John Matthews - Ascension Day

Tally’s eyes gleamed wildly, his breath falling short. Larry had the measure of him now, and he could see from Tally’s eyes that a part of him knew it too — though still fighting against it through a fireball mist of adrenalin and hatred — and as Tally lunged again, Larry side-stepped easily and gripped his knife-arm, snapping it at the joint against his thigh.

Larry snatched the shiv and had Tally twisted around in a forearm neck grip, the shiv blade tight at his throat, before Silass could move in. He backed away a step and pressed the blade hard against Tally’s skin, drawing a tear-drop of blood. Silass and Jay-T glared back challengingly, but held back.

Flurry of boot-steps in the background, Warrell and another two guards appearing, Roddy just behind them. Warrell held one hand up towards him.

‘Don’t do it, Larry!’

‘Why not? I’m dying tomorrow — I’ve got fuck-all to lose.’ The alarm bell started jangling then, more guards starting to appear behind Warrell.

‘Because…’ Warrell was lost for a second for an answer. ‘Because, what’s the point?’

Larry glared back defiantly. ‘The point is, getting rid of this slimy fuck once and for all! After I’ve gone tomorrow, how long do you think Roddy’s going to last with Tally still alive?’ He jabbed the shiv tighter against Tally’s neck, drawing another teardrop of blood. ‘I’d be doing not only Roddy a favour, but everyone else around here. One last good deed before I go!’

‘With that busted arm… he’s not going to be able to do much for a while in any case,’ Warrell said.

‘He’s still got one good arm.’ And, impulse reaction, Larry jammed the shiv into Tally’s good arm by his biceps, grinding it around and feeling it tear through muscle, Tally roaring with the pain. Then, as Silass and one of the guards moved half a step closer, he pulled it out and put it tight again to Tally’s throat.

At that moment, he could think of nothing better than slitting Tally’s throat, rid Libreville of him once and for all, but then, as if reading his thoughts, a voice came from the back of the circle of guards.

‘This ain’t you, Larry. Don’t do it. You’re not a killer.’ Torvald Engelson.

Larry’s eyes fixed on Torvald as he came to the forefront to stand by Warrell. ‘Don’t pride yourself, Tor. You don’t know me that well. And that’s not what the State of Louisiana and the judge said.’

Torvald closed his eyes for a second in submission. ‘I didn’t know you then, Larry, so I can’t say what happened. But I think I know you well enough now: you’re not a killer. And if you do this now, you might not get where you want to tomorrow.’ Torvald closed his eyes again fleetingly, hating himself for playing the religious card now on Larry, but not knowing what else to do. ‘Like you said to me the other day — a question of whether God believes in you , Larry. Whether he’s going to accept and understand if you do this now.’

Larry felt himself split like never before in that instant: between what his gut and instinct told him was right, and his heart and conscience said was wrong. Larry felt himself start shaking, his eyes filling as he thought again of the warm reverie of only minutes ago, and him standing here now, cold and shivering, blood streaming down him as he held a shiv to another man’s throat.

‘I don’t know what to think any more, Tor. Long ago given up on what’s right and wrong in here. I…’ But his body language said then what his words were unable to finish. His grip weakened on Tally’s neck.

Sensing his indecision, the guards moved in. And as the last of Larry’s resolve went and the shiv slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor, they grabbed him and carried him away, Larry nodding towards Torvald with tight-lipped acceptance; Larry not even sure whether it was in thanks, or simply acknowledgement that Torvald knew him better than most.

Killer? Not killer? Twelve long years Larry had been asking himself that same question, along with a few other people that had got to know him along the way; and still now, in his final hours, the question was being asked.

Alaysha found that whenever she was back at her own apartment or Jac’s next door, every small sound on the corridor outside made the hairs stand up on the back of her neck.

For that reason, she’d spent as much time as she could at her mother’s place, and when she did need to be back home would grab what she needed from her own apartment, then go quickly next door to Jac’s. With Molly some nights, without when she was working and needed an hour or so to get ready at her own place, Molly already dropped off with Alaysha’s mom.

The first night she’d done that, she’d spent half an hour sorting out her clothes and putting on make-up at her own place — but then a sound outside on the corridor had made her skin bristle. When she looked through the spy-hole, it was nothing, visitors to another apartment three doors down; but it suddenly made her more aware of what would have happened if it had been something. She moved her main clothes and her make-up bag permanently next door to Jac’s.

Secrets . She hadn’t told her mother about robbing Malastra. Didn’t want her to shoulder any burden or guilt over what the money had been for. It was for your dialysis and treatment, Mom. I know it might have been foolish, but we’re talking about your life here !

The only person that knew was Jac. And he wasn’t here for her to talk to any more, tell him that with each passing hour her nerves were mounting, jumping out of her skin at the smallest sound outside. She’d been hoping to see him the next night, but there was a message on her answer-phone when she’d grabbed a couple of things before coming to his place to do her make-up for work.

‘Alaysha. Adam here. I can’t make our meeting tomorrow night, I’m afraid. I’ve had to leave the country unexpectedly. In fact, I’m on my way right now. Something to do with that big deal I mentioned. I’ll call you as soon as I get back.’

Adam . The name he’d chosen, his father’s, in case the police were listening in on her line, Jac changing his accent yet again from his own or Ayliss’s. Big deal : Durrant. A lot of echoing and noise in the background, sounded as if he was actually phoning from the airport.

They’d arranged to meet at nine o’clock, three hours after Durrant’s scheduled execution. It would all be over by then; Jac would have been able to share with her how everything had gone. One way or the other. Tears on her shoulder, or cracking a bottle of champagne together.

Alaysha focused in the mirror as she started applying her eyeliner. Some life they were living: her boyfriend like a chameleon, on the run for murder, and her sneaking around from one place to another, anywhere but -

Her nerves suddenly leapt, her eyeliner pencil dog-legging off a quarter-inch, as she heard her doorbell ring next door. She hadn’t even heard anyone come along the corridor! She padded silently in her stocking-feet to the door, looking to the side through the spy-hole: a messenger. FedEx, complete with buff uniform.

He rang the bell again, and at that moment Mrs Orwin’s door opened behind him. He pointed to Alaysha’s door, saying something about ‘special delivery’, though Alaysha couldn’t see a package in his hand, and then her heart froze as Mrs Orwin’s bony finger lifted and pointed to Jac’s apartment.

She’d noticed Mrs Orwin peering out a couple of times the night before as she’d gone between one apartment and the other, perhaps eager to alert the police in case that ‘killer McElroy’ returned, and obviously she’d done the same tonight.