Show Me the Sky - Nicholas Hogg [87]
And here I wait.
He tries the disconnected bell. Then he flaps the letterbox. I tick-tock across bare floorboards into the porch, feel the gun tucked in my waistband. Then I open the door.
‘Come in.’
‘This wasn’t the arrangement.’
He crosses the threshold, the body of the shadow I’ve chased across continents. He walks into the hallway, nervous, like a man might suddenly feel his weight on a frozen pond. When he sees no furniture in the lounge or the dining room, he turns to run.
But I’ve already shut and locked the door.
‘Let me out, you fucker!’
I take the key from the lock and put it in my pocket.
‘A little chat first.’
‘Who the fuck are you?’
‘What shall I call you? Phillip? Peter? How about Dominic?’
‘You’re in big shit, whoever you are.’
‘How I wish I could call you Billy.’
But I can’t. It’s Mathew Quail, quivering as he speaks. The Billy K lookalike who fooled half a million Muscovites, the impostor chased daily by screaming fans while the real Billy K slipped out of back doors, hotel laundry chutes, concerts.
‘Fuck you. I said let me out.’
He’s a good head shorter than I. And about two stone lighter.
‘In the back room.’
‘You don’t know who you’re dealing with.’
‘That’s what we’re about to find out.’
‘Fuck you.’
‘Do you have a gun, Mathew? No? How about a knife? Because even if you have, and you decide to pull it on me, then I’m going to take it off you and stick it where the sun doesn’t shine.’
He walks into the empty room. He slinks like a dog about to be hit. The entire house empty but for this single chair.
‘As you’re the guest, Mathew, and I’m the host, I suppose I should offer you the only seat.’
‘I haven’t done anything wrong.’
‘And I don’t care if you have. It’s not as though I’m a policeman, is it? Now sit down.’
Mathew backs on to the chair. He reaches with his hands when he sits, as though ready to snatch the chair back from someone who might pull it from under him. And I’m standing before my catch, the cornered prey. Mathew looks smaller sitting down, small beneath the high ceilings.
‘First of all, I want you to know I have nothing against you personally. I just need a little information.’
‘What would I know to tell you? Anyway, why fucking should I?’
‘Well, how about I tell you something first? We can trade knowledge about each other, maybe I can encourage you to make things easier. For us both.’
Mathew fidgets in the chair. I take a step closer, stoop and lean into his face.
‘Know that I’ve given up everything to follow you halfway around the world, to here. This poxy fucking room. This chair. I’ve lost my job. I’ve lost precious time with my daughter. And I have no more idea about the location of Billy K than I did a year ago. Don’t you think I deserve a little explanation?’
I stand straight again. The boy is sweating. He’s put on a little weight since the Moscow stunt, but yes, the likeness to Billy K is uncanny.
‘Explanation about what? My holiday? You should be explaining why the fuck you’ve been stalking me?’
‘So you’re going be a smart arse. Does he know you’re here?’
‘And who the fuck is he?’
‘He’s the man paying for your jet setting.’
‘Well, if he knows I’m here, you can guarantee he’ll be coming after you if anything happens to me. Think about that.’
‘Maybe I’m counting on it. Think about that.’
‘You’re fucked.’
‘Or how about your mum, does she know where you are?’
‘This has got nothing to do with her. Nothing. I swear, anything’s happened to her I’ll kill you. I fucking will. I know some powerful people.’
‘I had a feeling you did.’
I pace the floorboards, walk a circle around the chair. Each time I go behind him, Mathew turns to keep me in sight, twisting quickly from one shoulder to the other.
‘Anything happens to me, and you’re fucked.’
‘You’ve already said that.’
I think he’d cry if I struck him. I stop pacing.
‘Did you have fun in Moscow?’
‘What?’
‘Onstage, in front of all those fans, it must have been quite a buzz. They really thought you were him, Billy K. From a distance you were convincing, but, well, not him.’
I walk another