Conman (42 page)

“It’s all … all been just revenge?”

“Like
you
said, it’s a dirty word. But it’s what you deserve. The law of the street. Eye for an eye. You have to do it properly though, like I told you.”

“Pr-properly?”

“
Painfully
. A long, long life of misery and regret. Live with it. Make them
suffer
.”

They both grinned. The engine revved, a tubby Irishman at the wheel. Bullish, stocky.

A whisky barrel in a suit.

I turned back to the house. Up the three tiled steps, at the wide front door, Edward stood, stubby arms folded across his chest. One of his chins up. Defensive. Protective.

I would never see his daughter again.

I would never see my daughter again.

The siren was louder now.

A long, long life of misery and regret.

“Neil, sweetheart?” a voice said, the cab door sliding squeakily from my hands, engine revving again. “Neil? Before we go?”

I turned back. Andrew was looking at me.

Leaning forward.

His hand was swathed in a tight, talcy surgeon’s glove.

He held out a small velvet box.

Live with it. Make them suffer.

“Ten years late darling, but you might as well have this now,” and Andrew tossed it to me through the small window.

I caught it in cold, shaking hands as the cab pulled away down the wide, quiet street.

Quiet, but for Edward.

Shouting my name.

Over the sound of an approaching siren.

“Cheng? Cheng, it’s me again … No, no I’m still at The Atlas. Been telling my new friend here about the last … Has your buyer … ? Shit. He’s
there
… !? But I
asked
you, I
begged you
!? A few hours! I said, hold it for …”

Hey, how long have you and I been … ? Right, right exactly.

“Cheng? My friend here says it’s
only
been … but you
promised
! … Yes, yes I know, but I need it
back!
I
told
you, Edward and the police are talking about charging me with … I understand but I’m
begging
you. Please try and appreciate … it’s
my
one chance at … Then whatever they offer, I’ll beat it … Yes I know what I said a few hours ago, but why don’t you let
me
worry about the how … ? Okay. Okay ask him and call me back.”

God.

Sorry, sorry I’m getting … It’s just he has my one –
barman
? Another drink. And hey – one for my new best friend here?

Sorry. I didn’t mean to … I’ve taken up enough of your –”

Huh? Happened
when
?

Well.

They made me go back inside. The
police
, I mean. To Edward’s sitting room. Sat me down. Listened to
Edward’s
version of events.

Jane stayed upstairs with Lana. Away from me.

Christ,
Jane
.

Where’s the phone, I should … Notebook, breath mints … I put it down –

A-
ha
. I should try her again. Try and explain …

Jane Jane Jane …

It’s ringing.

Listen, thanks for … well, for listening. I didn’t mean to –

“Hello, hello Jane, I – ? Edward
please
. Don’t hang up. Let me talk to … I wouldn’t, I didn’t, I
love
her! It was all … I can
prove
it, please, just tell her to
hold on.
I’m waiting for … hello? Edward, are you – ? Edward?”

Shit
.

I don’t know what I’m going to do if Cheng doesn’t –

Ahh, drinks. Drinks, thanks so much. Cheers.

S-Sorry, let me clear some … put all this stuff … letters … matches, my Zippo … there we go.

God. Now I only hope I can trust Cheng. I mean who’d … who’d have
thought
it? That
first day
in halls. Unpacking. Putting up posters.

When Benno helped me tack it to the wall.

God, maybe that was it? How it started? Maybe he thought
that
was something it wasn’t? First day and everything. And then the chess? The chats?

The Christmas ball …

It’s here somewhere, the velvet … let me –

God, this syrup’s dried on all the … Urgh, my cigarettes,
fountain
pen, it’s all …
here
. Here you go.

See? A little velvet box. Take a look. Go on, it’s …

Pretty huh? Eternity ring, I think they’re called. He’s engraved our names on it, There.

Andrew and Neil.

Proof
? Of – ?

Not according to the police, no.

Not compared to Edward’s: the watch, the letters, my passport, the shop valuation, the Sotheby’s letters, the bank transfer numbers. And the police are all,
yes your dukeness and absolutely your worshipful highness.

Whereas
my
version of events? Well, they wanted
that
at the station.

So that’s where I’ve been.
Explaining
. Or
trying
to. Showed them the
ring
, but no. No good. No proof. No
evidence
. Nothing to back up my story.

They didn’t
take
anything, see? Andrew, Christopher? Didn’t take a
thing
.

Apart from my whole life, that is.

But anyway, the police have got nothing they can detain me for, so they’ve let me go. Held on to my passport of course.
Pending further enquiries.

Came here? No no no, not straight away. I went over to the shop first.

I-I don’t
know
, really. One last look? Before it’s …

Sorry, sorry I’m just …

Tell you what, though. At the shop? Just now? Bumped into Schwartz.

Schwartz? The guy – ?

Right. Next door.
Brigstock Books
. Your memory’s better than his, I tell you.

Which … which is why it never
sat right
. Last week. That he would have remembered Andrew from years ago. Some property development.

Well, answer is he
didn’t
of course.

No, I asked him. He remembered Andrew from when he
actually
met him.
Six weeks ago.
A young, corporate estate agent with a smart blue letterhead offering free valuations. Well, you would, wouldn’t you?

A free valuation plus, naturally, a structural survey.

Especially if it included basements, adjoining doors and –

Right. Plumbing work.

I
know
.

So what I’m
hoping
, what my whole family’s future is
banking
on is testimony from Schwartz plus …

Well, this is awkward.

I know you and I don’t really …

No. No, forget it. I can’t. Forget it. I’ve chewed your ear off enough, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

Cheers. Here’s to –

Sorry, this syrup is still a bit …

Here’s to you. One of the good guys. Let’s pray that
you
never meet some tall-tale-telling grifter. With some story. Asking you his
three
yes
questions. Whatever they are. Look out for that.

That the pop list? I’m going to take my jacket off if that’s all right with you? Neato diner huh?

Needing help. Giving you an opportunity. Promising
repayment
. And then –

Shit, that’s …

“Hello? Hello Cheng? Have you still … ? Oh thank the lord. Thank the
Lord
! You don’t know how much this … And it’s still in bubble wrap? It’s
very important
you haven’t … Okay. And how much is your buyer …
What
? No. No
way
? I can’t … Please, be reasonable, there’s no way I can … Wait, wh-what about a deposit? I could scrape together a small … Well, I … I don’t know, hold on –

Sorry, sorry, shit I need to add up what I’ve –

Whoopsie, what have we got … Here we go, breath mints, matches, Zippo, Bic, pen knife, cigarettes, notebook … Here, ten, twenty, twenty-five, twenty-five fifty, twenty-five seventy …

Fuck.

“Mr Cheng, look, I-I’m a little … I mean I just can’t … Jesus, Mr Cheng, please. This is my only hope! My wife, my
family
! You have to – Mr Cheng? I …”

Oh
God
.

God I … That was my one …

See, they … they
touched
it, remember?

They –

You remember the fake policemen? In my shop? Manc and Scot? They took away my till? You remember? I –

Right. And they took away my till because I told them it was the
only
fingerprints I had of the team? It never even … I mean it didn’t
dawn
on me until … well, until later. A few hours ago. Outside Edward’s house. Before the police arrived. When I saw Andrew and Christopher in the cab together. Off into the sunset. Like Redford and Newman.

Redford and Newman.

See I’d made them all
touch
it …

The poster.
The Sting.
During my
lecture.
Made them all take off their gloves and feel the ink. The autographs.

Touch it. Prints. Fingerprints. Identification.
All
of them. The poster Andrew helped me put on my wall all those years ago. His prints too.

Preserved on linen-backed paper behind glass.

Every fucking
one
of them.

But Cheng …

Well, you heard. A buyer.

So that’s … I guess that’s that.

That’s that.

Cheers. Cheers, old friend.

Huh? How much? What, to get the poster back?

Too much.

Too, too much.

Unless …

No. No forget it.

I mean I wouldn’t dream of
asking
, you know. Especially here.

I mean personally, I don’t know about you, I do find public places more private, but hell, we just met, right?

I mean, don’t get me wrong. I feel that we’re
friends
now.

Don’t
you
? We’re close, you and I.

And that’s unusual for me, I can tell you.
Friends
, I’ve always said, is just an American televisual programme. Merely enemies who haven’t found you out yet. In life, as in diarrhoea, we are alone. But you and I … ?

And see I wouldn’t normally ask but –

But see, if I can get the poster from Cheng and over to the police, then they can lift the prints and that’d clear my name. With them. With Edward. With Jane.

Call it the persuasive power of print. Talk is one thing of course, but I’d be giving them something solid. Proof. That they can hold, they can smell and touch. There in black and white. Ask yourself why Catholics travel thousands of miles to glimpse the Shroud of Turin?

I’m going to be straight with you, this … this is my
only
chance.
To get back my
wife
. My beautiful wife. Get back my daughter. My
family
.  Get everything back to normal.

Once
that’s
done I’d be in a position to, y’know, repay anyone who …

No. No, forget it. I can see you’re –

From your
expression
. How did the great man put it?

‘
Oh God, how loathsome this is! Could I really? No, it’s nonsensical! It’s absurd. Could I really ever have contemplated such a monstrous act? It shows what filth my head is capable of though. Filthy. Mean. Vile. VILE!
’

I understand, I do.

But it’s just …

See I don’t know much, but I know something about
people
.

People like you.

I know that people with thriving businesses, savings tucked away and a bank manager they play golf with, tend not, by and large, to share drinks with peculiar behaving men in Earl’s Court pubs. That’s more the behaviour of the desperate, wouldn’t you say? More the behaviour of someone in need of a quick fix. A
one-off
, chance of a lifetime deal, that’ll get them out of any unfortunate hole they’ve stumbled into.

So all I’m saying is, I’d make it worth your while. Pay you back double. Triple.

Anything you might be able to –

I mean, just for a deposit. A few quid. Whatever you’ve …

Or a few
hundred
quid even? Whatever you can get your hands on. Why don’t we take a walk to your bank now? You get the money, I do the deal. And then once I’m all square, I’ll pay you back triple.

Easy money.

It’d … it’d really be helping me out.

C’mon, you can
trust
me.

What do you say, hmm? What do you say? You onboard?

What do you say
?

I have lots of folk to thank for helping this not only make it onto my laptop, but also in assisting it seeing the light of day. In no particular order, David Mamet – a fine playwright and screenwriter whose work first got me fascinated with the world of the confidence trickster. If you haven’t enjoyed ‘
House Of Games
’, then you’re a twit and should do so immediately. Likewise Christopher McQuarrie, whose inventiveness went some way to inspire the structure of this tale.

A huge thank you to Ion Mills who had faith in me and faith in the story and committed it to print. To Keshini Naidoo, who pummelled the text into a readable state and cut out all that stuff about the fish. Thank you to Philip as always, my faithful and
long-suffering
agent. Got there in the end, eh?

And finally to Neal, my old pal, who has always had nowt but the soundest advice. And to Luthfa, who gave her time, dedication and no small part of her reputation in seeing this through. Dawkins bless you all. Rx.

Gagged
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