Personal

Which was the moment of truth. Hands up, or hands on your head, or wrists together out in front, any of those commands would have been conventional, ahead of restraint with handcuffs or rope, or to keep me unthreatening while he decided what to do next. But hands out wide was an execution. It would put me one, two, three, four, five sweeping moves from salvation. Hands down, reach back, grab the guns, hands up, and aim. However slow and befuddled the old guy was, he would nail me before I was halfway through. Eight feet. Flash game over, with nothing in between. Technically I would see the flash. Light travels faster than bullets. The flash would bloom when the bullet was about eight inches gone, and the light waves would instantly overtake it and hit my eyes well before it hit my chest. Whether I would have time to think wow, that looks like a muzzle flash was a different matter.

Probably not.

Charlie said, ‘Hold your arms out.’

Something moved behind him. A shadow, on the stairs.

I said, ‘Think again, Charlie. You need to retire.’

The shadow moved again. There was someone on the staircase, moving slowly, pausing, moving slowly, very quiet. In front of a table light on a piece of furniture in the downstairs hallway, which was casting a long shadow. I realized I would have been visible from the upstairs long before my head crept into view.

I said, ‘This is not an old man’s game, Charlie. And you just lost the next generation. Things are changing. You need to get out while you can.’

He said, ‘Things are always changing. Usually for the worse.’ He nodded forward, at the gun in his hand. ‘Hasn’t been the same since these things replaced a good old-fashioned beating.’

The shadow moved again. Someone was coming up the stairs, silently, one big step at a time, fourteen inches a pop, like climbing boulders on a mountainside.

I said, ‘So it’s time to quit.’

‘Not necessarily,’ Charlie said. ‘Joey is no big loss. We’re moving out of that side of things anyway. We’re looking at computers now. We can make more with credit card numbers.’

The shadow resolved itself to a head and a pair of shoulders. Inching up. Or fourteen-inching up. I kept my eyes tight on Charlie’s. I relied on peripheral vision alone. I didn’t want to tip him off.

He said, ‘Hold your arms out wide.’

I said, ‘Who was Joey’s next of kin?’

‘Why do you want to know?’

‘Just thinking about how hard it’s going to be to market this house. The buyer pool is going to be pretty small. Or big, depending on how you look at it.’

The shadow grew longer still. A head, shoulders, an upper body, on a riser, across a tread, on the next riser, on the next tread. Like a cartoon animal, run over, pressed into the shape of the stairs.

I said, ‘You should sell out to the Serbians. Before they take it all for nothing.’

In the corner of my eye I saw hair, and a forehead. Blonde hair. Green eyes and a heart-shaped face. She was coming up backward, like I had.

Smart kid.

Charlie said, ‘The Serbians ain’t taking nothing. They’re going to stay out west, like always.’

I said, ‘You plan to split Libor’s business equally?’

He didn’t answer.

In the corner of my eye I saw her from the waist up. She had her Glock in her hand, raised high, near her shoulder.

I said, ‘So you’re not planning to split Libor’s business equally. You think the Serbians are going to stand still for that?’

‘We were here first.’

‘But who was here before you? You took it away from them, right? Whoever they were. I can imagine. Back when you were a young man, full of piss and vinegar. You remember that, right? That’s the Serbians now. You should take some cash while you still can.’

She made it to the half-landing. Ready for the 180 turn. Ready for the second half.

Charlie said, ‘I’m not here to discuss business.’

She took the first stair. Fourteen inches.

I said, ‘So what are you here for?’

Another stair. Another fourteen inches.

Charlie said, ‘There are rules. You’re way out of order.’

Another stair.

I said, ‘I was helping you out. Culling the herd. Darwinism in action. You’ve got a weak crew, Charlie. I don’t see the talent. And I don’t see the brains for credit card numbers.’

‘We do OK. Don’t worry about us.’

She stepped up to the upstairs hallway. She was twenty feet behind him. He was a bulky, round-shouldered man. A broad back. Twenty feet in front of her.

I’m an average shot with no aptitude for hand-to-hand combat.

I said, ‘They know all about the pay-offs you make. Soon as you stop making them, they’re going to take you apart.’

She crept closer. Silent on the carpet. Seventeen feet, maybe.

I thought, Keep coming. Then aim for centre mass. Nothing fancy. No head shots.

Charlie said, ‘I’m never going to stop making the payments. Why would I?’

One more silent step. Fifteen feet.

She stood still.

Too far.

She raised the Glock.

I said, ‘You ever fired a gun before, Charlie?’