‘Nice job, McGahern, or it will be when it heals. Pity about the ears, though…’ I said. ‘Or did radar come as part of the package?’ McGahern clearly didn’t rate my critical opinion as much as I hoped. He ignored me and looked back at the Dutchman.
‘I’ll tell you what is going on,’ said De Jong. ‘Your security is worthless. We found him downstairs sniffing around the samples-’
‘ Sniffing and samples,’ I said helpfully. ‘Not shniffing and shamples. Whatever you do, don’t order me to sit.’ Actually, the Dutchman’s English wasn’t that bad: he was easier to understand than most Glaswegians.
McGahern laughed at my joke. Then he swung the shotgun upwards and slashed me across the face with the barrels. My cheek split and I went down. It was as if all the pain in my head had been asleep and the blow to my face had woken it up. I stayed down but the Arab grabbed me under my arm and hauled me up.
‘That’s for outside the Horsehead Bar,’ said McGahern.
I held the back of my hand to my bleeding cheek and checked my jaw was still working. I examined McGahern. From what I could see through the bandages, the whole architecture of the face had been altered. Even his lips were fuller. But changing someone’s eyes was a tougher job and I recognized the same hard, rat-eyed stare from our previous encounter.
‘You got what you wanted, didn’t you?’ I said, but McGahern ignored me.
‘What I want to know is how he knows so much about me,’ said the Dutchman. ‘My name. My background.’
McGahern looked at me then shook his head. ‘He doesn’t know nothing. Kill him.’
‘I know it all. Or almost all. I know about De Jong here and his two Arab pals. Of course he’s down to one now. I helped his other dusky chum out with a change of career. He’s applying for the post of Chief Eunuch of the Harem now. And I know all about the set up you had running for a year. The shipments to Aqaba. I know about Parks and Smails.’ I turned back to the Dutchman. ‘That was your handiwork, wasn’t it? Or more accurately it was the Son of the Sheik here that did it… or his cousin before he started singing soprano. You panicked when McGahern killed John Andrews and then Lillian dropped out of sight. You knew Parks was a partner so you tortured him to find out what was going on. Smails got it afterwards, when you two had kissed and made up. A favour for McGahern to make up for Parks, I’d guess. And I know all about Alexander Knox and your army chum here. How am I doing, so far?’
‘You’re doing fine,’ said Lillian. She had been standing to one side smoking a cigarette and watching. She dropped the cigarette and crushed it with the toe of her black velvet court shoe. ‘But this is all guesswork. A yarn you’re spinning to save your neck.’
‘Oh yeah? Tell that to the Mossad boys when they get here.’
Three blank faces looked back at me. But I could tell that had shaken them.
‘We’ve got Jackie Gillespie,’ I said. ‘He’s making quite a recovery. Your aim ain’t what it used to be, McGahern.’
‘Bollocks,’ said McGahern. ‘Now I know you’re lying.’
‘Really? Then how come I know that the two soldiers didn’t die in an exchange of fire? That they were a couple of scared teenage conscripts and you executed them then shot Gillespie immediately after, trying to catch him unawares? You got him in the right side, didn’t you?’
Bullseye. McGahern turned to Lillian, as if looking for guidance.
‘Where is Gillespie?’ she asked.
‘Safe. Somewhere you can’t touch him.’ At least that much was true.
‘No…’ Lillian shook her head. ‘No, something doesn’t fit with all this. If Lennox knows so much and others know the same, how come he’s here alone?’
‘I thought you said there would be no loose ends?’ The red-haired officer type spoke for the first time. He had an English accent and his voice was high with fear. ‘You promised that no one would see me. That I would be in the clear.’
‘There won’t be any loose ends,’ said Lillian. ‘You will be in the clear.’ She gestured to McGahern who handed her his sawn-off. It looked like my headache was going to disappear for good. But she didn’t aim at me. The sound of the blast was deafening in the warehouse. I was still breathing: Lillian had ruined the army guy’s houndstooth. He was on the floor now, blubbering and leaking blood and piss. Lillian walked over to where he lay and fired the other barrel into him. He stopped blubbering.
I looked down at the dead Englishman. ‘This is nice,’ I said. ‘We really should try to get together more often.’
Lillian handed the gun back to McGahern, who plopped two fresh cartridges into the chambers. I heard footsteps coming up the metal stairs behind me. A woman’s high heels. The woman came into view and stood next to Lillian, totally eclipsing her looks.
‘Hello, Helena,’ I said. ‘I thought I’d be seeing you here.’
‘You never did know when to leave things be, Lennox,’ she said, her face genuinely, beautifully sad.
‘So you ran the honey-trap operation for them? All along I thought that McGahern here was cracked up on Lillian. But it was you, all the time.’
‘I run things here,’ said Lillian. ‘You weren’t smart enough to work that out.’ She looked over my shoulder to the Dutchman. ‘Go down and get the driver to load the sample cases. But leave the Arab here. I want him to deal with Lennox. Slow and painful.’
I heard the Arab move behind me. I knew he’d loop the garrotte over my head and strangle me to death. I’d wait until he made his move before I went for the switchblade in my jacket pocket. The Fat Dutchman had been careless in not frisking me. I’d maybe get the Arab and one other before they shot me dead. Like Gillespie, the idea of choosing my departure route appealed to me.
The leather flashed in front of my face. This was it. But then I heard a shot and the Arab dropped the garrotte and crashed onto the floor. I looked up. Helena Gersons was holding an automatic and had it trained on Lillian and McGahern.
‘Put the shotgun down,’ she ordered McGahern. ‘Nice and slow.’
I stood up. McGahern put the shotgun down on the floor. I saw him exchange a look with Lillian. Helena looked at me and smiled an agitated smile. ‘Things are never what they seem,’ she said. ‘Remember I told you that once?’
I moved towards the shotgun. At that moment the Big Dutchman appeared at the top of the stairs. Helena swung her automatic around to bear on him and I made a lunge for the shotgun at McGahern’s feet. McGahern threw himself at me and checked my dive. We fell onto the floor. Somehow McGahern got on top of me and sliced at my Adam’s apple with the side of his hand. I twisted sideways and his blow hit the side of my neck instead.
There was the sound of a shotgun blast.
We both looked in the direction of Lillian. She was holding the shotgun and Helena was lying on the filthy floor of the warehouse, a great plume of blood and bone and flesh stretching from where her face should have been. I heard myself scream and found the switchblade in my hand. I rammed it under McGahern’s ribs and up. He looked into my eyes with an expression of shock. I added to his surprise by giving the knife a one-hundred-and-eighty- degree twist. I felt the heat of his blood on my hand, running down my wrist and under the cuff of my sleeve.
I pushed McGahern off and got to my feet in time for Lillian to let me have it with the other barrel. The blast hit me in the side. Lower left, just above the hip. There wasn’t that much pain, but suddenly I felt as if someone had plunged me into a vacuum and I gasped to fill my empty lungs. I fell down beside Helena’s body, my cheek on her thigh. It was still warm. I grabbed the automatic lying next to Helena’s body and fired wildly in Lillian’s direction.
Still clutching the automatic, I hauled myself to my feet. Lillian was gone, but dodging my bullets she’d left the holdall of cash behind. Helena lay with her face gone. The army officer, the Arab and McGahern weren’t providing much company either. I leaned against the wall and pressed my hand to where the blood was pulsing out of my side. I tried to catch my breath and listened to the rain and the dull metallic thumping from somewhere across the docks.
I looked over at the Dutchman, who was still standing at the top of the metal stairs.
