Conman (38 page)

I had to smile. I couldn’t help it. The smile of the helpless.

“Maurice, the last thing I have time for is conning
you
.”

“Then I’ll see you in court on Monday,” he said.

“Three o’clock,” I said, heart hammering. “I promise.”

He gave me a sideways look and turned, taking a slow walk to his car. Clambering in, he wheeled around the debris and sped off with a
honk-honk.

10.05.

In a desperate flurry, I began to scatter the poster tubes about again, spreading out the heavy boxes, until I heard, distantly, amongst the sigh of traffic, a rev. Then a gear change. Louder.

Then louder still.

Leaping over the debris to the van, I heaved open the bonnet and stared dumbly at the filthy mess of boxes and pipes.

The revs were louder.

Shit. I bustled around to the cab, shoved the keys back in the steering column, grabbed the carrier bag and dived off the
street, tumbling behind a low scrabby wall, clattering into some bins.

I lay there, heart hammering, chin in my chest, not daring to move.

My earpiece, loose, gave a crackle. People were talking. Three voices in urgent discussion.

The revs got louder. Louder still, blurring into the roar of a heavy engine.

The engine slowed. A horn hollered. And hollered again, loud and long like a wounded cat.

I shut my eyes.

Another horn. Longer. Louder.

Engine off.

The scrape of a van door. Angry footsteps, scuffing. Mumbling. Quickly.

Then the clang of a box being heaved into an empty van. And another.

Teeth tight, I rolled over onto my knees and peered over the brick.

Julio
. Muttering, spitting, cursing, hurling my litter out of the road, checking his watch.

Head thundering, I lifted myself to my toes and fingertips and, sliding the heavy chamois from the bag, scuttled, low, out into the wide street. Quickly, feet flying fast, until I dropped again to the floor behind his van.

Licking dry lips, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the second set of keys Laura had provided. I swivelled on the ball of my feet with a wet squeak, raised up and slid the key into the lock.

Turning, it clicked and I felt the old doors sigh out of their frame.

With a wince, I eased open the back and stepped inside, keeping low, closing the doors behind me.

In the cool darkness, through the windscreen I could see Julio, still trying to clear the street of the bulging boxes of stills and 10×8s, checking his watch.

I pressed the earpiece in properly as I reached the front. An American voice was crackling.

“
Take a seat, take a seat. Let me get some drinks and we’ll talk about how to split this.
”

Squeezing through the gap in the front seats I reached out and flipped the catch on the glovebox, easing it open, praying that Julio –

Shit!

Glovebox crap began to spill out of the sides. A mobile phone, an
A-Z
, a tin of cough sweets all clattering to the metal floor of the cab. Panicking, I pushed through the seats, ribs crushing,
scrabbling
them all together, stuffing them back inside. The map, the sweets, the –

Fuck. Fuck fuck
fuck
.

The jolt had knocked the mobile’s battery cover loose. I tried to click it back on, but it wouldn’t take. It … shit, it wouldn’t take.

No time. Dammit, no
time
.

Shoving it all back in, I reached into the glovebox and slid out a blue J-cloth, wrapped tight, holding something. About the weight of a brick. With the dull smell of dead batteries.

Quickly, laying it out on the seat, I unwrapped the gun, swapped it for the one in my cloth and wrapped it again, stuffing the blue parcel back into the glovebox and Julio’s blank revolver into my belt. I stole a quick low look through the windscreen to where Julio had been clearing the remains of the street to pass.

Had been.

Not any longer.

Panic rising, building, I felt my gut tense, hard and tight.

Footsteps. Near.

Outside.
Approaching
.

Heart leaping, I jolted back, tiptoeing panicked footsteps back, breathless, into the dark body of the van, hands out against the cool walls.

A crunch and a clang as the driver’s side door was wrenched, metal scraping metal.

“
Now here we go genner’men. Let’s juss see if we can’t come to some kind’a agreement shall we
?”

I ducked, low, almost double, edging backwards quietly against the metal shell.

Julio clambered into the van, muttering to himself.

“Jesus Christ, just have your booty-car sale wherever you like! Do not mind me! Christ, eight minutes past …” He buckled himself in and craned forward to the glovebox.

Breath held, crouched in a tight ball at the van’s rear, I waited, heart banging wildly in my ears over the crackle of distant voices.

“Awww fack!” Julio spat, the glovebox contents clattering to the floor. The back of his head disappeared as he bent to retrieve his phone and I stepped backwards quickly, falling against the door.

It held fast.

Crouched low, heart thundering, I flew my hands over the doors in the darkness, pushing, easing my weight against them silently.

Locked.

I started, spasming as the enging gunned into life beneath me. The shell rumbled, grumbled, vibrated. Mouth dry, head thudding, I began to panic. The van lurched forward with a crunch of gears.

No. No no no.

“Hello?” Julio barked from up the front. “Hello? Laura it me. I run late, get word to bossman, some arsehole park his … Hello? This fack battery. Hello … ? Hello?”

The van gunned and revved, squealing off, through the few remaining posters, buckling tubes and sending photos fluttering past the windscreen.

Throat tight, I lowered myself down, blank revolver pressed in the small of my back, hard against the cold metal of the rear doors, bouncing and bumping. Oblivious, Julio lurched the van left sharply, sending me toppling, hands out, clanging against the metal.

“Laura, can you hear … ? This damned thing …”

“
He’s coming back,
” Andrew was whispering in my ear. “
He’s got drinks and he’s coming back. I-I’m not … I’m not sure about this
…
” I pushed the earpiece in harder, engine noise revving and echoing about me.

“
Take it easy. Just take it easy.
” Christopher. “
Let the mark do the talking. Bag still secure under the Hulk there
?”

I threw my hands out against the filthy aluminium, steadying myself, acceleration pushing me back, hard against the doors, skull banging and thumping with the jolts.

“Fuck it,” Julio spat, and in the silhouette of the windscreen
ahead, he tossed his knackered phone among the faded dashboard crap of maps and cups. He churned the gears again and put his foot down with a blare of horn.

Crouched low, terrified, head full of noise, oil and rust, I closed my eyes and thought of Jane. Of Lana.

We headed west. Towards the pub. Towards Christopher. Towards Grayson. Towards Andrew.

Towards who the hell knew what.

“
And what? Yur suggestin’ we just trust you? Ah got no idea who you are, boy. Where the hell you get off –
”

“
That’s eighty grand’s worth of comic book – who should hold on to it? You?
”

“
Why the hell not me
?”

In the rolling tombola darkness of the freezing van, my watch said 10.14, my earpiece said the negotiations were going as planned and my bowels said they very, very much wanted to go home now, thank you very much.

I had managed to prop myself in the back corner, jammed low. Scruffy Converses against the peeling plastic of the rear wheel arch, my back hard against the door hinges, hilt of Julio’s gun gnawing my spine, I buried my chin in my chest, feeling the panicked heartbeat pound my skull. Bumping and bouncing, engine roaring in my head, Julio wheeled the Bedford left, my teeth tight against every pothole.

“
A bond? What are you talking about, a bond
?”

“
To show you fellahs faith.
”

“
And how much faith did you have in mind
?”

Swallowing hard in the half light, trying to keep a lid on the panic, I fumbled in my greasy jeans, tight pockets biting the skin on my cold hand, and I slid my mobile phone free. Hunching down even lower amongst the filthy black ridged floor and the snagging rusty edges, I tilted the phone at an awkward,
wrist-aching
crick to keep the dim screen light hidden and selected: Create Message. I jabbed away a predictive plea.

H … E … L …

HELLO

Delete, delete, delete.

Screw it.

Messaging off, I scrolled down the address book and thumbed
the number, lowering my ear to the handset, joints screaming and pinching.

One ring.

Two rings.

God where the hell – ?

“
You done
?
All swapped
?” Laura crackled. “
Where are you
?”

“Shh, it’s all gone wrong,” I hissed, hunching low against the metal.

“
I can’t hear you? Where
?”

“Shhh! I’m in his
van
! I’m trapped in the back of the
van
!”

“
Fifty thousand
?”

“What? Fifty – ?”

“
Cash. Divided between the pair of you guys, naturally.
”

“
I said can he see you
?”

“What?”

“
And you have the money now
?”

“
Neil
?”

“Wait, wait, wait,” I twittered, popping the hissy earpiece from my head, focusing back on the phone. “I’ve got six fucking voices going on at once here. Grayson, Christopher and Andrew
negotiating
in one ear, you in the other, Julio cursing up the front and my survival instinct telling me to put up my hands and call the whole thing off. You’ve got to get me
out of here
!”

“
Stay low, stay low, he must be almost here. Just keep out of sight.
”

“Out of sight?! He turns around and I’m
dead
! I’ve given him a gun full of live ammo! He sees me he’ll unload the lot.”

“
You’ll be all right, just for Chrissakes stay hidden.
”

“Shit,
no
?!
Really?!
” I spat.

“
Listen to me, first things first. You said you did it? The swap? Did you find the blue J-cloth with his –
”

“I did it, I did it,” I said. Swallowing hard, my eyes darted to Julio, hunched over the wheel in the front of the cab, sliding in and out of traffic. “It was right where you said. In the glovebox, along with everything else he’s ever owned.” I shifted a little against the doors, the cold oily metal of the blank revolver massaging the base of my spine.

“
And you’re certain he didn’t –
”

“He has no idea. You spoken to him?”

“
In a manner of speaking. His phone keeps cutting out. Battery problems. I’m only getting every fifth word.
”

“Shit. Look, I uhm –”

“
But the plan holds. He’ll be out front, cocked and ready at ten twentyfive sharp as planned. Right now your boy should be making his excuses. Can you hear them?
”

“Hold on, hold on,” and I lowered the phone and fumbled the tiny earpiece back in.

“…
until we know there’s no heat. Comic book of this value? Who the goddamn hell knows who’s out looking for it
.”

“
I think he’s right. It sounds safest. Angus? What do you say
?”

“
Hn? Oh. Uhm …
”

“
Are you in? Angus? What do you say
?”

“
Uhm, let me … I-I need the bathroom.
”

I popped out the headphone and leaned back into the mobile phone.

“That’s it. Toilet break. Right on schedule. Christ, he better pull this off.”

“
He’ll be fine,
” Laura crackled. “
Keep your ears open and for Chrissakes stay out of sight,
” and the line went dead.

I slid the phone away awkwardly, hunching lower, shoulders biting the freezing metal. I thumbed the earpiece back inside. Andrew and Christopher were arguing, voices echoey from the toilet tile.

I held my breath. C’mon old friend. This is it.

This is
it
.

“
Mr Mayo, what the hell’s going on
?” Christopher. Angry. “
Toilet breaks? He’s out there with his fifty thousand, while you’re –
”

“
In here with Superman,
” Andrew hissed. “
He’s not going anywhere.
”

“
Oh and you’re the big expert on mark behaviour now? Shake your snake and let’s get out there.
”

“
I … I can’t.
”

“
What are you talking about? Keep your nerve. We’re almost there. Fifty thousand –
”

“
I mean I can’t do it. The blood. The shooting. This … this chest bag.
”

“
Careful!
”

The van motored on. Folded and crumpled, breath held in my
buckled chest, I tensed further, eyes tight shut. In my ears, my heart thundered.

C’mon Benno old chap.

“
You were right,
” Andrew said, worried voice wobbling off the tile. “
Okay?You were right. It’s a job for a professional. You should have let the girl do it. Linda. You should have let Linda do it. Look at me, I’m shaking. Look at me? I can’t do this.
”

“
But you – ?! Jesus H Christ!
” Christopher was losing it. Losing it bad. His voice was fading in and out. He was pacing. I shut my eyes, picturing them both in the acrid pong of the chipped toilets, his brogues shuffling on the puddled floor. “
You insisted you wanted to get involved.
”

“
How … how does this come off?
”

“
What are you doing?! What in the name of frolicking fuckbusters are you doing?!
”

“
I can’t do it. I won’t. I’m sorry. Burst the bag? Fall down screaming? I can’t do it. I can’t play dead. I can’t. I’ll screw it up. Here. Here you –
”

“
Leave that there! Put your shirt –
”

“
You have to do it. I – ow, this tape – I can’t. I won’t. Here. You wear it.
”

“
Are you insane?! Julio’s on his way over! He’s in the van, on his way over, right now with the gun. How’s it going to look? He fires a blank at you but I’m the one who goes down?! Grayson’ll smell a –
”

“
Then call this Julio. Phone him. Tell him to fire at you. Tell him you’re doing it. I can’t.
”

The van was slowing down.

Oh God. Oh God we were
here
.

The indicator ticked, the van grumbled and bubbled idly, revving hard. I tumbled sideways as Julio swung a wide arc, my hand out against the cold metal floor. He dragged the van forward, engine coughing. Five yards, ten yards, shadows falling across the
windscreen
.

An alley. A narrow alley. Slowly. Slower.

We stopped.

Petrified, gripped with terror in the freezing darkness, I didn’t allow myself even to breathe. Julio shut off the engine and the van descended promptly into a gaunt, heavy quiet. A fart of vinyl as he leaned forward.

My heart slammed slammed slammed.

A scuffle. He sat back, cigarette in his mouth. A rasp and flare of matches and the shell of the van filled with sick blue smoke.

Not daring to move, pins and needles beginning to crawl and numb, I shut my eyes and concentrated back on the crackling voices in my head.

“…
and I said we’re not altering anything at this stage.
”

“
Then I quit.
”

“
You –
”

“
No. No, that’s it. I don’t need this bloody shit.
”

“
Angus –
”

“
I’m not doing it. I’ll walk. I’ll go out there, tell him to keep his money, take my bloody comic book and walk. I only came to you for insurance. All this tricky stuff was your idea. Forget it. And it’s Mr Mayo, to you pal.”

“
But … ! You … !
” Christopher spat. “
Fine! Fine, give it here then. Jesus, I’ve never – careful of the ring! You’ll puncture the fucking …
Easy there, easy …
”

Breath held tight, I listened to the distant soft sticky ripping of tape, Christopher fussing, snapping.

“
Let me … Give it here, hold my jacket … where’s the damned mirror …
”

Among the thick cigarette smoke, Julio sat back, checking his watch, stretching his arm across the back of the passenger seat, flexing a fist. He pumped down the driver’s side window, distant traffic noises hissing, honking and sighing. He leaned forward. I saw him fuss with his mobile phone, slapping and clicking the broken battery cover. He slid it back to the dashboard.

“
That’s it,
” Christopher was saying in my ear. “
That’s it. Now give me the damned phone. I have to call Julio. Quickly …
”

Silence.

Nothing in my ear. Nothing in the van. Nothing in the world. Just the throb of my heart, the sticky tack of a dry tongue and the bite of cramp in my feet and –

I jolted suddenly, the metal popping and buckling beneath.

Julio’s phone was ringing. Distorted. Crackly.

Oblivious to me, Julio flicked the cigarette from the window and scuffled up the phone from among the dashboard debris. The
ring was cutting in and out a little, fading and sweeping like a radio in a tunnel.

Pins and needles biting and tingling, I allowed myself to shift a half inch, teeth tight against the thick pop of metal.

“Go ahead,” Julio barked.

“
Julio? Julio it’s me,
” Christopher crackled distantly in my earphone. He was echoey. Still in the toilet. Andrew had to be standing near. “
Change of bloody plan. Angus has – hello? Julio, you there
?”

“Hello? Hello Christopher? This facking phone …”

“
Julio? I’m losing you … Angus has lost his nerve. He and I have switched places. Julio? Can you … Julio
?”

“Hello? I can’t hear you? Say again. Plan change? Say again?!” Up the front, Julio was flustered, slapping the broken battery cover, banging it loud – one two – on the plastic dash. “Fack it. Hello? Hello?”

“
Julio? I repeat: fire the blank at me, understand? Me. I have the blood-bag. Not Angus.
”

“I can’t hear you. I’m losing you. You’re
also
target? You
both
have bags? Repeat, the battery won’t stay in the … shit. Are we still on? I’ve got T-minus three minutes. Hello? Christopher? Three minutes.”

“
I’ve got the blood-bag. Not Angus. Julio? Can you hear me
?”

“Got it, got it. You’ve got one too. Hello – ?”

No.

Oh God.

Oh God
no
.

I began to shake. A hard, angry hand slid fat fingers about my stomach. They closed, wormy and tight, slowly, slowly.

No no
no
.

Pins and needles biting, numb, banging and pinching my toes, my fingers, my elbows, I began to slide. Slide, out, out of position, up, rolling, out, into the body of the van. Driven by fear. Driven by terror. Breath short, shallow, panic closed my throat, terrified tears swelling, welling.

“I can’t
hear
you,” Julio was shouting. “Hello?
Hello
? Facking battery, piece of – and he hurled the phone to the dashboard with a loud plastic
CRACK
.

“
Julio? You there
?”

“
Everything a-all right
?”

“
I think he’s got it. He’ll be waiting for us. Ninety seconds. Move, get back out there, Grayson will be panicking.
”

Christ,
no.
No, you
idiot
, I writhed. You fucking …
NO!

Moving fast, sweating, heart thundering, I rummaged my phone from my jeans in the puffing silence.

C’mon c’mon c’mon c’mon c’mon –

“
Laura
.”

“
Call it off!
” I hissed, swallowing a cue ball of sweaty panic. “
Call it off!
”

Julio was bending forward. The click of glovebox lock.

“
Relax! It’s going to plan,
” Laura soothed. “
They’ve swapped the chest-bags …
”

“
Listen to me!
”

“
They’re out of the bathroom.”
She sounded excited. Exhilarated.
“I can see the three –
”

“
Julio hasn’t got the message! Julio doesn’t know about the swap!
”

“
It’s fine, Christopher’s called him. They’re both back at the table … Christopher’s talking … Andrew’s sitting … Just wait where you –

I didn’t catch the rest, thrown tumbling backwards as I was, Julio lurching the van forward. The boxes and bundles toppled over, smothering my pitiful yelp. He was steering with one hand, bouncing the van down the alley.

His other hand rested on the back of the passenger seats.

The greasy nickel gun held tight.

“
Then if tha’s everythin’ gennermen?
” Grayson crackled in my earpiece.

“
That’s everything. Angus
?”

“
Uhm. Right. I-I guess we’re all set.
”