He did as he was told, Camael never once turning around, listening intently, occasionally nodding as if in agreement. ‘Were you in love with her, Billy?’ he asked unexpectedly.
He thought about it. ‘I fancied her,’ he admitted. Yet in truth his feelings did go deeper, the more he thought about it; thought about her. ‘You might call it love,’ he said at length.
‘She has that effect on people,’ he said. ‘She is evil. She plays with men’s minds. It is her strength. And yet you would exchange this love for a handful of silver?’
He ignored the question. ‘What are you going to do with her when you find her? I don’t want to be involved in something — something serious.’
Camael’s head cocked on one side. ‘It’s far too late for that, Billy,’ he said. ‘Far too late. I want you to take my brothers here to the place where she lives, right now, tonight.’
‘Right now?’
‘Do I hear an echo, Billy?’
‘But I’ll get my money, right? We have a deal?’
‘You will get paid,’ he said. ‘Isaiah, take him to the car.’
Billy opened up his mouth to speak but thought better of it. He allowed himself to be led dumbly away. When they were alone Camael spoke to Gabriel: ‘You have everything prepared?’
‘I do.’
‘The blessed Articles of Faith anointed and ready?’
‘It is all as it should be, as it is decreed.’
He nodded, satisfied. ‘It has been a long search. But this will be a special night,’ said Camael. ‘And this Billy?’
‘All is in hand,’ said Gabriel.
‘You are a good servant,’ said Camael. ‘You will be blessed and receive your just and holy reward, in due course.’
‘I know it,’ said Gabriel. ‘It will be as you promised.’
He bent to one knee before Camael, who stepped forward and made a sign on Gabriel’s bowed forehead.
14
Moonlight painted a strange, spectral bloom on Isaiah’s cheeks, Billy noticed. All colour washed away. As if he was looking at the world in monochrome. Isaiah’s expression was equally monochrome; he was giving nothing away. His eyes, though, were watering with the intensity of his gaze.
‘What’s so interesting about a full moon?’ said Billy, more to shatter the unsettling silence that had fallen between them. He noticed the man was gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles glared white. He joined his companion, looking out of the windscreen to the swollen moon hanging over the rooftops of the block of flats, making it look as if it were coated in silvery frost.
‘You are sure this is the place?’ Isaiah asked, his voice low.
‘Yeah. Third floor. Number 349. What’re you going to do to her?’
Isaiah craned his neck forward, checked the streets around. It was after midnight and it was deathly quiet. ‘None of your business,’ he said.
‘You’re not going to hurt her, are you?’
‘What do you care, Billy? You were the one who sold her out.’
‘Yeah, but not to get hurt. She’s a nice woman.’ Coming from him it sounded odd, he thought. Because he meant it, and Billy had never really meant anything nice about anyone before.
‘You should have thought about that before you set your price.’
‘So what’s she done, exactly?’
Isaiah looked at him, his eyes now shaded and set into deep black pits of nothing. ‘You heard Camael; she’s evil.’
Billy gave a nervous chuckle. ‘Surely you can’t believe that crap, that anyone can be evil. You know, evil like the devil, like Hitler.’
Isaiah turned back to the moon. ‘What do you know?’
‘So who is Camael? And you ain’t telling me your real names are Gabriel and Isaiah — sounds like a bloody nativity play!’
‘Shut the fuck up, Billy!’ snarled Isaiah, thumping the wheel with the flat of his hand. ‘You’re starting to drive me nuts!’ He pulled the keys out of the ignition. ‘Come with me; we’re going to check the place out.’
‘I’ve told you already, it’s number 349. You don’t need me up there.’
‘You haven’t got a choice,’ he said, popping the boot of the car.
Billy got out of the car, followed Isaiah round the back. The man reached in and took out a large leather bag, like a sports holdall, and another plastic carrier bag filled with something bulky and heavy, which he passed to Billy. ‘What’s this?’
‘Just make yourself useful and carry it for me.’
‘And what’s in the leather bag?’
‘You don’t need to know. Show me the way now, quickly whilst there’s no one around.’
They hurried across a square that had once played host to carefully manicured grass and a few trees, but it was mainly bare earth and ragged stumps now. Billy led Isaiah to the block of flats, to the dark, tunnel-like entrance to the lift and stairs. The smell of urine hadn’t got any better, thought Billy. Without waiting Isaiah bound lithely up the concrete stairs, which Billy found quite impressive for such a heavy-set man, and not least because he found it difficult to keep up with him.
‘You don’t need me here,’ Billy moaned breathlessly. ‘And we could have taken the lift…’
‘Keep the fucking noise down!’ Isaiah hissed. ‘You want your money then do as you’re told.’
The gasping young man nodded and spat on the ground.
They reached the third-floor walkway. Lights were burning in a few of the flat windows, but mostly they were in total darkness. They padded softly down the walkway, stopping outside the door to flat number 349. Beth’s place. Isaiah nodded at it and Billy nodded back in confirmation. The man put a finger to his lips, reaching into his coat pocket for gloves, which he put on as he studied the window frame, running a gloved finger around it. Billy noticed the place was in darkness.
‘Maybe she’s out,’ he whispered, hoping this would make Isaiah turn round and leave. Some hope.
‘All the better,’ he said. He put the bag down on the ground, gave a quick look all around and then reached inside his coat pocket again. He took something metallic out that blinked briefly in the moonlight, and he set about the door lock. In seconds he was able to turn the handle slowly and ease open the door. He made a sign for Billy to stay by the door and in no uncertain terms made it clear that he was not to scarper.
The man crept silently inside, waiting a second or two before signalling for Billy to enter. They were in a small living room. Isaiah bound swiftly over to what Billy presumed was the bedroom and gently pushed open the door. ‘She’s not in,’ he said in a hushed voice difficult to catch.
‘Maybe she’s got another night job, like the one at the supermarket,’ said Billy. ‘Can we go now? You can come back when she’s in.’
He grasped Billy by his shirtfront and yanked his face close to his own. ‘I don’t want to hear another word from you, not one!’ he growled. ‘Now sit over there and make like a mouse in a trap!’
Billy didn’t like the image it conjured up, but he did as he was told, going over to a threadbare sofa and wondering what possessed Beth to live in a flea-bitten, grotty dump like this; and what on earth she was involved with when it included guys like these. He looked around; the room was a dive, little better than a doss house.
He watched as Isaiah reached up to the light in the centre of the ceiling and took out the bulb. Then he went over to his bag and unzipped it. He gingerly withdrew a long red velvet bundle edged with gold, and carried it across the room as carefully as if he carried a delicate baby. He placed it on the floor and mumbled something incoherent
