The Turning Tide (13 page)

He looked Rab over carefully. Yet again Billy had to give credit to whoever was running the lottery scam. The guy was a good choice for a public patsy. Good-looking enough. Average plus. Forgettable. They had done their job well. In a year no one would remember who this loser even was.

Much less miss him, if it came to that.

Billy stepped forward, pointing his finger. It came to rest in the middle of Rab’s chest. He gave a little push and the frightened man fell backwards into the sofa. ‘Have a seat.’

‘Sure, sure . . .’ Rab clutched at the upholstery. Seminole Billy saw him assessing the situation then deciding not to push it further for now. Good. It made life a lot simpler when people could weigh up their choices and choose not to do anything stupid.

That was one reason he had retired from knocking over small-time drug dealers for their stash and cash: fewer occupational hazards. Civilians were so much easier to manage. In general they perceived going to prison as an actual threat rather than a potential career move. Give or take the odd have-a-go-hero he hardly ever had to kerb anyone any more. These days he ended up torturing only three, maybe four people a year, max.

‘Do you want something to drink?’ Rab asked. ‘A tea or coffee?’

Billy looked over at Buster, eyebrows raised in amusement. ‘Do we want a hot drink?’ Buster shrugged. ‘Why not. Get us a drink.’

‘Erykah, can you put on the kettle?’ Rab yelled through to the kitchen. ‘We have visitors.’

And then the woman walked into the room.

For Billy it was as though a moment in time had slowed down. The light through the windows caught her curls in a glowing corona. She plucked a pair of reading glasses off her nose and hooked them in the front of her jumper. The glasses pulled the neck down to reveal a hint of cleavage. This chick may have been a vintage model, and Seminole Billy was not easily impressed, but she was a grade-A, prime cut, head turner.

There was something else about the woman. Her body said
fuck me
and her eyes said
screw you
. He knew that look well. It was the look of someone who was done putting up with shit. He had seen that look in the eyes of men doing hard time. The anticipation of a big cat waiting for its minder to get sloppy one day and leave the lock off the cage. A little wary, sure, but ready to leap.

The look of a woman whose compliance with the scheme, unlike her husband’s, was not to be taken for granted.

Seminole Billy had a feeling this job was about to get a lot more interesting.

: 11 :

Erykah had been at the kitchen table looking out the French doors to the back garden. A potted hothouse plant left behind by the photographers in an attempt to cheer the scene was giving up its last shrivelled petals to the cold. Was it too early for whisky? Rab was knocking around in the front, talking to someone at the door. More reporters? At this hour? No, it wasn’t too early for a drink.

She flipped through the pages of the book her mum had given her for her birthday all those years ago.
Magic And Wonder!
the cover promised,
99 real tricks, brain teasers, and mysteries of the Ancient World
. The black-and-white photos illustrating the book were dated even back then. The magic tricks featured men with beards and women with winged and frosted hair, in shiny lamé costumes evoking Egyptian dress, eyes outlined in thick kohl. With fixed smiles they demonstrated the steps for making a penny disappear, picking a simple lock, a card trick that relied on memorising a grid of numbers. It reminded Erykah of a saying her old professor Leonie Mandelkern was fond of: any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. Leonie’s speciality was code breaking. A discipline based on simple principles, with intensely complicated iterations. It looked like magic to many but was in fact a rigorous process of testing weaknesses in a code. All it took was time, patience, and the right tools. If someone is able to do something most others can’t, they are viewed with a mix of wonder and suspicion.

When Erykah was small her mum would march her in front of guests to spell words and do sums. Such a charming, clever daughter. Rainbow became less and less interested in Erykah as she got older and the sums turned into computer code and other feats not easily explained. She wasn’t a dog doing tricks any more. She was a teenager splicing outside phone lines so she could get dial-up Internet access when their landline was disconnected for non-payment, online typing messages to people about who knew what all day. She was a problem.

It doesn’t take much to tip from wonder into horror. Make a rabbit disappear and you’re a hero; bring a ghost into the room and you’re a monster.

Erykah watched the branches overhanging the garden shifting in the breeze and rubbed at her wrists where Rab had grabbed her. As she suspected they had come up with bruises, but the long sleeves of her clinging cashmere jumper covered the marks.

Rab’s voice, pitched high, cut through her thoughts. ‘Erykah? We have guests,’ he called from the front room.

‘I thought you said no more reporters?’ Erykah called back. ‘And we’re out of tea.’ She popped her head out to see who was there. Her hackles went up immediately: two men, one black and one white, neither of whom looked like they had working familiarity with interview notebooks or shorthand.

There was something about the incongruity of the pair that made her instantly suspicious. The black man was standing by the door and blocked the exit. He had a scar across his face, the kind one might acquire in prison, or from being bottled in a club. From the height and heft of him she had no doubt that whoever had done it had got off worse.

But it was the other man who was far more menacing. His old jeans had a razor-sharp crease, the kind that might have been ironed in over a decade or longer. His eyes had the flat, impenetrable sheen of someone who was not simply tough, but who genuinely did not care about his or anyone else’s safety. It was an expression that was burned on her nervous system and made the hair of her neck stand on end. Her old self Rikki Barnes nodded in recognition. She knew these men were here to commit a crime, plain and simple.

‘S’all right, Buster here is more of a coffee man.’ The white guy stood up and pulled his face into a grotesque smile. ‘I’m Seminole Billy. And you are . . . ?’

Erykah looked at the hand he extended in her direction. Seminole? He didn’t much look it. ‘I am Mrs Macdonald.’

‘I see,’ Seminole Billy said. ‘And what is it you do? Apart from brighten up the place considerably.’

‘What do I do?’ Erykah said. ‘I manage the household.’

‘Like a housewife?’ Buster asked.

She squinted at Buster. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t place the face. Old neighbourhood? No, he was too young. ‘Don’t be silly. Housewives hoover. I’m more . . . semi-retired.’

Seminole Billy nodded. ‘You look well on it,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you sit down?’ His accent stretched the words in some places and chopped them up in others, so the sentence sounded more to her like
Whaa down choo sit dawn
.

Erykah sat next to her husband, careful to leave space between them. She tucked her wrists between her knees without thinking about it. Billy planted his skinny arse in an oversized chair across from them. Buster remained standing by the door.

‘You’re American, aren’t you,’ she said.

‘You’re observant.’

He had some sort of mark on his hand, maybe a tattoo. Erykah’s eyes caught the glinting charms on his jewellery. ‘Is that bracelet Indian?’

‘Sure is. Seminole. Florida, not Oklahoma.’

‘Like Burt Reynolds.’

‘Burt’s family were Cherokee,’ Billy said. ‘Not that anyone’s keeping track.’

‘You don’t look Indian,’ Rab said.

‘What are you, the tribal police?’ Billy said.

Buster rolled his eyes and blew out his bottom lip. ‘Anyway, thing is, we was coming by to congratulate you on your lottery win,’ Buster said. Seminole Billy nodded in agreement. ‘And to discuss how your payment will be distributed.’

Erykah narrowed her eyes. ‘Is this some kind of robbery?’

‘No-o-o-o,’ Seminole Billy said. When he crossed his legs at the knee she noticed the cowboy boots: black snakeskin, with shiny tips. She had the sudden mental image of the tips of those boots covered in blood. ‘Robbery implies we’re taking something off you without your permission,’ he said. ‘What we got is more of a . . . gentleman’s agreement, if you will. We’re here for the cut your husband promised to hand over.’

‘What cut?’ Erykah said.

‘He didn’t tell you?’ Seminole Billy sucked in air in feigned surprise. ‘You see, what your husband may not have let on is the amazing windfall you won wasn’t as much a matter of pure luck as it may have seemed. You see, Mrs Macdonald – mind if I call you Erykah?’ She nodded. ‘Erykah, your husband agreed to win this so-called lottery in exchange for a generous donation to some very motivated investors who need to make sure the cash looks like a gift from the goodness of your hearts.’

‘It’s a fix,’ Buster added, in case Erykah was unclear as to the nature of the Big Billions Lottery.

Erykah closed her eyes and sighed, rubbing her forehead with her long fingers. She felt her face flushing with anger. ‘Of course it is,’ she said to no one in particular. Now things made sense. ‘You need to launder some money, and we’re the fronts.’

‘Smart girl,’ Seminole Billy said.

Erykah pursed her lips. ‘I turned forty years old last month,’ she said. ‘You can call me a smart woman.’

‘Fair enough,’ Billy said. ‘Woman. Me and Buster, we’re here to remind your husband of the contract he agreed and to make sure our mutual friends are able to collect.’

‘I should have known,’ she said. She turned to Rab. ‘And no bloody wonder you begged me to stay. If I had got that solicitor, you would be screwed in more ways than one.’ The sleeves of her jumper pulled back as she talked, revealing the fresh bruises around her wrists.

Rab avoided his wife’s glare. Instead he fixed his eyes on a blank part of the wall over Buster’s shoulder and tried to change the subject. ‘He’s the muscle, I take it?’ he asked.

‘I’m the muscle,’ Seminole Billy said. He looked at the marks on Erykah’s arms. His thin lips barely parted as he spoke. ‘Buster here’s just along for the ride.’

‘I can see his gun,’ Rab said, gesturing at Buster’s shoulder holster. ‘Where’s yours?’

Billy extracted a folding knife from the front pocket of his jeans. He flipped open the short, serrated blade and picked at the corners of his cuticles, working the tip under his short nails. ‘I do things to men that makes them wish I had been carrying a gun,’ he said.

‘You said something about a contract,’ Erykah said. ‘Did he sign anything?’ She turned to Rab. ‘Did you sign anything?’

‘It was a verbal contract,’ Seminole Billy said. He snapped the knife closed and pocketed it. ‘Equally as binding, I assure you.’

‘Enough,’ she said. Erykah pulled the reading glasses off her collar and perched them on the end of her nose. She stood up, brushed her hands down the front of her narrow trousers, and walked over to the liquor cabinet. ‘I hope you gentleman don’t mind, but this calls for something a little stronger than tea,’ she said. Her fingers lit on the tops of a dozen bottles before she selected the Ardbeg Uigeadail, smoky and sweet. She nodded at the two strangers. ‘Have one if you like.’

‘No thanks,’ Billy said. ‘Used to be a bourbon man, back in the day. Expensive stuff like you got would be wasted on me anyway.’

Buster started to get up but Billy shook a finger at him. ‘Not on working hours.’ Buster grumbled.

Erykah poured a belt of amber liquid into a crystal glass. ‘Breakfast of champions,’ she muttered and held the tumbler to eye level. The tidelines of where she swirled the liquor retreated slowly, like ocean tide from the sand. She swirled the glass again, releasing a fresh wave of subtly spicy aroma. ‘How the hell do you rig a lottery draw?’ She shook her head. ‘Weighted balls, something like that?’

‘Something like that,’ Seminole Billy said.

‘He’s that one who set the bomb off in Archway last year! I knew I recognised him,’ Rab blurted. Erykah shot him a look that she hoped he would – for the first time in their marriage – correctly interpret as meaning Shut Up, You Idiot.

‘How much are we talking about?’ Erykah asked. ‘I need numbers.’ Maybe there would be enough left to cover his debts and a divorce. The bag in the bedroom was still packed. She would be fine without Nicole, she was sure, though her stomach twisted at the thought. Whatever there had been between them was in the past tense now.

Seminole Billy smiled. Good, now here was someone who knew how to move a business deal forward. He reached into his jacket and extracted a cloth bag, folded over at the top with a lock. He slowly opened it and pulled out the contents. Bank books, jointly in their names, registered with an offshore bank. ‘Put simply, your husband and yourself are going to make a donation to a timely social and political campaign we have already nominated, as per his initial agreement. A one-off gift, photographs of your good selves handing over a giant cheque, and you won’t ever have to see us again.’

‘How much?’ Erykah said.

‘Let’s just say, if you were hoping to spend the rest of your days commuting between tropical islands in a private jet, you might be disappointed.’

‘I guess that’s just something I’ll have to learn to live without,’ she said. ‘Give me the bad news. No point beating around the bush.’

‘Nineteen mil. More, if the spirit so moves you.’

‘I’m sure I said eighteen,’ Rab mumbled.

Erykah was momentarily breathless. She picked up one of the bank books and flipped through the pristine pages. They were from a bank in the Caymans. So the money wouldn’t even be touching their accounts here, then.

‘And I’m sure if you search your no doubt flawless memory you’ll recall that wasn’t the deal,’ Seminole Billy said to Rab, and balled one hand inside the other. The skin over his knuckles was puckered with scars from countless fights.

Rab eyed the fists, but continued talking anyway. ‘Is there any chance we could renegotiate?’

‘Renegotiation is above my pay grade,’ Billy shook his head. ‘You made a deal, my associate and I are tasked with enforcing it.’

‘But this is a lot of money, and—’

Billy held up his hand, his scarred palm facing Rab. ‘Careful now,’ he said. ‘You appear to have mistaken me for somebody who gives a shit.’

‘There may be something in it for you,’ Rab said.

‘That so? Well, you’ve been warned.’ Seminole Billy reached out, lightning fast, and grabbed the wrist of the soft man’s right hand. Rab yelped. ‘Not so much fun when someone does it to you, is it?’ he said. ‘Been taking out some of that stress on the wife, son?’

‘It was only one time!’ Rab objected. ‘Erykah, tell them.’ He expected her to cover for him as usual. She said nothing.

‘So you admit it,’ Billy said, and looked at Buster. ‘Buster, you ever break a man’s wrist?’

Buster shrugged. ‘Only once. Not on purpose. It was incidental to the rest of the things I did to him.’

Billy nodded. ‘Yeah. It ain’t that easy to do, not without a lot of pressure,’ he said, and twisted Rab’s arm slightly. ‘A lot of pressure and maybe some breaking force.’

Rab looked at Billy, pleading. ‘Please, let me go. I can make a deal. I can make whatever deal you want.’

‘I’d say the chances of that happening are slim to none,’ Billy said. His other hand moved up, and held Rab’s fingers. ‘And Slim’s on a fucking diet. Fingers, now, that’s a lot easier than a wrist—’

‘Stop. Please! Erykah, do something!’ Rab shouted.

‘Shhhh,’ Billy said. ‘Now’s not the time to ask your wife for help.’ He twisted a little and there was an audible crack. A scream. Seminole Billy released his fingers and Rab dropped to the floor and writhed in pain.

Erykah’s eyes watered. But she didn’t leap to help her husband either. ‘You got something to say about this?’ Seminole Billy asked.

She shook her head. Rab was still moaning. Her mind was spinning with unanswered questions. Would they try to hurt her next? Would there be any money left? Could she get Nicole to take her back? Was there any way to turn the situation around – or at the very least, come out of it unharmed?

Billy nodded. ‘Good. In addition, me and Buster are gonna have to take our pay from your cut, not the charity’s. No offence. Helps to keep their paperwork clean. I’m sure you understand. We’ll be needing, oh, about fifty grand each as it happens. More, if we have to keep coming round here.’ He looked at Rab, who was curled up like a kicked puppy. ‘To keep up enforcement.’