I stood up, our faces close. He didn’t try to prevent me.
“You’re fucking deluded,” I whispered, my voice sounding hoarse and dried out, “You’re making excuses. You obviously wanted out of this deal. You’re using Ivan’s death to get what you wanted.”
I paused, as much to gasp in a breath.
“And that night, you wanted me too.”
We looked at one another for moment, inches apart.
“Goodbye Vicky,” he said softly. Then suddenly he leaned in and kissed me hard on the lips, almost breaking the skin. Then he was gone.
33
Nothing was said as I was led up a steep incline. It twisted up to the main road that cut through Fire Mountain. It was a narrow tarmac road, that swept around the volcanoes. I had travelled along some of it on my tour. We climbed up the next small hill, our strange midnight procession. Then we sat down for a minute, still in silence. I pictured that weird look on Richard’s face before he walked away.
How could he do this to me?
Sammy started on again and Carlos gave me a half-hearted kick.
I got to my feet. I ached everywhere as we ascended once again, along these strange, foreign and really unworldly roads. The remains of cooled lava from thousands of years ago formed high walls on either side. I was surrounded in all directions. There was nowhere for me to go, nothing for me to do. I marched on. After five or ten minutes more, we started up another sheer climb. The red-orange outlandish rock formations looked as if they were producing their own light, reflecting the light of a half moon. Not only was it as if this extraordinary place had under-floor heating, but under-floor lighting too. Sammy still led the way, with us all behind, me in between my two guards. Inexplicably a tune began to resonate in my head. Some motif I couldn’t place. Perhaps it was my body trying to distract itself from what now appeared inevitable.
What is that tune?
I allowed the music to swirl around my head and to move and to stretch. What the fuck was it? I let it progress and then I recalled the saxophone tone – it must be Coltrane. He was always so distinctive – bursting out flurries of notes – sheets of sound as someone once coined – poised on the edge of everything, the notes collapsing.
Just as I was.
I strode on, allowing this internal music to soundtrack my bizarre experience of being marched up a volcano, presumably to my death. I almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of it. We kept on, nearly at the top of this particular burnt orange hillside.
But what the fuck is the name of that fucking song?
I couldn’t plunge to my death without knowing. Carlos gave me a shove forwards, I must have been slowing down. Then it popped into my head. Yes, that was it – Olé. Quite appropriate I supposed.
“Sit down there,” said Sammy chestily, following it with a bout of coughing – he looked more fatigued than ever.
The three of them convened off to one side. We were now up very high, on a patch of dirty ground, next to a sheer drop. This time the view over the edge was worse again.
It was fucking terrifying.
It wasn’t a volcano like in a Bond film, but it would do the job just fine. There was an immense drop down to it and far below I could make out the lapping of oozing molten lava. I stifled a wretch. Coltrane was gone from my mind and my brain raced for answers. Mostly about what I should do now. What the fuck could I do?
Sammy sidled over to me as the other two shared yet another smoke. I craved for one myself. He sat down on the earth beside me, his face altered from what I had seen before. What was this – a new softness? Probably not – it was bound to be some sort of play acting.
“So it’s like this,” he began and then coughed a few times, holding his hand up to say ‘wait a second’.
“Sorry about that, now listen, I’m not gonna lie to you. There is no way out of this thing anymore.”
His voice was still rough, but measured.
“We know you must have sold our shit on, we’re past this. I didn’t come up The Lagan in a bubble love. But the fact is you’ve seen too much and… shit – you did rip us off. That and killin’ Ivan.”
“I didn’t kill him,” I protested.
He raised a hand calmly.
“It’s alright – Ivan was a prick. I couldn’t care less. But listen – this is gonna be one of two ways. Either way, see, folk have got to think you did it to yourself. Understand? I know this is tough to swallow, but this is how the cards have flopped.”
My stomach knotted tightly. I felt it bubble, like there was something molten and burning inside me too. It drew away some of the pain from my many gashes and burns.
Then all at once, I could feel everything. I could smell everything. I could identify the sweat off myself, the sulphur from below and the tobacco off Sammy’s breath. It was as if my brain was working on serious overdrive, knowing that soon it may become extinct. I thought of my Dad. That was the only thing approaching comfort. Maybe if there was an afterlife, I would be with him soon. A lot of people probably think of their parents when close to death. Some maybe think about their mother’s home cooked Sunday roast. Well my Mum never cooked me any meals that I can remember. My Dad was quite a utilitarian cook; he cooked okay, though we ate a lot of micro meals. Sure
