Simon Kernick - The Business of Dying

'I'll join you, I think,' I told him.

I got up and we started to walk across the grass in the direction of the boating lake. Some kids who should have been in school were playing football and a few mothers were out strolling with pushchairs, but other than that the park was quiet.

I didn't beat about the bush. 'What the fuck happened, Raymond? You told me I was shooting drug dealers.'

Raymond attempted a rueful smile but he didn't look overly guilty. 'Give me a break, Dennis. I could hardly have told you the real targets, could I? You wouldn't have shot them.'

'I know I wouldn't have shot them! That's the point. You got me involved in something that's against everything I stand for.'

Raymond stopped and looked at me, a smile playing on his lips. Angry or not, it was obvious he knew there was nothing I could do about the situation. He had me pinned, and he knew I knew it.

'No, Dennis. That's where you're wrong. You got yourself involved. Admittedly, I embellished the truth a little bit-'

'You mean you lied.'

'But I needed them out of the way, and knowing – and all credit to you for this, Dennis – knowing your moral standpoint on this sort of thing, I thought I'd withhold some of the details. But I don't want you to lose sleep over it. These blokes were pondscum. They were blackmailing some associates of mine and the associates wanted them out of the way.' He sighed meaningfully. 'They were corrupt men, Dennis.'

'And that's meant to make me feel better, is it?'

'If it's any consolation to you, it makes me feel bad as well. I don't like the idea of men dying. Human life is a very precious thing, not to be taken away lightly. If there was any other way, any other way at all, you can claim a bet that I would have tried it.'

The phrase 'claim a bet' was one of Raymond's favourites, even though it meant absolutely nothing, and I'd never in my life heard a single other person utter it. Hearing it now annoyed me.

'Raymond, you have fucked me up. Do you have any idea the sort of pressure the murder of customs officers is going to generate? It's not like shooting three dealers who no one's going to miss. These were family men who died doing the job they loved.'

'They were blackmailers who died because they were trying to blackmail the wrong sort of people. That's what they were.'

'But that's not what the media are going to say, is it? To them, these guys are the thin blue line, brutally murdered in the line of duty. They're going to be clamouring for a result on this. And you can claim a fucking bet on that.'

'Don't be facetious, Dennis.'

'I'm being serious. Deadly serious. The pressure to get a result on this one is going to be massive.'

'But they're not going to get a result, are they? We've done everything needed to cover our tracks. It was a well-planned operation. All credit to you for that, Dennis. It was a professional job.'

He started to walk again, and I followed. To him, the conversation was effectively over. He'd said his piece, tried to smooth the ruffled feathers of his part-time employee, and now it was time to move on.

I then did a stupid thing, a very stupid thing, that was to cause me and plenty of other people a lot of grief. I told him I'd been seen.

That stopped him dead. Which, of course, I knew it would.

'What do you mean?' There was an edge to his voice now and I wasn't sure if it was anger or nervousness. Probably both. Immediately I regretted opening my mouth. I'd just wanted to punch a hole in the smug air of confidence he was exuding, and it looked like I'd been only too successful.

'I mean, I was seen. One of the staff, a kitchen girl or something.'

'Did she get a good look?'

'No. It was dark and raining, and she was a fair way away.'

'How far?'

'Fifteen, maybe twenty yards. And I had my head down. I doubt if she could give much of a description.'

'Good.' He seemed mollified. 'Why didn't they say anything about that on the news?'

'On something like this, where there's evidence that it was a planned killing, they won't want to risk putting the witness in any danger. Also, they'll still be questioning her.'

'How come you didn't shoot her?'

'Would you have wanted me to?'

'Well, it mightn't have been a bad idea.'

'What? Four killings? Come on, Raymond, this is England, not Cambodia.'

'Well, if you didn't think she saw anything, then I suppose there'd have been no point.'

'I don't think she saw anything.'

'Maybe not, then. There's no point killing anyone unnecessarily.'

'Especially when human life's such a precious thing.'

Raymond glared at me. He wasn't the sort of man who liked having the piss taken out of him. 'I don't really think you're in a position to get on your high horse, Dennis, do you?'

'So what were these customs men doing, Raymond, that was so bad they had to die?'

'As I said, they were blackmailing some associates of mine. Associates who are very important to the smooth running of my business.'

'That doesn't really answer my question.'

'Well, my apologies, Dennis, but that's all the details available at present.'

'It said only two of them were customs. Who was the other one?'

'Why so interested? You can't bring them back.'

'I want to know who I killed, and why.'

Raymond sighed theatrically. 'He was another piece of pondscum. He thought he was setting the other two up. In that, he was wrong. Now that's all I'm going to say on the matter.'

I took a last drag on my cigarette and stubbed it underfoot, still feeling pissed off.

'Look, think of it from my perspective,' he continued. 'Just for a moment. I needed the job done and you're the best man I've got for that sort of work. It's unfortunate that your main talent lies in that direction; it's a particularly barbaric skill to possess, but there you go.'

'You didn't have to use me. A man like you's got other contacts.'

'What did you expect me to do? Ring round and get quotes in? I had no choice, Dennis. That's the long and the short of it. I had no choice.'

'Don't ever ask me to do anything like that again.'

Raymond shrugged, seemingly none too concerned. 'Last night was a one-off. It won't happen again.' He looked at his watch, then back at me. 'I'm going to have to go. I've got a punter at two o'clock.'

'A dead one or a live one?'

'She's deceased,' he said sternly. 'A car accident. Beautiful-looking girl, and only twenty-three… her whole life in front of her.' He crossed his hands in front of him and was silent for a moment, I assumed out of respect for the dead. Then it was back to business. 'Anyway, I've got to prepare and time's getting on. I don't want the poor thing to be late for her own funeral.'

'That's very thoughtful of you.'

'Thoughtfulness costs nothing, Dennis.'

'Which reminds me. There's the small matter of my remuneration.'

'As if I'd forget.' He fished a key out of the breast pocket of his expensive-looking suit and chucked it over to me. 'The money's in a locker at King's Cross. The same place as last time.'

I put the key in the inside pocket of my suit, resisting the urge to thank him. There wasn't, I concluded, a great deal to thank him for.

Sensing my continued annoyance, he flashed me a salesman's smile. 'You did a good job, Dennis. It won't be forgotten.'

'No,' I said. 'Somehow, I don't think it will.' After we'd parted company I grabbed a sandwich at a cafe just off the Marylebone Road. They didn't do anything with sushi in it so I ordered smoked salmon, thinking it was probably the next best thing. The sandwich tasted like cardboard, but I wasn't sure whether that was as a result of the poor-quality bread or my own numbed tastebuds. I ate about three quarters of it, washing it down with a bottle of overpriced mineral water, then smoked two cigarettes in quick succession.