Slammer (25 page)

'We'll get it checked out.'

'Might
get
infected.'

'We'll fucking amputate.'

Pause.

Then Mafia said, 'This is what we get for you shooting him.'

Darko: 'Somebody had to. Would you have done it?'

Silence again.

'So you should be thanking me. Not complaining.'

Time dragged.

Mafia: 'We can't stay here.'

'I know.'

'I'll make that call, then. You better move the car. Take it as far away as you can.'

Another pause.

'Okay. But I'll come back,' Darko said.

'Don't bother. They'll be looking for us together. You'll be safer alone.'

'How are you going to cope?'

'I'll manage. Glass can be my eyes.'

'You trust him? I just shot the fucker.'

'Yeah, you did,' Mafia said. 'Better leave me the gun.'

'If you want. But it's a murder weapon. We should get rid of it.'

'No problem. I'll wipe it. Give it to Glass when I'm done with it.'

Glass sat up. No, he tried to sit up. Couldn't do much more than raise his head. Couldn't hold it there for long, though. He let it fall back against the pillow and groaned.

'Sleeping Beauty's awake,' Darko said.

'Wh—' Glass's lips were dry. He licked them. Mafia had gone. Must have slipped off to the toilet. 'Why are you still here?' he asked Darko. 'Go. Listen to Mafia. He's right.'

'You've been dreaming,' Darko said.

'I've been awake for a while,' Glass told him. 'You need to get moving. Take the car. Dump it. Don't come back. Of course Mafia can trust me.'

'Mafia?' Darko wanted to leave, Glass could tell.

And fuck it, it made sense.

'Can I give my wife a call?' Glass asked.

'You're a hostage,' Darko said.

'Not a real one, though. So who's to know?'

'Are you totally thick?'

'Come on. She'll be worried. I just want her to know I'm okay.'

'Then the whole world will know I'm bluffing. No,' Darko said. 'I can't let you do that.'

Which was maybe just as well. Glass didn't want to get the reaction he'd got when he called earlier. She'd threatened to go to her mother's. Packed her suitcase. And Caitlin's. He'd persuaded her to stay.

Yes, he'd persuaded her to stay. Hadn't he?

Shit, no. He
was
dreaming.

She'd gone. But maybe she was back now.

'Anyway,' Darko said to Glass. 'You're not okay. You need a doctor.'

Mafia stood in the doorway of the toilet. 'And some new clothes.'

Glass laughed. 'Fine time for a change of image.'

'Who's talking about your image?' Darko asked.

'Just being practical. The bloodstains don't look too clever.'

'I know what you meant,' Glass said. 'This is all wrong, you know. You should be enjoying this. You should be jumping up and down on the spot like a kid on his birthday.'

Mafia turned his head in Glass's direction. Waited.

'I have to explain?' Glass said. 'You're free.'

'Out of jail, maybe,' Darko said. 'But far from free. McDee's probably dead.' He paused. 'And they'll probably try to finger me for Caesar and his crew. I don't feel like celebrating just yet.'

'Hardly makes me feel like breaking into a song and dance routine, either,' Mafia said.

'Darko.' Glass closed his eyes briefly. 'Why did you shoot McDee?'

'Cause I couldn't kill Ross. I'm not going to shoot a woman.'

'That's it?'

'Had to shoot someone. Shooting you didn't work as well as I'd hoped.'

'Doesn't matter.' Mafia placed a restraining hand on Darko. 'Point is, they're dead and we have to handle the consequences.'

'Yeah,' Glass said, relaxing. 'You're right.'

'You should go, Darko,' Mafia told him. 'While you can. Staying together won't be good for our health.'

*

Before he leaves, Darko picks up the phone.

'Don't,' Glass says. 'You can't trust anyone.'

'You want to lie there and bleed?'

'No,' Glass says to Riddell. 'It wasn't Darko. Darko left. Mafia picked up the phone.'

'Quite sure about that?'

'Positive.'

'It wasn't you?'

'Who would I call? Anyway, they wouldn't even let me speak to Lorna.'

'Where
was
Lorna?'

'I don't know. But I'd have tracked her down.'

'And what would you have said?'

'That I was sorry.'

'For what?'

'I don't know. Whatever it was I did that made her leave.'

'Okay,' Riddell says. 'Carry on.'

After Darko left … where was he? Yeah, after Darko left, Mafia picked up the phone.

That made sense.

'Don't,' Glass said to Mafia. 'You can't trust anyone.'

'You want to lie there and bleed to death?'

'I'll be all right.'

'Not for much longer,' Mafia said. 'We did our best to stop the bleeding but we're no doctors.'

Glass looked at his arm. They'd cut the sleeve away, ripped up what looked like a hotel towel and folded it over his shoulder, tying the ends under his bicep. He was still wearing his gloves. Looked bloody silly. He pulled off the left one with his teeth, rummaged in his pocket and found some pills. Popped a couple more OXYs and a speed chaser.

Mafia dialled. While he waited for a reply, he mumbled to himself, swearing, idly waving the gun around with his other hand.

'Careful with that thing,' Glass said.

Mafia placed the gun on the desk. 'Come on,' he said. He hung up. Dialled again. He had to call three times before he got through. 'At last,' he said. 'Same to you.' Pause. 'Doesn't matter what time it is. I need your help.' Pause. 'It's me, Mafia.'

Glass listened as Mafia explained that they needed a doctor and a car. The guy on the other end must have kept trying to interrupt cause Mafia said, 'Will you shut up and let me speak? I can't explain everything over the phone. Just do what I'm telling you. My friend's hurt. He can't travel till he sees a doctor.'

He gave the address of the hotel. Then said, 'No, you need to come over right now … Yeah, I know we can't take your car … Get someone else to nick one and bring it over to us. We don't need a driver, just a car, tell them. But get yourself over here in a hurry.'

He was being optimistic. Glass certainly couldn't drive. His arm was all stiff now. Not to mention his busted hand. And Mafia couldn't see. Between them they had the necessary working body parts, but individually they weren't up to much.

After Mafia hung up, Glass said, 'That was nice.'

'What was?'

'Calling me your friend.'

'I'm trying to save your arse here,' Mafia said. 'You think I'd call you a screw?'

Glass left it for a minute. Then he said, 'So is this just a case of you needing a hostage? Or would you want me alive anyway?'

'You're such a fucking kid.' Mafia didn't say anything else for a while. Contented himself with stroking the ribbed grip of the gun.

Glass didn't disturb him. He was right. Glass was a fucking kid.

So he'd had a sheltered upbringing. Grew up with his mum and big sister, Hazel. Never knew his dad. Occasional blokes, sure, but only one who lasted any length of time. He was okay, but they never really clicked, him and Glass.

Anyway, Glass met Lorna, first woman he ever fell for, when he was working a summer job in her dad's bakery, saving for university. Back then, before her dad lost the business, she was smart and scary and sexy and confident of what she was doing between the sheets. They'd only been going out for three months when she got pregnant.

'How?' he'd asked her.

'How do you think?'

'But you're on the pill or something,' he said. 'Aren't you?'

They'd never spoken about it. He'd just assumed.

'No,' she said.

'But,' he said, trying to get his head round what he was hearing, 'but you must have been taking some kind of precaution.'

'Why?'

'Cause otherwise … you know,
this
was going to happen.'

'You think I don't want to be pregnant?'

'I — I don't … do you?'

'Yes. Absolutely. I love it. I want a family. Don't you? Isn't that the whole point of a relationship?'

He wasn't sure. Was it? He'd never thought beyond the sex. 'You could have asked.'

'I could have, yes.'

'It would have been polite.'

She laughed. 'It would have. I'm sorry. Would you have said yes?'

'I don't want to be a father. I'm too young.'

'You'll be a great dad. Anyway, too late for regrets.'

He left school, took a temporary job at the bakery till he found something better, moved out of his mum's and in with Lorna.

Hazel wasn't happy. Not that he'd left Mum on her own. No, Hazel had long gone herself. Met an American lawyer, got married, moved to
Boston
. Been trying to have a family ever since.

And here was her little brother impregnating his girlfriend at fifty yards. No, his sister wasn't happy. She threatened to visit to give him a talking to, but he told her to stay away.

In those days they'd got on well, him and Lorna, in their little flat above the bakery. And he wouldn't have missed out on Caitlin for the world.

His mum died two years later. Pancreatic cancer. At least she got to see her granddaughter before she went. Hazel didn't appear for the funeral and Glass hadn't seen her since. She might as well not exist.

God, he wanted to be home right now with the only family he had left, curled up in bed, Lorna one side of him, Caitlin the other, sneaking into the bed and placing the soles of her cold little feet on his shins, complaining about his hairy legs.