‘That’s far enough,’ said Gabriel’s disembodied voice.
Billy stopped. He waiting for someone to say something, but no one was taking the initiative and the tension grew hard enough to beat Billy’s legs to jelly as easily as Isaiah’s fist.
‘Some church!’ said Billy, alarmed at his own bravado. ‘And not very Christian, is what I think…’ He pawed his side. It hurt like crazy and he knew he’d pay for it in the morning. He turned to Gabriel. ‘Well, is someone going to say something or not?’
‘You are William Krodde?’ said the figure in the chair. The voice was calm, almost gentle, but Billy instinctively didn’t like it, not one bit. It caused his insides to do a polka.
He tried not to let his feelings show. ‘My name is Billy,’ he said. ‘You’ve got to be the guy Camael.’ He saw the figure, still largely hidden in shadow, visibly stiffen at the mention of his name. ‘That’s right, ain’t it?’ he asked of Isaiah. ‘That’s what you said. Camael.’
‘My brother tells me you have important information for me, Billy,’ said the man. That same creeping sensation skittered across Billy’s fevered mind like some kind of spider darting for cover.
‘Maybe I do,’ he said, his voice croaking a little. He stood erect. ‘Depends.’
‘Depends?’ echoed Camael.
‘Cut the lip, Billy,’ warned Gabriel, coming close.
He held up a gloved finger, a small gesture that saw Gabriel back off quickly. ‘Yes, I am Camael,’ he said.
He rose from the chair. He was surprisingly tall, very slim, and Billy was reminded of a large insect uncurling its limbs. He was dressed in black, head to toe, and it was probably this, combined with the strange light from the windows that gave his long face a deathly, waxen appearance. He wore round glasses, heavily tinted, not unlike the ones Billy associated with John Lennon. His hair was long and straight, touching his shoulders, as black as his clothing. He stared towards a shattered window, seemingly forgetting all about Billy, as if he were totally alone and immersed in private thoughts.
‘Where is the woman, Beth Heaney?’ he said at length.
‘I’m not saying till we’ve cut a deal,’ he returned.
Camael’s lips spread into a thin smile. ‘Cut a deal? Really, Billy, you must stop watching all those movies.’
‘Yeah, well, all the same, what I know won’t come cheap.’
‘So what exactly is it you know, Billy?’
‘Put it this way, I know where she hangs out. I could take you straight there. I also know she’s up to something. She’s flogging gold and stuff.’ He saw Camael turn from the window to face him. ‘That’s what all this is about, isn’t it? She’s part of some racket.’
‘You are very astute, Billy. You must be congratulated on your sharp and incisive mind. Where is she?’
‘I want two thousand pounds,’ he spluttered.
Camael’s brows rose. ‘As much as that? For a simple address?’
‘I reckon she’s worth far more than that to you. But I’m not greedy.’
‘Most kind of you, Billy,’ he said. ‘We’d find her eventually, of course, with or without your help.’
‘So why am I here?’ He folded his arms, his confidence beginning to peek out of the dark corner it had scuttled away to hide in. ‘Nah, you can’t risk her leaving Manchester. You need to find her and find her quick, is what I think. I can make that happen tonight, but you have to make my two thousand happen.’
Camael took a step towards the window. He wiped his finger down one of the panes; it came away dirty. ‘I don’t have to do anything. But I am a generous man. You shall have the money after you have taken us to her.’
‘No deal,’ he said defiantly.
Camael put his hands behind his back and came slowly over to Billy, his eyes on the ground. When he lifted his head, Billy saw his own frightened reflection in the dark spectacles.
‘Billy,’ he said again in that same composed and measured tone. ‘Please do not argue with me. You could be dead in less than thirty seconds and I guarantee no one will ever find your miserable little body. Do you really want that?’
He shook his head, looking agitatedly at Gabriel and Isaiah who now book-ended him. ‘Sure. As you like,’ said Billy. ‘We can settle up afterwards.’
Camael turned his back on him. ‘Describe her to me first, Billy.’
He did as he was told, Camael never once turning around, listening intently, occasionally nodding as if in agreement. ‘Were you in love with her, Billy?’ he asked unexpectedly.
He thought about it. ‘I fancied her,’ he admitted. Yet in truth his feelings did go deeper, the more he thought about it; thought about her. ‘You might call it love,’ he said at length.
‘She has that effect on people,’ he said. ‘She is evil. She plays with men’s minds. It is her strength. And yet you would exchange this love for a handful of silver?’
He ignored the question. ‘What are you going to do with her when you find her? I don’t want to be involved in something — something serious.’
Camael’s head cocked on one side. ‘It’s far too late for that, Billy,’ he said. ‘Far too late. I want you to take my brothers here to the place where she lives, right now, tonight.’
‘Right now?’
‘Do I hear an echo, Billy?’
‘But I’ll get my money, right? We have a deal?’
‘You will get paid,’ he said. ‘Isaiah, take him to the car.’
Billy opened up his mouth to speak but thought better of it. He allowed himself to be led dumbly away. When they were alone Camael spoke to Gabrieclass="underline" ‘You have everything prepared?’
‘I do.’
‘The blessed Articles of Faith anointed and ready?’
‘It is all as it should be, as it is decreed.’
He nodded, satisfied. ‘It has been a long search. But this will be a special night,’ said Camael. ‘And this Billy?’
‘All is in hand,’ said Gabriel.
‘You are a good servant,’ said Camael. ‘You will be blessed and receive your just and holy reward, in due course.’
‘I know it,’ said Gabriel. ‘It will be as you promised.’
He bent to one knee before Camael, who stepped forward and made a sign on Gabriel’s bowed forehead.
14
Moonlight painted a strange, spectral bloom on Isaiah’s cheeks, Billy noticed. All colour washed away. As if he was looking at the world in monochrome. Isaiah’s expression was equally monochrome; he was giving nothing away. His eyes, though, were watering with the intensity of his gaze.
‘What’s so interesting about a full moon?’ said Billy, more to shatter the unsettling silence that had fallen between them. He noticed the man was gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles glared white. He joined his companion, looking out of the windscreen to the swollen moon hanging over the rooftops of the block of flats, making it look as if it were coated in silvery frost.
‘You are sure this is the place?’ Isaiah asked, his voice low.
‘Yeah. Third floor. Number 349. What’re you going to do to her?’
Isaiah craned his neck forward, checked the streets around. It was after midnight and it was deathly quiet. ‘None of your business,’ he said.
‘You’re not going to hurt her, are you?’
‘What do you care, Billy? You were the one who sold her out.’
‘Yeah, but not to get hurt. She’s a nice woman.’ Coming from him it sounded odd, he thought. Because he meant it, and Billy had never really meant anything nice about anyone before.
‘You should have thought about that before you set your price.’
‘So what’s she done, exactly?’
Isaiah looked at him, his eyes now shaded and set into deep black pits of nothing. ‘You heard Camael; she’s evil.’
Billy gave a nervous chuckle. ‘Surely you can’t believe that crap, that anyone can be evil. You know, evil like the devil, like Hitler.’