The big old house reared over the horizon to his right, a familiar face with dark eyes and a tightly shut mouth. The Barn — a separate building on the same plot of land — looked dark and foreboding, as if it had sloped quietly away from the side of the house, up to no good. He’d never before noticed that the Barn was this spooky, not until he’d shut it up after the bout that had ended in Marty’s stabbing. There would be fights there again, one day, but he was in no hurry to organise anything, not even a dog fight. He’d gone off the kind of people those events attracted. He liked their money, and had always ignored the bloodlust because of it, but something inside him had changed. He could no longer stomach being around people who were so cowardly that they would rather pay to watch two men fight on a roped-off section of dirt until only one was left standing than face their own battles.
He pulled up at the side of the narrow road, the wheels spitting gravel. There were no streetlights out here. He glanced up at the sky and could see few stars. The moon was a ghost; its outline was barely visible against the blackness, as if it were afraid to take a good look at what was going on below.
Erik opened the gate to his property and got back inside the car. He drove in slowly, leaving the gate open so that Hacky could enter freely, and continued slowly towards the Barn. He parked behind the old wooden structure, so that his vehicle wasn’t visible from the road. There was no reason to get out yet, so he sat there, behind the wheel, and listened to the night.
He wound down the window to let in some air. Night birds sang; it was an eerie, mournful sound. It made him feel lonely, bereft of things he didn’t even realise he’d lost. He thought about his missing daughter, and how everything had started to go wrong around that time. When Tessa vanished, the rest of his world had begun to crumble, bit by bit: his relationship with Abby, the business ventures, even his uneasy partnership with Monty Bright. His hold on the world had loosened, and even then he’d realised that he either had to tighten his grip or let go for good.
He looked behind him, at the cat box. Its occupant was silent. There was no movement.
“What the fuck am I getting into here?”
There was no reply. He wasn’t expecting one, anyway, and was glad that none was forthcoming. The inhabitant of the box had shut up after being fed. It had not uttered a word since, other than inside Erik’s head.
He turned back to the front, stared through the windscreen. Saw headlights on the road as a small, battered Ford Corsa made its way along the fence line towards the gate.
Hacky.
Erik climbed out of the car, opened the back door, and carried the cat box to the Barn. He unlocked the main double doors, opened one of them with his foot, and slipped inside, closing the door behind him. He set down the cat box on the ground and opened the flap. Monty rolled out, his appendages scrabbling like rat’s claws in the dirt. The small, damaged figure didn’t look strong, but it moved fast now that it had fed. He watched in silence as it scurried over the ground to wait in the dense, syrupy shadows at the rear of the Barn.
He switched on an electric light that hung from a loop of wire nearby, but it flickered and barely illuminated the space around him.
Erik sighed and walked over to the old ring, where the fights had taken place. The ground inside the roped- off quadrant was scuffed, disturbed by combatants’ footprints. So many men had bled and screamed on that hard patch of earth; and how many men had suffered trauma that would then go on to ruin their lives? He didn’t know; didn’t care. The only time he had cared was when his friend Marty had been stabbed by a pissed-off Polish corner man. Erik had never told Marty, but at one time he’d loved him like a son. He’d let the younger man off the hook so many times, allowed him to get away with things that would have ensured anyone else had their legs broken.
But he’d not once told Marty how he felt. He wasn’t the kind of man to show his feelings, to allow anyone to sneak inside his guard. He didn’t regret the omission. There was still time — even though he hadn’t had a proper, in-depth conversation with Marty for a while. He had his number. When all this was over — whatever the hell
“Erik?”
He turned to face the doors. One of them was open and Hacky stood there, trapped in the frame. He looked tiny, vulnerable… so damned easy to kill.
“Did you shut the gate?”
“Yeah. No worries.”
“Where’s your car?”
“I parked it next to yours, well out of sight.”
Erik nodded. “Good lad. You catch on quick — did I ever tell you that? A hell of a lot quicker than the rest of those stupid twats.”
Hacky smiled. He was so fucking easy to please. “No… not ever. I didn’t even think you’d noticed me.”
“Come on inside, marra. Shut the door behind you. We have things to discuss.”
The scruffy, wide-shouldered kid made his way across the Barn. He had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his tracksuit bottoms. He was wearing his usual baseball cap — the one with the badge on the front: Scooby Doo, smoking a spliff.
Why did that seem so important right now, after he’d been thinking of Marty? It set off vague sparks at the back of his head, but Monty’s grip was too tight. He couldn’t quite place the thoughts.
Erik didn’t know anything right now; he couldn’t think. Monty’s fingers were crawling around inside his head, prodding the soft spots and burrowing into the exposed matter. All he could think of was to wonder how he was going to do this. It wasn’t quite clear yet, but he trusted that he’d know when the time came, when the opportunity for slaughter presented itself. Only then would Monty relax his grip and let Erik do what he needed to do…
“What’s all this about, then, Erik? You mentioned… you mentioned a job. Are you moving me up?” Under the circumstances, the combination of hope and expectation on the kid’s face was obscene. He’d do anything Erik asked; he might even kill someone he loved, if it meant worming his way into the boss’s favour.
Despite the grim situation, Erik almost laughed at the thought.
“First I have a few more questions.” He stood over the boy, his physique dwarfing Hacky’s slighter build to make him resemble a small child in the gloom.
“Yeah. Cool.” He took out a cigarette, lit it, and waited, his posture loose, resting most of his weight on one leg.
“That thing you found. You definitely didn’t tell anyone about it, even after you left me?” Erik moved into a fighting stance. He didn’t even have to think; it was an instinctive physical response whenever he stood this close to another man.
Hacky shook his head. “We told nobody. We ain’t stupid, man.” He grinned. His teeth were yellowed.
“What about tonight? Does anyone know you’re here? Lie to me and I’ll find out… and then I’ll have to hurt you to make an example.”
The grin dropped. He licked his lips. “No. Didn’t tell anyone. Everyone thinks I’m off shagging some bird, innit.”
“Good.” He moved closer and put one arm around the kid’s shoulder, turning them both so that they faced the rear of the Barn. “This place has seen a lot of bloodshed. So much combat that the violence has been absorbed into the wooden beams and uprights.” He walked towards the rear of the building, moving slowly, not wanting to spook Hacky, to put him on his guard.
He was aware of Monty’s presence inside his mind. Not pushing… not controlling. Simply guiding.
“I know.”
“Men have fought, men have fallen, and men have bled out into the dirt. I’ve learned a lot of lessons in my time, and above all else I’ve come to know that we all must look after ourselves. You can’t trust your friends, women come and go, and money gets spent all too quickly. All we have is these.” He held out both hands and made them into fists. “These are my gods, marra. I worship them, I make them offerings. These beauties will never let me down. I’ve tested them, to the limit.” He stared at his scarred knuckles, feeling a sense of awe. He was confused to discover that he had an erection.
There was a subtle movement in the shadows up ahead. Hacky didn’t notice; he was still staring at Erik’s fists, wide-eyed and hopeful. But Erik heard clearly the slithering sound of something moving briskly towards them, like a snake moving through tall grass.
“Listen to me.” He grabbed Hacky’s shoulders and spun him around so that his back was facing the rear wall. “I’ve been watching you for a while now, and what I’ve seen has pleased me.” He stared over Hacky’s shoulder. The
