Part 5 (1/2)
”Look, Ms Gleason”
”Kath, please.”
”All right, thanks, but I don't think talking about it helps.”
For a second he thought the call had ended, then: ”I'm going to see the Brezhinski boy on Sat.u.r.day. Would it help if you came along?”
”Brezhinski?”
”The boy the other two set upon.”
”s.h.i.+t. How is he?”
”At home, still months away from returning to school. His parents asked me to pa.s.s on their regrets, say how sorry they were about Sophie. I think they'd like to tell you in person.”
”I'm in London at the moment.”
”Oh. Yes I think I knew that you travel a lot.”
Too much. So many hours spent in airports and railway stations, driving on motorways and highways. And that was after the years of active service, months at a time anywhere on the b.l.o.o.d.y planet. Maybe if he'd taken a more sensible path, they might have moved house to suit a settled career, put Sophie in a different school, and she'd still be all right instead of ”Perhaps I shouldn't have called.”
”No, it's all right.””Call me, please, if you decide to come. And I'm so sorry, Mr c.u.mberland.”
”Josh.”
”All right. Bye-bye.”
”Bye.”
Thumbing his phone display, he scrolled through the contacts list until he reached those those entries: entries: Sophie Sophie, the mobile he would never ring again; and Sophie2 Sophie2, which he chose now. It took a second to contact the URI and form the connection, so that her image brightened in the phone. She's so small. The picture was realtime video but might almost have been a photo: white sheets, stacked monitors, child-sized mask like some toy biowarfare kit, and her small chest scarcely moving in response to the machines, for they performed the breathing.
All unchanging, until the day when she would leave that place; and while they had not begun to discuss the matter yet, he expected the coffin would be white.
My baby girl.
She'd say to that: ”Dad, I'm ten and a half, you know.”
Ten and a half forever.
High above the plaza, lightning flashed, white and purple; and then the rain came down. At the pointed apex of the tower, the trizep airs.h.i.+p was bucking in the wind. Everyone else at ground level stopped to look up as a crump crump sounded. The airs.h.i.+p had struck the building and bounced off. sounded. The airs.h.i.+p had struck the building and bounced off.
”They'd better let it go. Unhitch it, or whatever.” It was a young woman who spoke: twenty years old, short skirt, violet lipstick. ”Gonna be a right smash-up otherwise.”
There was another thump, then something cracked, and the trizep's cable dropped away like a flying tree snake, making S-shaped curves as it fell.
”A kite in the wind.” She raised her eyebrows at Josh. ”Wouldn't like to be on board that thing.”
”Er, yeah.”
”So you looking for some friends.h.i.+p?”
”Is that what you call it?” But his blood was flowing downward, stirring. ”Why not?”
Christ, I'm going with her.
Just like that, she slipped her arm through his. He forced away the voice inside his head asking how many times a night she did this.
”I have got a nice place we can go.”
”Good. Er... How much?”
”Thirty all the way, dirty s.e.x is fifty.”
He wondered what the difference was.
”I, er, need to go via a cash machine.”
She tossed her head, tightening her hold on his arm.
”This way, lover.”
As they walked, she took hold of his hand, and rubbed it across her b.u.t.tock like a promise. Nothing beneath the thin skirt save warm flesh.
b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l.
”You're beautiful,” he told her.
The kind of beauty he could purchase by the hour. He could pay phone-to-phone but that would leave a traceable transaction. By the time they reached the lobby of ATMs, he felt shaky. His fingers trembled as he withdrew the fifty.
Don't do this.
He had the money, the opportunity, and no one to stop him.
Don't.
He pushed out a breath and handed over twenty. ”Sorry, I can't. But that's for you.”
Then he kissed her on the cheek.
”What is wrong? We can do whatever you want. I like you very much.”
”That's nice, but no, thank you.”