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REGAN’S HEAD WAS HURTING like hell. He fingered the back of his head and felt the matted hair. Looking at his hand, he saw the blood. Then he looked up to see Bill standing over him holding a gun. My gun, he thought. Turning his neck brought more pain so he was careful not to rush things. Regan turned far enough to see Blue motionless on the kitchen floor alongside the upturned table. Bill had pistol-whipped Blue some more, for good measure.
Bill spoke first, “Now it’s your turn to do as you’re told but I won’t hesitate to shoot you if I need to.”
“You won’t get away with this, Bill.”
“I have so far and I don’t plan on that changing anytime soon.”
“So what happens now?”
“That depends on you.”
“How so?”
“Go along with the Miami plan. Say nothing about it to anyone and let’s all make some money.”
“Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t. Tell me more about this Caroline. How did you meet?”
“What the fuck do you want to know that for? You make me laugh, Steve. Here I am holding a gun and you want to know about my love life.”
“Yeah, weird isn’t it? I’m a bit kinky that way. Same as you, Bill, raping your mate’s missus and all that.”
“He’s no mate. Blue’s an arsehole. His whore girlfriend was begging for it.”
“You’re a prize cunt!”
“Who’s the cunt? I have the gun. I have the product, the money, the connections. My bosses haven’t got a fucking clue what I’m up to. I have a smart classy woman who knows all about me and knows how to keep her mouth firmly shut... You know...”
“Caroline knows all about you? I think you left that out of your tragic tale.”
“Seeing it’s decision time for you, you may as well know the lot. Yeah, she knows all about me. What I do, the whole shooting match, no pun intended.”
“And... tell me again - how did you meet such a classy bit of skirt?”
“Promise not to laugh?”
“As long as it’s not funny, I promise, scout’s honour, dib dib dob.”
“I told you. She was prosecuting a big drug importation case at the Bailey. I was the Customs liaison man. We just clicked.”
Regan laughed as loud as his throbbing head would allow, “Oh! Stop! My head’s hurting when I laugh. That is so fucking funny it’s untrue!”
“It is true,” Bill replied without sensing the irony in Regan’s mocking tone, “Enough of question time. Except for the big one, what are you going to do? Are you in or out?”
“If I say ‘out’ what will you do?”
“Kill you.”
“Guess you will have to kill me then. But I doubt you have the balls to pull the trigger.”
Regan saw movement in his peripheral vision. It could only be one thing. Play for time, Regan thought.
Bill said, “You may find out soon enough.”
“Nope. You haven’t got the balls. Any man who rapes his mate’s missus is scum in my book. Cowardly fucking scum!”
Bill lost the calm façade. He raved, “You have no idea what I’m capable of. I fucked her, yeah. Raped her if you like. She loved it. Begging for it. Great tight little pussy too. Waste of pussy on that fucking wan ...”
Blue was on his feet. He did not speak. He roared. It was an unnatural sound. Like a wounded animal he rushed at Bill. The gun spun around following Bill’s arc. Crack! It landed square on Blue’s temple and felled him like a stunned animal at a slaughterhouse. Once more, Blue lay lifeless.
This has really gone pear-shaped, thought Regan, Red, where are you when I need you mate. His mind was a mass of confusion. Deep undercover work had turned him into someone else. Most of the time it was easy to deal with. Just play along and act the part. But he knew to do that well, he also had to be the part. There was a fine dividing line between right and wrong. That line was not drawn in the sand. It wasn’t easy to see. Even when it was visible there were always ancillary questions. What ifs, as Regan called them. He was, of necessity, an officer of the law but also a law breaker. He had standards, but when it suited his role, he was devoid of standards. He was both moral and immoral, honest and dishonest. Many times Regan had thought, who the fuck am I?
At no time in his undercover career had Regan believed he was in serious danger. Not even in the Miami pool. He didn’t see that coming so there was no sense of imminent danger. This was different. Bill was a rogue Customs undercover agent who was deep, very deep into a world unknown to most people. It was a dangerous world inhabited by dangerous people. No matter what Bill Morris said about how he became embroiled in it, he was also dangerous. And he now held a gun pointing straight at Regan.
Bill again asked, “What’s it to be? In... or out?”
Regan’s mind returned to Lourdes and to an image of his mother. He stood motionless for what seemed an age. It was seconds. But that was all it took for him to finally make up his mind. Can I go rogue? He knew the answer.
The words came easily to him as did the images of his mother interposed with the Virgin. Regan said out loud, “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of death. Amen.”
Regan heard no words. He heard a loud bang. He fell back holding his torso. His hands clutched at his belly. He felt a warm pain in the middle of his back. I think I’ve been shot, Ma, was his last thought.
Bill looked down at the two prone bodies. He bent down and placed the gun in Blue’s open palm before closing Blue’s fingers around the gun and one finger on the trigger. Before he left the cottage, Bill used his foot to roll over Regan. There was no sign of life. He stared at the large pool of dark blood staining the kitchen floor and oozing from Regan’s back.
The Customs man started the engine of the car parked outside Blue’s cottage and drove back to London and Caroline Sewell.
