Darius stooped and grabbed his dead friend’s ankles. He pulled, but managed no more than two feet, the plastic snagging and tearing on the rubble. He cursed and dropped the legs.
“Help,” he said.
“What?” Sam said.
“Help,” the Lithuanian said. “Put Tomas in water.”
“I’m keeping hold of her,” Sam said, tightening his grip on Galya’s arm.”
“Where she go?” Darius asked, holding his hands out, indicating the expanse of water and low buildings. He pointed at the corpse on the ground. “You help.”
A clammy heat lingered on Galya’s arm when Sam released it. He pushed her back against the car.
“Don’t move,” he said.
He crossed the few feet to the body, hunkered down, gripped the shoulders.
Darius said, “
Both men hissed as they raised the body a few inches from the ground. They shuffled toward the water’s edge, huffing and grunting as they went. A bloodstained hand flopped from the plastic and brushed its fingertips along the loose stones.
“Jesus,” Sam said.
A thin, distorted disco beat erupted from nowhere, and he yelped in fright as he dropped the dead man’s shoulders. Galya took a step away from the car.
Darius lowered the feet and straightened. Something vibrated on the body. He reached down and tore a hole in the shiny plastic. His hand explored inside for a moment before emerging again, a mobile phone gripped in his thick fingers. His face went slack when he looked at the screen, its light making him look even paler than he already was. He glanced at Sam.
“Is Arturas,” he said.
Sam swallowed so hard Galya heard the click in his throat. “Are you going to answer it?” he asked.
Darius gave him a hard stare. “You a stupid man. I answer, say brother busy? Say he go in water, yes? I say to him this?”
Sam shifted his weight as if the insult had hit him square in the chest. “Well, fuck, I don’t know. He’s your boss, not ours.”
Galya moved to the far side of the car.
“Arturas everybody boss,” the Lithuanian said.
Sam took a step forward. “He’s your boss, not mine.”
Darius held out the phone, still blasting its tinny music, his pudgy face swelling with anger. “Okay, you say he not you boss, you say him now.”
“Fuck yourself,” Sam said.
Galya flexed her wrists, felt the electrical cord skim the backs of her legs as it slipped away.
Darius stepped over the body, came face-to-face with Sam.
“You think you big man?” he asked, the phone still lit up and ringing in his hand.
Two meters separated Galya from the car now. She pushed the cord aside with her toes, kept her hands behind her back. She pressed her tongue against the rag between her teeth, pushed it out, and let it fall to the ground. She steadied her breathing.
Sam moved to the other side of the body. “Listen, this isn’t the time for getting the arse with each other, right? We need to get this sorted before anyone comes along and asks us what we’re doing here at this time of the night.”
Darius would not be placated. “You need take care your mouth, or you go in water also.”
Sam raised his hands.
Darius slapped them aside.
Galya ran.
4
ARTURAS STRAZDAS HUNG up without leaving a message. He thought for a moment as the car sped along the motorway toward the city, the driver’s attention fixed on the road ahead. Tomas always answered his phone. It didn’t matter if he was in bed or at a funeral, he never left a call unanswered if his mobile was in reach. Many times Arturas had phoned his brother only to hear hard panting and moaning on the other end as he rutted with one of the whores.
Once, Tomas hospitalized a cinemagoer for complaining about the disturbance caused by his taking a call during a screening of some romantic comedy. It had taken several days, and some expense, to convince the victim they were mistaken in their identification of the attacker.
Tomas had always been trouble, but Strazdas had promised his mother he would care for his little brother, no matter what. He had repeated the promise just a few hours ago, before he left her in the Brussels apartment he’d bought for her and caught the flight to Belfast.
She had complained bitterly about being left alone at Christmas, but it could not be helped. There was business to attend to, and as much as he loved his little brother, Tomas could not be trusted with such a responsibility.
Strazdas had texted Tomas before he boarded the plane, reminded him to be ready for his arrival, that he needed him at the hotel that night. Now Tomas did not answer. Strazdas returned the mobile to his breast pocket and considered.
There were many reasons why Tomas might not have answered his phone, of course. But none were good enough for Strazdas. Clearly something was wrong.
“Herkus,” he called.
“Yes, boss?” The driver glanced back over his shoulder.
“When did you last see Tomas?”
“A few hours ago,” Herkus said. “He and Darius were drinking in town. I had to pick them up in a hurry. They’d gone into the wrong bar, some place for queers. You know how Tomas is about queers.”
Yes, Strazdas knew how Tomas felt about homosexuals. That particular foible had cost him some money over the years. Between bail and payoffs, caring for Tomas was like keeping an exotic animal. Its prey was expensive.
“How bad?” Strazdas asked.
“Not very bad.” Herkus shrugged. “Not much blood on his hands. Darius got him out of there before he did any real damage. I lifted them a few streets away.”
“And then?”
“Tomas said he wanted to break in that new whore. The Ukrainian girl. Being around queers always makes him want a whore.”
Strazdas watched the city lights draw near, buildings solidifying in the dark.
“Which Ukrainian girl?” he asked.
“The one Rasa took from the mushroom farm last week,” Herkus said. “The agency put her there, working under Steponas. She’d been there a month or six weeks, maybe, when Rasa spotted her. She was covered head to toe in horse shit, but Rasa can pick a looker out from a hundred meters. The Loyalists paid two thousand for her.”
“Good money,” Strazdas said.
“Like I said, she’s a looker. Darius told me. Young, skinny, nice mouth. Good tits. They were putting her to work for the first time today. Tomas said he was going to get her off to a good start.”
“Where are they keeping her?”
“Bangor direction,” Herkus said. “Northeast of the city, past the other airport.”
Strazdas retrieved his phone from his pocket. He looked up Darius’s number and dialed. It went straight to the answering service, didn’t even ring.
“After you leave me at the hotel, you go looking for Tomas and Darius,” he said.
“Okay,” Herkus said.
