“Yeah, that's what I thought.”
“What they want?”
“About the girls getting knifed innit?”
“They thought you…? Where do they get off nowadays? No wonder the streets ain't safe no more.”
“No, not me. Fucking hell. Thought I might have seen something, that's all.”
“Oh, that's all right then. Did you?”
“Might of done. That's the point. You see people, don't you? But you don't. People is people. They're meaningless ain't they? When you think about it. A whole fucking person, but we don’t give a fuck. I've been sitting here thinking about that.”
“I've been thinking about the people in Africa.”
“That's what I'm saying, innit? That's the point. Faces is faces. Can't remember. Thinking about the dosh. Don't see nothing else, do you? Gotta get through today. Dick, dick, dosh, dosh. Scratchcard later, maybe. Fuck tomorrow. All the faces innit? Don’t give a fuck, see?” “Absolutely. See that. Right. But, you helping them?”
“Sort of. Not grassing.”
“I didn't mean that. Fuck that.”
“The geezer they're looking for, right? Who might be a woman. They reckon he's going to kill somebody. Maybe next time. They think, maybe, one of the toms might have seen him. Like. So they want me to finger the toms. Bit silly cos they've only gotta go down the road and they finger themselves and they know them all anyway. That fucking sergeant geezer, you know the one, big geezer, he’s always sniffing around the toms. But there’s this one I saw, they’re interested in her.”
“Fuck that.”
“That's what I thought.”
“Yeah. No way.”
“Then this other geezer, bright bastard, not a kozzer…”
They both laughed.
“He says, like, he'll give me his word that he ain't interested in anything other than the geezer who's doing it.”
“You said it might be a woman?”
“Yeah, that's what he said.”
“Did you believe him, about the other?”
“Yeah. Can't believe I did. You don't believe no one, do you? But I did. I got a feeling, just a feeling, you know? He'll be back. With dosh. Dick, dick, know what I mean?”
“Fucking hell!”
“Yeah. That's what I thought.”
In the corner, in the flicker of candle, something stirred. Two girls, sharing a mattress. Paul caught their faces, didn't know them, put them around thirteen but who could tell nowadays?
“Keep the noise down,” one said. “We're trying to sleep.” Maybe not thirteen, after all. Too confident. Maybe fourteen. Apologetically he whispered, “Yeah, sorry. Talking, see? Innit?” They disappeared again beneath a dirty quilt. Between them, on top of the quilt, lay a black cat, disturbed by the girl's movement, its tail flicking like something from hell.
“Look what I got here,” Jason or Brian said. He opened up a strong Robot City carrier. “Bats.”
“Bloody hell, how many you got?”
“Six. Worth, maybe, forty each.”
“Tennis.”
“No.”
“Squash, then?”
“No, no.”
“Badminton.”
“Yeah, that’s it. And I got these trainers, bag full. Mostly Reebok, see? Need to offload them. What do you think? Will they sell in the shop?”
“The Gallery? Maybe. I could try.”
“Half-half, right?”
“Sounds all right.”
“Done, then. Take them with you. Get nicked around here as soon as I close my eyes. Can't trust no one, can you?”
“No. You're right.”
It was much later when Powder Pete found him. Paul had been dozing, woke to find Powder Pete standing over him. It wasn't a pretty sight. Powder Pete was wide-boned and covered in clothes to go out in. They made him wider, more threatening. And lumpy.
He said, “Thought you'd got a job?” The bones in his face were prominent. And his skin, pale, stretched over the bones.
“That's right. Just gotta make myself scarce for a day or two.” “So how's it going? You learning to paint?”
“Yeah. Gotta learn about the classics first. That's the thing, see?” “You're an arsehole, Paul Knight, you know that? The only thing you're ever going to paint is numbers, and even that'd turn out shite. The only thing you're good at is robbing, and you should stick to what you're good at. You got a gift, a divine gift, and you should use it. TVs and DVDs and computers. The future, the bollocks. Not junk. Playstations, Internet, Kings Cross, E-something. Mail. Shit hot. Right?”
“Right?”
“And car batteries. I need lots of car batteries.”
“You in to cars now then, Powder Pete?”
“No, not cars, sulphuric acid, Paul. I need it to clean things up.” “What things, Powder Pete?”
“Things. The world. The planet. I’ve decided to become a one-man cleaning company. But never you mind about that and tell me what you’re doing now.”
“Staying out of sight for a while, see?”
“Staying out of sight is good. It's good for the soul. But this isn't the place to do it. Had visitors earlier, some of Ticker Harrison's mob. Started throwing their weight around. We gotta move out, find another place and build a stockade, a barrier against the so-called civilized world.”
“Yeah, wouldn't want to mess with them. No way. How long you got?”
“Ten days, they said.”
Paul shook a resigned head.
“But that's not the point. I told you last time, this place is for the youngsters. No one over eighteen.”
“I know that. I know you told me. I thought you'd make an exception, just for a day or two.”
“Over eighteens are over the road. It's the rule. My rule. The only one that counts.”
“I do know that. But like, I fit in here, don't I?”
Powder Pete smiled. “Yes you do. I've noticed that. You've never grown up, Paul. Something went wrong with you and I don’t know what. You’re a rogue and a rascal and an impossible dreamer but most of all, you’re innocent, you’re one of the meek and, if you live, Paul Knight and, I have my doubts, then you’ll inherit the earth. And that's why, before, I've made you an exception. But you're a grown man and these children are vulnerable and, no matter what your problems, I shouldn't put them at risk. They gotta come first.”
“I'd never touch them, Pete, Sir, never! I'd take care of them, and I'd cuddle them if they needed it. And that's all it would ever be. If they cry out in the night I'd hold them till they settled. That’s all. I’d fight for them, just like you!”
“I believe you, Paul Knight. Many wouldn't. But I do. You said it well and you can stay for a couple of days or so. And right now, you can come with me. I've had a tip-off, a word from the underworld. One of Ticker Harrison's villains that came to threaten us gave me the word. Even villains hate the nonces. There's a couple of children in trouble, and that should be everybody's business but it isn't. So it's down to us. We're all that they’ve got. So let's go. We won't be in time but we can pick up the pieces.”
“I'm with you, Powder Pete.”
