legs further underneath, holding her arms more tightly about her.
âYouâre one of his men,â she said. âYouâre one of his fucking men.â
âNo.â
âYouâre one of Mikeâs fucking men.â
âMikeâs men? What does that mean?â
âYou are. Youâre one of them.â
She pushed away from me, scrambling backwards on the sofa, trying to get as far from me as she could, pushing herself back with her legs and arms. She was like a cat with its heckles up, claws out.
âWhat does Glazer do?â
âYouâre Coleâs, then. This is a trick. What do you want? Who are you?â
âIâm a man who wants to find your ex-boyfriend.â
âWhy? Who are you? Are you going to help him? Are you one of them?â
âNo.â
âYouâre after the drugs, then.â
âYouâve seen the drugs?â
âThatâs it, isnât it? Thatâs what you fucking want.â
âI donât want anything from him.â
âWhat do you want, then? What do you want? What the fuck do you want?â
âI want to kill him.â
She stared at me, her mouth open, her face white, her eyes wide. She was panting, and her hand was twisting the life out of her dressing gown.
âYes,â she said. âKill him. Kill him.â
CHAPTER TEN
Browne said, âItâs to do with this man, Paget, isnât it? All this.â
The sky had lightened some, but not enough to give any depth to the buildings. We sat there, in the car, not saying anything, whirring down the road with grey above and grey around and grey between us.
There was something wrong with the woman. I thought it must have been delayed shock, or trauma or something like that, but Iâd seen enough of that before and her reaction didnât fit, she was too violent too quickly. If Browne hadnât been there, I couldâve squeezed her more. Browne would go so far for me, for old times and because he thought he owed me, but the moment I touched the woman, he wouldâve been on the phone grassing me up to anyone whoâd listen.
It didnât matter. What I needed to know right then was about this Glazer character, and that information I could get from someone else: Derek.
So, Iâd drop Browne off back at his place then make a few calls to local hospitals. That was the plan, anyway. It wasnât much of a plan. For one thing, I didnât have a surname for this Derek. For another, if I turned up at a hospital and asked about a man with a gunshot wound, theyâd call the law.
I switched on the radio and listened to the eight oâclock news. They mentioned a stabbing in Hackney and a drugs bust in Bermondsey. There was no mention of a shooting in Ponders End, nothing about a man being shot. That could mean Derek ran out of blood and was lying face down in Epping Forest. Or it could mean that it was too early for the report. I wondered if anybody had yet discovered the car. If it was still there, I might find something about Glazer or Derek inside it.
I pulled over. Browne looked out.
âWhat is this godforsaken place?â
âChingford.â
âAnd?â
I fished twenty from my pocket and handed it to him.
âGet a cab.â
He sat there for a moment.
âDid you see her arms?â he said.
âWhat about them?â
âScars. Old puncture scars.â
âShe was a user?â
âOnce. What are you going to do?â
âYou know what Iâm going to do.â
âYouâre going to kill them. Youâre going to find Paget and anyone else who gets in your way or had anything to do with Brendaâs death and youâre going kill them all.â
âIf you know, whyâre you asking?â
âI said once youâd been beaten by life. Remember?â
âYeah.â
âI was wrong,â he said. âI mean, that wasnât right, not exactly. You
âYouâre one of his men,â she said. âYouâre one of his fucking men.â
âNo.â
âYouâre one of Mikeâs fucking men.â
âMikeâs men? What does that mean?â
âYou are. Youâre one of them.â
She pushed away from me, scrambling backwards on the sofa, trying to get as far from me as she could, pushing herself back with her legs and arms. She was like a cat with its heckles up, claws out.
âWhat does Glazer do?â
âYouâre Coleâs, then. This is a trick. What do you want? Who are you?â
âIâm a man who wants to find your ex-boyfriend.â
âWhy? Who are you? Are you going to help him? Are you one of them?â
âNo.â
âYouâre after the drugs, then.â
âYouâve seen the drugs?â
âThatâs it, isnât it? Thatâs what you fucking want.â
âI donât want anything from him.â
âWhat do you want, then? What do you want? What the fuck do you want?â
âI want to kill him.â
She stared at me, her mouth open, her face white, her eyes wide. She was panting, and her hand was twisting the life out of her dressing gown.
âYes,â she said. âKill him. Kill him.â
CHAPTER TEN
Browne said, âItâs to do with this man, Paget, isnât it? All this.â
The sky had lightened some, but not enough to give any depth to the buildings. We sat there, in the car, not saying anything, whirring down the road with grey above and grey around and grey between us.
There was something wrong with the woman. I thought it must have been delayed shock, or trauma or something like that, but Iâd seen enough of that before and her reaction didnât fit, she was too violent too quickly. If Browne hadnât been there, I couldâve squeezed her more. Browne would go so far for me, for old times and because he thought he owed me, but the moment I touched the woman, he wouldâve been on the phone grassing me up to anyone whoâd listen.
It didnât matter. What I needed to know right then was about this Glazer character, and that information I could get from someone else: Derek.
So, Iâd drop Browne off back at his place then make a few calls to local hospitals. That was the plan, anyway. It wasnât much of a plan. For one thing, I didnât have a surname for this Derek. For another, if I turned up at a hospital and asked about a man with a gunshot wound, theyâd call the law.
I switched on the radio and listened to the eight oâclock news. They mentioned a stabbing in Hackney and a drugs bust in Bermondsey. There was no mention of a shooting in Ponders End, nothing about a man being shot. That could mean Derek ran out of blood and was lying face down in Epping Forest. Or it could mean that it was too early for the report. I wondered if anybody had yet discovered the car. If it was still there, I might find something about Glazer or Derek inside it.
I pulled over. Browne looked out.
âWhat is this godforsaken place?â
âChingford.â
âAnd?â
I fished twenty from my pocket and handed it to him.
âGet a cab.â
He sat there for a moment.
âDid you see her arms?â he said.
âWhat about them?â
âScars. Old puncture scars.â
âShe was a user?â
âOnce. What are you going to do?â
âYou know what Iâm going to do.â
âYouâre going to kill them. Youâre going to find Paget and anyone else who gets in your way or had anything to do with Brendaâs death and youâre going kill them all.â
âIf you know, whyâre you asking?â
âI said once youâd been beaten by life. Remember?â
âYeah.â
âI was wrong,â he said. âI mean, that wasnât right, not exactly. You
Similar Books
