Slammer (28 page)

'Mafia?' Glass yelled.

'He's not going to help you.' Watt bent down in front of Glass, shone the torch at him.

Glass dragged his gaze away. Saw a half-empty bucket of water by his feet. A coil of rope.

'Let me ask you something, Nick,' Watt said. 'Did you kill Caesar?'

Jesus fuck. He knew. Mafia must have told him.
Fuck
.

Glass pulled against the ropes binding his wrists. No give at all. Just set his shoulder on fire again. Must've been out long enough for the painkillers to have worn off.

'That looks like a guilty reaction,' Watt said. 'Or is it just fear?'

Then Glass realised that Mafia couldn't have told him. If he had, Watt wouldn't need to ask. Glass yelled: 'Fuck you, you piece of shit.'

'Not so loud,' Watt said. 'The neighbours might hear.' He laughed at his own joke. They both knew there weren't any neighbours.

Glass strained again. The ropes dug into his skin.

'You're going to tell me the truth, Nick.' Watt shone the torch on his own face. 'See how serious I am?' He paused, no trace of a smile. 'The truth. Or you die.'

Glass felt as if the bones in his ribcage were contracting with each breath. They were going to crush his heart. He needed something to calm himself. More painkillers. No chance he'd get to them. 'I swear I'll kill you,' Glass said, hoping to release some of the pressure inside him.

'Oh, right.' Watt angled the torch back at him. 'And how will you do that?'

Glass planted his feet on the floor, tensed. He didn't plan it. Just seemed the right thing to do. He lurched forward and up. Hoping to get lucky, smash his head under the bastard's chin.

Watt saw it coming and swerved.

Glass lost his balance, crashed onto his side. He lay there gasping, staring up at Watt, pain searing through his shoulder. Not a lot of give under the plastic sheet. He'd kick-started the pain in his finger too.

Watt booted him in the mouth.

Blood spurted from Glass's lip, burst onto his tongue. He spat.

Watt's foot moved again. Glass squeezed his eyes shut, but the second kick didn't come. When he opened his eyes again, he saw that Watt had stepped over him and was around the side, one hand on the back of the chair, the other grabbing a leg.

Watt eased the chair onto its back. 'I heard someone cut Caesar,' he said. 'Mutilated him.'

Glass said, his voice unsteady, 'I wouldn't know.'

'Chopped off his fingers.'

'Well.' Glass swallowed. 'Is that right?'

'Why would someone do that?'

'Maybe they just wanted one.' What was he saying?

Watt nodded. 'They just wanted one. That's fine. It's okay to take one if you just want one, is it?'

'Caesar didn't need it.'

'The fuck are you talking about?'

'He didn't need it. If he was dead.'

'But
you
did?'

'I didn't say I took it.'

'So what's this?' Watt held something under the torch.

Glass squinted. Watt had found Caesar's severed finger. 'That's mine,' Glass said.

'I don't think so.'

'Take my glove off.'

'Don't be stupid.'

'Take it off.'

There must have been something in Glass's voice, because Watt leaned over and touched the index finger of the glove. Then he grabbed hold of it and pulled. The glove slid off.

'See?'

'Well, well,' Watt said. 'Full of surprises. That must have stung. Who did it?'

'I don't remember. But I think it was me.'

'Was that before you killed Caesar or after?'

Glass said nothing.

'You don't want to talk. I tell you, though, I'm glad we had this little chat. Now I know that if I want a finger, you think it's okay to take one.'

'I didn't say that.' Glass balled his fists, tucking his fingers out of sight. Pain shot through the stump, made him gasp.

'You did. Anyway, relax. Did I say I'd take
yours
?'

What was the sick fuck planning? Cutting off one of Mafia's? 'Take it,' Glass said.

'You're a bit short.'

'Take mine,' Glass said. 'Please.'

'Let me get this right,' Watt said. 'You're begging me to cut off one of your fingers?'

Glass was silent for a second, then whispered: 'Yes.'

'Well, how can I refuse? Lucky I brought my knife with me. Hang on.' Watt disappeared into the shadows, returned seconds later, looming over Glass with the light shining on a steak knife. 'Think it's sharp enough?'

*

Glass screamed because he remembered the pain from the first time.

He remembered being here before. Not when he bought the gun from Mad Will. Not later during one of the drug pick-ups. No, he remembered being here in this room, tied to this chair. No, maybe it wasn't here. He remembered being at home.

Yes, Watt barged into the bedroom. Barged into the bedroom, right. He had a knife. Watt held Glass down, held him down, yes, flattened his finger against the floor, that's right, yes.

Brought the blade down.

There was a smell too. A sour smell. Can't forget that smell.

When the remembered pain got more than he could endure, Riddell said, 'It's good to remember.'

'It's agony.'

'It's your agony.'

Glass said, 'This isn't the worst part.'

'It's all in the past.'

'That's not true. I'm here now.'

'Who's there with you?'

'Me, Mafia, Watt.'

'Are you sure?'

'Concentrate,' Watt said. 'Does it hurt? Does it hurt? Does it? Did it hurt Caesar?'

Glass didn't answer.

'Answer me, you fucker, or I'll do it.'

*

He came round again to another bucket of water, light shining in his eyes.

His finger throbbed deep in the bone. The memory hadn't faded.

Watt must have set the chair upright cause Glass could feel a solid surface beneath his feet.

He looked down at his finger. Watt had ripped off the bandage before he hammered the handle of the knife down on the stump. It was bleeding again. Glass gagged. His mouth filled with sick. The acid bit into his cut lip. He spat, aimed for Watt's shoe, but missed.

Watt moved the beam away from Glass and Glass saw that he had the gun in his hand now, the knife gone.

Glass tried to see if Mafia was okay but he couldn't make out a thing. He wouldn't put it past Watt to do something to his brother while he was unconscious. 'Do what you want to me,' Glass said. 'Just don't hurt Mafia.'

'What does he have to do with it?'

'Nothing,' Glass said. 'I swear it wasn't him.'

'You really have a thing about him, don't you? What are you, queer after all? Surprised you have a kid.'

Glass didn't want him talking about Caitlin.

'Lovely little girl,' Watt said.

Stop it
.

'I'm very fond of her.'

'You fucking paedo,' Glass yelled. 'Fucking beast. Fucking stoat bastard.'

'Don't call me that, Nick, it's not nice.'

'You think Caesar would be proud of you? You think? He'd fucking gut you, you nonce cunt.'

'Look,' Watt said. 'I may be many things, but I'm no paedo. I do like Lorna, though, in that special way. Might have some fun with her later if you don't mind. Or even if you do. Particularly if you do.'

'They're not a part of this. For God's sake, leave them alone.'

'You're a lucky man.' The soles of Watt's shoes scuffed the plastic sheet as he walked up and down. 'You should treasure them.'

'I'm begging you,' Glass said. 'Please.'

'I'm a reasonable kind of guy,' Watt carried on. 'But I'm wondering if you are. Now let's look at this rationally.' He paced another couple of steps away from Glass, turned to face him. 'Someone shot Caesar to death. With this gun. Which is yours, so Mad Will told me before he fucked off home to his bed. Course, I recognise it myself and don't need that fucker's help. Will tries to be friends with everybody, and that's no way for a man to live. I don't think he'd have told me about you if I hadn't heard myself, you know. So don't take it to heart. He only brought you here because he knew what I'd do to him if he didn't. Anyway, this person who killed Caesar with your gun, they killed Horse and Jasmine too. But I'll be honest, I didn't much give a shit about those two. Caesar, though, he was like kin to me.' He paused. 'Unlike my actual blood brother. Anyway, if you could just convince me that you weren't responsible for Caesar's murder, then we can all get on with our lives. But if you did kill Caesar, then you'll have to get what you deserve.' He ducked down till he was at eye level with Glass, turned the torch off. His voice came out of the darkness right next to Glass's ear. 'Did you kill Caesar, Nick?'

Glass's heart thumped so hard he felt his shoulders lift. He said nothing. The silence stretched and his heartbeat grew faster and louder.

Finally Watt straightened up, switched the torch back on. 'I'm sure you wouldn't want any harm to come to your family.'

'They're innocent.' Glass clenched his teeth to deal with the pain. Imagined knocking back a mouthful of painkillers. But that made it worse. 'They have nothing to do with this. Me and Caesar, we were involved in all this shit. It's our fault.'

'Caesar's fault? You saying he deserved to die?'

'Fucking right he did.'

Watt's eyes narrowed. 'You shot him?'

'I didn't say that.'

'Near as fucking damnit.'

Glass shook his head.

'So it was Darko, then?'

It'd be so easy to lay all the blame on Darko. 'I didn't say that either.'

'It was one of you.' Watt stared at him. 'I know that much.'

'How do you know?'

'Someone told me.'

And Glass knew who that someone was. The machete in Caesar's peter had given it away. Maybe Watt would admit what Caesar wouldn't. 'Ross,' Glass said. Not a question.

'Very good.'