Stephen Leather - Tango One

The door opened wide. Nick Parker was middle aged and slightly overweight with a paunch held in by pinstripe trousers that seemed to be a size too small for him.

"Yes?" he said. His hair was thinning on top and he'd tried to conceal his bald spot with a comb-over.

"Is this him?" Donovan asked Kris. Kris nodded.

"What do you want?" Parker asked.

Donovan pushed him in the chest. Parker staggered back and Donovan rushed after him down the hallway. Kris followed him inside and closed the door. Framed pictures of hunting dogs lined the wall to his left and there was a huge gilt-framed mirror to the right. Donovan grabbed Parker's collar and flung him against the mirror. The glass cracked and pieces tinkled to the floor. Parker tried to speak but no words came out, just incoherent mumbling.

Donovan kept a grip on Parker's shirt collar and dragged him along the hallway. Parker scrambled along on all fours, choking. Donovan pulled him into the sitting room, then kicked him in the side. Parker fell on his back, gasping for breath.

Donovan looked around the room. The -windows overlooked the street, but there were net curtains so no one could see in. Two overstuffed sofas in a beige fabric sat on either side of a large Victorian black metal fireplace. The room was quite feminine with porcelain figurines in a glass cabinet and crystal vases full of flowers on side tables.

"Is he married?" asked Donovan.

"Divorced," said Kris, who was standing in the doorway, staring down at Parker.

"Wife left him a year or two back."

Parker rolled over on to his stomach and tried to get to his feet.

Donovan leaned down, grabbed him by the collar and yanked him up on his knees, then dragged him across the carpet and slammed his head into the fireplace. Parker's nose crunched against the metal and blood streamed down his face.

"Please… no… no…" he stuttered.

Donovan kicked him in the ribs and felt a satisfying crack. Parker rolled up in a foetal ball.

"Den…" said Kris.

Donovan turned around and pointed a finger at her.

"Don't say anything," he said.

"Stay in the hall if you want, but this has to be done."

Kris put a hand over her mouth but stayed where she was. Donovan smiled at the look of horror on her face. It was a look he'd seen many times before on people unused to violence. Real violence. Not the sort they were used to on television or in the movies, but the real thing with treacly red blood and splintered cartilage and broken bones.

Donovan turned back to Parker, who was coughing and spluttering.

"Who are you?" Parker gasped.

Donovan stepped over him and pulled a brass poker off its stand at the edge of the fireplace. He hefted it in his hand. It was a solid, heavy piece of metal.

"My wallet's in the bedroom," said Parker.

"Take what you want." He tried to get up but all the strength had gone from his legs and he fell back on to the carpet.

"I don't want your money," said Donovan.

"This isn't about money." He walked over to Parker and stood over him.

"You know Louise, yeah? From Angels?"

Parker put his hand up to his face.

"You've broken my nose," he said, his voice faltering.

"I'm going to break more than that," said Donovan.

"You know Louise, yeah?"

"Who are you? Her boyfriend?"

Donovan leaned down and grabbed a handful of Parker's thinning hair. He put his face close up to Parker's.

"No, I'm not her boyfriend. She doesn't want a boyfriend. She wants to be left alone. Do you understand that?"

"I love her," said Parker. Tears began to trickle down his face, mingling with the blood from his nose and mouth. Donovan felt a wave of revulsion for the man.

"You don't love her," said Donovan.

"You're obsessed with her. You've built some sad little fantasy around her, that's all. She doesn't love you. She doesn't even like you.

She's scared of you."

"If I could just talk to her…" said Parker.

Donovan shook his head.

"No, you're never going to talk to her again. You're not going anywhere near her, ever again."

"She loves me…" wailed Parker.

Donovan twisted Parker's hair savagely and raised the poker above his head.

"Den, no!" shouted Kris.

"Go into the hall, Kris," said Donovan, without looking at her.

"Den…" she protested.

"Do it, Kris."

Parker tried to grab the poker but Donovan knelt down beside him and banged his head against the carpeted floor.

"Listen to me, and listen good!" Donovan hissed.

"You go near her again, and I'll kill you. Do you hear me?"

Parker nodded.

"I want to hear you say it," said Donovan.

"I hear you," said Parker, his voice trembling. He tried to clear his throat but began to choke on his own phlegm.

"Do you understand?" hissed Donovan.

Parker nodded.

"I can't hear you," said Donovan.

Parker spat bloody phlegm on to the carpet.

"I understand."

"I hope you believe me, Nick, because I can and will do it. And this is just a taste of what it'll be like." Donovan brought the poker smashing down on to Parker's right knee. The kneecap cracked like a pistol shot and Parker screamed. Donovan clamped a hand over the man's mouth.

"Hush," said Donovan.

Parker's whole body was trembling. Bloody froth pulsed between Donovan's fingers but he kept his hand over Parker's mouth until he'd stopped screaming. Donovan hit him again, whacking the left knee dead centre. Parker's eyes rolled upwards and he passed out.

Donovan stood up. He pulled out Parker's shirt-tail and used it to wipe the handle of the poker.

Kris was standing by the front door, hugging herself. She looked at him, then quickly looked away. Donovan gently held her chin between his thumb and first finger and turned her face towards him. She looked into his eyes, frowning as if she were trying to work out what he was thinking. Donovan smiled.

"He asked for it, Kris," he said.

"I know," she said quietly.

"You saw the marks on Louise's face. He hit her."

"I know," she said, with more certainty this time.

"This way he won't do it again."

Kris put her hands on his shoulders. She kissed him on the cheek.

"You don't have to explain, Den. I was just… shocked. Surprised.

That's all."

Donovan nodded.

"A week or two in hospital. He'll be fine." That was a lie, Donovan knew. Parker would be in bed for a month, and wouldn't be walking for at least six. So far as Donovan was concerned, it served Parker right, but he didn't think Kris would want to hear that.

"Do you want to run me home?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said in mock seriousness.

"What'll you do to me if I say no? Punch me in the face?"

Donovan laughed and licked the blood off his knuckles.

Kris pulled the MGB over at the kerb but kept the engine running. She looked out of the window at Donovan's house.

"Nice," she said.

"Yeah. Do you wanna buy it?" said Donovan, deadpan.

"Oh yeah, like I can afford a place like that. How much is it worth?"

"I dunno. Prices have gone crazy over the last year or so. Three mill, maybe."

Kris whistled softly.

"You live there alone?"

Donovan shook his head.

"No. Not really."

"That sounds a bit vague, Den."

"Yeah, well, I'm sort of in a transition stage at the moment. My wife has left me."

Kris grinned.

"The number of times I've heard that. My wife doesn't understand me.

We've grown apart. She hasn't touched me since the children were born.

Blah, blah, blah."

"My son found her in bed with another man."

Kris's mouth fell open.

"You're serious?"

"Deadly."

She nodded at the house.

"So is your boy in there now?"

Donovan shook his head.

"Nah, he's staying with my sister until I get things sorted."