8
His smile broadened. ‘I like to know what’s going on; I like to get things done my way. I just needed to let off some steam. Guys like us, we need to do that from time to time, don’t we, Nick? You understand.’
I understood all too well. It wasn’t about letting off steam; it was about showing everyone within a 500K radius who was boss.
I took my time tucking in my sweatshirt. This wasn’t about the 110, Baz and the police. This was about something much more important to him, the job.
I sat back down. ‘So help me out here . . . Having Charlie dropped, once he’d done the safe. That’s getting things done your way, is it?’ I risked a smile too. ‘Looks like it was just as well I came along.’
‘I didn’t have anything to do with that. Whichever f*cks on the top floor’ – he pointed skywards – ‘made that decision, they didn’t ask me along. All I know is that Chuck was going to do the job, and I supplied the support, the kit, the information, that kinda thing. What do you think I am? A f*cking animal? Hell, Chuck’s one of us, one of the good guys.’
‘Who’s on the top floor? Military? The oil guys?’
He shook his head slowly and gave me a pitying look. ‘You know what, Nick? I like you, but do you think I’m f*cking stupid? Come on, man. All you need to know is: I saved your asses today. You’re a wanted man. Any longer in that camp and you’d have been picked up and shovelled like shit into custody.’ His eyes sparkled unpleasantly. ‘Hey, I know what they do to guys like you in those cesspits. Not good, Nick, not good at all. They’re f*cking psychos in there.’
I was sure he was right, but my mind was elsewhere, trying to work out what to say next, how to keep well away from those particular cesspits. The one I was in was bad enough.
‘Hey, enough of that shit. I’m sorry, really sorry, for monstering on you just now. But when I got the news about you two at the camp . . .’ He laughed a little too loudly and took another mouthful of brew. ‘I guess it’s kinda worrying having a pistol to your head. But you should be thanking me for not letting you get handed over. Those guys in the camp? They got really pissed when they found out you weren’t no f*cking terrorist.’ His jowls quivered. He was enjoying every minute of this. ‘Hey, can you believe that?’
I could, actually. If they had been able to stick me with the terrorist label, I’d have been halfway to Guantanamo Bay by now.
I wondered why he hadn’t said anything about the laptop bag. Or the papers and tape. He must be saving it up for later.
‘But, you know what, Nick? You did a helluva job saving your asses out there, considering the problems you had.’
This wasn’t the Bastard I knew. But then, this wasn’t Bastard – this was just a good old boy fronting a set of interrogation techniques, and me shutting up until I needed to speak.
He was deploying what the manual called ‘Pride and Ego Up’. He thought I’d be feeling devastated by the capture, and would respond to praise for a job well done. Any minute now he’d be telling me he understood my feelings, and we’d bond big-time over a few more cups of coffee.
But what he didn’t know was that my pride and ego had been well and truly hung out to dry more years ago than I cared to remember. He’d have to dig a whole lot deeper, if he wanted to find any traces of either.
I nodded to show how glad I was that he understood me. ‘We did all right.’ I got more brew down my neck. ‘Who was that at the house and cemetery?’
‘No idea.’ Bastard shook his head slowly, as if Red Eyes, Stubbly and the man mountain with the machete had all dropped out of a clear blue sky. ‘Whatever, those f*cks sure messed up a good operation.’
He leaned across the table, nodding in agreement with himself as he pulled two cigars from his Gore-Tex jacket. ‘People think it’s a science, but they forget about the bit you can’t control, and that’s the target, right?’ He offered me one and I gave a polite shake of my head. But I poured myself some more coffee and got it down my neck, just in case he decided he’d gone far enough with this and it was time to wheel in Bad Cop again.
He lit up and inhaled appreciatively. He seemed to have kicked his old tobacco-chewing habit. Maybe this was his idea of a healthier option.
Was he waiting for me to start gobbing off, trying to fill the dead space? If so, I was going to disappoint him.
No way would I respond to any of this by opening up and saying stuff that could dig me and Charlie a deeper hole. In a strange way, knowing there was somebody else in the shit with me for a change made me feel more confident, and I knew Charlie would be thinking the same. He wasn’t going to let me down; I wasn’t going to let him down either.
‘You know what?’ Smoke poured from his mouth. ‘You turning up with Chuck like that? That was one big surprise. Yessir, he kept that set of cards pretty close to his chest. How’s it working with you guys – you planning on splitting the money?’
I nodded. ‘Down the middle.’
‘That’s one heap of change . . .’ He sucked on the end of his cigar, as if he suddenly couldn’t make up his mind whether to chew it or smoke it. ‘But I think you should’ve got more, Nick. Seems to me you did the lion’s share, getting you both out of the shit. Only fair, don’t you Brits say?’ He flicked away half an inch of ash. ‘I suppose it was Chuck’s idea to make this a two-hander?’
‘Had to be, didn’t it? Otherwise I wouldn’t have known about it.’
It didn’t sound like he knew anything about Charlie’s disco hands. This time a thread of spit hung between cigar and lip as he drew the Havana away from his mouth.
If you’re anywhere long enough, you tune into the environment. Every house feels strange the first time you go into it, but give it half an hour and you begin to feel at home.
That still wasn’t happening to me here, though; the only familiar elements in this room were the hiss of the gas heater and the smell of cigar smoke.