Savage Night - Allan Guthrie [13]
"Being polite. Waiting on you before we start."
"Okay," Tommy said. "You want to remove the tape from his mouth?"
"You think that's wise?"
"How else is he going to answer?"
Phil shrugged, walked over to the lad, who stopped rocking as the heels of Phil's boots clicked on the floorboards. "You going to be quiet?" Phil said.
The boy nodded, wide-eyed.
"Speak when you're spoken to," Phil said. "And not any other time. Okay?"
Another nod. He seemed keen to get on with it, which was promising.
"We just want you to answer a few questions," Tommy said. "Then you can go." He was struggling playing the tough guy. Must be pretty scary to be hit, stuffed in a boot, taken to an empty dark flat in a highrise and interrogated by a couple of blokes who didn't appear to be messing around.
Tommy jumped as an electric guitar started to play. Loud chords.
Phil put his hand into the boy's jacket. Slid out his phone. Moved it into the light. "Says 'Dad'," Phil said. "Ain't that sweet? Want me to tell him what's going to happen to his little boy?"
"I don't think so," Tommy said.
"Okay." Phil dropped the phone onto the floor and thumped his heel down on it half a dozen times till the phone was in pieces. "Fucking racket."
"Shit," Tommy said.
"What?"
"Never mind." There had been the chance that Smith had called the boy, or vice versa, and there would have been a record of his number in the phone's call log. Nothing they could do about it now, though.
Phil took his glove off, teased the end of the tape away from the boy's chin. Then ripped it off in a sudden jerk.
The boy yelped. The tape probably took some facial hair with it. Then again, maybe not. He didn't look old enough to have any.
"Told you to be quiet," Phil said, balling his fist.
"I will," the boy said, teeth chattering. "Just don't … don't hurt me."
"Ready to talk, then?" Tommy said.
The boy nodded.
"That's good. Answer a few questions and you can go home to Mummy and Daddy. Okay?"
He nodded again.
Tommy said, "Who hired you?"
"Don't know her name."
Her? Tommy looked at Phil. The little bastard was having them on. "Try again."
"What do you mean?"
"There's no 'her'."
"There was. There is. A lady. I'm telling you the truth, man. She was short, about my height. Old. About sixty. I'm not lying. Why would I lie? Come on, man. You gotta believe me." He breathed quickly, gasping for air between his sentences.
"This 'lady'. She have a name?"
"No. I mean, yeah, probably. But I don't know what it is."
"She just hired you to look after a big pile of money."
He pinched his eyes against the light, looked away. "I don't know about any money."
"What do you think's in the bag?"
"Dunno."
"Have a guess."
"I dunno."
"You didn't look?"
"Didn't have time."
That was probably true.
"You didn't ask?"
He shook his head.
Tommy waited. Then said, "So, this sixty-year-old lady whose name you don't know. Why did she choose you?"
"Dunno, man. It's a mystery."
Tommy gave him a minute to see if he'd say anything else. He didn't. "A mystery," Tommy said. "I'd say so. It's a real puzzle."
"Look, I dunno. Please. You gotta believe me. She just asked me if I'd do it and I said yes."
"Just walked up to you in the street, this stranger, and propositioned you?"
"Yeah."
"Asked you to go fetch her bag out of a locker in the bus station?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"What do you mean?"
"Did she say why she needed you to do it?"
"She just asked and I said yeah."
The boy's legs were shaking so hard the chair rattled against the floorboards.
"You didn't ask yourself why she wanted you to get the bag?"
"No."
"Didn't worry there was a bomb in it?"
"No."
Tommy held the light steady, watched the boy's Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed.
"She offered me money," the boy said. "Not the money in the bag. I mean different money. Out of her purse. I didn't ask why."
"You got this money now?"
"In my pocket."
"How much?"
"Fifty quid."
"Not much, is it?"
"Only half. I