‘I can’t see him! Jesus … unless I ate the fucker … Can yah eat them?’
The barman shrugged his shoulders. He was about to close as the wind was up and howling. The Alien had a mess of dollars before him. The barman pocketed them, shoved a bottle of mescal into Fenton’s arms then got him outside. ‘Go, Senor, the hurricane ees here.’
‘Fuck off.’
Fenton slumped down against the shack, opened the mescal, drank deep and shuddered. Then he closed his eyes.
When the hurricane hit, the poorer areas took the brunt.
The tourist hotels, resort and apartments escaped.
Down in the shanty the Cantina was practically demolished.
It took a long time for the rescue teams to find Fenton, and by the time they got him to hospital, it was too late to save his legs.
Run for home (Lindisfarne)
Brant was finishing his first doughnut. A second, heavily sugared, sat expectant.
Nancy said, ‘I hate to rush you.’
‘You won’t, don’t worry.’
She looked at her watch. ‘You wouldn’t want to be late.’
He bit into the remaining cake and Nancy added, ‘You’d slide right into the NYPD.’
‘Think so?’
Nervously, she produced a package. ‘It’s for you.’
‘A present?’
‘Well, to remind you of your trip.’
‘This travel lark is a blast — people keep giving me stuff.’
Without finesse, he tore open the package. Inside was a Macys tag and a hat. He said, ‘It’s a hat.’
‘Like Popeye Doyle.’
‘Who?’
‘In the movie “French Connection”.’
Then she saw him laughing and she blustered, ‘I didn’t know what you’d wear — a fedora, a Trilby, a derby …?’
‘But you knew I’d wear it well.’
For one awful moment she thought he was going to sing.
He stood up, said, ‘I hate to rush you.’
As they drove to Kennedy, she didn’t know whether she would be relieved or sad at his going.
Brant thought: ‘The hat’ll be a nice surprise for Roberts …
A room had been set aside for the transfer of the prisoner. As Brant and Nancy waited, he signed the ton of paperwork. Then he took out his Weights and checked the wall. Yup, right there: SMOKE FREE ZONE.
He lit up. Nancy ignored him.
As he fingered the Zippo, he suddenly acted on impulse, said, ‘Here, it was my Dad’s.’
Nancy looked at the offered lighter, said, ‘Oh, I couldn’t.’
‘OK.’ And he put it back in his pocket.
The door opened and Josie was let through. In chains. A belt round her waist joined manacles from her wrists to her ankles. Naturally, it impeded movement and she had to shuffle pigeon-toed. Four guards with her. Brant said, ‘For fucksake!’
Josie gave a rueful smile, said, ‘I’ll never get through the metal detector.’
As the handover was done, all the chains were removed and then a new long handcuff was placed on her right wrist, the other cuff offered to Brant.
Before he could respond, Nancy said, ‘It’s regulations.’
‘It’s bloody nonsense.’
But he took the cuff. Josie said, ‘Like we’re engaged.’
Nancy said, ‘We accompany you to the aircraft, then it’s all your show.’
They were boarded before the other passengers and right at the rear of the plane. Two rows ahead would be kept empty.
Nancy said, ‘You better not smoke.’
‘Me?’
The guards left and Nancy had a word with the Chief Steward, then she stood before Brant. ‘I guess it’s been fun.’
‘Don’t let me keep you, D’Agostino.’
She turned and was half way down the aisle when he shouted, ‘Yer a good un, Nance.’
Not sure what that meant, she decided it was complimentary, and hugged it thus.
Josie asked, ‘Did yah ride her?’
‘Watch yer lip.’
Brant reached over, unlocked the cuffs. She massaged her wrist. ‘Thanks.’
‘Any messin’, I’ll break yer nose, OK?’
Josie gave him a long look. ‘I could give you a blow job.’
He laughed in spite of himself. What was amazing to him was she was kind of likable. In a twisted, selfish fashion, he felt almost protective. He tried to dissipate that with: ‘You’ll get some reception in prison — you being a police killer.’
She nodded. ‘Least I’ll get a decent cup o’ tea.’
‘You’ll get a hell of a lot more than tea, me girl.’
She looked out the window. ‘I’m afraid.’
‘You have good reason, lass.’
‘No, I mean … of flying.’
Brant nearly laughed again, said
‘Jaysus, you’d be better off if we crashed.’
‘Can I hold yer hand for take-off?’
Brant shook his head and then she left a piece of paper on his knee. He asked, ‘What?’ And uncrumbled it to find a five dollar bill. Soiled, worn, torn, but hanging in there.
She said, ‘I’ll buy the drinks.’
‘How did you hide it?’
She gave a slow smile. ‘Them yanks isn’t all they’re cracked up to be.’
As the plane took off, he saw the sweat on her forehead. He placed his hand on hers and she nodded.
Once airborne, the hostess asked, ‘Like a drink? It has to be a soft one for your … companion.’
‘A Coke for her and two large Bacardis.’
‘Ahm …
Brant stared at her, defying her to question him. She let it go. Josie said nothing.
When the drinks came, he measured them evenly and indicated Josie to take one. She said, ‘I love rum ’n’ coke.’
‘Well drink it then.’
She did.
The in-flight movie commenced and Josie said, ‘I love the pictures.’
Shooting
Collie watched the funeral with a sense of awe. All the taxi drivers of south-east London had turned out for their murdered colleague. Each cab had a black ribbon tied to its antennae and they fluttered in the light breeze.
‘I caused this. They’re here cos of me.’
It was a heady sensation. Collie had figured he needed a dry run with the gun, to see if he had the balls. He did.
Kept it lethal and simple. Hailed a cab at The Oval, blew the guy’s head off at Stockwell. Then walked away. He couldn’t believe the rush. He hadn’t touched the takings — he was a professional, not a bloody thief.
The few days previous, he’d done his Brant research. All that required was hanging in the cop pubs. To say they were loose tongued was to put it mildly — numerous times he heard of Brant travelling home with a woman. Next he rang the station and, in his best TV voice said, ‘This is Chief Inspector Ryan of Serious Crimes at the Yard. We need the assistance of Sergeant Brant.’
Mention of the Yard did all the work. He was told the time and terminal of arrival. Now, on the day, he put on a black suit and dog collar, checked himself in the mirror and said, ‘Reverend …? You looking at me?’
At The Oval, he bought a ticket for Heathrow and The Big Issue to pass the journey. As he settled into his seat, the gun was only slightly uncomfortable in the small of his back.
A woman offered him a piece of chocolate and he said, ‘God bless you my child.’
At the airport, he checked the arrivals board and settled down to wait.
Over Heathrow, the plane was preparing to land. Brant said, ‘We’ve got to cuff up.’
‘I like bin chained to yah.’
‘Jaysus, girl!’
Then she lowered her head. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘What?’
‘For yer trouble.’
‘Yeah … well …
In truth, he didn’t know what to say. Being sorry hardly cut it, but … He said, ‘Leastways you’ll get a decent cup o’ tea.’
‘Two sugars?’
‘Sure, why not?’
As Brant and Josie emerged into arrivals, he slung his jacket to hide the cuff. Collie saw them and thought: Holding hands. How sweet.
He moved up to the barrier, Brant vaguely clocked a priest and looked away. The gun was out and Collie put two rounds in Josie’s chest. The impact threw her back, pulling Brant along. Collie was moving fast and away, the gun back in his waistband.