Riddick was suffering this morning.
Raising his blood alcohol levels again usually did the trick. But, today, it barely touched the sides.
A heroin comedown was partly to blame, as was the image of Henry’s lifeless face which refused to vacate his mind. And, to make matters worse, Tommy had returned at the crack of dawn.
Riddick had to be on the top of his game when Tommy was around. Even though Tommy looked like a stupid psychotic meathead who could be easily duped, the truth was very different. He was smart and vigilant. He wouldn’t have climbed this high up the food chain if he wasn’t.
If Tommy got a sniff of Riddick’s former life, there wouldn’t even be time for a discussion. Likewise, if Tommy found out about Riddick’s drinking, the outcome may very well be the same.
Admittedly, Tommy may have been turning Riddick into a junkie by using him as a guinea pig, but it was, at least, an addiction the bastard could control. He’d probably consider Riddick’s alcoholism more trouble than it was worth. Riddick, therefore, was very careful to excuse himself to the toilet whenever he needed a swig of vodka.
On the plus side, one of Tommy’s men had taken away Henry’s body in the dead of night. The sight of the lifeless youngster on the floor had been devastating, and if he’d remained, Riddick doubted he’d have been able to free up enough cognitive space to negotiate his tricky situation.
His phone being switched off was an additional bonus. Tommy didn’t want Riddick dealing this morning because he was awaiting confirmation of something else that was in the works. Something that would involve this property.
That something was what’d drawn Riddick into this whole sorry mess to begin with.
After taking another swig of vodka and depositing the bottle back with two empty ones behind the panel of the old bath, Riddick looked at his emaciated, unshaven face in the mirror and sighed.
He wondered, briefly, if his family, had they still been alive, would recognise him any more.
After shaking his head and admonishing himself for such ridiculous thoughts, he took himself back off to the living room. When he reached the doorway, he froze. His eyes darted between Tommy and an unexpected visitor. The woman looked nervous and sickly. Bearing, Riddick believed, all the hallmarks of a junkie experiencing withdrawal.
But Riddick’s phone was off, so why would there be a punter in the lounge?
And why would Tommy even let her in? Dealing with waifs and strays was way below his paygrade… unless…
Was something else at play here?
He observed her, looking for something out of the ordinary in this fidgety woman. Late fifties perhaps? She was older than usual, that was for sure… Few junkies made it to this age unless they started late in life.
The woman met Riddick’s eyes, and his adrenaline surged.
The exterior may have been a perfect match for other individuals of her ilk, but there was a glow in the eyes, a vitality that really shouldn’t have been there.
Something was wrong.
He looked over at Tommy, who stood at the door to the hallway, clutching the frame, leaning in, looking at him directly.
The guest was now Riddick’s problem.
God! Did everything always have to be a sodding test in this world?
‘Phone was off,’ Riddick said, addressing the woman. ‘How come you’re here?’
The woman, who still had her eyes on Riddick, said, ‘I didn’t have a number. I know others who—’
‘There’s only one way in,’ Riddick said. ‘There’s a process.’
Which begs the question, Tommy, why the hell have you let her in?
He could hear Tommy tapping the doorframe as he scrutinised.
Riddick needed to play it safe. ‘You’re going to have to leave and—’
‘Too late for all that now,’ Tommy interrupted. ‘She’s in.’
Did you see the same glow in her eyes, Tommy? Did you, too, detect something was off with her? Is that why you let her in?
Of course, you did, because the rumours are true, aren’t they?
You’re one smart cookie.
You want to put her down, or…
He inwardly sighed.
Do you want me to put her down?
‘Okay,’ Riddick said, looking at Tommy. ‘So…?’ He broke off.
Tommy dropped his hands from the doorframe. ‘Just do your thing… attend to her needs.’ He smiled at her. ‘Sometimes I bend my own rules. Must be something about you’ – he waved his finger at her – ‘that caught my attention.’ He looked back at Riddick. ‘I’m going to make a phone call. Quick as you can now.’
He disappeared out of sight.
Riddick paused, listening for Tommy’s first steps on the stairs. Then he approached. Again, he met her eyes, and again he saw a vitality he shouldn’t be seeing. Suddenly, the nerves she must have been feeling with Tommy casting a shadow over the room suddenly seemed to lift, and she sat up straight.
He took several steps back.
Most junkies that visited here would be up and down like yo-yos, pacing. Not sitting up ramrod straight.
He waited until he could hear Tommy’s footsteps on the floor above his head before talking. ‘I’ll have to search you for bugs.’
She looked at the empty doorway, and then looked back at him, more determined than ever. ‘I’m not bugged.’
This was so wrong.
‘Sorry if I don’t take your word for it. Stand up, please.’
She reached into her pocket and put a bundle of notes on the same coffee table from which Henry Ackroyd had picked up last night’s fatal dose.
He strode forwards and looked at the pile. This was a large amount of money for a low-level junkie, suggesting it was either stolen, or this was a police set-up – although, he knew from experience that they’d be more clued up.
Had Tommy seen this money?
If he had, he’d have thought exactly the same thing as Riddick was thinking…
‘Last time. Stand, so I can check you.’
She shook her head. ‘I’m not police. I’m ex-police… like you.’
Riddick felt his stomach turn over. He sucked in a deep breath and took a step backwards.
He opened his mouth to speak, but she put a finger to her lips.
He listened to footsteps on the floor above them, and Tommy’s voice booming as he spoke into his phone.
‘We don’t have long,’ she said, standing. ‘We need to go.’
‘Who the hell are you?’
‘I’m here to get you out.’
‘It’s you that needs to get out. You’re about to get me killed. And yourself.’ He looked at the money. ‘And leave that… he’ll expect it now.’
‘Come with me now, Paul.’
Jesus… she knows who I am… what the hell is happening?
The world spun. He backed away and steadied himself against the mantelpiece. He focused on trying to slow his breathing down.
‘I’ll walk straight out now, but only if you walk out with me.’ The woman approached.
‘I can’t… I’m not done here.’
‘You’ve no choice. My name’s Cecile Metcalf. Emma sent me.’
Emma? He closed his eyes as he leaned against the mantelpiece, desperate to get his breathing under control.
‘Listen to what I’m saying to you, Paul. Emma sent me.’
This wasn’t happening. Couldn’t be happening. Not now.
‘Emma sent—’
‘I bloody heard you the first time,’ he said, opening his eyes. ‘Now, get out before I drag you out.’
‘If I leave without you now, then you know Emma will come back here.’
Riddick looked up. ‘No. She can’t…’
It was over. He’d tried, but he’d failed, and now, to protect Emma, he had to leave. He was about to ask Cecile if Gardner knew where he was, but then realised it was a pointless question. If Gardner knew, she’d be here already.
But even the fact that she didn’t yet know was irrelevant. What was he going to do? Knock Cecile over the head and tie her up?
No.
It was over.
‘Okay, I—’
Cecile cut him off with a finger to her lips.
Tommy’s voice from the floor above had stopped.
‘Come on,’ she whispered.
But it was too late.
Riddick could hear Tommy coming downstairs.