Broken Faith (9 page)

‘Hello, it's me. I know what fucking time it is. Listen, I think you'd better get over here, I just killed someone. Yes, you heard right, I killed a bloke. I broke his neck. How would I know who he is? He broke in, came at me with a knife and I broke his neck. Look, can we hurry this up and leave explanations till later, only the knife got used and I'm bleeding.' He looked down, his hand over the wound wasn't doing much good. The blood was seeping from between his fingers and from under his palm and running down his side. There was already a stain on the bedclothes. ‘I'm making a mess of your cousin's sheets. You better bring an ambulance with you.' He put the mobile down and looked under his bloody hand. He was bleeding all right. Then he looked at the corpse on the floor. ‘And what the fuck were you playing at?'

He took another look at his wound and the blood that had run down his side. There seemed a lot of it and the pain was kicking in. He hoped the ambulance would get here soon. He pulled the sheet up and put it over the wound and pressed with his hand, then looked back at the body.

He was too old for rough-stuff, too old and too out of practice. He hadn't meant to kill him, killing people got you noticed. He'd got his hands in the wrong place on his neck, that's what it was, just got his hands in the wrong place. He lay back on the bed beside the pillows. That's all it was, when his knee hit and he pulled it just snapped his neck. His mind began to drift. Why hadn't the stupid bastard brought a knife with him and come in through the open bedroom window? Silly sod.

And with that considered judgement on the uninvited visitor, now dead on his bedroom floor, Jimmy slowly passed out. 

Chapter Thirteen

When Jimmy came round he was in hospital with a bandage round his middle which showed a dark stain on the left side where the knife had gone in. Suarez was sitting on the edge of his bed. Standing behind her, leaning against the wall of the room, was a squat, sad-looking man of about Jimmy's age. He had greasy black hair, was wearing a badly-fitting suit, and looked as if he had always been there and could go on standing there for ever. The sad man looked on impassively as Suarez told Jimmy the knife had gone deep but hadn't done any serious damage. He'd been lucky, the doctor said. A bit more to the right and the world would have been short one James Cornelius Costello. It was a nasty wound and he had lost quite a bit of blood.

‘So when can I get out of here?'

‘No, you can't. You're all stitched up,' she smiled, ‘but not in your London police sense. There'll be quite a bit of pain if you try to move and –'

‘So when can I get out of here.'

‘Yes, I thought you might be like that. The doctor has agreed, after considerable persuasion, that you can leave as soon as you genuinely feel up to it. But he insisted you should rest up and even when you can get about you should keep walking to a minimum until you've had the stitches out. The doctor says you should stay home and rest. So I guess you need a home.'

Jimmy looked past Suarez to the sad man.

‘Is that what he's here for? Is he going to give me a home? I can't very well go back to your cousin's place, it's a crime scene.'

‘He's my boss. He's here because he wants to talk to you.'

‘So why doesn't he say something?'

‘Because he doesn't speak English.'

‘Then he's fucked isn't he, because I don't speak Spanish.'

‘No, Jimmy, he's not fucked, because I'll translate. Don't try and be a hard case, you're not up to it today and won't be for quite a few days more. Be good, co-operate.'

Jimmy tried to pull himself up in the bed so he could get into a sitting position but quickly gave it up. The doctor was right, it was very painful. Suarez saw what he wanted. She slipped off the bed, stood over him, put her arms under his and pulled him up gently so he was sitting. It was still painful but he didn't mind, he got the smell of her hair, it was nice, and while she was holding him he felt her breast press against him. She was strong, he thought, not that it mattered, but it stopped him thinking about other things she was.

Once he was sitting up Suarez arranged the pillows behind him then began to act as interpreter for her boss, who had suddenly come to life. He left the wall to hold itself up and started to ask his questions. They went through the events of the night before. All Jimmy knew was that he heard a noise, got up, did what he did and the guy's neck got broken by accident. He had only meant to hurt him enough to keep him quiet, to disable him. It was an accident. But Jimmy got the distinct impression that the detective found that hard to believe. He felt that way because telling it out loud made it sound hard to believe, even to himself, and he had been there. When the detective had finally finished, he told Suarez to tell Jimmy not to leave Santander and surrender his passport at the nearest police station, then he left.

Suarez began to follow him but at the door she stopped.

‘Call me when you want to leave and I'll come and get you. But remember, don't be a hard case, co-operate and make sure you're sufficiently mended before you leave otherwise you'll be straight back in.'

Then she left and a nurse looked in so Jimmy asked for coffee.

He spent the rest of the morning sitting still and trying to let his mind be blank. He wanted to be out of hospital as soon as possible and knew that meant resting up the wound so that was what he did. While he was at it he tried to rest up his mind as well. He rested, dozed, woke up, drank some orange juice which had appeared by his bed, then rested some more. The doctor came and took off his bandage and examined his stitches, seemed satisfied and left the nurse to put on a new bandage, a nice white one with no dark stain. He ate some soup and drank coffee and the day slowly passed.

That night he dreamed, a confused dream in which he could never get to where he was going, partly because no one would tell him where it was that he was going and partly because of locked doors to which only McBride had the keys. She looked at him through windows that wouldn't open and he glimpsed her down corridors or across crowded rooms. But she was always gone when he got there and the door through which he could follow her was always locked. He woke twice and twice went back to sleep but the dream, changed but not really any different, persisted until he woke once more and it was morning.

The nurse eventually came in, opened the curtains and spoke to him in Spanish. He smiled, he was co-operating. He had orange juice and coffee for breakfast then he was left alone. He decided his mind had rested enough so he started going over things; Jarvis, Mercer, Henderson, his night-time attacker, but somehow the smell of Suarez's hair and the feel of her breasts against him kept on pushing themselves in and he had to keep pushing them out again. He forced himself to think of McBride's command delivered by her tame Monsignor and his talk to Perez. It all had to fit together somehow, but how? He thought about Jarvis being shot, Jarvis in prison and Harry in prison, he thought about it all until they brought him a light lunch. He tried to eat it but it was a tough struggle. It was fish, but it wasn't good fish. After lunch he slept again and this time there were no dreams, at least none that he could remember. Late in the afternoon he woke, thought some more, then slept again. After a while he woke again, ate another light meal, which wasn't fish this time, thought some more, then slept and dreamed another frustrating and confused dream in which he was looking for Suarez and McBride was always getting in the way.

Then, suddenly, a new day began.

He stuck it out until lunch. It was the lunch that had made him call Suarez. It was fish again. He could look at it, just, but there was no way he could eat it, and he was getting hungry. She came and helped him dress and then took him in a wheelchair down to her car where the nurse who was with them helped her get Jimmy in. The nurse and Suarez spoke then Suarez got in and they drove off.

‘She was asking me if I had a wheelchair for you at the other end. I told her I did.'

‘Do you?'

‘No. You'll have to use the lift. Think you can manage it? If you die on me all hell will break loose.'

‘Then I'll try not to die on you.'

Suarez stopped her car outside a block of apartments which stood among other blocks of apartments. She helped him out of the car and got him, slowly, to the lift. Then they went up to her apartment where she sat him down in the living room and put a small stool under his feet. Jimmy lay back in his chair and closed his eyes. It had been a short car ride, a few steps to a lift and then a few more into the apartment, but it had made him feel like shit and told him how weak he really was. Suarez peeled open his shirt and examined the bandage. It seemed all right, no blood stain had appeared.

‘It seems …'

But when she looked at him he was asleep. She pulled his shirt closed and left, closing the door quietly behind her. When she came back half an hour later Jimmy was still in the chair and still asleep, so she left him to recover from his premature exit from the hospital. He was asleep, not dead, so all hell hadn't broken loose. Not yet.

When Jimmy opened his eyes, on the table beside him was his jacket. On top of it was a bulging carrier bag from which hung a sock. Suarez came into the room from the kitchen and saw him looking at it.

‘I got a few things from the house and brought them here. You'll have to stay here until you're fit to walk. The doctor said you shouldn't be on your own until the wound has knitted enough not to be a problem.'

‘Then I'd better try walking.'

Jimmy began to get up.

Suarez hurried to him and gently pushed him back into his chair.

‘No, not too soon, there's no hurry, there's nobody else here.'

Jimmy sat back.

‘Where do I sleep?'

‘There's a spare room. It's all fixed.'

‘How did you swing it? I'm not fit to be out of hospital.'

‘I told the doctor we were worried there would be another attempt on you. We needed you where we could look after you and we didn't want the world to know about it so he should make sure it wasn't made too well known among the staff. I guess I made it all sound a bit dramatic. Anyway, he let you go so here you are.'

‘And was that your idea or your boss's?'

‘God, not my boss, he knows nothing about it.'

‘And if he finds out?'

‘It would be better if he didn't until you can walk and talk, so my advice is get better soon, then neither of us need worry about my boss.'

Jimmy sat back and decided she was right, he should try and get better as soon as possible then her boss wouldn't be a problem. But there would be other problems if he was living in her apartment. He felt sure there would. 

Chapter Fourteen

Two days later Jimmy walked slowly and gingerly to the balcony and carefully eased himself into a chair. The balcony had room for a small table and two chairs and a terracotta flowerpot with some sort of plant growing in it. Jimmy looked at the view. He liked it even if it was only other apartment blocks, all much like the one they were in. There was no sea anywhere, no beaches, and no bloody ferry. It was peaceful, domestic. An awning stretched out above the balcony but it wasn't necessary. Suarez's apartment was on the second floor and the sun in the late afternoon sky made the shadow of the block opposite fall across where he sat. It was still hot, but not punishingly so. On the table were two glasses. One held brandy, lemonade and ice; in the other was orange juice, also with ice. Jimmy picked up his orange juice, swirled the ice round, and took a drink.

Suarez came out with a plate of cooked meats and a bowl of salad sitting on two plates with knives and forks balanced on the edge of the plates. She laid everything out on the table and sat down.  She picked up her drink and took a sip.

‘I don't like it, Jimmy.'

He held out his orange juice.

‘Then don't drink it, swap with me. I don't like orange juice.'

 ‘Idiot,' she smiled, but the smile didn't last. ‘I don't like how all this is shaping up. And my boss doesn't like it either. In fact I can't think of a single person who does like it.'

‘What's there to like? I've been stuck with one of my own kitchen knives and the man who stuck me is in the morgue.'

‘That's the problem, you. How long have you been here? Hardly any time at all and we've got two dead men that are connected to you. That's a high body count by our standards.'

‘Jarvis was dead before I could have got near him and if some bloke breaks into my house and tries to stick a knife in me I don't see how I can be held responsible.'

‘Oh, you can be held responsible all right, because you killed him. You broke his neck, remember?'

Jimmy remembered.

‘Do you know anything yet?'

‘He flew in from Madrid the morning of the day he broke in, didn't check into any hotel that we can find, and he appears to have had no luggage. He obviously came to do a job and expected to be gone as soon as it was done. You, it seems, were the job. He must have waited somewhere until two in the morning, broke into your kitchen to get a knife, and then went upstairs to finish you off.He had a return ticket to Madrid on a nine o'clock flight. If things had gone to plan he'd have probably been on his way before anybody found anything. He had his passport in his jacket. It says he's Romanian but it's a phoney, a good phoney, but still a phoney. We're checking the name in the passport on flights into and out of Madrid and we might turn up something but it's a hub airport, that means a lot of people passing through from all over. We might find where he came from but even if we do it probably won't get us anywhere.'

Jimmy carefully reached down and picked up his plate, put a couple of slices of meat and some salad onto it, then picked up his fork and ate a couple of mouthfuls.

‘You've covered the ground but it sounds like you haven't turned up much.'

‘Jimmy, for God's sake, it was a contract. Somebody wants you dead and it seems that they can arrange for that to happen at short notice. I'd say that makes the connection between you and Jarvis quite a bit stronger. Jarvis dies on the day you arrive, you start asking questions and somebody sets it up for you to get killed. Yes, I think I could safely say there's quite a connection.'

Jimmy didn't waste time disagreeing. If the hit-man had come in by plane that would explain why he had to get a knife and came in through the kitchen instead of coming through the open bedroom window. It looked like a contract all right, but who the hell wanted him dead and was prepared to pay someone to do it? Even in Romania, if the bloke
was
from Romania, it couldn't have come cheap.

Suarez used her fingers to fill her plate and took a mouthful before speaking. ‘So, Jimmy, who wants you dead?'

Jimmy shrugged and winced as the stitches stabbed him with pain. He carefully and slowly put his plate back onto the table. He suddenly found he wasn't that hungry.

‘No-one that I can think of. Once, a while ago, there were people who might have organised something, a contract, a professional, but that all got straightened out in Copenhagen. At least I thought it had.'

‘What people?'

‘It's an old story, something that happened long ago?'

It wasn't so very long ago but Jimmy wanted to think of it that way, something in his past that he could forget about.

‘Forget long ago, who was after you?'

‘I told you, that got straightened out. If it had been them I'd be dead. They don't climb in through kitchen windows to get the murder weapon out of a kitchen drawer.'

Suarez picked up her glass and was silent for a while. Then she took a drink and put the glass down and ate some more.

‘Is it all true, what we were told about you?'

‘I don't know, you were a bit vague on details.'

‘Come on, Jimmy, you know what I mean. To me you seem an all right sort of guy, but we were told to expect someone who was anything but all right, probably a killer among other things. Just tell me it's not true.' Jimmy sat in silence. He didn't have the answer she wanted, but she still wanted an answer ‘It's true?' Jimmy continued to sit in silence. Suarez took another drink. ‘So, when was the last time you killed someone, Jimmy, apart from last night?'

‘Why do you want to know?'

‘If you're staying in my apartment I think that entitles me to ask, don't you?'

Well, thought Jimmy, if she wants to know she might as well know.

‘The last time I killed anybody was a long time ago. He was a villain and I was a copper, a bent copper as it happened, on the take. When I wouldn't take his money he said he would go after my kids, they were just little then. So I killed him.'

Suarez thought about it.

‘Just like that?'

‘No, not just like that. I made it look like an accident. I did a good job and it got put down as an accident.'

‘And that's the last time?'

‘No, not really. I could say it was, but I'd be doing the same as McBride, telling you half the truth so you would see things the way I wanted you to.' He took a sip of his juice, it didn't help. He didn't expect it to, it was orange juice. ‘Not so very long ago there were people who wanted me dead and they were the sort who could get it done. Like I said, they didn't climb in through kitchen windows to get knives. They brought their kit with them and they didn't miss. McBride arranged for me to disappear and I finished up in Denmark. But the past caught up with me and people got killed. Depending on how you look at it you could say I killed them. It wasn't my finger on the trigger but I was the reason they died.'

‘How many?'

‘Two that I know of?'

‘The two in Lübeck?' Jimmy nodded. ‘My God, Jimmy, what the hell are you?'

Jimmy didn't look at her. He looked straight ahead.

‘I'm a bloke, I had a wife, a family and a job. I was a bad husband, a bad father and a bad copper and I have to live with that. Now I've got nothing except that I'm alive, though God knows why, and I mean that, God knows why and I don't. I work for Professor McBride because she saved my life. She screwed me up but she also saved my life. I try, that's what I do, I try, try to do the best I can but …'

But the words ran out. Words didn't make it right or sensible or anything else so he stopped using them.

Suarez took a drink then finished what was on her plate. She stood up.

‘I'll say this for you, Jimmy, you certainly have a past.'

‘But do I have a future?'

It had come too quickly and it had come out wrong. Or had it?

Shit, he hadn't felt like this since he was a teenager and now he was old enough to be her fucking dad. What was happening to him? He looked at her. She was looking at him in that funny way again. Oh, Christ, he thought, just let her laugh. Let me see that she thinks it's all a load of bollocks. One good laugh at a stupid old bastard who's made a fool of himself.

But Suarez didn't laugh, she did worse.

She smiled.