The Evil And The Pure (51 page)

“They won’t harm him. We’ll tell them he was an unwilling –”

“No,”
Tulip said, louder this time. Clint flicked his gaze at them, irritated, then looked away again.

“Keep your voice down,
” Kevin growled.

“Only if you agreee not to involve Fr Sebastian.”

“But it’s safer this way. We’ll create a diversion. It will be easier to slip free.” Tulip stared at him stonily. He sighed and lowered his gaze. “OK, we’ll skip that part. But the rest of it’s good. McCaskey said Bushinsky agreed to let us all leave the country – part of their deal – so the station probably won’t be watched.”

“If it is?”

He shrugged. “We’ll deal with that later.”

Silence settled upon them
. Minutes ticked by slowly, Clint checking his watch frequently, muttering, “Where is he? Where is he?” Kevin shivering but not from the cold, half-hoping McCaskey wouldn’t return, half-praying he would.

S
ixteen minutes after he left them, McCaskey huffed back into view, hurrying towards them, face hidden by the scarf and hat, shoulders hunched over. He strode to the bench and tugged down his scarf. “Big Sandy’s there, alone. It looks safe.” He hauled Tulip to her feet and pressed a notebook into her hands. “Stick that inside yer jacket. Keep it safe. Super fucking safe, right?”

“That’s the formula?” Clint sighed dreamily. “Can I see it?”

“No,” McCaskey said. “That’d be a waste of time.” His eyes were on Tulip. Her hands hadn’t moved.

“I don’t want to hand this over,” she said. Looked up at McCaskey defiantly. “
I know what it will do to people. I don’t want to help deliver it into the world.”

McCaskey blinked dumbly. Clint laughed. Kevin grabbed Tulip’s elbow and s
queezed hard. “Don’t fuck about,” he snarled. “Take it and do what you’re told.”

“But –”

“You don’t have to take it,” Clint interrupted. “We can use Kuh-Kevin for that part. But Big Sandy might take him huh-hostage and torture him for information. Big Sandy’s soft on you, so I doubt he’ll try anything. Of cuh-course, if you want to send in Kevin and let him take his chances…”

Tulip shot daggers at Clint with her eyes. Stuck the notebook inside her jacket. Stood and took off at a fast pace for Westminster Bridge. The men smiled at each other –
women!
– then set off after her, Gawl catching her up in a couple of long strides, Kevin and Clint just behind.

Up the steps and across
Westminster Bridge, stopping at the top of the steps leading down to the Southbank. County Hall ancient and stately on their right. The London Eye impossibly tall and gleaming dead ahead. Tourists milling around, not many, but more than Kevin expected on such an overcast December day. At the end of County Hall, where the ticket office for the Eye was situated, Big Sandy, taller than anyone else, a stand-out even from their distant vantage point.

Kevin’s
gaze passed from Big Sandy to the tourists and street hawkers. Some of them could be the Bush’s men, disguised, armed, waiting. Clint and Gawl thinking the same thing, judging, calculating. Tulip’s gaze fixed on Big Sandy. He looked lonely, towering over everybody, dwarfed only by the buildings and the Eye.

Gawl snapped
to attention. Nudged Kevin. “Go t’ him. Bring him over. Stop ten or twelve feet from the foot of the steps. Me and Clint’ll come down for the money when he gets here.”

Kevin nodded nervously.
It was what they’d agreed, but now that the moment was upon them he wished he’d argued for Clint to make first contact, uneasy at the thought of leaving Tulip by herself while they made the transaction. But too late to debate the issue now. He gave Tulip a final hug, kissed her chastely, whispered, “I love you,” and advanced down the steps, past the tourists and vendors, towards Big Sandy.

The giant spotted him coming. He stiffened, took a step
forward, stopped. He stared over Kevin’s head, scanning the faces behind him until he located the two men and Tulip on the bridge. Recognised Clint from here. McCaskey’s face hidden behind a scarf, hat pulled low over his eyes.

Kevin stopped a couple of feet short of Big Sandy.
Sweating. Shaking. Vomit rising. He forced it down and smiled pathetically. “Hi.”

Big Sandy impassive. “If
anything happens to Tulip, I’ll kill you.”

Kevin flinched, then firmed. “I’m doing this for her. We weren’t part of the original plan. McCaskey and Clint used us.”

“Are they using you now?” Big Sandy asked sceptically.

“No,” Kevin admitted. “I made them cut us in. I need the money to look after Tulip.”

“McCaskey won’t give you anything.”

“I’ll make him. I have everything
under control.” Kevin licked his lips and glanced at the bags which Big Sandy was carrying. “Is it all there?”

“Yes.” Big Sandy offered one of the bags to him.

Kevin stuck his hands behind his back. “Not to me,” he cried as if he was being offered a poisonous snake. Caught himself and grinned sheepishly. “McCaskey and Clint will take the bags. Clint will stay with you while McCaskey and I check the money. Then Tulip will bring the formula to you. You let her and Clint leave. Then we’re through.”

Except for letting Clint leave
, Big Sandy thought, but said out loud, “OK.” He lowered the bag. “Lead the way.”

Face hidden behind Fr Seb’s hat and scarf, Gawl circled around the back of County Hall, slipped past Big Sandy in front of the London Eye ticket office, stopped to examine a rack of postcards. Glancing left and right as he pretended to peruse the cards, studying Big Sandy’s eyes in case he looked towards a partner. If Gawl caught the scent of betrayal he’d beat a quick retreat, screw the plan, get out with his life and forget the money. But Big Sandy appeared to be alone, gaze lingering on various faces in the crowd, but casually, normal curiosity. A bit of red in his cheeks. Might have been from the cold, but Gawl thought it was more likely from walking fast once he got the call, to make sure he got here on time.

Gawl gave it a few minutes
to be as certain as he could, then returned to the steps and climbed up to Westminster Bridge, paused at the top for a final once-over, hurried to fetch the others from in front of St Thomas’.

Minutes laters, back at the top of the steps, he stared numbly at Big Sandy as Kevin led
the giant towards them. Big Sandy lugged the bags as if they were empty, but as he got closer Gawl could see the whiteness of his knuckles — he wouldn’t be clutching empty bags that tightly. Gawl shivered as he realised they’d done it. Until this moment he hadn’t truly believed in the dream. Deep inside he was sure the deal would blow up in their faces, the Bush would set a trap, Big Sandy would come packing guns instead of crisp notes. Now, as he watched the pair draw closer, clouds of serene calm filled him from the inside out. It was all going as planned. In a few minutes he’d be rich, set for a magnificent retirement, free to live out the rest of his life in unimaginable style.

Beside
him, Clint less confident, twisting left and right, looking over his shoulder, expecting the Bush’s men to close on them from all sides. Gawl spared Clint a pitiful glance – no place for him in Gawl’s triumph – then fixed on Big Sandy and Kevin Tyne, rocking softly on the balls of his feet, eager to make the handover, abandon Clint, get back to the church, count his money, plot his betrayal of Kevin and Tulip.

Kevin came to a halt at the arranged mark
. Big Sandy stopped beside him, asked Kevin should he stay here or climb the steps. Kevin told him to stay then stared at Gawl pleadingly, wanting to be relieved of his wretched responsibility. Gawl chuckled at Kevin’s misery and prolonged it for a few seconds more before turning to Tulip. “Ye’re clear about the plan?”

“I wait here,” Tulip said
. “You and Clint go down and get the money. You and Kevin come back and check it. I go down with the notebook and give it to Sandy. I come back up with Clint.”

“Aye.” Clint was staring at Big Sandy, mouth agape. Gawl pressed his lips close to Tulip’s ear. “Think only of yerself when ye’re returning. Don’t worry about Clint.”

“What do you mean?” Tulip frowned.

Gawl’s only answer was
a wink. He clapped Clint hard on the back and the young dealer almost screamed. “Are ye ready?”

A shaking
Clint faced Gawl and nodded. “Yuh-yuh-yuh-yes.”

“Calm down,” Gawl said softly. “The hard bit’s behind us. Don’t lose yer nerve in front
of Big Sandy.”

“Buh-buh-Big Suh-Sandy,” Clint croaked. “I duh-don’t want to fuh-face him. Can’t yuh-you go down aluh-aluh-alone?”

“If I go alone, I’ll take the money alone,” Gawl said coolly. “Ye want t’ give up yer half? Fine. Walk now. I won’t stop ye.” Clint blinked at the thought of walking away from a million pounds. Grinned sheepishly. Gawl smiled encouragingly, a Judas smile. Clapped his back again, soft this time. “Let’s go collect our prize.”

They started down the steps, leaving Tulip alone on the bridge, watching sadly. Big Sandy spread his legs as they came, planting his feet firm, bags held by his sides. Kevin took a step away fr
om the giant, fingers twitching, a crazy image of Big Sandy dropping the bags, drawing guns, opening fire like a Western bandito. But Big Sandy didn’t even blink. Gawl and Clint kept coming. The image passed and Kevin grinned with embarrassment, tried to stop shaking.

Gawl felt like a god as he descended. Everything in his life seemed to have been preparation for this moment. The beatings he’d endured, hunger,
prison, exile, hopelessness… They had a purpose now, to make this moment all the sweeter. He was experiencing something he’d never known before — happiness. He’d thrilled to the rush of alcohol, sex, murder and more. But never simple, genuine happiness. He was startled to find soft tears in his eyes and quickly blinked them away, dangerous to weaken now. Celebrate later, when he had the money and was out of the country.

Gawl h
it the path. Stopped. Took a deep breath, grinning behind his scarf at Big Sandy, who stared back blankly. Another new sensation — pride. This was all his doing. It had started with Clint and Phials, but he’d taken them, directed them, worked the situation around to his own gain. Not many men went up against the likes of Dave Bushinsky and profited. So many ways to blow it, so many mistakes he could have made, so many pitfalls. But he’d avoided them all, kept a cool head, made the right calls, surprising even himself with his daring, greed and ingenuity.

Clint looked
at Gawl nervously, wondering why his partner was standing there instead of moving forward to conclude the swap. Kevin nervous too, couldn’t see Gawl’s face, didn’t know what he was thinking, fearing the worst. Big Sandy took no notice, just stood, waiting, in no rush.

Gawl sighed.
He’d savoured the moment, now it was time to close the deal, take his money, ride off into the sunset. He stepped forward, taking off the hat and unwrapping the scarf, wanting to face Big Sandy unmasked, as an equal, not a hidden, cowering underling. “Gawl McCaskey. Pleased t’ meet ye.”

“
Get stuffed,” Big Sandy said and held out the bags. Clint snatched for the bag in Big Sandy’s left hand, wrestled it from him, clutched it to his chest, eyes ablaze. Gawl slower to react. He smiled broadly at Big Sandy, reached up and scratched the jagged top half of his left ear, acting bored. Then, as if it was a chore, he stuck out his hands, expecting Big Sandy to lay the bag into his palms.

Big Sandy didn’t react. He was staring at Gawl.

Gawl’s smile shook a little but held. “I’ll take that now,” he chuckled.

Big Sandy didn’t react. He was staring at Gawl.

Gawl’s smile slipped. He glanced sharply at Clint, rubbing his bag like a cat, unaware of anything else. Looked around, stomach lurching, expecting to see armed men storming towards him or making off with Tulip and the formula. But nobody was moving in for the kill, Big Sandy alone, Tulip on the bridge by herself. Gawl frowned at Big Sandy. “Give me the fucking bag,” he snapped.

Big Sandy didn’t react. He was staring at Gawl.

Kevin worried. Something was wrong. He tried to slide behind Clint, using him as cover, getting ready to run. Gawl grabbed him. “Stay where ye are.” Sweating and shaking, not sure what Big Sandy was playing at. He took hold of the bag and wrenched. Big Sandy let go and the bag shot into Gawl’s hands. He tightened his grip on it, smiling again, then squinted at Big Sandy, waiting for him to say something.

Big Sandy didn’t react. He was staring at Gawl.

“Well,” Gawl said uneasily, “it’s been sweet doing business with ye, even if ye seem a bit –”

Big Sandy’s hands s
naked forward. His fingers locked around Gawl’s throat. He squeezed.

Gawl caught off
-guard. He blinked dumbly as Big Sandy choked him. Kevin squealed, turned to run, crashed into Clint, slipped and fell. Clint realised something was wrong, looked up, saw Big Sandy’s fingers wrapped around Gawl’s throat. He gawped.