The Bullet Trick

London

BILL’S OFFICE WAS three storeys up, at the top of the building. I gave a sharp rap at the door and Sam unlocked it, grinning. Bill was talking in a low voice to someone on the telephone. He motioned me inside and pointed towards a chair, still talking to whoever was on the end of the line. Sam locked the door behind me. I sat at one side of the desk, Bill at the other, one of his endless chain of cigarettes smouldering in the ashtray beside him. Sam leaned against the wall behind Bill, looking pleased with himself.

The office had probably last been decorated sometime around the coronation. There were hints of how the place had looked then in the bright rectangles around the walls where pictures had once hung. The wallpaper had been plain white intersected by regal bands of red flock. But the flock had darkened with age. It was balding in places, scored and chipped in others, and the once-white background had developed the faint toffee tint that old men and paper take on after decades of soaking up nicotine. The carpet had been chosen to match the walls, a plain red pile that had been good and might still be OK if someone took the time to run a Hoover around. Bill’s desk looked like you could take to sea in it, a grand mahogany structure too big for the small space. Bill had either recently been turned over or he was serious about moving. The room was pretty much stripped. What was left was a guddle of cardboard boxes, slouching half-full bin bags and discarded files. An empty safe yawned behind the desk. High above Bill on a set of almost cleared shelves was propped a picture of the young Queen Elizabeth in full sparkle mode, looking glam and only half horse.

Bill’s voice was soft and serious.

'Yeah, just tell them I’ve had to go out. Unavoidable circumstances.' He put the cigarette to his lips. 'Everyone paid, everyone happy?' He paused, listening to the person on the other end of the line. 'Well, Crowther will take care of them. Just wait till the last have gone and lock the door behind you. Nah, don’t worry ’bout the clearing up. Not our problem any more. Yeah, cheers, Candy, good luck.'

Bill put the phone back on its cradle and I held the envelope out to him.

'Mission accomplished.'

For a brief moment his face was still. I wondered if he was already regretting telling me as much as he had, then his mouth creased into a grin.

'OK, good.' He turned towards Sam. 'You got William’s fee?' Sam reached into his pocket, pulled out a white envelope and handed it to Bill. 'Cheers.' Bill slid it across the desk towards me. 'I think this’ll cover your trouble.'

'Thanks.'

'Fair exchange.'

He weighed the packet I’d given him in his hand and for a second I thought he was going to open it, but the moment passed and he laid it carefully back on the top of the desk.

'OK, I guess there’s no need, but I’ll say this anyway: tonight’s little adventure stays strictly between us.'

Sam raised his eyebrows. I ignored him and said, 'Already understood.'

'Good, because only three people know about it: you, me and Sam. So if word gets out I’ll know where it came from.'

I tucked the fee into my pocket. Sam put his hand on Bill’s shoulder.

'You bought a captain’s hat and a cat o’ nine tails for that new yacht of yours?'

Bill laughed gently.

'Yeah, point taken. OK.' He held out his hand. We shook and Bill palmed the IOUs to me. He gave me a quick wink. 'Good doing business with you.'

'And you.'

I meant it. I’d arrived that night deep in debt and left with cash in my pocket. I got to my feet taking my props case in my hand. Bill came out from behind his desk.

'I’ll show you out the back way. Save you going past that lot.'

Sam stepped to one side and Bill unlocked what I’d thought was a cupboard door in the wall behind him.

I said what had been bothering me ever since I’d slipped the envelope from Montgomery’s pocket.

'There’s always a chance he’s got a copy of whatever it is.'

Sam grinned and suddenly he was the same comic I’d spent countless bar-room nights with.

'Bill will molicate him if he has.'

I laughed but Bill’s nod of agreement was serious.

'He’s treading on thin ice as it is. He knows the score. I got it from him gently this time, for the sake of whatever there was between him and my dad, next time I won’t be so patient.'

'And if he notices and comes up here?'

'Five minutes and we’re gone.'

'Good luck.'

I was already halfway through the door when the knock came from the hallway. Bill tensed, looked at me and put a finger to his lips.

'You in there, Bill?'

We froze, silent as kids in bed hearing their dad come home from the boozer.

'Good going, but you only got half the story there, Billy boy.'

There was a hesitation in the policeman’s voice that made me sure he was lying.

I whispered, 'He’s bluffing, I can tell.'

But Bill shook his head. He shouted, 'Hangon a second.'

Sam said, 'You promised me, Bill, no argy bargy.'

Bill’s whisper managed to be furious and pleading at the same time.

'Jesus fuck, Sam, he’s taking the piss now.'

Sam’s voice was low and determined.

'I know he is and you’re right to be angry, but I swear, Bill, you hit him and I’m out that door with William.'

Bill shot me a dark look and I said, 'I think he means at the same time as me.'

Sam shook his head.

'Bloody hell, William, get a grip.'

The knock came at the door again.

'I know you’re in there, Bill. This is the one chance for you to find out the truth about your mother.'

Sam took the envelope from his lover and shoved it into my hand.

'Look, let him search the place — he’ll find nothing. This’ll be safe as houses with William.'

I hissed, 'This is nothing to do with me.'

Bill’s voice was low and determined.

'Don’t worry; I’ll make it worth your while.' He smiled. 'And if you open it I’ll know and you’ll have your balls to play with to prove it. Now go on, it’s abracadabra time, this is your cue to disappear.'

Bill put his hand on my shoulder and pushed me firmly from the room, Sam gave me a last smile over his lover’s shoulder, then the door was closed behind me and the key turned softly in the lock. The landing was dark and damp. There was a small wash basin to my left, and next to it a steep set of stairs leading downwards. I stalled for a second silently cursing, the envelope in one hand my case in the other, trying not to breathe for fear the small man would hear. Through the door I heard Bill’s voice, welcoming as a warm brandy on a cold night.

'Inspector Montgomery.'

I started to creep my way down the stone stairs, hearing Montgomery say something, and perhaps a second man with him or maybe just Bill, responding to the policeman’s words. I wondered if I should wait, wondered if there was anyone I should call. Then padded softly on, careful of the flaking whitewash against my velvet suit. I reached the ground, pushed open the exit bar and stepped out into the night, the envelope containing Bill Senior’s secrets pressed tight against my chest.

My mobile woke me the next day, buzzing ‘The Sorcerer’s Apprentice’ from under the pillow. The ringtone had been a present from an ex-girlfriend. I’d never liked it, but I guess I didn’t get gifts, even sarcastic ones, very often. I retrieved the phone, wondering whether keeping it under the pillow would give me a brain tumour and why my alarm had gone off so early, then realised it wasn’t the alarm.

'Hope I’m not disturbing your beauty sleep?'

Richard’s voice was too loud for ten in the morning. I said, 'I was working last night.'

'I know. Did you have a divine time?'

'Is that why you’re calling?'

'Just a friendly enquiry.'

I reached for my gregs, put them on and watched the world come into focus, then got out of bed and walked naked into the tiny cupboard that served as my kitchen. Rich’s interest in my non-existent sex life was starting to grate.