Read Romeo's Tune (1990) Online

Authors: Mark Timlin

Tags: #Crime/Thriller

Romeo's Tune (1990) (20 page)

BOOK: Romeo's Tune (1990)
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34

I
lay low for the next three days. I didn’t leave the flat, just unplugged the phone and waited for developments. I knew that if Cassini wanted me he’d find me, and if he didn’t, fuck him.

I lived on sandwiches and cigarettes, and when the sandwiches ran out I lived on cigarettes alone, catnapping in the armchair by the window with McBain’s Magnum in my hand. I kept the radio tuned to a 24-hour all-music station and the TV flickered to itself in the corner with the sound turned down. The curtains were permanently closed and the only light came from the tube with its array of talking heads, news and old films and, late at night, just greyness with a crackle of white noise.

I didn’t shave or wash or change my clothes. I drank water from the tap and felt myself growing old and bitter as my sour smell filled the small room.

Ferrara came by on the fourth morning. I heard the insistent sound of a car horn and cracked the corner of the curtain to survey the street. I saw the red Volvo double-parked outside and Ferrara was standing on the pavement gazing up at the house. I tapped on the inside of the glass with the barrel of my gun and he gestured at the front door. I went downstairs and let him in.

‘You look lousy,’ he said by way of a greeting.

‘Everyone says that,’ I retorted. ‘Do me a favour and change the record.’

He followed me up the stairs and into the darkened room. ‘God it stinks in here,’ he said and without invitation drew back the curtains and opened a window. A breeze that was neither warm nor cold blew through the room. Spring was coming.

‘This is no way to live,’ he said. ‘Have you eaten?’

‘Not much.’

‘You’ll need to,’ he said and leant out of the window and shouted to get the chauffeur’s attention. He told the driver to go and get some food and I heard the Volvo take off. ‘Take a shower,’ he said to me. ‘You smell offensive.’ He picked the Magnum off the unmade bed and said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll keep the redskins at bay.’

I looked at him and went into the bathroom. I looked in the mirror. My face was a horror show all on its own. I lathered up, shaved, then stood under alternate blasts of hot and cold water until I felt better. I towelled myself down, combed my wet hair and walked back into the main room. I found some underwear, clean denims and a shirt and got dressed. I slipped my feet into a pair of soft loafers and pulled the covers up over the bed. Whilst I’d been gone Ferrara had cleared up most of the mess and piled the dirty dishes in the sink. We sat opposite each other in silence until the food arrived. The chauffeur fetched a large deep-dish pizza with all the trimmings and a six-pack of cold lager and a bottle of bourbon for Ferrara.

When the driver had gone I opened the pizza box and although I’d seriously thought I’d never want to eat again the smell of the hot food made my mouth water and I demolished the whole pie. Ferrara declined my offer of a slice and went and got a glass for his bourbon. I was starting on my third beer by the time the food was gone and I dumped the box in the trash.

‘Better?’ asked Ferrara.

‘Yes, thanks.’

‘A pleasure. We thought you’d quit on us.’

‘I knew you’d be around sooner or later,’ I said. ‘Got a cigarette?’

He threw me a packet of Luckies and I lit up. I sat back and took a long pull from the cold tin in my hand.

‘What’s the story?’ I asked.

‘You were right,’ said Ferrara. ‘It was the Divas who killed Josephina. Your drug dealer friends are out of the picture. That only left the Divas. We discovered that they were involved in a family business in Chicago.’

‘Mafia?’ I asked.

‘That word again. You never learn.’

‘Josephina told me the whole story,’ I interrupted. ‘She said that if I ever met any of you, that you’d deny it.’

‘She didn’t know the whole story, God rest her,’ he said sadly.

‘What does it matter?’ I asked.

‘Ultimately it means nothing. Now let me continue. As I said the Divas are involved with a business in Chicago. Rack jobbers, jukebox distributors, promoters etc. They are very tight with them. They sent word to Josephina’s father that her death was an unfortunate mistake. She was a war casualty in a misplaced attempt to kill you. They apologized, God help them. They even offered to pay for the funeral.’ His hand was white on the neck of the bourbon bottle and he drank deeply from the glass he held in his other hand. ‘They dared to offer money in exchange for her life, the scum.’

His voice cracked and shook with fury.

‘Calm down,’ I said. ‘What did her father say to that offer?’

‘Say? He said nothing. The message was delivered by a boy in a white suit and a black Cadillac. Mister Cassini had the car crushed and sent back to Chicago on the back of a truck.’

‘And the messenger?’

Ferrara’s face cracked into a death’s head smile. ‘He was still inside,’ he said.

‘And now what?’

‘Now we arrange a funeral of our own, on this side of the Atlantic. A funeral for the men who killed my employer’s daughter.’

‘Good.’

‘It might get bloody,’ he warned.

‘My life has got bloody before, and if blood is needed again, so be it.’

‘So you are in?’

‘Of course, but there is one condition.’

‘I don’t like conditions.’

I shrugged. ‘Perhaps not, but I want to bring along some guests of my own to the party.’

‘No,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ I replied firmly.

‘Who?’

‘The people who started all this. McBain and his minder, if they’ll come.’

‘Are they good?’

‘I don’t know about McBain, I don’t even know if he’ll leave his house, but I do know he can use a gun. That belongs to him.’ I nodded at the Magnum. ‘As for his man Algy, yes he is good.’

‘I’ll speak to Mister Antony about it.’

‘Speak to who you like, but that’s the deal.’

‘I could tell you to go to hell.’

‘But you won’t. Antony wants me there. I’d even bet that if I’d declined to go, your job was to kill me. That’s why you came alone. Freddy boy would have been too eager for me to refuse and might even have jumped the gun.’ I almost smiled at my own black joke.

‘Yet you left me alone with this.’ He held up the Magnum. ‘You must trust me.’

‘Benjamin,’ I said, and looked him straight in the eye. ‘This thing has gone beyond trust. It’s gone beyond life itself. When Jo died, I died. I don’t care what happens to me now. I just want to be there when those people die. Perhaps Algy and McBain won’t come, but I want to give them the chance. Besides, I knew you wouldn’t do anything until you were sure what my answer would be.’

He laughed mirthlessly. ‘Very well. I’ll go to Antony now. How long will it take you to organize your end?’

‘They’re pretty reclusive. A matter of hours I should think.’

‘Good. When I leave, plug in the telephone and wait here. Don’t leave under any circumstances. We will be in contact within twenty-four hours, probably sooner. Now, you’ll need some food. I’ll send the driver.’

‘I’m not hungry,’ I protested.

‘I saw you eat before and you’ll need nourishment to be ready for action. Is there a deli nearby?’

I gave him directions and he went down to the car and sent the chauffeur on another errand. He was back within twenty minutes with two carrier bags full of cold food and more beer. I saw Ferrara to the front door and we shook hands. We stood palm on palm in the doorway for a long moment.

‘See you soon, Nick,’ he said.

‘See you soon, Benjamin,’ I replied and went back up to my flat and sat and waited for the call to come.

35

I
t came at eight the next morning. I was lying asleep fully dressed on top of the bed and the sound of the bell jerked me awake. I nearly knocked the phone off the table as I grabbed the receiver.

‘Antony?’

‘Who else?’

‘You woke me.’

‘You’re lucky you can sleep. We go tomorrow, Saturday. They will be at their farm, vulnerable. I believe you wish to bring some company.’

‘Yes.’

‘Very well, but no passengers. I’ll arrange weapons and transport. Just meet us tomorrow evening at six.’ He gave me an address in W8. ‘It’s a garage,’ he explained. ‘Don’t be late.’ With that he hung up.

I rolled off the bed, dragged a brush through my hair, rinsed out my mouth with lager, strapped the Magnum under my arm, pulled on a jacket, lit a Lucky Strike and hit the road for Richmond.

I stopped the car outside the iron gates at the end of Park Close and hit the horn button, using the same code as I’d used the last time I’d called. When the echos died I sat and waited and listened to Horace Silver playing softly on the stereo.

After three or four minutes I saw Algy walking towards me down the drive. He waved when he saw the car and activated the radio control and the gates swung open.

I drove in and stopped the car. The gates closed behind me, I cracked the door and climbed out. Algy and I shook hands with our lefts.

‘How’s the burns?’ he asked.

‘Getting better.’

‘To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?’

‘I wondered if either of you two wanted to get a bit of excitement into your life.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like it’s been confirmed that the Divas planted the bomb in the car.’

‘And?’

‘And the Yanks and I are going to do something about it.’

‘What Yanks?’ he asked. I told him. ‘And what are they planning to do about it?’

‘Blow the fuckers away, that’s what.’

‘And what do you think the police will have to say about that?’

‘The police don’t know.’

‘Don’t you think they might be interested?’

‘I’m sure they would, but Cassini and his little firm seem to have better grasses than Old Bill.’

‘Or more clout.’

‘Sure,’ I replied. ‘They don’t have to go by the book. They bribe their snouts or put the right frighteners in.’

‘And the police don’t?’

‘Cynical, Algy,’ I said. ‘You’ve been watching too much TV.’

He kicked at the stones on the pathway with the toe of his boot.

‘Well?’ I asked. ‘How about it?’

He pulled at his beard and smiled that big toothy smile of his. ‘You’re round the bend, the lot of you,’ he said.

I said nothing in reply.

‘We could all end up in prison for twenty years, or worse.’

I remained silent and his smile got wider.

‘Oh, what the hell,’ he said at length. ‘Why not?’

I grinned. ‘What about the boss?’ I asked.

‘You want him to come too?’

‘He started it.’

‘I’ll go and talk to him. He’s not communicating too well at the moment.’

‘Hard day?’ I asked.

‘Days, more like. He hasn’t been to bed for nearly a week. I think this business is getting to him. He’s been up in the music room eating Durofit like spangles and playing all the band’s old records over and over.’

‘My heart bleeds,’ I said.

‘Don’t be too hard on him. He’s just fucked up in the head and doesn’t know what to do about it.’

I felt the first stirrings of anger deep in my gut.

‘Come on Algy,’ I said. ‘Don’t give me that shit.’

‘You don’t know him like I do.’

I shrugged. ‘If you say so.’

‘I’ll go and see what state he’s in.’

‘And if he won’t come, what about you?’

‘Hell, you know I won’t let you down.’

‘It’s going to be dangerous.’

‘So what? Life’s been a bit dull around here for too long. I fancy a bit of excitement, like you said.’

Algy left me in the big living-room downstairs with the ashes of a fire glowing in the grate. I sat on one of the big sofas and waited, smoking my way through the last of the pack of Lucky Strike as I did.

After half an hour or so Algy clumped down the stairs and back into the room.

‘He’s not coming.’

‘I didn’t expect anything else,’ I said.

‘But he wants to see you.’

‘Well I don’t want to see him.’

‘Give him a break.’

I sat like stone.

‘Nick,’ said Algy. ‘Do me a favour. He’s cracking up.’

‘And I’m not?’

‘You’ll survive. He might not.’

I felt the anger now, like a white-hot spot in the middle of my chest.

‘OK, Algy,’ I said. ‘I’ll see him just because you’ve asked me to.’

I got up from the sofa and followed the big man up the stairs and into the music room. It was in darkness. McBain was sitting by the console. His face was illuminated only by the reflection of the red and green and orange lights on the control board. He looked sick and old and I felt a stab of pity. But then I remembered I probably looked similar and suppressed it.

Algy said ‘I’ll leave you two to talk. I’ll be back in a few.’

McBain looked up at me and the lines on his face looked as if they’d been cut in with a chisel.

‘Sharman,’ he said. ‘It’s good to see you.’

‘I can’t say that the feeling’s mutual.’

‘I don’t blame you, but I still wanted to speak to you.’

‘Why?’

‘To say I’m sorry about your girl-friend.’

‘Why? You never met her.’

‘If it was something to do with me -’

‘“If”, you silly cunt,’ I said, ‘there’s no “if” about it. It was
all
to do with you. First they killed my fucking cat, then they decided to blow me away. But they got the wrong person and that was their big mistake.’

Jesus, but I could have punched his fucking lights out and he knew it.

‘I didn’t know.’

‘Cunts like you always say that, as if it was an excuse or a reason for being the stupid bastards they are.’

I was roaring by then. McBain physically moved back away from me, as if I might explode.

‘What shall I do?’ he asked.

‘Do, what do you usually do? You usually give people lots of money and they go away. You usually buy them off, don’t you? Well let me tell you, McBain, here and now, there’s not enough money in your world to buy me off. I’ve come to get Algy. He wants to help. He’s coming with me to kill some fuckers. Why don’t you come too?’

‘I can’t. I’m agoraphobic’

‘Agoraphobic my sweet arse. You’re scared, McBain, scared of everything that goes on outside these walls. You’ve got no guts, son. You won’t make records, you won’t go on stage, you won’t even go down the road for a packet of fags. Well screw you, son, have a nice life.’

He looked well pissed-off, and so what? Up to then he’d come off easy. No hardship, no commitment, no fucking sweat.

‘What do you expect?’ he asked. ‘I know you think it’s easy, but let me tell you it’s not. You only work a couple of months a year and you’ve got money, more money than you ever knew existed, and women, all the women you want and lots you don’t. People think they know you and want to own you. They write telling you that you changed their lives and other people wait on you hand and foot. What would you turn into? There’s nothing to do but spend and you soon get bored with that. So you drink and you take drugs and you turn into a fucking monster. But inside you’re still the same person and you know it’s just a fucking fake.’

‘Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?’

He shrugged and said nothing.

At that juncture Algy came back into the room wearing his leather jacket and carrying a fat canvas bag on a strap over his shoulder.

‘Are you fit?’ he asked me.

‘When you are,’ I said.

‘Algy,’ said McBain. ‘You can’t leave me.’

‘There’s plenty more where I came from.’

‘Forget it, Alge,’ I said. ‘Stay here with him.’

‘Not on your life,’ said Algy.

‘If you go, don’t bother coming back,’ McBain said. ‘Suits me,’ said Algy. ‘I’ve left all the car keys on their hooks in the kitchen. I’ll hitch a ride with Nick.’

‘Please,’ begged McBain.

‘Sorry, Mark,’ said Algy. ‘It was nice knowing you.’ And he turned on his heel and left. I took off my jacket, slipped out of the El Paso rig and placed it on the top of a speaker cabinet. ‘Thanks for the loan of the gun,’ I said. I put my jacket back on, then followed Algy without looking at McBain again.

We went out to the car and I tossed Algy the keys. ‘You drive,’ I said, ‘My hand hurts.’

He got into the driving seat and started the engine. He opened the gate with his radio control and jockeyed the car through. On the other side he stopped and got out of the car. He used the transmitter to close the gates behind us, then with the full strength of his arm he threw the machine up and over the brick wall to land somewhere far in the grounds of McBain’s house.

BOOK: Romeo's Tune (1990)
11.6Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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