No Refuge For The Wicked
7.00pm, Christmas Eve
Even church, a place of reflection and worship, was noisy.
Is there nowhere I can get peace? Konstantin wondered to himself. Too strident at home so he’d ventured out.
Konstantin wasn’t a religious man, of course; he was simply here in an attempt to escape the clamour of celebration. Christmas cheer was upon Margate, but he wanted no part of it. Although churches were supposed to be a source of refuge, they had the added benefit of possessing some spectacular architecture or interesting interred people to admire.
He felt comfortable in places of the dead, couldn’t explain why. Graveyards in particular, but the winos took all the benches at night and Konstantin wasn’t that desperate.
The Russian occupied a pew of well-polished wood, tough on the backside. Not a cushion in sight. Suffering for a God he didn’t recognise, at the rear of the nave as far as possible from the altar. Away from the eyes of Christ crucified on the cross from which he hung.
The church was a hive of activity. An army of grey haired old ladies buzzing up and down the aisle, readying the place of worship for precisely that activity. Stands of flowers were being placed at the end of each row of pews, sweeping, tidying up. The priest was practising his sermon in the pulpit, muttering to himself, waving his hands to emphasise relevant points. Konstantin figured there must be many arguments to make because his limbs barely stopped moving, other than to turn the paper over to read the next words he’d scrawled.
But Konstantin’s attempt at solitude was a spectacular failure. One of the cleaning brigade was polishing the pews, she’d be on him soon. He sighed, decided there was somewhere else that may better suit his purpose. Rose up, winced at the ache in his posterior.
The not so penitent man departed.
Pick Up
7.10pm, Christmas Eve
“There he is,” said the driver, nodded towards the man exiting the church. Light reflected in equal proportions off his glasses and bald head. “Let’s go.”
The very fat man sat next to him wheezed, as if speaking was a huge effort, said, “I’ll be glad when this is over, then we can go down the pub.”
“You need to lay off the alcohol.”
“Why?”
“It’s high in calories.”
“And that’s relevant to me because…?”
Tam, the driver, opened his mouth to speak, shut it again. It was a conversation he and Wallace had many times. Too many.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get it done.
Picking up the guy was surprisingly straightforward. Tam distracted him with the sight of a sharp knife while Wallace literally struck. Tam got the unconscious man’s shoulders, Wallace his feet, as usual. Threw the unconscious form into the boot none too gently, bound his wrists with a plastic cable tie. Tam didn’t want any hassle when the guy woke up. Life was too short for bother. Wallace slammed the boot lid down, waddled to the passenger side while Tam made the call.
“We’ve got him, Ambrus,” he said.
“Excellent. Now deal with him. I don’t want to see his face around again.”
“Okay,” said Tam, but he was speaking to the ether, Ambrus had already disconnected, proving to Tam yet again that the Hungarian was as rude as he was illegal.
He got into the Merc, twisted the key to match the expression on his face.
Yuletide Cheer
7.15pm Christmas Eve
Konstantin sat in the shadow of an artwork, stared with the shell lady out to sea. Felt as cold and lifeless as she. Barely felt the chill through the grubby fabric of his green-ish coat.
Even at the end of the harbour arm, the waves battering its base, the wind battering him, his heart battering his chest, Konstantin Boryakov could at times clearly hear the revelry as if he were in its midst.
Occasionally, the high wind kept it at bay, others it was as clear as day. Like a door opening and closing. Blocking the sound, then releasing it. Mostly he heard high-pitched shrieks of laughter, cheers, singing. Even the faint sound of church bells, calling what few worshippers were left into its dank interior, but he’d just left there and wouldn’t be going back.
And beneath it all an undercurrent of throbbing music that he didn’t tap his fingers to spilled out from the pubs and clubs. The usual fare, only played at this time of the year. In about thirty hours’ time these particular tracks would be packed away to repose for another three hundred and odd days, until the when they were metaphorically dusted off for their next annual outing.
He didn’t hate Christmas, far from it. But times like these were best shared with others. And Konstantin had no one. Not anymore. His daughter lived nearby, not that she knew about him, but Konstantin wouldn’t, couldn’t intrude. Because he was dead. To his family at least.
Instead he simply watched, from a distance, invisible in his disguise. Made sure she got through life with as few knocks and scrapes as possible. Which, he consoled himself, was much more than the average father who worked eight hours a day in an office was able, and often willing, to do.
However, even in the midst of cheer, bad things happened. The tramp looked over his shoulder as something unexpected intruded. A white light bathed him momentarily. Not an angel from above, because those sorts of visitations don’t happen, for there is nothing before or after life. Konstantin believed that when we are gone, we are gone. He’d seen the life wink out in too many people’s eyes to think otherwise.
No, this was the harsh tungsten glare of car headlights. The vehicle had swung onto the harbour arm, the concrete strip which jutted out of the waves to protect the anchorage from the worst of the elements, and then coasted past the line of a low buildings, all currently unoccupied and dark. The Merc was brought up short by bollards, small, but tightly spaced enough to block the vehicle’s progress.
The engine died, but the beams remained strong. Konstantin held as still as the statue. Then the lights followed the engine and perished. The tramp took his chance to shift himself then, into the shadow of one of the doorways. Ignored the stench of urine. Knew the car’s occupants wouldn’t see him. Dark clothes, huge beard helped him merge into the blackness.
The driver’s door popped then, weakly illuminating the interior of the car with a low wattage bulb. The driver stepped out, stood upright. Bald cranium and excessive height was all Konstantin could get at this distance. Seconds later the passenger side opened up too, although the driver’s companion took considerably longer to exit, with huffing and puffing as audible as the Christmas celebrations. The guy was huge, vastly overweight, looked like a well stuffed tent.
The follicly challenged guy took a moment to check out the immediate surroundings. Stared slowly all around him, brief flicker of light off the glasses he wore. Then stalked towards the sea. Reached the shell lady, touched her momentarily, brushed his fingertips along the surface. Then to the rear of the building. Konstantin heard him trot up the steps that led onto its roof.
Evidently satisfied they were alone, he returned to the rear of the car, had the boot open and all in the time it took his fat friend to waddle over and join him. A patient and particular man, then.
The tall guy leaned into the boot space, heaved something out. Konstantin heard it slap onto the concrete. Had weight to it, but was soft. Like a sack of potatoes. Could see enough from the angle he was at to know it was a body, though. It’d been taking a ride in the space normal people placed their luggage.
It wasn’t a corpse, for after a couple of moments the fat guy pulled the individual up by its hair. Small and skinny, short hair. Must have made some sort of comment as the fat guy snarled, hammered a fist into his gut. Made him double over with a whoosh of expelled air. Sound of retching moments later. Wouldn’t be the only person puking up in Margate tonight, that was for sure.
“We haven’t got time for this, Wallace,” said the tall guy, broad Glaswegian accent carried on the wind. Razor blades and cricket bats. “Quit messing around.”
Fat man fixed his colleague with a hard stare, but yanked the captive up by a hand under his armpit.
“All right Tam, cool your jets, okay?” Same inflection to his words.
They walked the guy on, one either side, guards escorting a prisoner. His head was down, feet dragging on the rough surface. Reluctant to make the journey.
He was shorter even than Wallace, by a good head. Konstantin caught the pale face, then caught a flash of white at the neck. Frowned, couldn’t believe what his eyes were telling him even as the short man looked back over his shoulder.
“Don’t bother looking. No one’s coming to save you, Teddy. It’s just us and the waves.”
A Bad Man Gets A Good Kicking
7.20pm Christmas Eve
Once the trio were out of sight, Konstantin had a choice to make.
Help, or leave well alone?
This wasn’t his problem, but then neither had all the others he’d managed to get himself embroiled in. But it was Christmas Eve. And the dog collar at the priest’s throat made an impact on Konstantin. One he struggled to ignore.
Decided to make it a New Year’s resolution to stay out of business that wasn’t his. But January was eight days away.
He slid out of the doorway, kept his back to the wall, body in gloom. Once around the corner he was literally exposed. The wind picked at his clothes, spray from the battering waves splattered his face and there was light. No more shadows to skulk within. But it didn’t matter because the two guys had their attention focused on their captive, backs to Konstantin.
While Wallace held Teddy’s arms in a tight grip, Tam pulled on a pair of black gloves.
“You don’t need to do this,” said the priest.
“Too late Teddy. You had twenty four hours to clear off. That’s come and gone. Ambrus is irritated with you. And that’s something we have to put right.”
“I couldn’t leave.”
“Why?”
“Nowhere to go.”
“There’s always somewhere when the other option is dying.”
“I promise, I’ll leave her alone. You’ll have no more trouble from me.”
“Yeah, yeah. Heard it all before, haven’t we, Wallace? Always amazes me when you lot take a fancy to a tart.”
“It’s Christmas. Time of hope and goodwill to all men?”
“Not likely, pal.”
The fat guy grunted, seemed to just want to get on with it. Confirmed Konstantin’s view with a sharp comment.
“You’re right Wallace,” said Tam, and stuck a fist into Teddy’s solar plexus before the priest could say another word.
Wallace hung onto Teddy as he doubled over, the second time in a couple of minutes.
Tam knelt down, grasped Teddy’s chin between two long fingers, tugged his head up so their eyes met.
“Now this can either go the long road, or the short road. It’s up to you. Either way, it’s a good kicking, then a swim. The water’s freezing so you’ll not feel it for long.”
Wallace snorted, clearly enjoying himself.
“You’d do this to a man of the cloth?” Teddy squeezed the words out between gasps.
That really made the pair laugh.
“Nobody believes in God these days,” said Tam. “Even priests.”
Tam stood; with a wave of his hand indicated that Wallace was to pull Teddy to his feet. Once upright, Tam raised a fist, but stopped short, said, “What the fuck?”
“Spare change?” repeated Konstantin, a slur smeared thickly across his voice. He staggered out of the shadows, palm held out.
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll clear off, old man. Now.”
“For Christmas drink, my friend.”
“Just get rid of him,” said Wallace, shook his head. “He’s hammered, won’t remember a thing in the morning. And if he does, who’s going to listen to a tramp?”
Tam dug around in his pocket, said, “I haven’t got any money.”
Konstantin turned to Wallace, who repeated the search for cash, taking one hand off Teddy in the process. Found a few coins, tossed them in Konstantin’s general direction.
Konstantin made to bend over, took his chance then. Sprinted across the short gap, planted a heavy fist on the Tam’s jaw. He went down fast. Before his head smacked on the concrete, Konstantin pivoted ninety degrees, swung a boot into Wallace’s knee. Heard it crack.
The big guy screamed, let go of Teddy as his excessive weight shifted onto his other limb, which couldn’t take the extra load. Wallace followed Tam onto the floor. Ridiculously easy.
Teddy looked at the damage, appeared unmoved by it. “Hey, thanks,” he said. “Can you get these off me?” Held his hands out, wrists had been bound with tie wraps.
Konstantin shook his head. “No knife.” Didn’t carry them, people that did so were usually nutters.
“He’s got one,” said the priest. Kicked Tam to indicate who he meant.
Konstantin searched Tam, pulled out a knife with a small, but wicked blade. Cut the ties off. Teddy rubbed at his wrists. Knelt down next to Wallace, whose screams had subsided to pained moans.
“Help me! My knee!” he said. “It’s agony!”
“You were going to do worse to me, you fat bastard. Tell me where I can find her.”
“No! I can’t!”
“If you do I’ll get you to a hospital.”
Wallace shook his head.
“Okay then.”
Teddy pushed himself upright again; Konstantin was taken by surprise when the priest started kicking Wallace. It didn’t seem like something a member of the clergy should be doing, but he had grown up in Russia. It would be like putting the boot into a whale, all that blubber soaking up the impact. Teddy turned his attention to Wallace’s knee. Pressed his foot against the damaged joint. Wallace screamed.
“Okay, I’ll tell you!”
Konstantin put an arm out, grabbed the priest, pulled him away. The small man was panting slightly at the effort.
“Where is she?”
“At work.”
Teddy leapt up and, before Konstantin could stop him, rolled Wallace like a barrel and within moments had him in the water with a huge splash. Tam was a simpler process. Teddy dragged him by an ankle before nudging him into the water with a foot.
Teddy shrugged, said, “Fair’s fair. They were going to do it to me.”
Konstantin shrugged. Had no sympathy for the pair. He started to walk away. New Year’s resolution and all that.
“Wait, you can’t leave me,” shouted Teddy.
“Why?”
Teddy didn’t say anything, seemed not to have an immediate answer. Eventually, “It’s Christmas?”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?”
“Because it’s true. I need your help.”
Konstantin sighed. It wasn’t quite New Year’s, after all.
They were off the harbour arm and into the Old Town before the shakes punched into Teddy. So bad he had to flop down onto a kerb. Wrapped his arms around his body like he was freezing to death. Konstantin could hear the priest’s teeth rattle in his skull.
“You okay?” asked Konstantin.
“Never better,” said the priest. Threw a sliver of a grin the tramp’s way from where he sat. Unconvincing.
Then, moments later, Teddy began to laugh. A low chuckle that developed into gut bursting mirth where he could barely draw breath. He drew strange looks from passers-by. The tramp and the priest together. Although who was saving who?
Konstantin let Teddy subside, eventually said, “There’s somewhere we should go.”
Where No One Knows Your Name
7.35pm Christmas Eve
On the way to his destination, which was situated in Margate’s up and coming Old Town, Konstantin had discarded his green-ish coat, too many questions to answer should he enter Dick’s pub wearing it.
Konstantin had a number of places around the area that he could use in an emergency. A garage, warehouse unit, disused shop among others. With stuff in it should he be in trouble. Weapons. Medical equipment. Clothes. He hadn’t wanted to take the priest back to his house. Didn’t like anyone knowing about his other life.
Even the retreats had to remain uncompromised, so he left Teddy on a corner a few streets away in the shadows. The priest had suggested standing under a light, claimed it was safer that way. But Konstantin knew better. Managed to refrain from rolling his eyeballs. Didn’t bother to explain that if the local scallies caught sight of him they'd strip him bare, metaphorically speaking. Like parking your car in view, just shows the thugs what they can have away. Naïve.
So Konstantin pushed him into the shadows, ignored the priest’s protests. Glanced over his shoulder as he walked away, swore he could see Teddy’s wide eyes shining out like beacons. For a priest he was a strange man. Quickly, Konstantin splashed water on himself so he didn’t look, or smell, grimy, changed into a black leather jacket, tied his hair back.
He led Teddy into Margate’s Old Town, a small square of shops and restaurants slowly being gentrified. All except one place, The English Flag. Konstantin’s local boozer. Well, only boozer.
“You’re not coming in here. No way,” Dick, the pub landlord, said. He hated the name Dick, but everyone called him that, because he was. Tall, but stooped so he wouldn’t stand out. Dyed what was left of his thinning hair, bit of a stomach on him. Dick was a bully when he had the opportunity, used his apparent authority to give people a hard time.
Konstantin wouldn’t, couldn’t go anywhere else. No other pub would let him through its doors without a serious altercation. Not that Konstantin minded a fight, quite the opposite. Sometimes a dust-up was essential, like others needed sex to relieve tension.
Just not today.
“I’ve told you before. No foreigners, no women, no religious fanatics. They’re all trouble, every last one of them.”
Dick had no idea Konstantin was Russian because he kept his accent under wraps when in most company. Otherwise Konstantin would be barred too.
Konstantin turned to Teddy. Plucked the dog collar from his neck. Dropped it on the floor. Teddy scooped the once-white band up, stuffed it in his pocket.
“Satisfied?” said Konstantin. Towered over Dick.
To be fair the landlord stood his ground, said, “Doesn’t change the fact he’s a God botherer.”
Konstantin sighed. Looked around the dingy pub. Sticky floor, wet tables and rickety stools. Even the dim lighting couldn’t hide the fact that this was the crappest watering hole in Margate and that Konstantin could easily make it look far, far worse.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he said.
Dick looked into the tramp’s eyes. The landlord gulped, took a step back, said, “I’ve only just reopened after the last time.”
“Then get us a drink and you won’t be closed again.”
Dick flicked his gaze from Teddy to Konstantin, then around the largely empty pub.
He stepped back to bar, leant over it, whispered, “Can we keep this between ourselves? Don’t want my reputation ruined.”
The Russian almost laughed, amused that Dick felt he had a status to protect. It couldn’t get any worse. Universally loathed and distrusted. Routinely threw around his miniscule authority, but ran away when there was any serious confrontation. No one Konstantin knew had a good word to say about the guy.
“Okay,” he agreed. “Your secret’s safe with us.” Managed to avoid a conspiratorial wink.
Dick bared his rotting teeth in an approximation of a smile. “Usual?”
“Make it two.”
The landlord turned to the optics behind the bar, measured out the vodkas. No ice, no water to dilute the alcohol and its kick. Placed the glasses on the tacky wooden surface. Held his hand out for payment.
“Put it on my tab,” said Konstantin. Turned away before Dick could argue.
Took Teddy to a table as far away from the landlord as possible. There weren’t any frills in Dick’s place. A fruit machine was as far as it went. Konstantin stayed away from this too, didn’t want anyone stood at his shoulder. Otherwise, no music, no television. What you mostly got instead was a wildly coloured carpet, strong alcohol and peace. And no reference to Christmas, it being a religious festival. The pub looked the same all year round, unless there was a royal event on. Then you couldn’t move for red, white and blue. No question regarding Dick’s patriotism, although just about every other facet of the man was dubious.
The place was quiet. No voices to fill the air. The few people present sat by themselves, lost in the isolation of self-loathing and alcohol. Tiny Al, who was in fact not tiny at all, nodded at Konstantin from the fruit machine.
Konstantin pushed one of the glasses over to Teddy.
“I don’t partake,” he said. “Against my religion.”
Konstantin seriously doubted Teddy had any religion but said, “For your nerves.”
Teddy lifted the tumbler to his lips, his hand shook. Konstantin heard the glass rattle against his teeth. Teddy gulped the fiery fluid down in a couple of goes. Coughed. Wiped his mouth with the back of his skinny digits. Konstantin threw his own glass back, barely felt the liquid’s descent. Turned to Dick, three fingers raised. Ignored the landlord’s grimace.
“So, what’s going on with you?” said Konstantin.
“Nothing.”
Konstantin knew it was a lie, said, “A couple of guys put you into the boot of a car. They’re going to kick the crap out of you and throw you into the sea. That doesn’t happen for nothing. For those people, time is money.”
Dick delivered the next round of vodka. Konstantin nodded his thanks. The landlord stalked away. Looked like he’d sucked on a lemon.
The Russian pushed a glass at Teddy.
“I still don’t drink,” he said.
“You do tonight. It’ll help calm you down.”
The priest shook his head, but resistance was minimal. Sank the next shot. Konstantin noticed the tremor was subsiding. Sat back. Let the alcohol and the silence take their toll.
A couple of lads entered the bar, shattered the silence with shouts and laughter. Students probably, from their cultured scruffiness. Clearly spent too long getting the right side of shabby. Four of them stood on the threshold, like they couldn’t go any further. Scanned the interior, saw Dick put two hands on the bar, lean forward and hunch his shoulders. They backed out.
Dick turned away, shook his head. Konstantin was surprised he’d managed to unpeel his palms without leaving a layer of skin behind.
“There’s a woman. That’s why they were going to kill me.”
“Sounds like somewhat of an over-reaction.”
“She’s tied up with some nasty people. They won’t let me have her.”
Konstantin grimaced, he’d heard enough. Love. Always complicating life. He wanted no part of it.
“It’s not like that,” said Teddy hurriedly. Must have caught the expression on the tramp’s face. “She’s stuck. She’s a prostitute.”
“Perhaps you’d better explain,” said Konstantin.
Tam Parts The Waves
7.45pm Christmas Eve
Tam staggered through the surf. Managed to get a few feet above the high water mark, half in, half out the water. Waves lapped at his legs in an apparent attempt to reclaim him.
He heaved in lungful’s of salty air. Rolled onto his side and retched. A plume of seawater and bile splashed over him and the sand. He didn’t care, just couldn’t believe his luck that he was still alive. Wondered if Wallace had made it too, but knew deep down there was little chance of his survival. The last time he’d glimpsed Wallace he was floating face down, floundering in the waves like a ship that had lost power. The guy could barely walk down the stairs without having a coronary, never mind swim for hundreds of yards against a swift current.
The Scot rolled onto his back, stared at the stars a moment. Amazed at their beauty. Their timelessness. Even though they were blurry. His glasses had been washed off his face. Right then Tam swore to himself that when this was over he was pursuing the good things in life.
Just not yet. One more thing to do first. He got onto all fours. Pushed himself onto his haunches, then rose. Like the oldest man in the world. Worn out. Seaweed hung off him, but Tam didn’t care. Felt in his pockets, no mobile either. Began to make his way up the beach. Had to get to a payphone. Warn Ambrus.
Then he’d get the train back to Glasgow. Leave these mad bastards to it.
The Knocking Shop
8.00pm Christmas Eve
“That’s where she works,” said Teddy. Pointed at a tall, terraced building. One street back and parallel to the seafront. Many floors. Unlike its neighbours, not split into multiple flats. Which made it highly unusual.
Once, there had apparently been hundreds of hotels and guest houses in Margate. But one after the other they’d all closed, had been turned to flats and hostels for the afflicted and disaffected who sponged off the taxpaying employed.
“How many?” said Konstantin, counted off the floors and windows.
“Girls?”
The tramp nodded.
“Hard to say. Ten, twelve maybe.”
The front door opened a crack. Revealed a furtive, short man who stepped outside, tugged a flat cap low down over his eyes and a coat about his body. Hard to distinguish anything about him. Konstantin drew Teddy deeper into the shadows of the narrow, rubbish strewn alley. Waited for the man’s rapid footsteps to fade away.
No sooner had the short man departed than another arrived. Rapped at the door, slid inside. The click of locks carried easily to where they hid.
“Put your collar back on,” said Konstantin. “We need your trusting face.”
An old woman stood on the step, quizzical look on her features which softened as soon as she saw Teddy’s persuasion. Lined so deeply there were probably lost tribes somewhere at their base.
“Can I help you?” she said.
“I hope so,” said Konstantin.
“Is it about them across the road?”
Mrs. Faith, Gwen to her friends apparently, poured tea through a strainer into a china teacup, said, “Milk? Sugar?”
“Just milk, thanks,” replied Teddy. They were seated at a small table in the centre of a high ceilinged room. Large windows took up most of one wall. They had a perfect view of the street below. The binoculars on the sill helped too.
She poured in an excessive amount of the white liquid, handed the cup over. Repeated the process with Konstantin. He hated tea, only drank coffee, but didn’t want to offend the woman.
“Are you with the police?” she asked.
“Would you like us to be?” said Konstantin.
“They’ve been utterly useless so far. I’ve reported the goings on over there time and again. The men in blue look at me like they should be dressed in white and carting me off to a mental hospital.”
“We are not representatives of the law,” said Teddy. “Only God.”
Konstantin fought to hold from rolling his eyes. Stuck to sighing.
“I don’t mind who you’re with, love, as long as you deal with that bunch of shites.”
“Would you mind telling us what goes on?”
“Well, everything. Telling you what doesn’t happen would probably take less time, love. There’s men coming and going all hours of the day and night. Using the prostitutes, poor girls.”
“Do you know any of them?” said Teddy. His voice had softened, like he was taking confession.
“I used to speak to one or two, when they were allowed outside. That hasn’t happened for a while, mind. Hungarian girls mostly. Told they were coming here for a better life and now spend most of it on their backs being sweated and pawed over by grubby men.”
“When did they stop the girls going out?”
“A few months ago. Probably my fault. I went to the Police; suddenly the activity over there becomes less visible. Like they knew they were being watched.”
“Someone on the inside?” said Teddy.
“Possible,” said Konstantin.
“I didn’t give up though,” said Gwen. “I started taking pictures.”
Telephone Man
8.05pm Christmas Eve
Finally. A phone that hadn’t been vandalised. Tam couldn’t believe it. Stepped inside the box. The interior absolutely reeked of piss. Some tramp’s toilet most likely. Perhaps even the one who’d hit him.
He spent a moment perusing the cards stuck to the walls. Girls and a few guys offering a shockingly wide array of services.
Then remembered what he had to do. Picked up the receiver. Had no money, so called collect. Got through. Struggled to understand what Ambrus was saying. Bloody accent was impossible to understand down the wire. Another reason to get off home. Back to his own people.
“You what pal?” said Tam.
Ambrus sighed, sounded like an icy wind in his ear, then said, “Go to house.”
“Why? Teddy won’t turn up. Doesn’t have the balls.”
“I need someone I trust to look after place ’til I arrive. You nearer than me.”
Tam’s turn to sigh, “Okay.”
Ambrus disconnected.
Tam considered going to the train station, something would be along to whisk him away. But if he disobeyed Ambrus and was caught? Incredibly dangerous.
So he got walking.
Mugshots
8.10pm Christmas Eve
“My grandson set all this up for me,” she said, manipulating a mouse to bring up some well-known photographic software. Besides the PC, Gwen owned a printer and a digital SLR camera with a long lens which perched on a tripod to stare through the window. “It’ll let me take video too.”
She entered the directory, several folders within marked ‘Clients’, ‘Associates’, ‘Girls’ and ‘Uncategorised’.
“You’re in here,” she said, tapped the latter folder on the screen. “I’ll delete you now I know you’re on the side of the angels.”
“One of us is,” said Konstantin.
“Oh no, I’ve been around long enough to recognise good from evil.”
Konstantin wasn’t sure how to take that, decided it wisest to move on.
“Who are the associates?”
“They’re the people that run the girls,” said Gwen. Double clicked the mouse. Minimised photos popped onto the screen.
“These two show up a lot,” said Gwen.
“We’ve met,” said Konstantin.
Tam and Wallace.
“Lucky you.”
“And this pair.” One black and wide, the other white and feral.
“Jasper and Eric,” said Teddy.
Gwen moved on. Another couple of clicks.
“These seem to be in charge,” she said. Four men, one woman. “But him,” Gwen tapped the screen, “he’s the top dog. Hungarian, like the girls. I don’t know his name, sorry.”
“That’s Ambrus,” said Teddy.
Konstantin peered at Ambrus. Grey haired, small beard tightly cropped, distinguished looking. Had a phone pressed to his ear, eyes focused on something distant.
“And the woman?” Unusual for a female to be involved at the business end.
“His girlfriend.”
Konstantin stood, wrote down a number. Asked Gwen to call it in five minutes.
Konstantin was out of the flat and in the street before either Gwen or Teddy could protest. He expected they were watching him as he crossed the street, that if he looked up now the old woman would have him in her camera lens.
The door was opening as he reached it, yet another punter making his escape. Konstantin barely glanced at him. Got halfway inside before a hand landed on his chest. It belonged to a huge black guy. Barrel chested. More fat than muscle, more imposition than proposition. This would be Jasper. Another guy behind. Pointed nose, protruding teeth. Eric.
Hard to see inside. Dim, like they were in a cave or downstairs in a club.
“Who are you, mate?” asked Jasper. “This is an invite only facility.”
“Paul,” said Konstantin, “someone told me about your place.”
“Uh-huh. Name?”
“Tam. Scottish fella I met in a pub recently.”
Jasper sighed, “Sounds like the sort of thing that idiot would do.”
“You going to let me in, or what?”
Jasper looked over his shoulder. Eric shrugged, said, “Slow night, why not?”
The black guy nodded for Konstantin to enter. Once within he glanced around. A narrow corridor, painted some bland colour. A couple of lights which threw out weak beams. Plain carpet. Closed doors periodically along its length.
Jasper said, “Arms up. We’ve got to search you first. Then you can sign in and pay your membership fee.”
Konstantin did as he was told.
Confessional
8.20pm Christmas Eve
Teddy didn’t realise he’d been holding his breath until stars pirouetted in front of his eyes. He expelled the carbon dioxide laden air in a huge huff as Konstantin entered the den.
“I was doing the same,” said Gwen. “I’ve been desperate for someone to deal with them, but now it’s happening ...”
Silence descended. No movement in the street.
“I’d like to come and see you when this is over,” said Gwen. “Perhaps listen to your sermon. You clearly care for people.”
“Just one person really.” Teddy went bright red as soon as he said it, caught Gwen’s knowing look. Felt he had to confess. “She used to come into the church, sit at the back and listen to the sermons. Other times just stare at the altar when the place was empty. Always in the same seat. Eventually I struck up the courage to talk to her. She was fascinating. So much to say. But so much sadness. Then one day she just stopped coming.”
“How did you know where she ‘worked’?”
Teddy felt another rush of embarrassment. Gwen seemed to know how to get to the depths of his soul.
“I followed her once,” he said in a barely audible tone.
“How long have you been a man of the cloth?” asked Gwen.
“A while now,” said Teddy.
“Where do you preach?”
“Nearby. It’s only a small church. You wouldn’t know it.”
“Try me.”
Teddy sighed, peeled his eyes off the house opposite to look at Gwen. Decided she’d only stop once he’d answered.
“Saint Augustine’s.”
Teddy put his eyes back to the binoculars, pleased she seemed to have swallowed the story. But his heart hit the back of his throat when she said, “There isn’t a church called Saint Augustine’s.”
“Ah.” He put the binoculars down.
“I’ll make another cup of tea, then you can tell me all about it.”
“Do you have a bathroom I can use?” said Teddy. He suddenly felt rather ill.
Tam turned into the road. Felt dwarfed by the tall buildings that stretched up into the night sky.
He’d had a few odd looks on the long walk over. He was still dripping wet, what little hair he had plastered to his forehead. At least he’d got rid of the seaweed now. That seemed to be the main reason for people to raise his eyebrows at him. Looked like some dodgy version of King Canute. But this was a place used to the outlandish – he’d been ignored after an initial glance. A mental shrug that dismissed him. Just another nutter.
Tam still couldn’t remember what had brought him here, but tomorrow, perhaps even tonight, he’d be on the first train to London that he could catch. Half a day and he’d be back where he belonged.
A few yards and he reached the front door of the knocking shop. Wasn’t his sort of thing, but it paid the bills, so he wasn’t going to criticise the patrons.
He had a key, but knocked anyway, didn’t want to cause Jasper any offence. He protected his little domain with a glare. And if that didn’t work, then fists the size of an average man’s head usually would suffice. Worse was that lunatic, Eric. The one with the knife. Something distasteful about him. Like he enjoyed torturing small animals.
No answer. That was a surprise. Knocked again, waited. Patience wasn’t something Tam commonly exhibited, so he dug around in a sodden pocket for his key...
Teddy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, flushed the toilet. Found some spray to mask the vomit smell and mouthwash to disinfect his tongue.
“Sorry about that,” he said. Gwen was at the window, binoculars in hand, the other to her mouth, her eyes wide. “What’s the matter?”
Slash
8.20pm Christmas Eve
Konstantin hit Jasper first. Took him completely by surprise. That’s the trouble with being bigger than everyone else, it provides a false sense of security, a fact Konstantin ruthlessly exploited. As Jasper had come in for the pat-down, Konstantin kneed him in the balls. Doesn’t matter who you are, a solid impact in the soft parts is going to put anyone down.
As Jasper sagged to his knees, Konstantin thudded a fist into his nose. Felt the bone crack, warm liquid splash his knuckles. Eyes rolled back in his head, toppled backwards. Switched his attention to Eric before the black guy kissed the floor.
Eric hadn’t twitched, but then some primal part of his brain must have clicked because he reached inside his jacket, pulled out a knife. The blade emerged with a snap. It looked sharp enough to cut the air. The little guy grinned a grin as wicked as the blade he held.
“Yeah, you wanna be afraid, old man,” said Eric. “I’m going to carve you into tiny pieces and feed you to the gulls.” He stepped forward, favoured his left leg as if he were fencing, huge smile on his face. Held the knife up at chest height, the point aiming at Konstantin’s chest. He rushed forward, slashed. Konstantin heard a high pitched whistle as the knife sliced the space an inch in front of him.
Eric repeated his attack; Konstantin figured the aim was to drive him backwards down the corridor until he was unable to retreat any further, constrict his opportunity to manoeuvre.
A third swipe and Konstantin made his move, feinted a stumble to his right, away from the knife. Eric rushed forward, came in close. Konstantin grabbed his wrist. The younger man tried to force the knife on, but Konstantin was far stronger. Pushed Eric backwards until he hit a wall. Now it was he who had nowhere to go. The grin tumbled. Konstantin slowly forced his arm back, twisted the knife so it pointed at its owner. Kept inching the blade towards his attacker’s stomach.
“No, please,” Eric pleaded.
Konstantin ignored him; anyone who intended the Russian harm received it in kind. He kept up the pressure until the knife pierced Eric’s skin, pushed into the gut. He screamed. Still Konstantin pushed until the point hit the wall.
Eric stopped struggling. One last sour breath escaped his lips as Konstantin released his grip and the body slipped to the floor. Konstantin left the weapon embedded, he didn’t like knives. Used by maniacs. One less now.
The black guy began to groan then. Konstantin stepped over Eric; hit Jasper hard on the jaw. The noise stopped.
The doorbell rang.
Teddy To The Rescue
8.21pm Christmas Eve
“What shall we do?” said Teddy.
“There’s not much I’m able to,” said Gwen, “I’m 83.”
“Shit. I have to do something.”
“I’ll call the police.”
Teddy twisted away from the window, shook his head, said, “No, everyone inside will be arrested. I’ll never see her again.”
“Time to be a hero then,” said Gwen.
Teddy gulped.
“Take this,” she said. Cold metal pressed into his palm.
Teddy’s Reward
8.25pm Christmas Eve
Konstantin ignored the knock, headed down the corridor and tried the handle of the first door he came to. It swung open silently. Revealed a small room full of junk. Went back into hall, got his hands under knife boy’s armpits. Dragged him the short distance, left a thin trail of blood.
Another knock, harder this time. Konstantin resisted the urge to look through the peephole. Hauled Jasper by the ankles, had to lean back at a steep angle to get sufficient leverage to get him moving.
As he re-entered the corridor, the front door swung back on its hinges.
Tam.
“Oh crap,” he said.
Konstantin strode forward before Tam could react, grabbed a bunch of the Scot’s sodden jacket, yanked him over the step. Kicked the door to behind him.
“Look mate, I don’t want any trouble!” said Tam.
“Then why are you here?”
“I’m soaking, nowhere else to go and dry off,” lied Tam. He glanced past Konstantin, gulped when he saw a crimson stain. “Where are the guys?”
“Your friends?”
Tam shrugged. “Not really.”
“They’re dead.”
The Scot pulled his eyes off the gore and stared into Konstantin’s face.
“Why are you here?” repeated Konstantin.
“My boss is coming.”
“Ambrus.”
Tam’s eyes widened. “That’s right.”
“When?”
“Any time. You should go, he’s a killer.”
“No problem. So am I.”
At that moment Teddy burst in, a poker raised above his head. He looked from Konstantin to Tam and back again. “You’ve got it under control then,” he said. Let his arm and the poker sag.
“For now. The big man is on his way.”
“Gwen’s calling the number you gave her.”
“Then we’d better get a move on.” Turned to Teddy. “What’s her name?”
“Eh?”
“Your girl. That’s why we’re here.”
“What are you, a mind reader?”
Konstantin shook his head, said, “People reader.”
“Look, as pleasant as all this is,” said Tam, “I’d like to get out of here. Please.”
“Go,” said Konstantin.
Tam turned and bolted out the open door.
“Room five,” said Teddy.
Up two flights of narrow stairs, threadbare carpet, more magnolia walls. A plain door, chipped white paint.
Teddy opened the door, stuck his head in. Konstantin waited outside. A minute later Teddy emerged with a blonde waif, skinnier than a guitar string, heavy lipstick. Huge grin plastered on his face.
“She said yes!”
“Leaving town?”
Teddy nodded.
“Take this,” said Konstantin. He handed over a key.
It’s Over
9.00pm Christmas Eve
Ambrus fumed silently, invisible behind blacked out windows. From the comfort of his car parked a hundred yards up the street, watched the cops raid one of his most lucrative business ventures. Vowed to find out who’d given him the problem and didn’t care how long it took.
“Let’s go,” he told his driver.
Gwen grinned as the girls were brought out of the flat. Before she went downstairs to talk to the policeman called Gregory she’d been told to call, she deleted all the photos of the priest and his large friend. No need for anyone to know who’d been involved.
They were in the Merc, Teddy driving, the now ex-prostitute in the passenger seat. Through town. People milled everywhere. Mostly drunk. Took longer than expected to get along the seafront. Looked like half the drivers were pissed too. Weaving cars, blowing horns. The occupants of the Merc sat calmly, waiting for the alcoholic storm to pass by.
“Where do we go?” asked the girl.
“Far away.”
Ho Ho Ho
12.05am Christmas Day
Konstantin sat at the rear of the church. Listened to the midnight mass. A single face in a sea of many. But just this once he didn’t feel so alone. Lifted the hymn sheet up so he could see the words better in the candlelight. Wished a mental happy Christmas to his family.
Sang at the top of his lungs.
If you want to read more about Konstantin this is a universal link to the book:
https://books2read.com/RussianRoulette
