The Trusted Professions - Chapter 16

?Glad to see you awake, sir.? She said.

?Uh?good to be awake.? I said, groggily, not entirely sure where I was for a few moments.

?I?m PC Barnes. Just here to take a statement of the incident.?

?The incident??

?Your arm, sir??

I looked down at the newly-repaired injury. A second mouth sewn shut.

?Oh yes. That.?

?The first thing I need to know is your name.?

?Dalent McKinley.? My mind was struggling mightily with the grogginess caused by the painkillers, attempting to come up with a coherent narrative for my situation, but hadn?t yet. Saying my actual name might not have been the best of plans.

?If you could tell me how you came to be wounded in that fashion, exactly, Mr. McKinley??

This was, of course, my moment. The moment to confess, to tell all. To fix everything. I?d spied on two people. I?d set one of them up with my lover the prostitute. I?d (reluctantly! Could you note that down in parenthesis?) agreed to arrange for his murder. I?d met with a man who would carry it out for me. And now it was coming back to bite me on the ass, and I was way out of my depth, and I really needed help to stop the madness continuing. To stop a man getting killed. Oh, and Grand Theft Auto while you?re writing all that down, thanks.

Is that what I said? Of course it fucking wasn?t! It?s what I should have said, obviously. But well, combine a groggy brain, very understandable paranoia, fear of persecution and a natural suspicion of cops, and that all adds up to doing something really stupid.

?I ah, I was in my backyard, doing some gardening, and I must have ah, passed out and fallen onto a garden stake or something. I don?t really remember.?

She looked at me for a few moments. ?The wound on your arm has been identified as a gunshot wound, sir. In addition,? she flicked backward through her little notebook for a few pages. ?when you came into the emergency room and the EMT asked what had happened to you, you reportedly said: ?I?ve been shot, what the fuck does it look like?? over and over.? She read in a flat voice.

Ah. Must have forgotten about that bit. My first attempt to deceive her really hadn?t gone as planned. Stupid lie, anyway. Amateur mistake. Had to change tack, and quickly.

?You know ah, ma?am, ah, I?m actually feeling really woozy, I think I?m going to vomit, could we continue this in a moment??

?Of course.? She left as I stumbled into the bathroom. My entire body ached, I felt bruised from head to toe. I turned around and poked my head out of the bathroom door. She was gone. I took a look outside the hotel door. She was at the other end of the corridor, conferring with one of the EmTechs. Probably asking for more specific info on my wound, my frame of mind when I came in. I stepped outside and walked at a normal pace towards the stairwell at the opposite end of the corridor. I figured I had about ten to fifteen minutes of retching-time before she knocked on the bathroom door.

First order of business was clothes, and maybe a bit of cash. No way was I going home to get my wallet, for all I knew the dude was still sitting in my lounge, just waiting for me to walk right back in. At the very least I had to assume he?d be having the place watched.

The next floor down was a recovery ward, I popped my head into every room I came to, to see what was in there. Do anything with sufficient authority and people will assume that you?re meant to be doing it, even if you are wearing one of those stupid gowns that opens at the back. On the fifth room I found what I was looking for- guy coma?d out in his bed, bag of clothes from his family sitting on the chair next to him. I locked the door and quickly put some of his clothes on- a pretty loose fit, but good enough if I pulled the belt tight. I rummaged through the bag until I found his wallet, and took two cards out. There was no cash, but with a credit card I could get some out at a supermarket or something. Then I took the staircase to the ground floor and walked out of the hospital.

I?m not sure I understand. Where were you going?

I thought that?d be obvious. I was going to kill Jez.

Jez? Why?

I?d said if he went ahead with the hit, I?d turn him in. I was sure he?d believed me. Then the same damned hitman shows up knockin? at my door and starts drilling holes in me? Seemed like a pretty clear link between the two events at the time. Jez was getting rid of me, wiping me out so he could go ahead with the hit and make his filthy million. My best fucking friend. I was angry, I was hell angry. I was going to strangle the bastard with my bare hands, I was so fucking mad.

After a quick stop into Sainsbury?s to sign out some cash and a couple of packages of painkillers, I took the tube out to High Barnet. I probably looked a right fucking drunk, stumbling about in pain, wearing outsized clothes. That?s when stone-faced Londonism comes in handy- you could ride the tube naked and people would barely bat an eyelid, just look right through you. You could be drowning and they?d look right through you.

Jez and Samantha live?well, lived in a pretty nice house in North London. And y?know, it was actually a house, like, detached, not the squashed-together buildings that most people have in London, this was actually a real manor-style house, complete with driveway, garage, enormous back yard, pool, the whole deal. Real classy stuff. Samantha?s dad had given it to them as a wedding present, can you believe that shit? And the guy was worried about money.

I didn?t exactly want to come storming in through the front door, so I walked `round to the back of the house to let myself in through back-door into the kitchen. It was all so tranquil, it seemed surreal- the sort of still calm you only ever find in suburbia. I prayed Samantha wasn?t home, although I didn?t really care- I was barely thinking straight. I don?t know if I really wanted to kill him. Maybe I just wanted to have it out with him. I didn?t know. I didn?t know what time it was, I didn?t even know what day it was. It was starting to get dark so it was probably late afternoon- I could hardly imagine Jez sitting around the office working by himself, so I was either going to find him here or in the pub. I could hear the television in the lounge- the sound of a football game. He was here.

I opened the door to the lounge and Jez looked at me in open mouthed surprise, eyes wide. I didn?t even say anything, I was so angry. Like, really, I mean, you hear people say they ?saw red?, but it really does happen, just like it says on the box, you really can get so angry that a sort of red haze descends. I should know. My best friend had put a fucking hit out on me. With a scream, I charged up to Jez and started punching him repeatedly in the face with my good arm. Nose, eyes, forehead, nose. He took a few good hits before he overcame his surprise and fought back, fending off my blows with one arm and giving me a good shap jab with the other- right into my left shoulder. I howled and fell backwards, but gritted my teeth and turned my pain into anger, charging at him again. But this time he was more prepared. He was bigger, and he had both arms at his disposal. He punched me directly in the head, one mighty blow, and I went down, my ears ringing.

?What the hell are you doing, you psychotic?? he yelled, blood dripping from his nose. He walked past me and into the kitchen, started rummaging through his freezer. I pulled myself up with my right arm, but the skin on my knuckles had split and they were bleeding into the thick shag of the lounge room carpet. I was exhausted. I limped after Jez into the kitchen, where he was holding a packet of frozen peas to his skull. He threw a bag of baby carrots at me, but I made no attempt to catch them and they just bounced off my midsection and fell to the floor.

?For your nose, you prick. What the hell are you doing, are you fucking drunk??

I tasted iron in my mouth and spat out a mouthful of blood onto the counter. Jez looked at me in disgust.

?You?d better have a fucking good explanation for this, you fuck. Is this because I fired you? You?re lucky I don?t call the Police and have you charged.?

My voice was hoarse with suffering. ?You tried to have me killed, you bastard! Betraying a friend is one thing, but even I didn?t think you could sink so fucking low!?

?What the hell are you talking about?? He said.

?This!? I spat at him, and tore my loose t-shirt to one side, revealing my damaged shoulder, a long flat red tear along my flesh, bound together with stitches.

Jez recoiled slightly, taking the peas down from his face. ?What the hell is that?? He winced and put the peas back where they were.

?It?s a fucking gunshot wound, from your God-damned hitman!?

Jez looked confused. Whether it was genuine or faked I can?t say.

?The hitman came after you? Our hitman??

?Oh and I suppose you had nothing to do with it, because you?re supposed to be my best fucking friend, you fucking asshole!? The rage flooded back. I started looking around for some kind of weapon to use on him. He was between me and the knife rack.

?Of course not! Why the fuck would I want you killed?!?

?So I wouldn?t talk to the Police. So you?d be free to kill Colmes!?

Jez stared at me for a few moments, trying to put it together. ?I thought you were bluffing about that!? His voice took on a pleading aspect. ?I thought once he was dead, you?d see no reason to go to the Police, not when it would put you in the nick, as well. I thought you?d come round to it, see the light. I just wanted you out of the way for while?once it was done, I thought you?d come back.?

?You couldn?t count on my silence- that?s a hell of a gamble, and that?s not like you. That?s not how you think. You like to cover the bases. No loose threads. You wanted me out of the way, all right- permanently.?

?I didn?t think it was a gamble! I was sure you?d stay silent. I never in a million years thought you?d have me locked up. I?d trust you with my life, man.?

?You trusted me?? I was beginning to question my own conviction, my mind probing for alternate avenues. What other explanation was there? If he chose to attack me now, he?d win, I?d be no contest in my current state, he could take me down no problem. And yet he wasn?t moving, wasn?t even going for the gun I knew he kept in a locked box upstairs. Maybe he didn?t have the stomach for it himself, and he was just stalling, setting me up for another hit. Or maybe I just had the wrong end of the stick, and he hadn?t ordered the hit at all. Maybe the hitman was just some kind of psycho? No, that didn?t track. ?You trusted me. Then why the hell is this guy after me? Did you piss him off somehow, did he make an unreasonable demand??

?No!? Jez put down the peas on the kitchen bench and then gripped the edge of it with both hands, looking at the space between them, thinking hard. ?He called two days ago, said he?d scoped out Colmes and figured out a way to carry out the job, using the method we?d discussed. Wanted me to confirm that we wanted the job to go forward. I?d already asked Mrs. Colmes if she wanted us to go ahead, so I authorised it for him. That was the last I?ve heard from him. Your name didn?t even come up!?

?But you confirmed the job? You put the hit out on Colmes??

?Yes. He said it?d be done within the week.?

?Shit.? I held my head in my hands, hurting everywhere, inside and out. ?Shit shit shit. We?ve got to stop it. We?ve got to save him.?

?How in Christ?s name do you expect to do that??

?I don?t know, call the Police, get him into protective custody.?

?We may as well sign our own confessions!?

?I don?t care! Better that than letting him die.?

?Count me fucking out. I?ll deny all knowledge.?

I looked up at him, anger reflaring. I still wasn?t entirely sure that he hadn?t ordered the hit on me. I painfully dragged myself over to stand in front of him. He turned to face me, wary of another attack, but wanting to hear me out. I put my lacerated right hand on his shoulder, and looked at him straight at the eyes. He looked down.

?Jez, look at me.?

He looked up.

?You?re like my brother and I love you, but right now I honestly don?t know if you tried to have me killed or not. And I really need to know. Now I?m gonna ask you, and whatever you say, I?ll believe you. But I?ll know if you?re lying, so fucking don?t. Okay??

He looked straight at me, nodded.

?Jez?did you put the hit out on me?? I really, genuinely had no idea what the answer was going to be. I don?t even know what I wanted him to say anymore.

Jez started to open his mouth, but I never got to hear the answer, because a fraction of a second later, his entire head exploded.