part0035

ELWOOD CROW SAT WITH his new burner phone in one hand and the number that Evan had given him from the back of Todd Strange’s business card in the other. His bony fingers hovered over the phone’s keypad as they had at least a half dozen times previously.

He didn’t want to make the call.

But he had no option. For the past two days he’d tried unsuccessfully to trace the number Evan had given him. From the total lack of information, he could only assume that it was another burner phone, exactly like the one in his hand. He may as well have let Evan call the number in the first place and see what shook loose, not wasted two days for nothing.

There was another option. Do nothing at all. At least that way there was no chance of causing more trouble. But that was like admitting defeat, something he’d never done and didn’t want to start doing now. He could call Evan, ask him which way he wanted to play it. But after the hard time he’d given him over his recent inadvisable internet searches he didn’t want to give the impertinent boy any ammunition to come back at him with.

Later, he would regret not making the call.

His pet bird cawed loudly as if telling him in its own way to get his finger out, make the damn call. So he got up and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him so as not to be disturbed by the bird making a noise at an inopportune moment.

Just closing the door made him feel guilty, a constant reminder of the Vanquish sniper’s rifle Evan had brought to him for safekeeping being stolen from under their noses within five minutes. It was naive to think that there would not be consequences for somebody as a result of that carelessness.

So he tapped out the number carefully, held the phone to his ear, his breath even shorter than after a trip upstairs.

It was answered immediately.

And it wasn’t that his hearing was failing him. The knot in his stomach tightened as the seconds stretched out.

He knew then that the person on the other end of the line was waiting for him to say something. Trouble was, he’d been around the block enough times to know that it had to be the right something.

So it didn’t matter what he did. Say nothing or say the wrong thing, the end result would be the same. A dead connection. And the people on the other end more suspicious than they had been before the call. Because anyone innocently dialing the wrong number would tire of the silence, would come out with an irritated hello? hello? and not just return the silence.

Then the person on the other end of the line made the decision for him, cut the call.

Crow almost threw the phone at the wall, a whispered damn on his lips. He returned to the back room where it seemed to him that the pet bird was shaking its head at him.

ROACH, THE MAN ON the other end of the line who’d cut the call dropped the phone back in his pocket, a frown clouding his large features. He wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box but he knew a genuine wrong number when he heard one. And that hadn’t been it. Nobody sits in silence for twenty seconds, the time he’d been told to wait before hanging up.

Roach liked rules and procedures, orders too. They made his life easy, meant he didn’t have to think. Hit this person, get rid of that body. He was happy to let somebody else make the decisions, the difficult part. So he didn’t have to think about what to do next.

If you receive a suspicious call, tell Mr Liverman.

Mr Liverman was sitting behind his large desk when Roach entered the room. Sometimes Roach thought it was because he was so fat that he’d gotten permanently stuck under the heavy oak desk. He hoped he never dropped dead sitting there. It’d be a hell of a job getting him out from under it. They’d need a chainsaw—and not to cut up the nice old desk. Trouble was the teeth would probably clog on all of Liverman’s blubber. For those reasons alone he wished Mr Liverman a long and healthy life.

Liverman had his phone clamped to his ear, his little finger with the big ruby ring sticking straight out like he was sipping tea with the Queen of England. At least Roach thought it was his phone. It could have been a growth he was scratching. It was hard to tell amongst the overlapping rolls of flab that hung over his collar like wax running down a candle. Liverman raised a finger for Roach to wait then continued with his conversation.

Roach tried not to listen, tried not to think about what was being said. He didn’t like working for Liverman. Didn’t like him period. Didn’t even like the feel of the name Liverman on his lips, even if he knew it wasn’t his real name. What sort of a person chooses a name like that? A pervert and a degenerate who ought to be in prison where he wouldn’t last five minutes, that’s what sort. So Roach passed the time thinking it’d be fun to dig Liverman out from under the desk with that chainsaw after all. But while he was still alive.

‘What is it?’ Liverman said, finishing his call and snapping Roach out of his reverie.

Roach told him about the call. Liverman nodded to himself as he did so, the rippling effect of the flesh overhanging his collar making Roach feel ill.

‘They didn’t say anything?’

‘Nothing. For twenty seconds like you told—’

‘Yes, yes, I know all that.’

Roach waited while Liverman thought about it, the pinkie with the ruby ring now digging at something in his ear. Roach stifled a laugh, turned it into a cough. Maybe Liverman had lost his phone somewhere in there. He didn’t offer to see if he could find it for him.

‘So,’ Liverman said, leaning back and spreading his fingers over the suit vest that he always wore, ‘what have we got?’

‘No, no, no. I’m not asking you, you idiot. I’m thinking out loud.’

Roach’s mouth clamped shut, his teeth almost cracking as his jaw clenched. He controlled his anger, thought of new places he’d stick the chainsaw when the day came.

‘We’ve got all that trouble with the cop Guillory and that idiot Garfield. Then we’ve got another idiot Todd Strange making a complete mess of dealing with Guillory . . .’

It seemed to Roach that as far as Liverman was concerned everybody was an idiot except him. He waited patiently while Mr Big Brain thought it through.

‘Does Guillory seem the sort to give up easily?’ Liverman said.

Roach kept his mouth shut. Once bitten, twice shy.

‘Well, does she?’

Roach jumped as Liverman barked at him. How the hell was he supposed to know which question to answer and which one to ignore?

‘No, Mr Liverman.’

‘Exactly. And now we get a strange call. I don’t believe in coincidences like that.’

Roach said he didn’t either, a fact that appeared to be of no consequence whatsoever to Liverman.

‘Give me the phone.’

Roach dropped it into Liverman’s sweaty palm. He felt a small pang of sorrow at the thought of what those hands liked to touch. They’d be the first things he’d take off with the chainsaw when the time came. Liverman found the number and made a note of it.

‘I’ll see if we can trace that. If they’ve got any sense it’ll be a burner but it’s worth a try.’

He stared at the phone for a long while. Call the number or not?

‘Should I call them back, Roach?’

Roach shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Shit . A decision. Liverman watched him squirm for a while longer, a mocking sneer on his face.

‘No, I don’t think so either,’ he said as if Roach had responded. ‘There’s nothing to gain from it. Going forward, we need to be even more cautious than usual. Everything should be viewed as suspicious until proven otherwise.’

Roach nodded enthusiastically, happy to get a straightforward instruction for once instead of all the other airy-fairy bullshit Liverman normally came out with.