Simon Green - A Hard Day's Knight

One of the reasons why I’d come here. To be free of them. They terrified me. Dominated my life for so long. Gone now, at great cost to me and those who’d stood by me.

They were only one of the reasons I’d left the Nightside. I wanted to at least try to be a man rather than a monster. To live my own life rather than the one planned for me by so many vested interests. I thought I’d be safe, in the real world, as long as I didn’t use my gift, or get involved with any unnatural situations. I should have known better. It didn’t take me long to discover that, without my gift, I wasn’t half the investigator I thought I was. I helped some people, solved my fair share of cases, but made damn all money doing it. I amassed a lot of debts along the way, and made a number of real-world enemies, human monsters. Because even in the real world, no good deed goes unpunished.

Because I wouldn’t take bribes, I wouldn’t back down, and I was too damned honest for my own good.

I later found out that my once-and-future Enemies in the Nightside had orchestrated the series of tragic events that sent me running from the Nightside with Suzie’s bullet burning in my back. Their idea of mercy. A second chance, to not be the person they thought I was, or might become. I did try to take the chance they offered. But it wasn’t me. My hand drifted to my lower back, where the scar from Suzie’s bullet still ached dully when it rained. A struck-off doctor dug it out of my back while I bit down on a length of cord to keep from screaming. Welcome to the real world.

Suzie hadn’t meant to kill me. It was just her way of trying to get my attention. We forgave each other long ago.

I looked round sharply, brought back to the present by the sound of someone approaching. Slow, steady footsteps ascending the wooden stairs, making no attempt to hide themselves. Someone wanted me to know they were coming. I moved quickly over to stand behind the open door. A white trench coat may be iconic as all hell, but it does make it difficult to hide in the shadows. I stood very still, straining my ears at every sound, as the footsteps made their unhurried way along the landing, ignoring all the other offices, heading straight for mine. They stopped outside my open door, then a man walked unhurriedly in. A short, middle-aged, balding man in an anonymous coat, so nondescript in appearance he was hardly there. I relaxed, a little. I knew him. I stepped out from behind the door.

“Hello, Russell.”

He turned his head calmly, not surprised or startled in the least. He nodded once, as though we’d happened to bump into each other in the street. Russell was a small grey man, always quiet and polite, always ready to do something illegal. If the price was right. He did some work for me, back in the day. Russell did some work for a lot of people. He was a grass, a runner, and a reliable supplier of dodgy items. He never got his own hands dirty; he made it possible for other people to do what they had to. He knew all the wrong people, drank in all the worst dives, heard it all and said nothing. Until you put money in his hand. No-one liked him, but everybody used him. Russell never complained. He had self-esteem issues.

He hadn’t changed much. A little greyer, a little more rat-like. Still giving the impression that he wasn’t really there. When he spoke, it was the same old polite, self-effacing murmur that I remembered.

“Well, well. If it isn’t Mr. Taylor. Back again, after all these years. How unusual, to find you in this old place again. Most of us assumed that you had shuffled off this mortal coil, or been shuffled off it, with important bits missing. Where did you disappear to, Mr. Taylor? No-one could find you, and some people looked really hard.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I said.

“Wherever you’ve been, it would seem to have agreed with you, Mr. Taylor. You are looking very well. One might even say prosperous. Do you by any chance have the money you owe?”

“Not on me, no.”

“Oh dear. I would have to say, that is most unfortunate, Mr. Taylor. Though after all these years, I would have to say that even if you did have the money, it would not be enough. It’s the interest, you see. The emotional interest; it accumulates. Certain people are very angry with you, Mr. Taylor. You are the one who got away. The one who set a bad example ...”

“Why are you here, Russell?” I said, interrupting a flow that threatened to go on forever. “I mean, even I didn’t know I was coming here. It can’t be a coincidence, you turning up like this.”

“Hardly, Mr. Taylor. Certain people have kept this place empty, but observed, all these years. In case you showed up again.”

“Oh, come on,” I said. “I didn’t owe that much.”

“You made certain people very angry, Mr. Taylor,” Russell said simply. “It’s no longer about the money; it’s the vengeance. No-one can be allowed to get away with defying the men in charge. It’s just not done. It might give people ideas.”

“Well,” I said, “I’m glad I achieved something while I was here. But having given the matter some thought, I would have to say that I don’t give a wet fart what the men in charge want.”

“They have been watching and waiting for years, Mr. Taylor, on the chance ... And here you are! Back again, after all this time. Certain people are going to be very happy about that.”

“People have been watching my old office for years? Why?”

“For the reward, Mr. Taylor.”

“There’s a price on my head? I feel strangely flattered. How big a reward?”

“A significant amount, Mr. Taylor. In fact, I would have to say, quite a substantial reward.”

I looked at him thoughtfully. “Is that why you’re here, Russell? So soon after my return? For the reward money?”

“Not exactly, Mr. Taylor. But you know how it is ... And if I’m here, others won’t be far behind.”

“How long have I got, before word gets out?”

He smiled for the first time. “They’re already here, Mr. Taylor.”

I moved quickly over to the barred window and looked out at the street below. Several cars were parked outside that hadn’t been there before, and more were arriving. Car doors slammed loudly as armed men spilled out onto the street. They didn’t care if I knew they were there. The trap had been sprung. The men in the street were large men, serious men with serious intent. They carried their guns like they knew how to use them. I was flattered they saw me as such a dangerous threat. Everyone else was quietly disappearing off the street, including the homeless. None of them wanted to be witnesses to whatever was about to happen. Being a witness wasn’t good for your continued health.

I smiled down at the men milling outside the building. It had been a long time since anyone had come after me with only guns to back them up. But, of course, these people only knew the old me, from when I was still hiding my gift under a bushel. I looked forward to disillusioning them. Still, given the sheer number of hard men who’d turned up, it would seem Russell was right when he mentioned a substantial reward. I turned back to look at Russell. He hadn’t moved—a small grey presence in a half-lit room.

“It occurs to me,” I said, “that the reward isn’t for money returned but for me personally. Somebody wants to lay hands on me, and not in a good way.”

“Somebody bears a grudge, Mr. Taylor. Someone wants you to pay, in blood and suffering.”

There was a gun in his hand, pointing at me. I was actually shocked. I’d never seen Russell with a gun, in all the time he’d worked for me. But the gun didn’t look out of place. Something in the way Russell held his gun told me he was used to it.

“You never used to like shooters, Russell,” I said reproachfully. “You were never a violent man. First out the pub door when the fight started. What happened?”