble,' Dan said,
deeply unhappy.

'I'll explain it was my idea,' I said.

'Like Mr McAuley's going to give a damn about that.
We're both going to end up buried in concrete holding up
a building somewhere at this rate.'

'How much further?' I asked, changing the subject.

'The other end of this road,' said Dan.

We'd travelled by bus for a good thirty minutes to get
here, but this looked like an ordinary residential street –
not the sort of place where you'd expect to find business
premises. I frowned at Dan, but said nothing. We kept
walking. Dan finally stopped outside an end-of-terrace
house with a dark-blue door. It was nothing special. A
three-up, two-down. The sort of house you'd pass a
hundred times a day and never notice.

'McAuley's in there?'

Dan nodded, adding, 'This is a really bad idea. You're
going to get us both killed.'

'Dan, change the tune, OK?'

'No, it's not OK. Mr McAuley doesn't like surprises.'

'He asked me to work for him, remember?'

'Yes, and you turned him down.'

'Well, I've thought better of it.'

Dan looked at me.

'What?' I asked, exasperated.

'Does this have something to do with what happened to
Callie? Because Mr McAuley can sniff out bullshit at fifty
paces.'

'It has nothing to do with Callie and everything to do
with getting what's mine,' I replied. 'I want to make a lot
of money and spend it whilst I'm still young enough to
enjoy it. The shooting just woke me up to a few home
truths, that's all.'

'Mr McAuley is not going to believe that.'

'Do you?'

Dan shrugged. 'It doesn't matter whether I believe it or
not. It's not me you have to convince.'

'It's the truth, Dan. And if McAuley doesn't want me
working for him, there's always the Dowds.'

Dan looked around fearfully. 'You don't want to joke
about a thing like that. Around Mr McAuley, I wouldn't
even
think
it. People have died for less.'

I gave Dan a look.

'Oh hell. I'm sorry.' Dan rushed through his apology. 'I
wasn't talking about . . . I'm sorry.'

I shrugged and looked around. A black van sat outside
the house. It had to belong to McAuley. The plush creamcoloured
leather seats were a dead giveaway. Dan took a
deep breath and headed for the front door. This was it.
Once I set foot in this house, there'd be no turning back.
Could I do this? Really go through with this? I could turn
round and walk away and have this . . . this nothing inside
me for the rest of my life. No self-respect. No pride. No
Callie Rose . . . Or I could enter this house and never
look back. Would McAuley believe me? Only one way to
find out. Dan rang the bell three times, a pause, then twice
more. The choice was made. The front door was opened
by a Nought guy with light-brown, shoulder-length hair
tied back in a ponytail. He wore a dark-brown suit with a
crisp white shirt and was built like an army tank. If he
exhaled too sharply, his clothes would fall apart around
him. No way was anyone getting past him without his
say-so.

'Hi, Trevor. Did you miss me?' asked Dan.

Trevor looked like he'd rip off Dan's head as soon as
look at him. I hung a few steps behind Dan and looked up
and down the street. This house was the perfect disguise.
No one would ever guess that McAuley's illegal activities
operated out of such unassuming surroundings. He had an
office for running his legitimate business in West
Meadowview, on the industrial estate by the old railway
bridge, but I'd put money on him visiting those premises
maybe twice a year, if that. And I'd also put money on this
not being the only house he used for his dodgy dealings.
Very clever. Mrs Bridges at the bottom of my road dealt
drugs out of her house, but she also lived there. This was
a much better arrangement.

Dan waved me forward to stand next to him. 'Trevor,
this is my mate, Tobey. Mr McAuley knows him.'

Mr I-Love-Steroids looked me up, down and sideways.
He finally stepped aside to let us pass, but not without
patting both of us down first. Godsake! What did he think
I was packing? An Uzi? Dan headed into the first room on
the right. A huge flat-screen TV sat on the wall like a
piece of contemporary artwork. Two black leather sofas
sat self-consciously facing each other on the hardwood
floor. I chose to stand, as did Dan.

'So what happens now?' I asked Dan.

'We wait here until McAuley sends for us.'

A strange scraping noise sounded from overhead, like a
chair being dragged across the floor. One bang and what
sounded like a muffled groan later, and all was quiet.

'What was that?' I asked, pointing at the ceiling.

'Don't know – and don't want to know,' Dan replied.

I took the hint and refrained from saying anything else.
After all, the room might've been wired for sound, for all
I knew. I wouldn't put anything past McAuley. My
stomach twisted like an angry snake. In the history of bad
ideas, this had to be the worst. There was no way this
would work. But I had to do it. I had no choice. One
minute turned into five before another muscle-head, bald
this time, entered the room. He and Dan exchanged a
cursory nod.

'All right, Byron?' Dan asked.

Byron didn't answer. He beckoned us forward. We
passed through the small kitchen and out into a lean-to
conservatory which held a small antique desk and two
large potted plants. McAuley sat behind the desk in a huge
burgundy leather high-backed chair like a king on his
throne. There were two piles of papers on his left, a laptop
in the middle of the desk and a cup of what smelled like
fresh mint tea to the right of the laptop. Ignoring Dan, he
looked directly at me.

'Tobey Durbridge . . . You're the last person I would've
expected to come knocking at my door. What can I do
for you?'

I took a deep breath. 'I wondered if your offer of work
still stands?'

McAuley regarded me for at least half a minute. No one
else in the room spoke or even moved a muscle. I forced
myself to meet McAuley's gaze without flinching.

'Why're you here, Tobey?'

'For a job, sir.'

'Sir? Still so polite.' McAuley leaned forward. 'That's
one of the things I like about you, Tobias Sebastian
Durbridge. Always so polite.'

He'd been checking up on me. How else would he
know my middle name? I never told anyone – and I mean
anyone
– my middle name. Dan didn't know it. Even
Callie didn't know it. McAuley had been checking up on
me, and what's more, he wanted me to know it. But that
was OK. McAuley was watching me for my reaction. I
met his gaze and didn't even blink. I had to convince him
that I had nothing to hide. Byron, McAuley's bodyguard,
stood at his side, making no attempt to hide the gun in his
hand. Byron might've been a big bloke, but I didn't doubt
that his reflexes would be viper-fast.

'So you want a job? I seem to remember that you
weren't interested,' McAuley continued.

'I've changed my mind, sir. I need the money.'

'What's changed between now and last week?'

'Reality has set in.' I shrugged.

'Now why don't I believe you?' McAuley was a study
in stillness as he scrutinized me.

I opened my mouth to argue, then decided against it.
McAuley was no fool. The worst – and last – mistake I could
make would be to underestimate him. I shrugged again.

'In your shoes, I wouldn't believe me either,' I said.

McAuley sat back and smiled. 'At last, something we
both agree on.'

I nodded slowly. 'Fair enough, Mr McAuley. I just
thought I'd offer my services. I'm sorry to have wasted
your time.'

I turned and headed for the door.

'How's your girlfriend? What's her name again? Callie
Rose?'

'She's not my girlfriend,' I replied, still heading for
the door.

'Wait,' McAuley ordered.

I turned round to face him. He beckoned me over and
pointed to the spot where I'd been standing next to Dan.
I walked back to my previous position. I felt like a naughty
school kid made to stand in front of the head. No doubt
that was just what McAuley was aiming for.

'Why d'you need money?' he asked.

'To get out of this place,' I replied. 'Out of
Meadowview.'

McAuley's eyes widened. I'd succeeding in surprising
him.

'To get away from people like me?' he asked softly with
the merest hint of a smile.

'Yes, sir,' I replied without hesitation.

There was no mistaking the horrified gasp that came
from Dan beside me.

'You don't harbour any dreams of being just like me
when you're older?'

'No, sir.'

McAuley leaned forward over his desk, his index fingers
touching at the tips to form a peak which he then tapped
against his lips. Several seconds passed.

'You don't like me very much, do you, Tobey?'

'No, sir.'

Dan was staring at me like I'd lost every bit of my mind.

'But you're willing to take my money?'

'To earn it, sir.'

McAuley started to laugh. 'I like you, Tobey Sebastian
Durbridge.'

I said nothing.

'So what are you prepared to do for me?' he asked.

'Whatever will make me the most money in the
shortest amount of time.'