‘Maybe not — but a little mud sticks, no? You’re already being dragged through the courts. Two cases would be very messy.’
‘A tenuous connection, don’t you think?’
His cockiness pressed on the bolts that held in my anger. I felt tempted to slap some information out of him, but he seemed too secure for that.
Zalinskas rose, moved back to the wolf. ‘You know, only the pack leader is ever allowed to raise pups,’ he said. ‘I can assure you, Mr Dury, I take my responsibilities to my pack very seriously.’
‘And when the time comes for the pup to challenge the leader, what happens then? Sorry, we’ve been there already, you explained. Of course. Look, Zalinskas, I know what kind of an outfit you run here. I know about Billy’s plans. I know about the…’
Zalinskas’ eyes widened. I had him where I wanted him, rattled. But I’d get no more from him, I knew that. The result I wanted depended on his next move outside this room. I’d made him sweat, now I needed to step back and observe.
He drew a curtain over the wolf’s cage, turned and walked back to his desk. ‘I see you have been talking to Nadja, Mr Dury.’ He pulled deep on his cigar. ‘I warn you now, her word is not to be trusted.’
‘Thanks for the friendly advice. I’ll store it away.’
‘Nadja has her own… agenda.’
‘Haven’t we all?’
‘Indeed we do, Mr Dury.’ He pressed a button on his desk and the door I’d come through clicked open, the pug and two uniformed filth walked in.
‘I believe this is the man you’re looking for officers,’ said Zalinskas.
40
Zalinskas smirked as he welcomed in the filth. A glare in my direction said he’d been messing with me, but now he’d tired of the game. I’d seen the look before, on Hannibal Lecter, waited for the, ‘Do you hear the lambs, Clarice?’
Tried to stand my ground.
‘This is all very cosy, fellahs,’ I said as the cops approached me, ‘but if you don’t mind indulging me a few moments — what’s the charge?’
One of the cops touched six feet, carried a build that said he was no stranger to the police gym. He seemed to take my query as a personal slight, lunged at me.
I took a killer punch to the gut. Then a knee to the kidney that splayed me on the floor like the dead tiger. I felt my insides scream. I tried to cry out but my breath deserted me. For more than a few seconds I believed my next move was going to be onto a mortuary slab.
‘How about resisting arrest for a start,’ said plod.
I found a dim light ignite some strength, it felt like courage. ‘Nice try. What am I supposed to be resisting arrest for?’ I rolled onto my haunches, each breath felt like acid poured in my lungs.
‘You cocky cahnt.’
Plod was London. It only made me more determined to mess with his head.
‘Come on, I’m trying to help, I wouldn’t want you to get into any trouble with your superiors — your porcine brethren who walk on two legs.’
He went for his baton. It flashed in the air above me, I saw this turn was well practised. I couldn’t move, braced myself for bone-shattering.
‘Stop!’ Zalinskas stepped in. ‘Not here — take him away.’
I felt myself lifted by the collar, my arms jerked round to my back as I was cuffed.
‘Gentlemen, please, you’ll damage those bracelets if you’re not careful.’
‘Shut it,’ said London.
I managed a last glance at Zalinskas, a smirk of my own. ‘Nice one, Benny, I love your work!’
He mulled it over. I thought he might answer, show some kind of emotion but he merely turned away from me, went back to his desk, lit another cigar.
As plod led me away Zalinskas blew smoke into the air. He had no more words for me.
‘Goodbye, Mr Zalinskas,’ I shouted, ‘no doubt I’ll be seeing you again.’
‘Move your fakhin’ arse,’ said London, sticking his baton in my shoulder blades and twisting it, hard.
All told, I thought, not a bad little result. Sure, I wondered what awaited me at the station, but I’d made an impression on Benny the Bullfrog. I’d taken his casino for a few grand and, most importantly, let him know I was very definitely onto him. I’d given the bastard something to think about.
On the floor Amy and Hod waited by the door.
‘Gus, Gus!’ cried Amy. ‘Oh my God, what have they done to you?’
‘It’s nothing,’ I said.
‘Shift,’ said London, he moderated his language now we were in the full glare of the public.
Amy threw her arms around me, ‘Oh Gus, Gus…’
‘Quick — the cash — it’s in my pocket.’
‘Miss, leave the suspect alone, please,’ said plod. He clutched her arms, lifted her away from me.
‘Gus, I have it,’ she said, waving the rolls of cash.
‘Great. Hod, the cash, take it to the crem. Milo Whittle, that’s my mate, you have to pay for the funeral expenses tomorrow.’
‘Move,’ said London. Another prod in the back, he’d lost patience with me.
‘Hod, did you hear me?’
‘Milo Whittle.’
‘That’s it. The works, do you get me? I want him sent off in style.’
I saw Amy raise a hand to her face and start to cry. It was the last thing I saw before plod threw me into the back of a meat wagon.
‘Wait till we get you down that fakhin’ station, you saucy little cahnt,’ said London.
41
The filth wasted no time throwing me down the stairs. Sorry, I slipped of course.
London had a thing for punching me on the head, probably imagined it would be harder to spot the injuries. He had a fair punch too, knuckles like the pattern on Charlie Brown’s jumper, and plenty of energy. I prayed he’d tire himself out, bust a hand. But this was Robocop. He’d stop when he was told.
I spat blood, but I’d been worked over before. After a dozen or so blows a numbness settles in. I watched the punches coming and relaxed into them, he couldn’t dent me. I imagined myself as Ali on the ropes to Foreman; I could take the punishment. What was the worst that could happen? He’d kill me. Well, I’d no fear of death, that’s for sure. I thought, ‘Bring it on — give me your worst.’
‘You’re gonna need a mop and bucket in here soon,’ I said.
‘Shut your lairy little hole.’
‘Will you do it yourself? Can see you in a set of Marigold gloves. Have you got a tabard too?’
He stood back from me, panting. He showed his bottom teeth. London had borrowed this look from Lenny McLean, the Guv’nor, but he was no bare-knuckle fighter. A few good jabs would put him to bed. He looked like every filth I’d ever known, could only handle a fight with the odds stacked in his favour. It’s the old story all over. Weak fucks join up because they know it’s their best chance of getting on a winning side.
A green light flashed above the door and London straightened his back.
‘That you off then?’ I said.
He pulled back his arm, a fist hovered in the air.
I smiled at him. I felt the blood squelching. I’d lost some teeth. But I felt no sense of defeat, and he saw this. I’d taken the best he had to offer and I still smiled.
London lowered his fist, saw I wasn’t worth the energy.
‘You’re fukhin’ mental, d’you know that?’ he said.
‘Whatever — the green light’s flashing. Time to get the kettle on for the DCs.’
He looked at me like I was seriously tapped.
‘Proper mental, that’s what you are.’
My smile sat in place as I threw back my head and roared with laughter. Quite a victory, it felt good. Bring on round two.
For an hour they left me to my own devices. Then brought in a bucket of water and a scrubbing brush.
‘Clean this shit up,’ a lad in uniform told me, must have been twenty tops, hair still parted with his mother’s spit.
I walked to the bucket and kicked it over. ‘Bite me.’
Uniform didn’t know what to do. Walked out, leaving the bucket behind him.
Inside a minute two gut-huge inspectors appeared. They took an arm each and dragged me out the door.