Trash - Andy Mulligan [46]
What if they stake out the tea-house?
What if they get me?
What if they just shoot me?
What if they have the whole place surrounded?
What if they’re all there in plainclothes, waiting for me, and I don’t see them till it’s way too late?
They would break every bone in all our bodies, slow and mean and loving it.
Raphael had told me all about the window in the police room, and I knew if we were taken, none of us would come out of there. I knew I would die before I let them take me or the others: I would fight until they had to kill me, because what Raphael told me scared the life out of me, and I know I could not have done what he did.
It was Tuesday afternoon we were to meet, just after Marco’s shift – same place: the tea-house in Chinatown. I washed the good clothes Sister Olivia bought me, because you don’t get so many street boys round that area and I wanted to blend in more. Raphael and Rat shadowed me all the way, but separated up and keeping a distance – we didn’t want to be a threesome in case policemen were waiting.
I used a fifty to buy a baseball cap, and with the trainers on I didn’t look like a street boy at all, and I just walked quickly through everyone and everything – but I had my hook, though – we all did – we’d cut them down, nice and short, and mine was in my jeans at the back, where I could get it easy, and it was sharp all down the edge, because I have had to fight before, and cursed when I had nothing.
The little tea-house was dark, with shutters down, and I went straight in, not looking up, through to the table we’d used last time, right up by the kitchen, with a red lamp over it just bright enough to count out money. Marco was there before me, all alone – quite a big man, with a big, thick neck, and I slid in opposite him thinking, Do it fast, do it fast – I was still walking in my mind, and I wanted to be walking out of there, even though it looked like no one was around, it all looked safe, and even the kitchen was quiet.
Marco, of course – he wanted to see the money first, so I counted every note, and I could see greed in those little eyes so I thought maybe I was safe really, and twenty thousand was enough for him: I counted it out, sitting on the edge of my seat, getting ready – and he pulled the Bible out of his bag, and laid it down on the table as the Chinese who owned the place put cups down in front of us.
I told him he needed to prove it was Gabriel Olondriz’ book, because I was thinking how easy it would be to give me any old Bible, then come back asking for money all over again – but he opened the cover soon as I asked, and I could see where the man had signed it, and notes – best of all, I could also see lines of letters and numbers like the code he’d talked about. Also, the whole thing was so well worn I guessed that it had to be the real one.
So I left the money where it was, took up the book, and I moved fast.
Maybe Marco hadn’t expected me to just cut and run like that, but I’d been thinking how to play it, and I remembered the kitchen being near, and that was where I’d go – I jumped up and ran straight for it. Even so, I wasn’t fast enough, and he got me: he kind of threw himself over the table and grabbed me hard, shouting, and the cups all crashed to the floor, and the money went everywhere, all over the floor. He half let go, panicking about the money, I think, so I got an arm free – I twisted like a fish, and saw there was someone running towards us through the shop. I heard a whistle blow then, and people were shouting – the grip on my arm got tighter, but I bucked and tore myself away, fighting for my life, I guess, and Marco was shouting: ‘I’ve got him! I’ve got him!’
My hook was in my hand then.
Yes, I dragged it from my pocket, and I turned and cut up at his face: I don’t know what I cut but I felt it cut through something, and the man cried out and fell backwards. He let go, of course, and I think I must have got an eye – and I’ll be honest, I hope so: I hope he’s a one-eyed prison guard now, and telling his tale