The evil and the pure, p.35
The Evil And The Pure, page 35
“Bollocks,” Clint retorted. “The best would have been to stick to the pluh-plan and smuggle Phials out. The best would have been to sell the fuh-formula for millions of dollars and –”
“That was never gonna happen,” Gawl interrupted. “Too much could have gone wrong. We were too inexperienced. Too dumb.”
“I’m not dumb,” Clint protested.
“Ye are,” Gawl laughed. “But don’t get the hump. I’m dumb too. We were smart enough t’ bust Phials out, but not t’ follow through, not unless we do it this way.” Gawl grabbed Clint’s hands, held them tight. “We have the formula. The Bush has the money t’ pay for it. We sell it t’ him for a million each – pounds, not dollars – and hit for Ibiza or Lanzarote, live stylish, live loud — live!”
“But I want New York,” Clint groaned.
Gawl sighed. It was like talking to a child. “OK,” he said. “Ye can take yer half and fuck off t’ New York. A million will take ye a long way there. And ye’ll have infamy on yer side too.”
Clint blinked. “What are you talking about?”
“The Bush will manufacture and market Baby P. He’ll be a legend. Ye can get in on some of that, publicise yerself up as the man who gave the world Baby P. Get yer story in early, before the shit hits the market, so people know ye’re genuine. Ye’ll have money and a reputation.” He let go of Clint and beamed. “If that doesn’t get ye up and running in the States, what fucking will?”
Clint dwelt on that a while. Still seething about the way Gawl had acted without consulting him, but forcing himself to focus on the positives. A million pounds was a shit-load of money, and he could talk up his involvement with the new drug set to sweep the world. Still in a good position to hit the ground running, make powerful alliances, then make a play for the heart of Shula Schimmel.
“What if Dave tuh-tells us to go fuck ourselves?” Clint asked.
“He’s a businessman. Money comes first. He’ll deal.”
Clint was unconvinced. “How are we going to approach him? Phone?”
Gawl shook his head. “He might be able t’ pinpoint our position.”
“It takes a few minutes to do that, doesn’t it?”
“Technology these days…” Gawl sniffed. “Who fucking knows? We can’t risk it.”
“How then? Send Kevin or Fr Sebastian?”
“No. The Bush would squeeze our whereabouts out of them. One of us has t’ go.” Clint started to object loudly. Gawl silenced him with a gesture. “It’ll be me.”
“You’re vuh-volunteering?” Clint was surprised.
“He hates me less than you,” Gawl chuckled. “Plus I won’t start stuttering like a fucking retard if I get nervous.”
“What about the formula? You’ll luh-leave it with me?”
“Will I fuck,” Gawl snorted. “I’ve hidden it, and it stays hidden till the time comes t’ hand it over.”
“And how will we do that?”
“Once they give us the money, I’ll tell ’em where it is.”
Clint choked on a laugh. “It doesn’t work that way. They’ll want a trade-off, the money in exchange for the formula, a handover. Assuming you can convince them to accept the formula unseen and untested, without knowing if it works.”
Gawl thought about that and nodded. “So what d’ ye suggest?”
“We use the Tuh-Tynes or Fr Sebastian,” Clint said. “Give the formula to one of them, have them at the meeting place but not standing with us. Once we get the cash, we walk and they step forward to hand over the formula.”
Gawl considered that. “It can’t be Fr Seb. We’ll need t’ stay here after the deal, get our shit sorted. Can’t let them know we’re in league with him.”
“Kevin, then.”
“What if they take him captive? They’d torture him and he’d tell ’em where we are. We’d have t’ go on the run.”
“Tulip?”
“They’d do the same t’ her.”
“Maybe not. Don’t forget that Shula was raped recently. She was the same sort of age as Tulip. Dave might shy away from hurting a girl.”
Gawl almost laughed out loud at that, but Clint would get shirty if he thought the Scot was making fun of his beloved. Would get a whole lot more than shirty if he knew that Gawl was laughing because he was the one who’d raped her. “There’s no guarantee the Bush would see things that way,” he said instead. “It’s dangerous involving them, more factors t’ calculate.”
“It’s still the best way,” Clint insisted. “Worse case, if they doublecross us, they’ll kill Tulip, not you or me. At least we’ll have a chance to get away. And we’ll have the money. We can use it to buy our way out of trouble.”
“Thats true,” Gawl grunted. “Ye’re starting to talk me round.”
“Of course there’s no guarantee that Dave will duh-duh-deal with us in the first place,” Clint added, doubts returning.
“He will,” Gawl said confidently. “It makes no sense for him not t’. Now, let’s talk about where we want this t’ go down and how we break it t’ the Tynes and what safe measures we can take. I want everything laid out nice and clear before I go visit the Bush and put my life on the fucking line.”
FIFTY-NINE
Kevin told her she had to have an abortion. She refused. He reasoned. He pleaded. He threatened. Tulip refused. Life was sacred, a gift from God. If he tried to make her kill the baby growing inside her, she’d finish with him, run away, leave him to rot. It didn’t matter that the child could be the offspring of any of the men she’d been having sex with, that the father was one of any number of sick, twisted paedophiles. This new life was hers to safeguard and she would not destroy it.
“What if it’s Fr Sebastian’s?” Kevin moaned. “What if it’s McCaskey’s?”
“I was pregnant before he had sex with me,” Tulip replied. “I’m not sure how far advanced I am, but I think a couple of months at least.”
“How did it happen?” Kevin cried. “We took so many precautions.”
Tulip shrugged. “Condoms split. The pill isn’t foolproof. Spermicides don’t always work.” She smiled through her tears. “Where God wishes to create life, he always find a way.”
“This isn’t the work of God,” Kevin snarled. “It’s an abomination.”
“No,” Tulip said calmly. “It’s a child. My child. And I’m keeping it.”
That was her line and she stuck to it. Kevin spent the rest of the night trying to wear her down, but she rejected all his arguments. She fell asleep fully dressed, face stained with tears, rosary beads clutched between her small pale fingers. Kevin sat beside her, unable to sleep, tormented. With no choice, he reluctantly accepted Tulip’s decision and assessed where that left them.
Their tentative escape plan would have to be reworked. No way they could go to the police now. They’d find out Tulip was pregnant. Questions and examinations. They might worm the truth out of Tulip — in her state, there was no knowing what she might say. Jail for Kevin. Separation. Tulip would have a child of her own, grow up, turn her back on him.
If they escaped and didn’t go to the police? Same problems as before – nowhere to go and no way for him to support Tulip – only more emphatic, since now he’d have two to hide, house, clothe and feed.
Frowning as he lingered on that thought. Two to support, a wife and child, the perfect family. Half-smiling in the gloom, imagining himself and Tulip with a child, rearing it, watching it grow. Picturing Tulip with a baby. She’d be a good mother, protective, understanding and…
Trembling at a terrible flash — the baby could be my hold over her. A secret they’d have to share. Tulip would need him to help bring up the baby. She might be able to muddle by on her own if she left him, but rearing a child would be hard. She’d need him. And if her loathing proved stronger than her need, he could use the baby against her. Threaten to report her to the authorities if she left him. They’d take the child away from her if they found out the full story, brand her an unfit mother. He could use her love for the baby against her, just as he’d used her love for him against her.
Running with the idea, excited, sensing new opportunities, playing with wicked thoughts. If the child was a girl he could watch her grow and mature, maybe mould her to his own warped desires as he’d moulded Tulip, ultimately replace Tulip with her. Sick thoughts. He cursed himself for thinking them as soon as they formed, but he didn’t stop. Scheming in the dark, gazing at Tulip, at her stomach, figuring blasphemously, Maybe this is a gift from God.
Coming back to the impossibility of escape. On the run, pursued by McCaskey and Dave Bushinsky, unable to work without attracting attention, unable to support Tulip and her child. But if they didn’t run, McCaskey and Clint would strike their deal and clear out, kill Kevin and Tulip or leave them for Bushinsky. Damned either way. Unless…
Cold in the dark, but sweating as a crazy thought struck. Unless I can cut myself in for a share of the profits.
Clint knocked on their door early, before eight, asked them to come to the study. Kevin said they’d be down in ten minutes. Faced Tulip when they were alone. “I’ve decided. We’ll keep the baby.” Tulip stared at him uncertainly, then broke into a grin, relieved that she wouldn’t have to argue any more. She leant over to hug him. He pulled back. “Do you trust me?”
Instantly wary. “Why?”
“The baby changes everything. We can’t turn to the police now, not with you pregnant, too many questions, too many risks.”
“But –” she started to object.
“No,” he snapped. “We can’t have it both ways. This baby complicates matters and we have to deal with those complications.”
“What are you thinking?” Tulip asked suspiciously.
“We have to get in on the drugs deal. Make them include us in their plans. Take a cut of the money.”
“Are you insane?” Tulip shrieked.
“It’s the only way.”
“What they’re doing is wrong. Drugs ruin lives and destroy people, and this one is the worst ever. I know what it’s like to be in that addictive grip. There’s no way I’m going to –”
“This isn’t the time to get moralistic,” Kevin snarled. “If we get out of this mess alive, we’ll have to lie low for a long time. I won’t be able to work. You won’t be able to draw child benefits. How do you plan to look after the baby?”
“There are charities…”
“I told you, we’ll have to keep our heads down. We’ll need money for lodgings, food, baby clothes, medicine, books, toys…”
“All right,” Tulip sighed. “I understand. But even if we were to accept their blood money, why should they give us anything?”
“Let me worry about that,” Kevin smiled. “I just wanted to make sure you knew what was happening, so you don’t pipe up, horrified, when I start trying to muscle in on their action.” He felt ridiculous talking like a movie gangster but he could think of no more suitable expression.
They headed downstairs. Clint, McCaskey and Fr Sebastian were in the study, no sign of Tony Phials. Clint and McCaskey were stiff with tension. Something had changed, Kevin sensed it immediately. Cautious as he sat with Tulip, waiting for them to speak.
A few seconds of edgy silence, broken bluntly by McCaskey. “I killed Phials in the church last night. Stabbed him t’ death then cut off his head. The body’s in the closet under the stairs if anyone doesn’t believe me.”
Kevin and Tulip gawped. Fr Sebastian turned white and blessed himself.
“The game’s almost over,” McCaskey continued. “In another few days we’ll be gone and ye can get on with yer lives.”
“Until Dave Bushinsky catches up with us,” Kevin interjected bitterly.
“That’s what we brought ye down t’ talk about,” McCaskey said. “Fr Seb’s fine – nobody knows that we stayed here – but ye’re in a different boat. We haven’t talked much about what happens t’ ye when we leave. Now’s the time.”
“We’ll be clearing out,” Clint said, “leaving England. We can take you with us and set you free abroad.”
“But –” Gawl began, meaning to tell the Tynes they’d have to work for their freedom.
“Not good enough,” Kevin interrupted, catching both Gawl and Clint off-guard. “We’re not going to let you strand us in a foreign country. You dragged us into this, ruined our lives, set Dave Bushinsky on our backs. Now you want to abandon us and leave us to the wolves? No way.”
“Ye don’t have much fucking choice,” Gawl growled, starting to rise. Clint laid a hand on the Scot’s arm, nodded him back into his chair.
“You have a different idea?” Clint asked Kevin.
“Pay us,” Kevin said quietly. “All I keep hearing is how much money the pair of you are going to make. Slide some of it our way. Set us up with a nest egg, so we can disappear and live in comfort like you.”
“Why should we?” Clint asked.
“It would keep us sweet.” Kevin forced a shaky smile. “We could make life difficult for you if we wanted. Much simpler to buy our compliance.”
“How much were ye thinking?” Gawl asked.
Kevin wet his lips and croaked, “Five million?” Gawl burst out laughing. Clint smiled. Kevin fumed. “What’s so crazy about that? You keep talking about fifty million. You wouldn’t miss –”
“The plan’s changed,” Clint cut in. Gawl was still laughing. “We’re selling the formula to Dave now.”
“Dave?” Kevin frowned.
“Bushinsky.”
“But he’s the guy you stole it from.”
“There were too many complications the other way,” Clint said. “We’re going for the easy money. It’s safer but a lot less, a long way short of fifty million.”
“How much?”
Clint looked to Gawl for guidance. The pair hadn’t meant to reveal more than a shade of their plan to the Tynes, but they hadn’t expected Kevin to ask for a pay-off. Gawl stopped laughing and leant forward, scratching his chin, studying Kevin. Decided to reel out some statistics. “We’ll start the bidding at four million – pounds, not dollars – but settle for two.”
“Jesus. That’s a long way short.”
“But it’s real money,” Gawl said. “The fifty mill was fantasy.”
Kevin recalculated quickly. “OK. If you get four, we’ll take a million. Three, we’ll take three-quarters. Two, half a million.”
“Fuck you,” Clint exploded. “I’d rather –”
Gawl grabbed him and dragged him outside, smiling at Kevin, Tulip and a still-in-shock Fr Sebastian. “A moment t’ ourselves, please.” In the hall outside he shook Clint silent. “What the fuck are ye shouting about?”
“That little prick wants to take half a million off us,” Clint yelped. “The nerve of the fucker! I say we take him into the chuch and finish him off like Phials.”
Gawl shook his head wearily. “Don’t ye see? He’s playing into our hands. He wants t’ get involved. I don’t know why, but this is perfect. Now it’ll be easy t’ convince him t’ hand over the formula.”
“But at a price,” Clint huffed. “Settling for a million was bad enough, but if I have to give a quarter to that scummy –”
“Who said anything about giving him money?”
Clint frowned. “You did.”
Gawl shook his head. “I’ll agree t’ half a million but that doesn’t mean I’ll gi’e it t’ him.” Gawl lowered his voice. “We’ll promise him all the money he wants. Use him and Tulip as planned. They’ll play along, thinking they’re part of the scam. When we get back here, we’ll kill him, keep it all for ourselves.”
Clint blinked at the obviousness of it. “What about Tulip?”
Gawl shrugged. “If she doesn’t freak out, we’ll let her live, maybe take her with us. I’ve grown fond of the wee bitch. Otherwise we kill her too.”
Clint gulped. Thought it over. Nodded. “But we have to make it seem like he’s forcing our hand. He’ll smell a rat if we give in to his demands too easily.”
“Agreed.”
The pair returned to the study. Fr Sebastian was still white-faced and trembling. Tulip was rubbing her stomach. Kevin was trying to look cool.
“A quarter of a million,” Clint said stiffly as he and Gawl sat.
Kevin smiled witheringly. “We wouldn’t last long on that.”
“Three-fifty,” Clint growled. “We have to arrange travel, passports, safe houses. That will all come out of our cut.”
Kevin mulled it over. “And if you get the four million?”
“We’ll give you six hundred and fifty thousand,” Clint said. “If we get three, then half a mill.”
“But ye’ll have t’ work for yer cut,” Gawl said. “We’re not gonna hand it over just because we like the look of ye. If ye want t’ be part of this, ye have t’ be a real part. Dig in with us. Run risks. Face the Bush.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We got the formula for the drug from Phials before we killed him,” Clint explained, as if he’d been an equal partner in the torture and execution. “We’re going to arrange a deal and set up a swap, the cash for the formula. If you want a cut, you’ll have to assist us with that.”
“I’m not sure…” Kevin stalled.
“We’ll be there too,” Gawl said. “Ye’ll be running no greater risk than us. We can do it without ye, in which case ye get nothing. But we stand a better chance of pulling it off with ye, in which case ye get the price we’ve agreed.”
While Kevin was thinking about that, Tulip spoke up suddenly. “What about Fr Sebastian?” All eyes turned on her. “He deserves to be included too.”
“I want no part of this,” Fr Sebastian squeaked. “I just want you out of here, so I can get back to normal.”
“I like the cut of yer jib, Father,” Gawl chuckled, then faced Kevin. “I’m gonna thrash out a deal with the Bush this afternoon. Are ye in or out?”
Kevin exhaled shallowly. He didn’t like this, felt he was signing up for a ride he couldn’t control. But it was the only way. If it worked, he’d have money, freedom, the baby, Tulip, everything. Staring straight at McCaskey, not blinking, he said, “We’re in.”
