Eight Ball Boogie - Declan Burke [78]
“She’s okay,” the Ice Queen purred. “She’s young and healthy. She’ll live.”
She turned on her heel, walked back to the projector, footsteps echoing. Sat down on the tea chest beside Tony Sheridan, dusting it off first, lit a cigarette. Katie jumped at the clink-flick of her lighter, eyes bulging, staring at the smouldering end of the cigarette. Tony Sheridan was hunched over, hands jammed in the pockets of his overcoat, glum.
“Bad night for canvassing, Tone.”
He looked up, not at me but at the pro, and nodded. This time the pro cuffed me properly. I stayed down for the full count but even so I had double vision when he dragged me back to my feet. That made two Tony Sheridans, two pros, two Helen Conways and two Katies, which was bad news. Plan A was based on getting one Katie out of there, and I was pretty sure Plan A wasn’t going to cut the mustard. I went into my spiel anyway.
“This is the way I see it.” The words sounded thick in my mouth. “Galway is fucking me as much as he’s fucking you. Whatever problem you have is with him, not me. And not her, either.”
The indifference was Homeric.
“What I said this morning still plays. No one fucks with me and that camera stays buried. Everything else that’s happened, I won’t even remember it in the morning. Kids do that, play havoc with your memory. Things happen and then I talk to Ben after, I can’t remember what happened before. Not a fucking thing.”
Tony Sheridan examined his fingernails. The Ice Queen stared at Katie. Katie stared at the floor. I might as well have been saying grace before meals. Finally Helen Conway spoke.
“That’s an interesting story, Mr Rigby. Unfortunately, we don’t have time for fairy tales.”
“I’m not –”
“We know we can’t trust you.” She picked her words carefully. “We also know that you offered a deal this morning that you have since welched on. I didn’t agree with the deal at the time but –”
“I haven’t welched on any deal. What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Francis told me about your phone call, Mr Rigby. We know how much you want. We’re simply not prepared to pay it.” She made a throwaway gesture with her hand that could have meant anything and nothing at all. “The fact remains that you cannot be trusted. So, this time, we do things my way.”
“It must have been Galway made that call. He’s fucking with you.”
She wasn’t listening. She dropped her cigarette, stubbed it out with a delicate size three.
“Where is it?”
“Where’s what?”
“The camera, Mr Rigby. The camera.”
“I don’t have it.”
“Who has it?”
“No one has it.”
“You won’t give us the camera?”
“I don’t have it.”
She stood up, moved across to Katie, untied her hands. Katie rubbed at her wrists, trying to get the circulation back into her fingers. The Ice Queen helped her, taking Katie’s left wrist, rubbing the back of the hand.
“Nice hands,” she said, thoughtful. “I used to have hands like that. Soft and smooth.” She picked out a finger, the second smallest on Katie’s left hand. “There should be a ring on that finger,” she said. Then she snapped it.
The piercing scream went through me for a shortcut. I started forward but a blow from behind brought me to my senses, eventually, face down in the dust. The pro dragged me to my feet again, quicker this time, getting better with practice. He touched the gun against the back of my thigh.
“Next time, I’ll blow your fucking knee out.”
The bone in Katie’s finger was sticking out at a ninety-degree angle to the second joint. She was sobbing hard, moaning some word I couldn