‘Out.’
‘Out where?’
‘Just out… Away from that.’ He pointed to the red-faced baby in Melanie’s arms.
‘Then bring back some Pampers…’
McArdle flared his nostrils, let out a grunt. He pulled open the front door and headed for his car. He could still hear the child screaming as he got inside the vehicle and flung back his head. He couldn’t live with this for much longer. It wasn’t the noise — he could handle that. It was Melanie: she was changing. She’d stopped drinking and he didn’t like that — the drink made her bearable to be around. When she was sober she was full of questions. He couldn’t handle questions, he didn’t want to be quizzed about the child especially. The baby had to go, soon.
McArdle picked up his mobile, searched his contacts, found the one he wanted and pressed Dial.
Ringing.
Then, ‘ Hallo.’
‘Gunter… It’s Devlin McArdle.’
‘You have your money?’
‘Yes… The first payment got here fine.’
‘Then why do you call?’ The German sounded irritated, his voice crisp, serious.
‘I need to know when-’
Gunter interrupted, ‘I told you, I would collect the child as soon as I can. There is a lot to organise at this end. I can’t just jump on a plane.’
‘I know, but-’
‘There is no buts, Mr McArdle. Our agreement is that you hold the child until we collect.’
‘But when?’
A tut, throat-clearing. ‘Soon. I said soon. Now be patient, Mr McArdle. I’ll be in touch.’
The line died.
McArdle threw the phone on the back seat and hit the dashboard with the heel of his hand. His elbow caught the horn and Melanie came to the window. McArdle frowned at her, started the engine and pulled out of the driveway. He took the car straight to Muirhouse. The light was failing but he could still see enough of the neighbourhood to pass comment.
‘Fucking shit-hole.’ McArdle had been raised in Sighthill, another Edinburgh dumping ground for losers on the lowest rung, but he’d left. He remembered growing up in the scheme, people would tell him that when the flats were built they were highly sought after. The new high-rises replaced cold-water tenements with outside toilets. The boxes were nothing to look at but they had hot running water, toilets and bathrooms and — beyond luxury — fitted kitchens. People were easily bought, thought McArdle. He knew he was right in the case of Barry Tierney and Vee Durrant.
He had bought their first child and now he was taking another one from them for the same price. He tried not to think about the transaction. He didn’t fool himself that he was being benevolent; it was business, but he wanted it out of the way.
A mangy dog barked at him as McArdle got out the car. He stamped his foot on the ground and the beast went running. As he walked towards the open door that hung on one hinge, McArdle tapped the inside of his pocket. He was tooled up, knew better than to come down here without a chib, but he was also carrying the payment for Tierney and Vee.
A junkie on the stairwell asked him for a fag.
‘Fuck off.’ Scum. Just trash, he thought.
As he ascended the steps McArdle scrunched his nose — the stair smelled of piss and vomit. He hated being back in schemes like this. It was almost an insult to him, but at the same time it made him feel good to know he’d got out. He was better than the wasters that stayed there. He was the Deil; he was someone.
At Tierney’s door he thudded on the panel with the outside of his hand.
‘Open up, y’prick.’
He heard movement, coughing. He could already imagine the weak frame of the skinny man stumbling towards the door. There was a rattle of chains, a key in the lock, then a latch being slid. As a chink of light appeared in the gap between door and jamb he forced his way in.
‘Took your fucking time.’
Tierney smiled, a toothless grin. ‘Sorry, man. Sorry… Was, er, taking a dump, eh.’
McArdle poked him in the chest. Tierney recoiled. ‘Do you think I want to know what you get up to in here?’ He grabbed Tierney’s jaw, squeezed his lips together. ‘Keep that shut!’
Vee came through from the living room, draped in a long grey cardigan. She held herself in her arms and leaned on the wall for a moment. Straight away, McArdle knew she was wasted. ‘Look at the fucking state of you… Not going to get any punters paying for that skanky arse, are you?’
Vee slid down the wall. As her legs folded her buttocks rested on her heels. The belt of her cardigan curled behind her like a tether.
McArdle walked away from them shaking his head. In the living room he put his hand to his nostrils. ‘Jesus, it stinks in here… Can you not open a window?’
Tierney came scurrying behind him, grabbed the handle and pushed — a gust of air blew in from the sea. ‘Is that better, Deil?’
A nod was fired in his direction, but there was no real approval attached to it. ‘You live like animals, do you know that?’
Tierney shrugged. He looked over his shoulder to see Vee coming in on all fours.
‘Look, look at this… She even walks like a fucking animal.’ McArdle laughed hard, dropped his head and smacked his palm off his forehead.
‘If you say so, Deil…’ said Tierney.
The laughter subsided. McArdle strolled around the room. He passed Tierney and grabbed the dazed Vee by the hair, twisted hard. It took her a few moments for the pain centres to register, but when they did she screamed out and flapped hands around her head.
‘See this, see what I’m doing here…’ said McArdle. He twisted harder. ‘This is just a bit of fun.’ He dragged Vee to the open window. He could see Tierney growing anxious — the thin man drawing his hands to his mouth.
‘Deil, what are you doing?’ said Tierney.
McArdle silenced Vee with a backhander; the force of the blow raised her on her knees for a brief moment and then her head struck a harsh angle with the floor and she collapsed, splayed out like a rag doll. McArdle suddenly grabbed her round the waist and tipped her over the edge of the window.
‘No! No!’ yelled Tierney. ‘Deil, please… No!’
McArdle held Vee by the ankles as he dangled her out of the high-rise. She was lifeless for a brief spell but when she regained consciousness she started to scream.
McArdle laughed, shook her legs, watched her head bang off the roughcasting on the side of the building; little stone chippings escaped. He could hear the dog he’d seen earlier barking as the chippings fell to the ground. ‘Is this not a bit of fun, Vee… eh?’ He felt Tierney approach, place a hand on his shoulder. McArdle released one of Vee’s ankles and swung a fist at Tierney. ‘Get back!’
He turned again, looked at Vee dangling over the window, and lost interest in tormenting her. He pulled her ankles in one quick sweep and dropped her back inside the flat. Tierney ran to her side and started to pat her back. She brushed his hand away.
McArdle watched the junkies, wiped his brow. He’d had some fun with them and he knew there was no other reason to come here, unless he was making money. He reached inside his jacket, removed the envelope with the cash and threw it in front of them. ‘Here… don’t spend it all in one shop.’
Vee was still shaking as Tierney lunged forward and ripped into the envelope. He tipped the contents into his hands, spread the notes apart, counted. ‘What’s this, Deil?’
McArdle loomed over them, spoke: ‘Your money, isn’t it.’
‘But… we agreed more.’
McArdle adjusted his jacket, brushed down his sleeves. ‘That was before.’
‘Before what?’
