“Did she manage to get the chocolate?”
My heart contracts. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Good. It’s a good thing I remembered in time.”
“Thanks for helping Sofia, Ma.” I throw the wet towel into the washing basket and, naked, head for the cupboard.
“Awww. I love that girl. When are you going to put a ring on her finger?”
I swallow the lump. “As soon as I can, Ma. As soon as I can.”
“She’s a good girl.”
I die a little inside at the injustice of life. “I got to go now, Ma. I just called to see that you were all right and to thank you for everything.”
“Thank me for what?”
“For being so kind to Sofia. For treating her like your own daughter.”
“Don’t be talking nonsense now,” she says gruffly.
“Bye, Ma.”
“Bye son.”
“Ma?”
“I love you.”
“Oh, Jack. I love you too.”
I terminate the call and open my wardrobe door. My last will and testament is all in order, and everything will go to her. She will be a rich woman. Not that she will want it. I guess she can give it all away.
A text comes through. It’s a photo of Valdislav. I look at him, my stomach filling with acid. Hate surges into me. I stare at him for a moment longer. The sly eyes, the self-satisfied smirk. We will meet soon, you sick bastard. Very soon. Then we’ll see how you smirk.
Then I click out of it. My hands are completely steady and I feel utterly focused on my mission.
I dial Lana’s number, and putting the phone down, step into a pair of underpants.
“Hi, Jack,” she says brightly.
I sit on the bed and pull on my socks. I’m always going to love this woman. Always. “Hey, Lana. I just wanted you to know that I’ll always love you. You’re truly the sister I never had.”
She laughs. “You’re getting soft in the head, Irish. What’s all this in aid of?”
“Nothing. Sometimes it’s good to tell people what they mean to you.”
“Well, you know exactly how I feel about you.”
“I do, Lana. Anyway, is Sorab there?”
“Right here, actually, but before I put him on, want to do dinner together next week? The four of us?”
My voice doesn’t falter. “Sure, why not.”
“Okay. I’ll arrange something and liaise with Sofia.”
“Fine.”
“Bye, Jack. Here is your godson now.”
“Hello, Uncle Jack.” His voice is bright and full of life.
“Hello, Dragon Slayer.”
“Are you coming over tonight, Uncle Jack?”
“Not tonight, but I hope you’re being a good boy.”
“I am,” he says instantly. “Uncle Jack?” His voice is full of excitement.
“Yeah.”
“I’m getting a dog tomorrow from the Rescue Center.”
“Wow! That’s brilliant.”
“He’s only got three legs, but he chose me. He came up to me and licked my hand, and I knew he was for me.”
For the strangest reason my eyes burn with tears. “What are you going to call him?”
“I’m going to call him Jack Double.”
I close my eyes. Sorab will show this world how it is done. I will die happy knowing that a child like him exists in this world. If my only legacy will be to lend my name to a three-legged dog belonging to him, I am content.
“I’ve got to go, Sorab, but I want you to always remember that I’m so proud of you.”
“Nite nite, Uncle Jack.”
“Goodbye, Sorab.”
Quickly, I get into a black turtle neck jumper and trousers. I pull my sneakers out from the bottom of my cupboard and lace them up. They are more silent than ordinary shoes.
Next, I go to my drawer and take out the knife I’ve had since I was a kid. Noah thinks I’m taking a knife to a gun fight, but not many people can do with a gun what I can with a knife. I slip it into the back of my jeans waistband. There is also another smaller knife in the drawer. I slip that into my right sock.
Going into the kitchen, I fish out the half-cooked meat from the stew, ladle the pieces into a plastic bag, and tie the top securely. Opening the fridge, I take out the expensive bottle of champagne that Sofia was saving for Valentine’s day. I stuff the bottle and the meat into a shopping bag.
With Mika following closely behind, I go into the living room. I pick up my phone and look up the address of Valdislav’s brothel on Google Maps. It is at the end of the road in a residential area. Navigating around the neighborhood, I find that the house opposite seems to be built in exactly the same design.
I leave the key under the mat and go out to meet my fate.
Forty-five
Jack
Harry’s practice is not far from Victoria Station, so I get there quite quickly using the same bully boy method I employed earlier. I don’t see any traffic wardens so I brazenly park on the sidewalk outside his premises and dash inside.
He takes me to his office.
“What’s going on?” he asks.
“I haven’t got the time to explain, Harry.”
“Fine. What do you need?”
“I need tranquilizers. Give me enough to put four men down.”
His eyebrows shoot up into his receding hairline. “Whoa. What have you got yourself involved in?”
My impatience must have flashed in my eyes because he lifts his hands up, palms facing me and backs off. “Don’t eat me. I’ll go get them for you.”
“Have you got a tranquilizer gun?”
This time he turns around and stares at me. “Are you serious?”
“I need to take down at least three dogs. Two pitbulls and one rottie.”
He shakes his head as if he just can’t believe what he is hearing, then nods. “Yeah, I’ll get it for you.”
He brings them to me and gives me a quick demo on how to use the gun. He hands me the tranquilizer injections. “Use them with care. Each one is enough to bring down a very small horse or a very big man.”
I slip them into my jacket pocket. “Thanks. Now can I have your coat and a nametag if you have one lying around?”
Wordlessly, he roots around in one of his drawers and finds a nametag. He takes off his white coat and gives both items to me.
I take the coat and pin the nametag on it. “Do you have a clipboard and pen?”
He puts both his hands up again as if he has quit trying to figure out what is happening and goes to a back room. He comes back with a clipboard and pen.
I take them from him and cast my eyes on the things on his table top. “Thanks. One last thing. Can I have an A4 paper with some lines or boxes on it. Something that looks like a form.”
He doesn’t say anything, just returns to the room at the back and comes back with a stack of forms with boxes, words and lines on it.
“Oh, and either your credit card machine or a calculator.”
“No way man. I need my credit card machine, but you can have my calculator. It’s out front at reception,” he says, leading the way there. He reaches behind the counter and comes up with a medium sized calculator. If I’m lucky it will do.
“Brilliant. Thanks. I owe you one, Harry,” I say.
“You owe me at least five,” he says.
I push open his glass door and see a stony-faced traffic warden writing a ticket for my car. I run to my car and jump into it.
“Once I have issued the ticket you still have to pay it,” he hollers as I roar off.
The journey to Tower Bridge takes me just under half an hour, even with me blaring my horn and acting like a total jerk.
I park the car, take my jacket off and get into Harry’s white coat. Buttoning it up, I take the clipboard and the calculator, and stride confidently to the end of the road. I don’t even glance at the house I am interested in. Instead, I walk to the house opposite. Thank god, there are lights on. Through the window I can see three kids sitting at a table doing their homework. I ring the bell.