Slammer (26 page)

But he was in a hotel room watching Mafia playing with his gun.

'Can you leave that alone?' Glass asked him. 'You're making me nervous.'

Mafia sighed. Tapped his fingers on the desk.

Glass had to talk to him. Couldn't contain this. There were things he had to know. 'What's going on?' he said.

Mafia angled his head away from him. 'Got a doctor coming. Getting a car.'

'No,' Glass said. 'With us. Now. Am I a hostage? I don't know whether this is for real or not.'

'Your arm hurt?'

'Not as bad, but yeah, I can feel it.'

'Then it's real. Pain is real. Maybe the only thing that is.'

'But you haven't changed, have you? You're still the person I knew inside?'

'We change all the time, all of us. We're different people from the people we were only seconds ago.'

'I don't think people change much.'

'Depends what happens to them.'

'You saying I
am
a hostage?'

Mafia didn't reply.

'You wouldn't shoot me. Back at the Hilton, you gave Darko the gun.'

'Being practical. Remember, I can't see.'

'But if you could, you wouldn't have used it.'

'We'd escaped from our cell. With a prison officer. Who knows what I'd have done if I'd had the gun.'

'What if I leave now?'

'You'll die, most likely.' Mafia looked over at him. 'I wouldn't need to shoot you.'

'Fuck it, I'm just trying to understand.' Glass breathed out. 'I don't understand why Darko shot me.'

'I'm sorry about that.'

'I don't want an apology. I'd just like an explanation.'

'No, I'm sorry you don't understand.' Mafia took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, one after the other, with the heel of his hand. 'Seemed like the right thing to do. Show the fuckers we were serious.'

'And you didn't care about the cost?'

'What cost?'

'To me, Mafia. The fact that he could have killed me.'

He put his shades back on. 'He's not that bad a shot.'

'But I might die. Still. You just said so.'

'Only if you run. There's a doctor on his way. Stay here, you'll be fine.'

'That's not a lot of comfort.'

'You want comfort, you're talking to the wrong person.'

They sat in silence, listening to the hum of the electricity.

Glass said, 'You're wrong.'

Mafia sighed. 'About what?'

'About comforting me. What you said before. It means a lot.'

'You ever shut up?'

'I'm just saying. When you said I was your friend.'

'Glass, I'm so fucking friendly I'll suck your cock if it'll stop you getting all fucking sentimental. And if you don't fucking shut up, I
will
put a bullet in you.'

Glass shut up.

He shut up for quite some time. In fact, they didn't speak again till Mad Will arrived.

*

When they heard the car pull up, Glass raised his head, held it there as best he could. Half expected Mafia to go to the window, look out through a gap in the curtain. Then he remembered that Mafia couldn't see.

'Can you make it to the door okay?' Glass said.

'Jesus Christ, I'm not fucking blind.' Mafia picked up the gun, started to move in the direction of the door, paused after a couple of steps. 'Anything on the floor?' he asked.

'Path's clear.'

He made it to the door just as there was a knock on it. He fumbled for the handle, found it, opened the door a crack. 'Yeah?'

'Long time no see.'

'Tell me about it.' Mafia opened the door. 'How are things?'

And that's when Glass saw Mad Will and thought for a minute that his bullet wound was worse than he'd realised, that the blood loss and drugs were making him hallucinate. But, no, it wasn't just the familiar chubby face and big teeth: the voice sounded like Mad Will's too.

Glass let his head fall back onto the pillow, eased his neck muscles which were beginning to tire with the strain of keeping his head raised.

What was Mad Will doing here?

 
'Ah, the patient.' Mad Will walked over to Glass, stubbed his roll-up out in an ashtray. 'We've got to stop meeting like this.'

Glass grunted.

'So what happened this time?'

Glass looked at Mafia. He was wiping his glasses on his sleeve, the pupils of his eyes darting around. 'An accident,' Glass said.

Mad Will said, 'We'll need to get you sitting up.'

'I've tried. Can't get the leverage.'

'Don't worry,' Mad Will said. 'I'll help.'

'Okay,' Glass said. 'But you can't put pressure on my shoulder.'

'Jesus,' Mad Will said. 'Who's the doctor?'

'I dunno,' Glass said. 'Are you really a doctor?'

'Well, yes,' Mad Will said. 'At least, I trained to be one.'

Just what Glass needed. A quack. 'You know what you're doing?'

'Take it easy,' Mad Will said. 'I'm the best unqualified doctor in
Edinburgh
. Didn't I take care of your finger?'

Mad Will knew about his finger. 'You did that?'

'I did what I could. But it was a mess after you'd finished with it. Any of those painkillers left?'

'A couple.'

'Lucky I brought some more, then. So let's see what you've done to yourself this time.'

And he did somehow manage to raise Glass into a sitting position.

Mad Will fluffed up the pillows from both beds and shoved them behind Glass's back. He removed the cloth from Glass's shoulder and inspected the wound. 'Gunshot,' he said, after a bit.

'No flies on you,' Glass said.

'Didn't I tell you no good would come from playing with guns?'

'I don't need a lecture. How does it look?'

'Pretty clean,' Mad Will said. 'Punched right through the flesh. No great harm done. Not much for me to do other than clean it up, stitch you up and then we can sit back, enjoy a toke together.'

'Can't do,' Mafia said. 'Got to stay sharp. And then get moving.'

'You have to relax, man.'

'Fuck that,' Mafia said. 'I've been relaxing for years.'

'You need antibiotics, though,' Mad Will said to Glass. 'I already warned you, you're going to get an infection.'

'You did?'

'You don't remember?'

'Not a thing.'

'Trauma,' Mad Will said. 'That and the drugs. You were so out of your face I wouldn't have been surprised if you'd thought I'd done it.'

'Did you?'

'Very funny,' Mad Will said. 'You told me it was all your own work.'

Glass shook his head. 'It's all a blank.'

'You really need to go to hospital.'

'Can't.'

'No,' Mafia said. 'He's staying with me. The fuck are you pair talking about anyway?'

'Yeah, what happened?' Glass asked Mad Will.

Mad Will stared at him, eyes narrowed. 'If you don't know, how should I?'

'My finger, I mean. I don't remember.'

'I only know what you were rambling about yesterday.'

'What was that?'

'An accident. Another one.'

Yeah, an accident. Sounded possible.

'Chopping onions.'

Shit. Maybe not. 'Was Lorna there? At my house?'

'Didn't see her. You don't remember
any
of it?'

'Nothing. Why did I phone you? I didn't know you were a doctor.'

'You needed something for the pain.'

'Could have found something in my stash.'

'I'm pretty sure you tried.'

Glass nodded. 'Did you … did you cauterise the wound?'

'Shit, no. That's barbaric. You did that yourself.'

Glass winced at the thought. Glad he couldn't remember doing it. 'Did you find my finger? The part I cut off?'

'Said you'd got rid of it. Put it somewhere it couldn't do any harm.'

Glass wondered if he'd dropped it in the bin, thrown it outside, flushed it down the toilet. He had no idea.

'I tried to take you to the hospital,' Mad Will said. 'You weren't having it. Threatened to shoot me. So I just made you as comfortable as I could. Gave you some painkillers, and something to knock you out. Want me to take another look at it?'

'Thanks,' Glass said. 'And there's one more thing you could do.' He looked around, said to Mafia, 'Where's my jacket? There's something I need in the pocket.'

'Darko's got your wallet,' Mafia said. 'Had to use one of your cards at reception.'

'That's okay,' Glass said. 'I had something else in mind.'

*

At first Glass's arm ached under the tight new bandage and his finger throbbed in its new dressing but Mad Will told him to up the dosage on the pills if he needed to and Glass had done just that. Now there was only a stiffness and an itching. He didn't want to fall asleep, but he was all out of speed. He hoped the adrenaline from the night's events would help counter any soporific effects of the painkillers.

Mad Will had refused to sew Caesar's finger onto Glass's stump. He'd said too long had passed and then looked confused and asked Glass where he'd found the finger. And when Glass explained that it wasn't his finger, Mad Will just shook his head sadly.

Yeah, Glass knew it made no sense. But he was missing a part of himself and he wanted it back, even if it was dead and belonged to someone else.

'Whose finger is it?' Mad Will had asked.

'Doesn't matter,' Glass said. 'He doesn't need it.' But that made no difference to Mad Will. He wouldn't do the surgery.

'So what's the plan now?' Mad Will said.

'Someone's bringing transport, right?' Mafia said.

'Couldn't get anyone else this time of night,' Mad Will said. 'So the only car we've got is mine. How did you get here?'