Gardiner’s eyes widen. ‘The assassin?’
‘Bingo.’
‘But he retired years ago.’
‘And swapped his gun for a typewriter — or is it a computer, Brad?’
‘A computer,’ I sniff.
‘Why do you keep calling him Brad?’ Gardiner asks.
‘That was his original name, Brad Severs, the name he went by in the army. We go back, Brad and me. Recruits together. He knew me as Simon Dale. Didn’t have much time for me or my buddy, Parson McNally. A couple of his friends wound us up. There was a fight. Parson and one of Brad’s compadres didn’t walk away from it. I went to prison, Brad went free. A few years later we were hired by Carter Phell, though neither of us knew about the other. A woman brought us together. The beautiful Belinda Darnier — now the savagely scarred Antonia Smith.
‘I paid Brad back for the mess he made of my life,’ Dash continues. ‘But I was merciful. I could have killed him, but I didn’t. I thought that was the end of our feud. Obviously he had other ideas.’
‘How’s Belinda these days?’ I sneer.
‘Wealthy. Not as pretty as she used to be, though plastic surgery took care of the worst of the damage. She’ll flip for joy when I tell her about this. She always wanted me to finish you off. She would have hired somebody else, except I told her I didn’t think –’
Bond Gardiner coughs, cutting Dash short. ‘I didn’t come here to listen to you settle old scores. I don’t know what the deal is between you two, and to be honest, I don’t give a fuck. All I want to know is who killed Mikis and why.’
‘Brad did!’ Dash booms.
‘Is that true?’ Gardiner asks me.
‘Yes,’ I sigh.
Gardiner’s shoulders sag. ‘Why?’
‘Too long a story. Can’t you just accept my confession and leave it at that?’
‘No!’ he barks, then eyes Dash. ‘Do you know why he did it?’
Dash shakes his head. ‘I haven’t a clue.’
‘Tell them what they want to know,’ Langbein growls, kicking my left thigh.
‘Might as well, Brad,’ Dash says. ‘We aren’t leaving till you do. I’m no sadist, but you know I can get nasty when I must, and hot-headed Alan here was born to dominate, weren’t you, Alan?’
‘Too fucking true,’ Langbein laughs. He’s acting tough, trying not to appear out of his depth, but I can tell he’s new to this. I catch a quick look between Dash and Gardiner. I know what it means and take slight comfort in the knowledge that I won’t be the only one joining the ranks of the dead today.
I see no point in playing out the hand to the last. I’d like to think I wouldn’t crack under duress, but everybody does. There’s only so much pain anyone can withstand before the tongue starts working by itself. I’d rather go out with my dignity intact than wind up whimpering beneath the feet and fists of Alan Langbein. Besides, this way I can hold back the details I’d rather not reveal, such as Joe’s involvement. ‘It started on a boat,’ I begin, and take it from there.
It’s a long, convoluted story, even condensed, and the sun is rising by the time I finish. I tell them about my initial meeting with Andeanna, the name she gave, falling in love, learning her true identity, killing the guard, getting rid of the body, plotting to kill the Turk, finding the newspaper while I was waiting for my train, meeting with Andrew Moore, Gardiner, Greygo and the psychic. They listen in silence, bar a few hissed curses from Dash when I describe how I set him up.
There’s a long pause when I finish. I’ve regaled them with a story that each of the trio will carry to his grave. When they’ve forgotten my name, and maybe even their own, they’ll remember Andeanna’s and recall this tale of supernatural love, murder and deceit.
Dash finally breaks the silence. ‘The crazy bastard’s telling the truth.’
‘No,’ Gardiner says. ‘He thinks he is, but he isn’t. He can’t be.’
Dash chuckles. ‘You don’t believe in ghosts?’
‘No.’
‘How about you, Alan?’
Langbein shakes his head. ‘This is too fucked to be true. He’s mad as a hatter. We’ll be doing him a favour when we kill him.’
Dash has been leaning against the car. Now he steps away from it and turns slowly, gazing around at the dawn shadows. ‘Are your ghosts here with us?’
I glance at the shades of those I’ve killed, standing in a line in front of me, sketched against the morning landscape, faces alight with expectation, but otherwise calm now that the end has come, waiting patiently, feeling no need to mock me in my final moments. ‘Yes.’
‘Where are they?’
I nod as much as I can. ‘Over there.’
Dash squints. For long seconds he says nothing. Finally, disappointed, ‘Nope. Can’t see them.’
‘Nobody can. Only me.’
‘Maybe they’re just in your head.’
‘Maybe,’ I smile, knowing that that isn’t so.
He faces me, his expression oddly compassionate. ‘I sometimes dream of the people I’ve killed, and those are never easy nights. To face them every day when you’re awake . . . ’ He shudders, then glances at Gardiner. ‘Heard enough? I don’t want to stick around any longer than we have to.’
Gardiner looks uncertain. My story has shaken him. He regards me warily, as if I’m contagious. ‘This isn’t right,’ he mutters.
‘You don’t believe him?’ Dash asks.
‘He’s told us all he can, but there’s more to it. Someone set him up, just as he set you up. It couldn’t have been a ghost.’
‘Whatever,’ Dash shrugs. ‘I’ve cleared my name and exposed the lunatic who framed me. If you want to chase it further, that’s your business.’
‘Let’s do it!’ Langbein hoots. ‘Let’s spill this fucker’s guts!’
Dash and Gardiner share an amused smile. How can Langbein not see what’s coming? I almost feel like warning him. If he wasn’t such a dick, maybe I would. But anyone who’ll kick a man when he’s down doesn’t deserve fair warning.
‘What do you say?’ Dash asks Gardiner. ‘Are we done or not?’
Gardiner nods reluctantly. ‘I guess we are.’
‘We’re squared? You’ll spread the word that I didn’t kill Menderes?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Sweet.’ Dash grins, raises his gun and fires twice.
Two bullets shatter Alan Langbein’s breastbone and make jagged red-white shards of his chest. He slams against the car, arms flying out Christ-like. Blood coughs from his mouth, spews over the ground in front of him, then he sinks to the floor, limp, broken, dead.
‘Alas, poor Alan. I knew him, Horatio,’ Dash deadpans.
‘Show a bit of respect for the dead,’ Gardiner scowls.
‘You agreed to it,’ Dash defends himself. ‘I wouldn’t have cared if he’d lived – he couldn’t touch me – but you’d have been a marked man. It was only a matter of time before he came looking for a pay-off. Men like Langbein get greedy.’
‘I know,’ Gardiner says, ‘but I don’t like it. Killing a cop’s a messy business.’
‘Not this way,’ Dash disagrees. ‘It’ll look like they shot each other. We don’t have to worry about dumping the bodies or having them traced back to us. It’s the perfect solution.’
‘You don’t think they’ll tie Langbein or Sieveking to Mikis?’
‘Why should they? Alan wasn’t working on the Menderes case, and Ed is just a writer. They’ll wonder what it was about, turn over a lot of stones in an attempt to find out, but if we keep our mouths shut, who’s to know but you and me?’
‘Andeanna,’ I answer quietly.
The two men stare at me, Dash contemptuously, Gardiner uneasily.
‘All right,’ Dash smirks. ‘Apart from the ghost.’
‘Whoever set him up,’ Gardiner says. ‘I can’t slip away like you. I have to stay and deal with the fallout.’
Dash shrugs. ‘We’ve all got our crosses to bear. I doubt it will go any further
than this, but it’s your problem if it does. All I want to know is, are we done with Brad? Is it time to kiss the sweet prince good night?’
Gardiner thinks about it. ‘Yes,’ he says, and starts towards Langbein’s cooling body.
‘What are you doing?’ Dash asks, the slightest hint of tension in his voice.
‘Getting Langbein’s gun,’ Gardiner says without slowing. ‘We’ve got to make it look like they shot each other, right?’
‘I can fetch it,’ Dash says quickly, taking a defensive step to his left.
Gardiner looks over his shoulder, notes Dash’s stance and turns, hands spread flat by his sides. ‘This is very simple,’ he growls, ‘so I’ll only say it once. This sack of shit killed Mikis Menderes. Mikis was like my brother. I swore revenge and I’m gonna make good on that vow. If you have an issue with that, our relationship is about to take a very serious turn for the worse.’
I see Dash weighing up his options, deciding whether or not he can trust Bond Gardiner with a gun. For a moment it looks like he’s going to object, and my heart leaps with the slightest tinge of hope — if these two start taking potshots at one another, I might walk away from this yet. Then Dash smiles. ‘Be my guest,’ he says magnanimously, and there goes my future.
Gardiner makes his way to the sprawled body of Alan Langbein, pulls on a pair of thin plastic gloves, uses a nearby twig to swish back the corpse’s jacket and prizes the dead officer’s gun from its holster. Dash watches warily.
Gardiner slips up behind me. I listen with resigned dread as he approaches, marking every step. I don’t fear death, but now that it’s upon me, I can’t say that I welcome it either. The thought of entering the vast abyss fills me with fear. I know that Andeanna is waiting for me, but maybe I’ll have to pay for my crimes. Perhaps my ghosts will attack my spirit, keep us separate, subject me to an eternity of torment.
Gardiner towers above me. Turning my head, ignoring the rope about my throat, I watch as he cocks the pistol, then lays the tip of the barrel to my temple. I want to shut my eyes and wait for the end in darkness, but I can’t. My eyelids won’t work. I’m forced to bear witness to my own death.
‘Hey!’ Dash snaps. I flinch, anticipating gunfire, but Gardiner’s finger relaxes and he looks questioningly at Dash. ‘You can’t do it like that.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s supposed to look like they killed each other,’ Dash says, exasperated, hurrying over. ‘How’s he meant to have shot Alan with a bullet plugged through his skull at point-blank range?’
Gardiner scowls. ‘Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.’
‘No,’ Dash agrees. ‘You weren’t.’
He glares at me, then tucks his gun away and bends. ‘Grab his feet,’ he tells Gardiner. ‘We don’t want to leave tracks.’
They haul me away from Langbein and stand me up. I immediately drop to the floor. I’m not going to make it easy for the bastards.
‘Get up,’ Dash snarls.
‘Fuck you.’
‘Hold him up for me,’ Gardiner says to Dash.
‘The fuck I will,’ Dash snorts.
Gardiner smiles. ‘Still don’t trust me?’
‘It’s not that. Bullets can ricochet. The best marksman can miss. If you think I’m going to stand next to him while you take aim, you’ve got a fucking screw loose.’
‘OK.’ Gardiner kneels beside me. ‘Sieveking.’
‘Gardiner,’ I reply politely, grinning in spite of everything.
‘You made a good impression on me in the pub. I confided in you because I thought you were a man of honour. Now you’ve made a fool of me. I don’t like that. I want to take you back to my manor and let the boys play with you, put you through the kind of hell you don’t even want to imagine. But Dash is right — killing you here, making it look like Langbein’s work, is the simplest solution for all concerned, yourself included.’
‘You want me to stand and take it like a man?’ I sneer.
‘If you don’t, I’ll pump a bullet through each of your knees, bundle you into the trunk and let you suffer the ride back to London, where the real pain will begin.’
I consider my options. A few more hours of life in exchange for a shitload of suffering. Not an attractive proposition. Of course, as long as I’m alive, there’s a chance I might escape. Gardiner could crash, or be pulled over by the police. The odds would be against me, but . . .
No. One look at Gardiner’s face and I know he doesn’t make mistakes. All I’d have to look forward to would be the shattered knees and torture. It isn’t worth it. My number’s up. ‘Get on with it,’ I growl, and let them drag me to my feet.
While Gardiner retreats, measuring his paces as if fighting a duel, Dash studies me. ‘This isn’t what I wanted, Brad. You forced my hand. I couldn’t let you –’
‘Go fuck yourself,’ I cut in brusquely.
Dash frowns. ‘Anyone ever mention that chip on your shoulder?’
‘I’m ready,’ Gardiner says. He’s standing sideways to us, right arm levelled in front of him, left arm bent slightly behind his back.
‘So long,’ Dash says, patting my cheek. ‘It was fun while it lasted. I’ll give your love to Antonia. Give mine to the ghosts.’
He steps away. He hasn’t taken more than two strides when Bond Gardiner fires. My eyes snap shut and my stomach goes cold. I wait for the pain, but there isn’t any. I don’t dare hope he’s missed, so I assume my nerve endings are slow to react. But then someone groans and it isn’t me.
Opening my eyes, I spot Sebastian Dash lying on the ground in a pool of blood, his stomach ripped open, gazing crookedly at the mess bulging out of the shredded gap with a look of agonized confusion. ‘What the fuck?’ he gasps, sticking a couple of fingers into the cavity to make sure it’s real.
Gardiner advances, never lowering his arm, ready to fire again if Dash goes for his gun. I stand rooted, as stunned as Dash. The assassin looks up. His eyes are wide, appealing for answers. ‘You shot me. I think I’m –’
A torrent of blood gushes up his throat and out of his mouth. Gardiner steps back quickly to avoid getting his shoes splashed. Dash seems to snap back to life at that, and scrabbles for his gun. He prizes it free of its holster, but his fingers are slow, and wet with blood. He doesn’t stand a chance.
Gardiner puts two more bullets through Dash’s ribcage. The gun drops limply from the assassin’s hand and he sinks into the grass, face white, body shuddering. He’s suffering a more painful death than Langbein. I can’t say I’m sorry, though I don’t exactly rejoice, knowing that a similar fate is surely in store for me.
Dash tries to staunch the flow of blood, but even in his distressed state he knows it’s a hopeless task. Giving up, he lets his head flop back and stares at the sky. An almost serene look passes over his face as he whispers, ‘Antonia.’
Then he’s dead, and it’s my turn.
Bond Gardiner casts a cold eye over me.
‘Why?’ I ask quietly.
The gangster’s head cocks to the left. ‘I had to.’
‘Why?’
He wipes the gun clean, strides across the glade and sticks it in Langbein’s hand, then he pats down the officer and finds a Swiss army knife. He extends the longest blade and steps up behind me. I tense, expecting him to slit my throat, but instead he sets to work on the ropes. Within seconds I’m free, my extremities tingling as blood flows back into them.
‘If I hadn’t killed Dash,’ Gardiner says, snapping the knife shut and pocketing it, ‘I’d have had to kill you. And I didn’t want to do that.’
I limp forward, rubbing my hands together, half afraid I’m dreaming. ‘You’re going to spare me?’
‘Not going to,’ he corrects me. ‘I have spared you. You’re free. Get the fuck out of here before I change my mind.’
In a daze I start away, thinking he’ll grab Dash’s gun and shoot me in the back. When I reach the edge of the clearing and he still hasn’t fired, I stop and slowly, against my better inst
incts, turn. My ghosts are howling silently, spitefully. If they could give voice to their fury, they’d probably be screaming, ‘Not fair!’ I ignore them and study Bond Gardiner. He’s standing over Dash’s body, staring down with an unreadable expression.
I return and take up a position to Gardiner’s left. He doesn’t notice me at first. When he does, his features darken. ‘I told you to go.’
‘I can’t, not until you tell me what’s going on.’
He sighs, then nods sombrely. He turns away from Sebastian Dash and moves to the far side of the car, where he doesn’t have to look at the corpses. I follow, lean against the hood of the engine next to him, and wait while he produces a book of matches and starts playing with it, the way he did in the pub. ‘You really believe it was Andeanna’s ghost you fell in love with?’ he asks.
‘I know that it was.’
‘You accepted everything she told you through the mystic?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re a fool,’ he grunts. ‘When you killed that bodyguard, Andeanna told you he was Axel Nelke?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then, at the seance, she said through the medium that Nelke was her lover from long ago and she didn’t actually know the name of the bodyguard?’ When I nod, Gardiner snorts. ‘After you butchered the guy in the mansion, did you frisk him for ID, or did you simply leave his cards in his wallet and bury them at sea with him?’
‘Of course not. I went through his pockets and took . . . ’
I stop, horrified. I’d forgotten about the cards, but I can visualize them now that Gardiner has reminded me. Credit cards, a driver’s licence, a membership card for Blockbuster. I only flicked through them, but I got a good look at the name, the same on every card. Axel Nelke.
Gardiner chuckles as the penny – one of the pennies – drops. ‘The guard you killed was Axel Nelke. He was one of my boys.’
‘But Andeanna . . . her lover . . . she said . . . ’
‘She lied.’
‘No. There must have been another Axel Nelke, this guy’s father or uncle or –’
‘Don’t insult yourself,’ Gardiner snaps. ‘She played you. She knew who he was. My guess is she lured him there on purpose. I think he was a guinea pig. She wanted to see if you still had a killer’s touch.’