“Oh Lord.” Seconds passed. Suzanne made a noise like she was clicking a pen. Then she sighed over the connection. “I think they’ve made an offer to the alternative candidate already. That said, if you can give me a compelling reason to take it to the Gods, I’ll try.”
63
Cole woke in a determined mood, and by 10:00AM he’d left his flat for Scully’s.
“Where’s Mince?” Cole asked when he arrived. “Hope you didn't give him any of that shit you got for me.”
Scully shook his head. “He’s still in bed.”
“He live here now?”
“Got two bedrooms. He’s supposed to pay rent. But I ain't never seen none.”
“How much did you get?”
“What? The rent? I told you, fella. Sod all.”
“No. The fucking pills. The Captagon.”
“£3 each. Was only joking about giving them to you for free if you do that lot down the road. Got you 100.”
“What the hell Scully? 100? You wanna kill me? Only asked for 50. You’re supposed to take 5 at most. And £3?”
“You need to do better research, fella. They reckon that South Ken bloke done about 40.”
“100 pills? That’s, like... 300 quid.”
Scully shrugged. “Keep the leftovers for the next time. I reckon you should take 10. You’ll go fucking mental. Like you’ll want to kill every one of those bastards.”
“You saying I need 10, means they’re weak. Should be £1 each, not £3.”
“Now look fella. This was a high risk purchase. And I gotta eat.”
“C’mon Scully. I ain't got that much. £150 for the lot.”
Scully shook his head. “No.”
“£200, then.”
“£250.”
Cole reached into his pocket and counted out £220. “That’s all I can go.”
Scully pulled at his ear and squinted. “Dunno. Maybe I could keep some for myself. But then, the Muslim bloke did 40. Supposing you don't feel the need to kill after 10?”
“£220 the lot, you thieving bastard.”
“All right, then. £220 it is.” Scully handed over a bag containing the Captagon pills. “Here you go.”
Cole stuffed the bag into his jacket pocket and caught Scully’s eye following the movement. “What you looking at Scully?”
“There’s a hole in that pocket, fella. You should give it to your Mum to sew.”
“Ain't got no Mum. She’s dead.” Cole put the bag in his jeans and felt around for the hole in his jacket pocket. According to the label, it was an Armani. It was a good reproduction, and the hole was more several loose threads than an opening. His forefinger wouldn’t fit through it. Maybe he wore it too often, he should buy another. “I’ll staple it.”
“Classy that, Coley.”
“Yeah.” Cole looked around the room. “Takes class to know class, eh?”
Scully shrugged. “It is what it is. Anyway, you’re not doing the local mosque then?”
“Fuck that. Not my thing. Why you asking?”
“Don't matter.”
“What are you on about?”
“Nothing.”
“Scully,” Cole said. “You never seen me. Right?”
“Fuck you, Coley. What do you think I am?”
Cole thought of several valid replies but opted to keep them to himself. “Yeah. I guess neither of us knows nothing.”
At the front door, Scully offered his hand. “For your mate and England.”
“My twin brother. And his name is Daz.” Cole shook his hand and wondered what Scully was planning. But rather than ask, he hurried down the stairs.
Several hours later, he emptied the pills out onto his kitchen table in Bethnal Green. He cursed Scully when he counted 94 of them. “Thieving bastard.” Rather than download the latest video clips from Alice’s bedroom immediately, he would wait until he tested the effect of the Captagon. It would give him something to look forward to, if the quick peek at the footage was anything to go by. He had been tempted to view them in full while on the Tube, but he didn't want anyone to think of him as a perv.
He popped 4 pills and switched on the TV. The South Ken terror attack was old news and no longer featured, so he played the recordings he’d made of his interview with Laura Bowfield. He watched himself several times, and he still couldn’t find any fault with his performance.
When he thought the drugs had begun to take hold, he booted up the computer and downloaded the video clips via the camera app. He watched Alice stumble a little as she entered her bedroom the previous night. She peeled off all her clothes except her underwear, leaving everything in a heap on the floor. She fell into the bed and stayed there until around 4:00am, when she went to the bathroom. The night footage wasn't great, too dark and grainy, but the morning clips showed promise.
He leered at the screen while he watched her dress. There was something special about the clips of Alice naked in her bedroom. It gave Cole a sense of power. Now he felt in control, unlike the time he wimped out. In fact, he felt very good. And very fucking horny all of a sudden. His jeans bulged, and he realised the Captagon effect had kicked on further.
He undid his belt, dropped his jeans and shorts, and he searched a porn site web for a suitable video. In full-screen mode, he watched a girl tied to a bed. She squirmed under the control of her master, and she moaned in pleasure.
Cole whacked at himself with drug driven vigour while the clip played. When the guy put his hands around her neck and squeezed, Cole beat harder still. As her face reddened, the camera pulled back and the guy thrust into her. She bucked as he bulled her. Then her face turned into Alice’s. All Cole could see was Alice struggling against the restraints. Alice tied to
