Khoury jolted awake when the car door closed. He sat up; blinked the sleep out of his eyes. It was dark outside. A streetlight nearby cast a weak yellow hue which barely illuminated the pavement beneath.
There was a man sitting in the passenger seat next to him. A big man, wearing a sharp suit. His head was shaven to the skin. Which puzzled Khoury as he’d locked the doors before he drifted off. The man grinned at him, though there was no humour, just brilliant-white teeth. Through the windscreen Khoury saw a second man, with familiar dreadlocks, sitting on a bollard staring directly at him. He was one of the men who’d been searching for him at the Lighthouse. Dave.
“I hear you’ve been trying to find an associate of mine,” said the man in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead, not bothering to look in Khoury’s direction. Khoury wondered if he could get to his knife quickly. The man’s hands rested on his thighs. He wore gloves. The sight of them turned Khoury’s guts to ice. No fingerprints. “You’re looking for Larry? Is that right?”
Khoury nodded.
“I’m Frank, by the way,” he finally turned to face Khoury. “Frank McGavin.”
Khoury saw no one else outside besides Dave. The harbour master’s office, which had a seagull’s-eye view of the immediate area, was dark. He was alone with these two.
“It’s just us,” said McGavin, seemingly reading Khoury’s mind. “But Larry’ll be joining us shortly. He’s on his way over now. To meet us on his boat.”
“Why?”
“Thought I’d help a fellow human being.” McGavin smiled. He opened the passenger door and got out. Dave stood and began to walk over, his dreadlocks swinging. When Khoury didn’t move, McGavin leant back inside and said, “Come on, then.”
Dave opened Khoury’s door. The only sound he could hear was of the waves beating against the outer wall, and the slap of ropes against masts in the wind. With a sense of foreboding, Khoury exited.
“Arms out,” said Dave. He was wearing gloves too. When Khoury didn’t comply, Dave lifted Khoury’s arms so he was standing like a scarecrow. Dave patted him down, found the knife in an inside pocket, and removed it.
McGavin headed towards the harbour. Dave closed the car door and gave Khoury a shove so he followed McGavin, falling into step a few feet behind. McGavin stopped at the security gate in the fence. He tapped four numbers into the keypad. The gate unlocked with a metallic clunk, and they were inside the inner marina.
McGavin walked along the pontoon with purpose, like he belonged here. The boat was three sections along, at the end of a spur off the jetty. McGavin paused beside the boat for a moment, took in the lines. Khoury didn’t need to read the name on the rear to know what it said. The Etna, Ramsgate.
The vessel rocked when McGavin stepped aboard. Khoury followed. He went over to where his brother Najjar had been stabbed, and bent down. The deck was scrubbed clean, no sign that someone had died there. When he turned around, McGavin was at the cabin door and Dave still on the pontoon, watching him.
McGavin unlocked the cabin and entered. Dave waited until Khoury followed. Stooping, Khoury went inside, his heart thumping. He wondered if he’d ever step out into the fresh air again alive. Then again, what was the purpose of existence without his family?
The interior was dimly lit by the spotlights outside, spilling in through netted portholes. It was cosy, just as he remembered. A tiny kitchen and table on either side of the gangway and further back a sleeping area. McGavin struck a match and held it to the wick of a hurricane lamp which hung on a strut overhead. The oil caught and McGavin blew out the match. He checked his watch.
“Sit down,” he said. “I’ll make us a cuppa while we’re waiting on Larry.” He opened a cupboard, took out a tea caddy, and put it on the work surface. He reached back inside and rummaged around. “Ah, there we are.”
Three bags of white powder and a hammer joined the caddy.
***
It was another half an hour before Larry arrived. Khoury was alerted by a sudden tilt and footsteps on the hull. His tea was half-drunk, gone cold. He was seated, facing the cabin door, McGavin standing nearby while Dave manned the galley kitchen, near the entrance.
Larry entered the cabin. He paused on the threshold, surprised to see Khoury. His eyes flicked to Dave. Khoury felt a surge of anger at the sight of his brother’s murderer.
“You all right, Frank?” he asked.
“Come in,” said McGavin.
Larry moved inside. Dave pulled the door to and stood in front of it. The space felt very constricted now.
“What are we going to do with him?” asked Larry.
“We?” said McGavin. “There’s no we any more, Larry. You’ve been very stupid. The police know all about you. Which means they’re coming to me.”
“Sorry, I—”
“And there’s this.” McGavin held up the powder. “Selling drugs on the side?”
Larry gulped. Khoury could see his Adam’s apple bobbing. Khoury was puzzled. Larry appeared to be in trouble, McGavin dealing with one of his own. “I’m just making a bit of extra money,” said Larry.
“And running immigrants?”
“Two birds, one stone.”
“More like three in this case. All you were supposed to do was deal with Regan.”
“If everything had gone to plan you’d never have known.”
“And that’s supposed to make me feel better about it?”
Larry swallowed, clearly realising the stupidity of his admission. “Frank, I’m sorry. What can I do to make amends?”
“Nothing.”
“I’ll take the boat and disappear, how about it?”
“Good idea.” McGavin nodded.
Without warning, Dave raised a claw hammer and struck Larry on the head. Larry tumbled to the floor as his legs gave way. Dave dropped the hammer, bent down, and rolled Larry over. Larry’s breath was ragged. Khoury clenched his fists, his earlier foreboding rushing back.
Dave took a knife from a pocket. Khoury recognised it as his own. Dave held the knife out towards Khoury. Khoury didn’t move, wondering if he were next. Coming to terms with what he was here for. Larry raised a hand, but Dave batted it away.
“Come on,” urged Dave, gesturing with the knife once more. “Don’t you want your revenge?”
Khoury decided he had no choice, it was clear he was going to die when it was over for Larry. Part of him was glad. Khoury accepted the weapon and stood over the wounded man.
“Please,” whispered Larry. His eyes pleaded with Khoury, tears ran down his cheeks.
But Khoury was bereft of sympathy because, as his father used to say, when the calf falls, the knives come out. This man had killed his brother and probably his friend. He plunged the blade into Larry’s chest over and over again until he was panting with the exertion. This is for Najjar. This is for Shadid. Covered in blood, Khoury paused. This is for the life I will never be able to offer my family.
Incredibly, Larry still struggled. He seemed to have the heart of an ox. Khoury raised his arms high and plunged the knife into Larry’s stomach, as Larry had done to Najjar. Khoury leaned down on the handle, twisting the blade at the same time. Larry groaned, his face distorted into a grimace of agony, head tilted back and straining. His fingers weakly scraped at the hilt. Khoury stared into Larry’s face until he heaved a last breath and his eyes went blank. Khoury let out a huge breath.
“Feeling better?” asked McGavin.
Khoury didn’t answer, he sat back on his haunches and stared at Larry’s corpse. Khoury felt a calmness wash over him. He’d done what he needed — his vengeance was complete. He felt nothing for Larry, not pity, not hate. He was an empty shell now. And he suspected he was next.
“Dump him,” said McGavin.
Dave took hold of Larry’s clothes at the shoulders and dragged him outside. Khoury heard a splash as the corpse hit the water. Dave re-entered the cabin, picked up the hammer, and brought it over to Khoury.
“Take it,” instructed McGavin. Khoury knew what they intended, though nothing mattered anymore. Khoury opened his fingers and allowed Dave to put the hammer in his palm. He closed his fist around it. There was blood and matted hair at the other end.
“See? That wasn’t so hard. You can let go now.” Khoury did so. Dave placed the hammer on the floor, just inside the door.
“Come on,” said McGavin, pulling Khoury to his feet, a hand clamped around his arm. Khoury felt Najjar and Shadid either side of him. They would be with Khoury until the end.
Larry was floating next to the Etna, face down.
“I’ll return Natalie’s car,” said Dave.
McGavin handed the keys over.
Out on the jetty the sun was just rising, still nobody around. Khoury didn’t care what was next. He enjoyed the warming rays on his face while McGavin led him away.