33

Lee had shoved the suitcase of money beneath one of the sagging couches in the lounge room, so that when he’d been lying on the couch, he could reach down and touch it, to reassure himself. Unsure of what else to do, he dragged it, now marbled with spider webs, from its hiding place and tossed it at Josef’s feet.

Josef squatted on his heels in front of the suitcase. Yeah, I would never have found this without you. Very tricky hiding place. He thumbed down to release the metal clasps and raised the lid, releasing a waft of mildew. There, in rows, were the bundles of money. All here?

More or less.

How much?

Eight.

With the gun still in his left hand, Josef bent forward and scooped up one of the bundles. He tossed it up and down as if checking the weight. It made a light slapping sound in his palm. Jesus, he said. All this trouble for a lousy eight grand.

Lee realised this would probably be his only chance. In a sudden, fluid movement, he shoved Josef and tried to wrestle the gun from his hand. Josef sprawled forward with an earthy grunt but maintained his grip on the weapon. Lee struggled with the prone and writhing Josef, who was trying to push himself free but was unable to gain a hold on the wooden floor. His shoe slipped and slid. Lee could smell the damp wool of Josef’s coat and his tart tobacco breath. Neither of them uttered actual words, just the occasional simian growl of effort or frustration. A lamp crashed to the floor. A stack of magazines collapsed. Josef kicked at Lee’s shin then aimed higher, obviously seeking the area at his side where he’d been shot. He knew he would be finished if Josef made contact. Already the pain of his wound was excruciating. Josef’s leg flew out and missed. He tried again. Then again. Each time, Lee arched backwards without loosening his grip on Josef’s hand and the gun. Finally, he jerked back and landed a kick of his own in the middle of Josef’s chest that sent him to the floor and weakened his grip on the weapon.

Lee clutched his side. His shirt was wet and warm. His stitches had torn apart and his wound was bleeding freely. He swore under his breath and stood over Josef with the pistol in his face. You can’t have it. Josef made a move to stand up, but Lee shook his head and raised the gun. You want it for yourself, don’t you?

This? The money?

Of course, the money. What else?

Josef glanced at the suitcase and then back to Lee. He shook his head.

That’s it, isn’t it? You want it for yourself? It’s not for Marcel at all. You’re going to take it for yourself. I can tell.

Josef sniggered and patted himself down. And where on earth would I go with it? Eight thousand dollars is hardly enough to start a new life for someone like me.

I don’t know. Away.

Away? Right. It’s a bit late for me. Put the gun down. You’re making a big mistake, son. A big mistake. This isn’t your thing. Look at you. You don’t have the heart for this. Maybe you’re right, maybe you’re not like us. Just go. I’m serious, alright. I’m actually doing you a fucking favour. I’m trying to save you. If I return the money, Marcel will forget you as long as you never show up again. You’ll never escape if you take it. You’ll have to go back. Especially if you kill me.

What the hell does that mean?

Well. Where else could you possibly go? Show up at your sister’s place with cash and a bullet wound? Nobody will have you, Lee. Believe me, nobody will have you. I’m actually the best chance you’ve got. Think about it. Just go. Leave the money and go. I’m serious.

Lee grimaced with pain. Would Josef really let him go, this man of God-knows-how-many murders? The old crow actually looked scared. They stared at each other for a long time, until Lee could make out his own looming shape in the dull gleam of Josef’s eyes. The gun shook in his hand. He smelled Josef’s meaty sweat and could hear the faint whistle when Josef exhaled through his nose. Such a dumb, human sound. Like a leaking pipe. That’s what his dad would have said. You sprung a leak, mate? He recalled Josef’s whistling nostril from the time at his apartment. So much had happened since then and yet it all could probably be compacted into one tiny moment. He felt like a tree or rock, some mute and ancient thing. Now it was Lee’s turn to hold the gun.

Well, Josef said, as if he’d read Lee’s thoughts. The tables have really turned here, haven’t they?

But not to your advantage.

Not necessarily to yours neither.

Lee decided not to ask what Josef meant by this; he was already learning too much. Strangely, now that the moment had arrived, he bore Josef no real malice. He allowed his gaze to drift to an indistinct point somewhere above Josef’s head, as if his vision had suddenly become unhinged, then squeezed the trigger. Just like that. Josef slumped backwards, immediately dead. Blood spattered across the wall. It gurgled and pooled on the wooden floor and soaked into one of the patterned rugs at his feet. Lee stood there a moment longer before jamming the gun into a coat pocket. He was aware, dimly, of something draining from him.