Savage Night (24 page)

"Even though we were against it?"

Martin combed his damp hair with his fingers. "Yeah."

She thought for a minute. "I don't think so."

"You could be right."

"I know my dad better than you."

"Sure."

"He wouldn't do that."

"Probably not."

Effie ran her tongue over her lips. The sickly sweet taste in her mouth wouldn't go away.

"Forget it," he said. "I'm sure there's another explanation." He leaned across, kissed her on the cheek.

"Yeah," she said.

"So what are we going to do about the kid?" Martin adjusted his towel. "Doesn't seem right to ..."

"What doesn't?"

"You know. I'm no Moral Morag but ..."

"Who the fuck's she?"

"You know what I mean."

She sighed. "I know. He's seen us. He can identify us." Her dad had wanted Jordan dead, too, but she had refused to consider it. Martin wasn't too keen either. And they'd won. Agreed to do just the three adult males—Phil, Fraser and Tommy. Or so she'd thought. But now things weren't looking so rosy for Jordan. Fuck, her dad was a right bastard sometimes.

"Shit," she said. "He's only a kid."

"Doesn't stop his eyes from working. And the police'll believe him, won't they? If he fingers us, case closed."

Jordan's voice hadn't broken yet. He was older than he looked, but even so, Effie knew he was only eleven. "I fucked up," she said to Martin.

"How the fuck did you fuck up?"

"Not getting out of here when we could have. Having that bath. Not making a contingency plan."

"You'd have preferred to spend the rest of the night covered in gunge?"

"Could have had a shower."

"And how were we to know the kid would get on his bike, cycle over here and let himself in with his own key?"

She shrugged. "We should have considered it."

"Can't consider everything. Anyway, doesn't matter. What matters is what we do now."

He was right. No point dwelling on the past. She should know. Maybe she'd been trying too hard to impress him. Didn't matter for the moment who'd sent the kid round to visit. She had to let go of the anger and think.

She must have spoken aloud, cause Martin said, "Yeah, we have to deal with this, babe."

She nodded. "I'm just not sure if we should …"

"Things are different." His face twisted. "The kid's dangerous."

Sounded like he wanted to do it. "You mean you've changed your mind?"

"You got any other ideas?"

They could ask Jordan not to mention them, say this was all a big secret. But that'd hardly be a smart move. Maybe claim that Jordan's brother didn't want anyone to know he'd gone off on that fictitious drug deal, so Jordan had to keep his mouth shut. They could bribe him. Money probably wouldn't work, but they could try offering him a fancy mobile phone or a computer console or something. But his grandmother would want to know where the new equipment had come from, so that was no good.

What else, then? Well, if Jordan was an adult, threats might work. Break something? Nah, if he went home with a busted arm, Grandma was going to wonder how that'd happened and word would get out about the nasty couple at Fraser's house.

Effie looked up. Martin was watching her, arms by his sides, one foot planted on top of the other.

"Give me time," she said. "There's got to be a way out of this."

"You think we have time?" Martin said. "We have to leave. We need to decide what we're going to do with the kid."

"
You
decide."

"You saying you want me to do it?"

"I'm not saying that at all."

"Yes, you are. If you can't decide, then I'll have to. And because I make the decision, I'll have to do … it, too."

"Look," Effie said, "I'm just saying, I don't think I can do it. That's all."

Martin folded his arms. "Well, I'm not doing it. You'll have to. You're the Apprentice, after all."

She stared at him. She shouldn't have told him Richie'd called her that. "What if we just leave the kid?"

"So he can tell the police we were here? Give them our descriptions? Identify us in a line up? If we don't sign his death warrant, we're signing our own. He knows what's wrapped up over there."

Effie looked at what remained of Phil and Fraser Savage. "No, he doesn't."

"He said as much."

"If he seriously thought those were the remains of his uncle and his brother, he'd be shitting himself, not drinking milk and watching TV. Anyway, we're taking the bodies with us."

"Yeah, okay, but that's not going to make him forget we were here or that he saw a pair of corpses in the hallway."

Effie paused. "There is another option."

Martin raised his eyebrows.

"Take him with us," she said.

"Take him home?"

"Obviously we can't do that—"

"Well, where?"

"I don't know. I was just thinking aloud. If we take him along with us for now, at least it gives us more time to decide what to do with him later."

"Let's clear up, get dressed." Martin looked into the sitting room again. "Jordan's not going anywhere. And I can think more clearly with my trousers on."

***

THEY CLEANED UP as best they could, keeping an eye on the kid. If you didn't know any different, the place looked okay. Far from meticulous, but it would do.

Apart from the interfering little toerag it had been a pretty neat couple of expurgations.

Effie liked that word. She'd had no idea what it meant the first time she'd heard Richie say it and neither did he. But they'd looked it up in a dictionary and discovered it referred to the removal of obscene or offensive material from books. It was only a slight stretch to apply it to the removal of obscene or offensive people from society.

She stood to the side of Jordan's chair, looking at his profile. He was an ugly kid. Pale and too freckly for this time of year. If Richie was here, he'd expurgate him, no qualms at all. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Martin appeared in the kitchen doorway, testing the blade of a steak knife with his thumb.

Jordan hadn't seen him. He was staring at the TV, watching a car ad. He said, "They look like bodies, eh?"

The car didn't look like a body. He had to mean what Effie thought he meant. Effie looked at Martin and Martin looked at Jordan, lips pressed together. Jordan turned his head.

Effie said, "What are you talking about?"

"Out in the hallway. In the sheets." He turned back to the TV. "The rubbish."

Martin said, "Don't be silly."

"But that's what they look like." He sipped his milk.

Effie said nothing.

Jordan said, "With the heads cut off."

Holy shit. Was the little fucker taunting them?

Jordan gulped down the rest of his milk, left a frothy white moustache. He got to his feet. "Fraser always drives when he goes away, and his car's out front. And he wouldn't leave his phone. So I don't think he's gone far. Can I have my phone back now?"

Effie'd done everything she could to save the wee shite's life. There didn't seem to be any way round it now. He'd have to go. "You're wrong," she said. "They're not bodies." Denial. The last resort of the coward.

"I'm not stupid."

"You fucking are."

"My dad says Uncle Phil's stupid. I'm not like Uncle Phil. If they're not bodies, let me see inside."

"Your brother went away," Effie said. "With your stupid uncle. Left us in charge of his house. Now shut up and watch TV. Stop talking nonsense."

Jordan wasn't looking at Effie. He was looking at Martin. "Not till I see the rubbish. I want to see what it looks like. Inside."

Martin looked at Effie, handle of the knife gripped tight. He stepped forward. "We can't do that, Jordan. It took a long time for us to wrap up the rubbish all nice and tight like that and we wouldn't want to have to do it all again. Do you understand?"

Jordan turned his head away from Martin, fixed his gaze on the TV. An ad for processed cheese, one of Effie's secret pleasures. Martin couldn't stand the stuff and wouldn't have it in the house. "Can I have my phone?"

Either Jordan was incredibly cold, or despite what he claimed, he'd inherited some of his uncle's genes.

Effie said, "No."

"I already told you I'm not stupid," the little bastard said.

So he was incredibly cold. Good. She'd concentrate on that. Make it easier to do what had to be done.

Fuck you, Dad.
Cause this was his doing, she had no doubt, whatever she'd said to Martin and however much she didn't want to believe it.

"You think they're bodies?" Martin said. "Then you must think that we put them there. So if we did that, then why wouldn't we do the same to you?"

Jordan glanced at the knife in Martin's hand. Didn't seem so sure of himself any more. He sat down.

"You see?" Martin smiled. "It's a ridiculous idea. Isn't it?"

Jordan nodded. Then, as if he couldn't help himself, he said, "I'll tell my dad. When he gets here, he'll phone the police. They'll make you unwrap them."

Martin lowered his head, tapped the flat of the knife against his knee.

Effie put her hand in her pocket, fumbled for the clothesline.

Martin looked up at her. She knew what he was thinking:
You or me, babe?

Jesus Christ. How could it have come to this?

Prelude To A Certain Thursday

Almondell Country Park

TOMMY WAS KNEELING in a clearing doing his best not to throw up.

Smith dragged the sword along the ground, splitting earth and parting leaves as he marched in a circle. He stopped right in front of Tommy and said, "Is this close to the spot?"

Tommy licked his lips. His tongue felt as sharp as paper. "I don't know," he said.

"I asked you a question." Smith's voice was loud.

Loud enough to attract attention, maybe. But it was late and they were in the middle of nowhere. Tommy wasn't about to get rescued.

"I wish I could help you." Tommy's bicep throbbed, the object still stuck in it from when he'd made his fucking dumb attempt at rolling to freedom. "Honestly," he said, "I've never been here before."

"But you arranged for someone else to be here, right?"

Tommy said, "I've never seen this place."

"That's not what I asked." Smith made a guttural noise and swung the
katana
in an arc, narrowly missing Tommy's shoulder.

"Okay," Tommy said, his voice quivering. He'd have to lie to calm Smith down. "I've been here before, yes. It's coming back to me. I remember."

"No, you haven't." Smith disappeared behind him. Bent over. "This is the woods where Martin Milne's father was murdered."

Jesus Christ.

"On your orders."

Tommy was afraid to speak. But he was more afraid not to. "It wasn't me. I had nothing to do with it."

"One more lie and I'll slice your head down the middle."

Tommy closed his eyes. Fuck's sake, he'd just admit it. If he didn't, Smith was going to carry out his threat. The guy was beyond insane. "Okay, it was me," Tommy said. Opened his eyes. "Yes, I arranged it."

Smith leaned closer. "That's better."

Tommy waited, shoulders shaking.

Smith said, "Are you even a tiny bit sorry?"