Simon Kernick - A Good day to die

'Life's too short for regrets.'

'Yours is gonna be. You're a dead man, mate.'

'Can the threats and keep moving, baldie,' I said, realizing that I was beginning to enjoy myself. Detective work was infinitely more rewarding when you didn't have to play by any rules.

He glared at me, but opened the door and did as he was told. Jer also managed a glare, but his lacked conviction. I watched them as they walked along the balcony towards the steps, Tom already talking on his mobile phone, doubtless calling up reinforcements with guns.

I didn't have much time.

I shut the door again and put the chain across, then replaced the gun, before returning to the bathroom, where Delly was trying without much success to free his hand from the rope that bound it to the shower hook. The blood from his ear was running down onto his left shoulder. It was a messy injury.

He swivelled round as I came in, no sign of recognition in his eyes. 'Can you get me down from here?' he whined in a high-pitched voice that hadn't changed a great deal since he was thirteen years old. 'Please.'

'I need to ask you some questions. You answer me quickly and truthfully, I'll cut you down.'

'Come on, man, you can't-'

'What did those two want?'

He gave me a pleading look, but it didn't work. I stared him down and repeated the question.

'I dunno,' he answered. He pronounced it Adanoo, using the same harsh, ghetto-style pronunciations that seemed to be all the rage amongst the kids round here these days. 'There was this knock on the door. I opened it and one of them smacks me with an 'ammer. Doosh! Just like that. Then the bastards dragged me in here and strung me up like this. I tried asking them what the fuck they wanted, but they didn't say nothing. Not a word. And then the one with the goatee pulled out that chopper thing and sliced me ear with it. You seen it anywhere? The bit he took off?' He began scanning the filthy linoleum floor for his missing body part.

'We'll find it in a minute,' I snapped, keen not to waste time. 'And what did they do after that? Did they ask you anything, or were they just cutting you up for the fun of it?'

'They wanted to know about me brother.'

At last, we were getting somewhere. 'Your brother Jason? The one who was murdered.'

He nodded rapidly. 'That's right. They wanted to know why he was meeting with that copper on the night he got killed.'

'And what did you say?'

'I didn't know,' he shouted, beginning to lose patience. 'I hadn't seen me bro for weeks before he got wasted. That's what I told 'em, but the bastards never believed me. They was gonna start on my fingers. Then you turned up.'

I was confused. 'You don't know who these men were? They told me when I came in here that they worked for someone big, someone not to be fucked around with. Who do you think that might be? Who do you think those two were working for?'

He rubbed his free hand — the one I'd saved — against the wounded ear, watching me at the same time through screwed-up features. It made him look like a rat. It struck me then that he'd always looked like a rat. Cunning and vicious. I had no doubt that he deserved to lose a few fingers.

'Look, man, just cut me down from here, OK?'

'No. Answer the question.'

'Why the fuck should I?' he demanded, not in the least bit appreciative that my intervention had saved him from further injury.

I pointed the gun at his groin. 'Because if you don't, I'll blow your fucking balls off. That's why.'

He exhaled theatrically, and I think he knew that I had no desire to shoot him. I noticed that a rivulet of blood from his ear had now reached his ribcage. 'You heard of Nicholas Tyndall?' he asked, swivelling round slightly on the hook.

I told him I kept hearing of Nicholas Tyndall.

'Me brother used to do some work for him, dealing gear. A while back. I saw him with one of them geezers before, so I reckon Tyndall's the one who sent them here.'

Which meant that Tyndall hadn't known what Malik's meeting with Jason Khan had been about. So he couldn't have set it up. Not for the first time in the last few days, I felt myself being pushed towards a dead end.

I looked at my watch. I'd been in here about three minutes, and didn't want to hang around much longer. It was no way to conduct an interview. Jamie started trying to free himself again, turning his back on me.

'Who do you think wanted your brother dead?'

'I don't know, man. Like I say, I never saw him much, y'know. He lived with his woman over near Caledonian Road.'

'And now she's dead too.'

'Cut me down, man. Please. Me ear's doing me in.'

'Give me a name.'

'Wassat?'

'A name. Someone who knew your brother and his girlfriend. Someone I can talk to. Then I'll cut you down.'

'I told you, man. I didn't see him much. I dunno who his mates was.'

'A name.'

He jerked his right arm back hard, trying either to break free of his bonds or pull the shower rail from the wall, whichever came first. Except neither did. He cursed with frustration while I waited and watched, counting the seconds, knowing Tyndall's men would be back soon. And knowing too that if he couldn't provide me with at least something, I would have wasted my time here.

'I used to sell a bit of weed to one of Annie's mates. Y'know, Annie who was Jason's woman. The mate's name was Andrea or something. Last name began with B.'

'I need to know how to find her.'

'How the fuck am I meant to know how to find her? I ain't seen her in months.'

Four minutes, and I was losing patience. I came forward fast, grabbed him by the hair and shoved his head back against the mildew-stained wall, pushing the barrel of the gun into his bloodied cheek. 'If I were you, I'd start racking your brains,' I hissed. 'Real fucking quickly. Else a misshapen ear'll be the least of your problems. Understand?'

He finally got the message. 'All right, all right, cool it, man,' he begged, the words spilling out fast. 'I got an old address book in a drawer in the lounge. Beneath the telly. It'll be in there. That's where I keep all me contacts.'

I released the pressure on the gun and left him hanging there while I strode back through to the lounge, conscious of the ticking clock. I pulled open the drawer beneath the TV and rummaged round until I found a crumpled pocket-sized address book under a pile of DVDs and a huge bag of grass. I flicked through the pages until I got to 'B' and was pleased to find that Islington's schools had at least taught Delly something. There was an Andrea Bloom in there, along with an address in Hackney and a mobile phone number, scrawled in barely legible childlike handwriting. Since she was the only Andrea in the 'B' section, I felt it safe to assume it was her. I pocketed the address book and went back into the bathroom.

Jamie had given up struggling. He hung there limply, his head bowed, looking a terrible mess. I almost felt sorry for him.

He looked up as I came back in, and I thought I saw a flicker of recognition in the cunning rat eyes. It was time to go.

Trying to avoid his gaze, I used the Swiss Army knife to cut through his bonds, wrinkling my nose at the sour smell coming off him. While I was slicing away at the ropes they'd used, I asked him how well his brother had known Asif Malik.

Not surprisingly, he hadn't known. 'But when Jason was gonna become a Muslim an' that, I know he talked to Malik about it,' he said. 'He wanted some advice.' The last strand of the rope came free, and Jamie collapsed in a heap in the filthy bathtub. He touched his ruined ear tenderly, then looked up at me. 'Who the fuck are you, man?' he asked, and I knew then that he still had no idea of my true identity.

'The person who made sure you stayed in possession of all your fingers and toes,' I told him. 'Remember that.'