‘Yeah,’ he said, nodding to himself. Then he got up and put his jacket back on. All of a sudden he wanted two things: a drink, and not to be alone.
‘Simple needs,’ he muttered, locking the door behind him.
25
It was time Bel had a disguise.
So we dyed her hair dark and I helped her with a haircut. Her hair had been short to start with, now it made her head look like a hedgehog. Not that I told her this. She quite liked the cut, and ran her hand over her head, enjoying the feel of the bristles. She used an eyelash-brush to dye her eyebrows. Then she started playing with the make-up we’d bought in the supermarket next to the motel.
Bel trimmed my hair. She was good at it, she’d gone on a course once. My own choice of dye wasn’t so successful, and left my hair streaky. I didn’t bother with the eyebrows.
‘How do I look?’ said Bel. The truth was, she looked stunning. It was just that she didn’t look like Bel any more. Her eyes were heavily made up, black, and incredibly sexy. It was hard to look at them without looking away again quickly. She’d dusted her cheeks and applied cherry lipstick to her mouth. She’d bought some cheap jewellery, and now wore earrings and bangles and a gold chain around her throat.
‘You look different.’
‘Different is what we want.’ She pouted. ‘Now, Mikey, do I get to go to the hospital?’
‘Just don’t try an American accent, all right?’
‘You got it, Mikey.’
Actually, to my ears her accent was pretty good. Its only flaw was that it sounded like an actress doing it rather than the real thing. I guessed she’d picked it up from TV and films rather than from our travels.
She seemed confident, so I drove her downtown. Part of me was hoping she’d walk into Clancy’s room and be arrested on the spot. I didn’t think she’d tell them anything, but at least she’d be safely locked away. I considered phoning the cops from a callbox and tipping them off, only she’d know who’d done it.
So I dropped her off near the hospital steps and drove the VW around the block. There was a visitors’ car park, and since I couldn’t find a space anywhere else, I ended up there. The problem was, I couldn’t see the hospital entrance, so I got out of the van and walked about, kicking my heels like I was waiting for someone. I wasn’t alone. There were a couple of other men doing the same thing, plus a cab driver chewing gum and leaning his arm out of his cab to beat a tattoo with his fingers on the roof.
It was a warm evening, but not sticky. It had been about this time of year that I’d come here whale-watching. I’d been lucky. I’d seen several pods of orcas. I couldn’t remember now why I’d wanted to watch whales, but I was glad I’d done it.
‘I hate hospitals.’ I turned towards the speaker. It was the cabbie. I walked over towards him. ‘I mean, I could wait inside, right? But I prefer to wait in the car. Inside, I could maybe get a coffee, but then there’d be that smell wafting up at me. You know that smell?’ He waved his hands beneath his nose. ‘That damned doctor smell, things in bottles. That sort of smell.’
‘I know what you mean.’
‘You need a cigarette?’ He offered me one, and for some reason I took it. He decided this had broken sufficient ice for him to get out of the car. Once out, he lit both our cigarettes. He had an ex-boxer’s face and a few faded blue tattoos on his arms. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt with a row of pens in the breast-pocket. ‘You ever wonder how many people are dying in there while you’re waiting outside, huh? How many are throwing their guts up or haemorrhaging? You get in a fight or what?’
I touched my face. ‘Yeah, sort of.’
‘Jesus, what did he hit you with, a tyre-iron?’
‘Actually, it was his fist.’
The cabbie whistled. ‘Big fuck, huh?’
‘Huge.’
He flexed his shoulders, wondering if he could have made a better job of my opponent.
‘Have you ever boxed?’ I asked him.
‘Yeah, I used to do some.’
‘I thought so.’
‘You?’
‘I’m a man of peace.’
‘Well, in my estimation, everyone’s a man of peace until he gets steamed up about something. I had a lot of aggression in my youth. What was I going to do, be a public nuisance or step into a ring? Step into a ring, all that aggression is licensed. It’s entertainment.’
‘You enjoyed it, huh?’
‘I didn’t much enjoy getting beat.’
I wasn’t listening any more. I was watching the entrance. A few people had just come out of the hospital and were standing on the steps. I recognised Kline first. It took me another moment to recognise Bel.
Kline was looking up and down the street. At first I thought he was looking for me, but in fact they were waiting for a car. One of his men, the passenger from the front car in Oban, spoke into a radio. Bel was staring at the ground. Kline had a hand on her arm.
‘Hey, you okay?’
The cigarette had dropped from my mouth. I turned away from the cabbie and walked quickly to the van. I went into the back, opened a cupboard, and brought out the Colt Commando. It was pre-loaded and ready for action. Then I got into the driver’s seat and started the van. The cabbie was wide-eyed as I passed him, one hand on my steering-wheel and the other gripping the gun.
Kline’s car was just arriving. They’d brought Bel down to the kerbside. I speeded up and hit the kerb, bouncing the van on to the pavement. Kline and his men looked surprised, then scared. They dived out of the way as I let rip with a few rounds. Bel didn’t need to be told what to do. She opened the passenger door and clambered in.
‘Hey, Kline!’ I roared. ‘We need to talk.’
He was crouching behind the car. ‘Fuck you!’
I fired another burst to keep them down, then reversed back on to the road, hit first gear again, and roared forward.
‘Get down!’ I yelled. I fired a burst up into the air, but they weren’t scared any more. The initial shock had worn off and they’d found their pistols. I felt rounds thumping into the side and rear of the van. But they missed the tyres. We took a hard right into another street, ran a red light and took a left. I didn’t know where the hell we were, but I knew we were out of range.
‘We don’t seem to be having much luck with our vehicles,’ I said. I was thinking: at the very least now they’d know that I was seriously armed and driving a VW van. They might even have got the licence number. It was only three letters and three numbers, easily memorized. I kept checking in the rearview, but there was no sign of pursuit. I slowed down a bit until I’d got my bearings. Soon we were back on 99 and heading north.
‘Don’t you want to hear what happened?’ Bel said. She was shivering. I wound my window back up, then realized that wasn’t why she was shivering.
‘So what happened?’ I was more than angry with her, I was furious. I’d told her not to go, I’d known it was a stupid idea. Yet I hadn’t stopped her. I was furious with myself.
‘They must have been in the reception area, only I didn’t see them. I asked where I could find Sam Clancy, and the woman on the desk pointed me along a corridor. Only, halfway along they grabbed me. They had a good look at me, and then Kline told me to say something.’
‘You tried your American accent?’
‘Yes. The bastard hit me. So I started swearing at him, and all he did was smile. Then he told me he knew who I was and he asked me where you were.’
‘What did he call me?’
‘Weston.’
‘Not West?’
‘No, Weston. Or maybe West. I don’t know. Jesus, I was petrified, Michael.’