biffer caught me above the eye. With the shortness of my breath it was more than enough to call lights out.
The floor swallowed me.
Chapter 37
It felt like being dropped from a cliff into the ocean.
The pug leaned over me after throwing the bucket of water in my face. I could tell that the sight of my eyes flickering felt like incitement to him. He was stupid enough to confirm it, said, ‘You want me to give him a slap, guv?’
McAvoy intervened: ‘No I bloody don’t… Get him back to the table.’
He lifted me by the collar; this guy had been working out. Although the weight of me, I’d guess I was the lower end of his warm-up reps.
The chair skitted across the floor as I was flung into it. I got a size ten in the back to push me under the desk.
McAvoy perched over, poised to strike like a cobra. He grabbed me by the ear. ‘You listen to me, Dury… You are a washed-up piece of shit.’
Like I could argue that, said, ‘Tell me something I don’t know.’
‘You think you’re it, think you’re a name cos you brought that grief on this place.’ He raised his other arm to the roof, waved it around. ‘Well, let me correct your thinking, cockhead: you are nothing. Less than nothing.’ He twisted my ear harder, brought my head down to the tabletop, pointed to the skirting. ‘See that? See down there, where the roaches and the vermin crawl about? That’s your home. That’s where you belong. Down among the filth and the scum of the earth.’
‘The filth?’
That got him — knew it would. He released my ear, slammed his fist into the side of my head. My vision blurred. Room spun. As I tried to focus, to see what was coming next, I caught sight of him looming over me, yelling. Shit knows what he said. He was mad angry. Going Lou Ferrigno on me. I imagined a tear ripping down the back of a flannel shirt. Eyes bulging. Bottom row of teeth on show. Fury wasn’t in it. This was beyond rage.
I reined it in, stood up. Faced him. Jonny Boy and the pug lunged for my arms. I pushed all the buttons. ‘C’mon, then, let’s fucking have ye, McAvoy.’
Meet rage with rage. Always seemed to work in my boyhood home.
I struggled. Put my jaw out. ‘You think you’ve got something on me? Let’s fucking have it.’
He looked shocked. Slunk back. His face changed shape.
‘I said, let’s fucking have it, McAvoy… Give it your best shot. You want to put me away, you better be fucking smarter than the other pigs that came before you.’
He drew a fist. Launched it in my gut.
I buckled over. Wheezed. ‘I said “smarter”. Not every bit as pig-shit thick.’
He drew his fist again. Planted it back in my gut.
I grinned at him.
The days of me taking this kind of punishment were well over; I’d be crumpled on the floor in no time. But something — stubbornness, bitterness, whatever — kept me sticking my hand in the fire.
‘Like I thought: you’re all the same. Dumb as fuck.’ I knew I was risking a booting to end all bootings, but I also knew this guy’s anger would be his undoing. If I could get him noised up enough, he’d balls up. How I knew this, well, it takes one to know one.
It was Jonny Boy who surprised me. Called five. Gathered up the papers and evidence. They left me alone, to catch my wind.
My head throbbed. My body felt hollow, empty. Like there was nothing from my chest to my groin. It felt so numb, until I touched it, then every muscle and sinew in me shrieked in agony.
Inside ten minutes the three returned.
McAvoy looked as if he’d combed his hair, straightened his tie. I’d have guessed maybe mopped his brow with a towel. He spoke with a different voice entirely now, the one I presume he reserved for brown-nosing his superiors. It put the shits up me. There was a grin delivered on every word.
‘All right, Dury… get out my sight.’
‘What?’
‘You heard. Shift it. I don’t want to see your skanky arse round here… today.’
I opened my arms wide, turned up my palms. ‘Finally — some common sense.’
Jonny walked over to McAvoy’s side, whispered in his ear. McAvoy’s eyes shot left, caught the Boy Wonder’s gaze. For about a minute they played this over between the pair of them, then the cobra was back.
‘Just one more thing, Dury. Tread very carefully with your press friends.’
I went for cocky. Scrub that: cocksure. ‘Yeah, well, you work your side of the street, I’ll work mine.’
Another glance shot at Jonny Boy.
Tension.
McAvoy’s face hardened. ‘Out! Get fucking out of here!’ He jumped up so hard his chair left the ground, smacked off the cell wall. Jonny ran at his heels, clipping them like a gundog. The pug’s lower lip drooped in utter confusion.
‘What?’ I said.
‘Shut yer yap!’ the pug barked, then he followed the others.
The door closed tightly behind them. Keys in the lock. An hour later I was given back my bootlaces and belt. Pointed to the front desk by a uniform.
‘No more cosy chats with Detective Inspector McAvoy?’
A shove towards the door.
I collected my things from a dour thirty-something with tied-back dirty-blonde hair. She looked unfussed who she offended. Thrust the lot at me, pointed a chipped pink fingernail to the box I should sign, said, ‘Off to get blootered, are you?’
I looked her up and down. This one wouldn’t need a mask to do ET in fancy dress. Said, ‘Jealous?’
She snatched back the clipboard. ‘Don’t make me laugh.’
Hit back: ‘Do I look like a fucking magician, love?’
Outside, the rain was coming down in sheets. Edinburgh rain falls straight as stair rods and is liable to do as much damage. I hunkered in the doorway, fed my belt through the loops, laced up my Docs. My stomach turned over in agonies with every move. I wondered how many others they put through that treatment. Was it just me, or all those they knew wouldn’t stand a chance of carrying a complaint?
I was about to move off when:
‘You are piss weak, Dury.’
Jonny Johnstone stepped beside me, hands in his pockets. He looked out into the rain. He waited for a response. I gave him none. He turned, looked me up and down, said, ‘Piss weak.’
‘I heard you the first time.’
‘So bad hearing’s not one of your flaws, then?’
I knew this was going somewhere, only Jonny’s little intimidation didn’t wash with me. I saw through him. He was a type I’d turned up too many times before. Shiny-arse on the make. Loose-moralled little brown-noser with an eye on the big office, the Beemer, the whole ball of wax.
‘Pal, I’d take my flaws over your virtues any day.’
I let that fry a few brain cells.
He ruffled. ‘Look, shithead, I’m warning you…’
I squared up to him, met his eye. ‘What are you warning me?’
‘I’m on your fucking case.’
‘Yeah, well, I know that already… Do I look frightened?’
‘You look like a fucking nobody.’
I laughed. This from him. Went with, ‘A tip, Jonny Boy… Glory is fleeting, but obscurity is for ever.’
