The voices aren’t American. Male and female. When the male voice starts shouting, I know it’s Stokes. The female voice hits the same volume, but I still can’t make out what’s being said. The television almost drowns them out.
Almost. When he hits her, the smack is enough to make the breath catch in my throat.
It goes silent apart from the girls in New York.
A low male voice, saying something that tries to be soothing.
The soft sound of someone crying. Probably Alison.
A temper like his, I shouldn’t have thought he’d save it for the tables. Nah, he’s a guy who likes to bring it home with him. And Alison’s on the other end of it. Money’s a bitch for bringing the worst out of people, especially when they’ve got an addiction to feed.
I should call Mo right now, tell him to get his arse in gear and up to Newcastle. I’ve got an idea where Stokes lives. I can wait for Mo to arrive, then point him in the right direction.
Something stops me, though. I don’t know if it’s fear, duty or the idea that, fuck it, I might have the wrong place. I should double-check that before I even think about calling Mo. Then when I’m sure that this is the place, I’ll give him the address and go home. If I’m not sure, I’ll have to hang around. And if Mo finds out what Stokes has been doing to his little sister, he’ll make it messier than usual.
And as much as Stokes is doing nothing to get off my shitlist, I don’t want to be responsible for that. It’s not in my job description.
Yeah right, Cal. That is your job description.
I walk away from the flat, pull my jacket tight, head out to the sounds of a main road just up the way. I think I’ve got enough information. Anything more than that, Mo can sort it out.
But the white knight in me won’t give it up. I’ve got to do something to help Alison. I should sort this out so nobody else gets hurt.
Hurt any more than necessary, that is.
There’s a moral decision to make here, and I’m not sure I’m the right man to make it. Too many things don’t add up the way I need them to. The more I think about it, the more I think George knows Stokes of old. I mean, Christ, the guy’s only been in town a week or so. And a man like him doesn’t strike me as the type to make friends easily, no matter how loose that friendship is.
No, George has got to be one of those friends that Kev mentioned to me. One of Alison’s mates. And the only reason he would have for grassing Stokes to me is that he knows what’s going on in that flat. Maybe he’s playing the white knight himself. Or maybe he’s just like Kev, besotted with Alison Tiernan and hoping I’ll get Stokes out of the way. Grab himself a handful of the Tiernan family and end up being next on Mo’s list.
Jesus, I really hope that’s not the case.
I pull out my mobile and ring for a cab. Light an Embassy and take a long drag on it.
No, I won’t be calling Mo just yet. I have too many questions.
And Alison Tiernan’s the only person who can answer them.
THIRTY-THREE
Rossie were sparked out in the middle seat of the van, Baz all cloudy-eyed at the wheel. I’d just done another wrap and it kept me night vision proper enabled. Glared at Innes’ Micra like it were sitting there teasing us. We knew Innes weren’t there. We knew he were out and about, but he’d have to come back for his car. I checked me mobile to see if there were any messages, but a big fat zero blinked at us.
He knew the deal. He found Stokes, he had to call us. I felt like calling me dad and telling him what the fuck were transpiring. But then what did I know? Nowt. Far as I knew, Innes were holed up in a pub somewhere fucked out his brains.
But nah, he came to Newcastle for a reason.
I seen the cab coming down the hill and I fuckin’ knew.
‘That’s him,’ I said. ‘He’s got summat.’
Baz snorted. Fucker were half-asleep. I gave him a nudge.
‘Baz. Wake up, man.’
He opened his mouth, then turned away. Bastard.
The cab pulled in the carpark and I got close to the window, squinted right up so’s I could see what were happening. I watched Innes fuck about in the car, then he got out and started walking to the hotel. Felt like tearing across the street and leathering the cunt in the back of the head, but I stayed put. Mature, that were me. Fuckin’ mature.
Mature enough to handle ten times this job.
‘There y’are, you cunt,’ I said. I watched for a new light in one of the windows, but nowt came. Muttered to meself and gave up after a couple minutes. Fuck it. We didn’t need to go in his room and work him over. I nicked one of Baz’s Regals and got out the van, lit up and watched the hotel through the smoke.
I could’ve burned the whole place down. I wanted to.
Summat in us wanted to see the sky lit up like that, knowing that Innes was in the middle of it all. Proper hellfire damnation.
Try that on for size, you Catholic fuck.
But nah, that were the kind of thing the old Mo would do.
He’d go in there like guns blazing, kick arse all over the shop and leave no man standing. But this now, this were the New Mo. This were Mature Mo. I went in there and burned, there’d be consequences, and I heard me dad in the back of me head telling us that he weren’t gonna stand by us no more.
He’d leave us to the spurs.
I stayed out the ‘Ways this long. I didn’t fancy a trip now.
I opened up the van door and gave Baz a knuckle knock on his head.
‘Ow, ya bastard. Fuck was that for?’
“I thought you was asleep.’
“I was asleep.’
‘And now you’re awake.’
Baz yawned, then his face went all fat and rumpled again.
‘What’d you wake us up for, Mo?’
‘You still got them spray cans?’
‘What fuckin’ spray cans?’ said Baz.
‘The ones we was going to do Paulo’s place with.’
‘Yeah.’
‘C’mon then.’
‘They’re in the back of me car,’ said Baz.
‘You’re fuckin’ kidding.’
“I didn’t know we was supposed to bring ‘em with us.’
I kicked the side of the van. The bang echoed in the street.
‘Here, Mo, if you’d let us bring me car, we’d be sound right now.’
‘Oh, you just figured that out, did you? I knew I kept you round for a reason. Get the engine going. We’re gonna buy some spray paint.’
‘Where the fuck are we gonna get spray paint this time of night?’
‘I don’t give a shit. We keep driving until we find a fuckin’ garage, alright?’ I got in the van. Rossie made a noise like he were waking up. ‘Now let’s get going, Baz.’
Baz shook his head, tried to get awake as he twisted the ignition. When the engine caught, Rossie woke right up.
‘What’s going on?’
‘We’re going to a garage,’ said Baz.
‘Sweet. I’ll have a pasty if they got ‘em.’
