Enigmatic eh? So that’s what his brother is. Or so McBride says anyway. It would appear after talking to Chang that Castelano is the glue that holds this case together, the cord that binds us et cetera, cetera.
We’ve left Chang and that fuck rat Baines in the interviewing room. It won’t be too long until they’re back to their old tricks, whatever they are. In the mean time we need to hit the road. Why walk when you can run, right?
The evening has descended around the sky, plum coloured shapes reveal a rising moon every now and again as they drift in across in the cool breeze. As I glance at the moon, I see a plane go over and I’m reminded to where this case began.
‘Shall we try the Airport?’ I ask McBride as we approach the car.
‘I’m not sure, Dennis. I suppose it’s either that or the bars. Hang on, what about the docks? It’s where he tried to get out all those years ago. It’s not too far from the casinos. Could be the best place.’
‘Sold. Get in then.’
In one fluent movement I unlock the car and open the door, the key slides smoothly into the waiting ignition, like a lubed up knob. The car starts, into reverse and out of the car park.
The roads are pretty clear so we feel like we’re getting somewhere quickly. I keep the radio off to help us concentrate.
McBride starts wiggling the stick that moves the position of the wing mirror.
‘Oi. don’t fuck with that. That’s set up prefect for my racing style of driving.’
‘It’s broken.’
‘You’ve broken it then. That’s gonna cost you, ooh, about fifty quid I reckon.’
‘Piss off. It was already broken.’
‘See you in court. So… pier 82 then you think? Star Cargo Lines? I’d say if anywhere would be a good place to start that could be it.’
And at that, we approach the car park to the docks.
‘I don’t want to waste any time, I’m not parking here.’
‘I didn’t expect you too. It’s pretty quiet round here tonight.’
The conversation tails off. Focus and concentration are what’s required. A gaping hole has appeared where the ship was the other day and I realise it may be too late. Fuck. That could be the last straw. Walker’s looking for any excuse to get us off this case and the lead we were looking for could be sailing away into the distance.
Shit.
‘Go to the office, find out when it went.’
‘Is there any point?’ I question. Then I look out and see a familiar looking ship being taken out to sea by a couple of tugs. It’s just about light enough to see the paint on the side.
‘Is that it there?’
‘Fucking hell,’ McBride exclaims. ‘How are we gonna get to that? Coastguard?’
‘I’ll get on the radio.’
============================================
‘Fucking garbage!’
I’m fucking furious, they won’t stop the ship.
‘They won’t stop the ship, I’m fucking furious’ I shout in Underwood’s direction.
‘What were they saying,’ Underwood says.
‘They say they have a prior order to let the ship leave. From on high,’ I let the words hang in the air and Underwood grasps my meaning straight away. This case is way above our heads.
We are sat in Underwood’s shitty Sunny looking out at the ship slowly head in to the purple horizon. The race to the docks, the frantic call to the coastguard and the ultimate feeling of deflation and the end of the adrenalin rush make me feel ill. Underwood looks like he feels the same. We sit in this contemplative mood for what seems like years. Years falling in to the ocean, with nothing to remember them by.
—
Half an hour later we are sat in the Doggly Arms in the Artists Quarter planning what to do next. The Artists Quarter is probably the only area in town where the gangsters have no real presence. It is full of student housing and uber-cool bars and shops. The Doggly Arms is an old-style pub slap bang in the middle of all the chic bars.
‘I say we hit Chinatown. Every fucking bar, every restaurant, every fucking business in that whole fucking area,’ Underwood says, nursing a Glenfiddich whiskey.
‘How on earth are we supposed to crack this in a day?’ I say, my thoughts aloud, ‘It’s a joke, it’s not a Nick Nolte film.’
‘We know now though for sure. Walker’s on their side, we can only do what we think is best.’
‘But what is best? Who are we working for now?’
‘I honestly don’t know Aidan, but we can’t lose our sense of what’s right. We have some cheeky cunts ordering murders in our town. All we can do is solve them. We’re not superheros.’
‘No, I suppose you’re right.’
‘Of course I am. Come on let’s go crack some skulls.’ We get off our chairs and head towards the door, ‘Besides, you’d look like a right dick in tights and a cape McBride.’
—
We pull up outside the Red Dragon where the mute guy told us about Snake Eyes. We enter through the double doors and the place is packed. It is full of Oriental folk enjoying a pumping night out unbeknownst that the town is dying on the inside. There’s no table service in here tonight, just a fucking thumping sound coming from the speakers. I look at Underwood. He nods and walks towards the bar pushing through patrons as he does so. A few guys throw dirty looks at him while one little feller pushes him in the back and scampers away when Underwood turns and scowls at him.
The bar is packed, we can’t go there, in fact the whole place feels like it’s just got even busier. I’ve lost Underwood in the crowd. I spin around and a bevvy of cheeky young Chinese girls start dancing with me. I’m nearly taken in by the ladies when I hear a shout and the whole bar seemingly move like it’s balanced on a ship in a storm. Everyone in the Red Dragons seems to move in one giant, slow motion one way and then they return as people push back. I survey the scene and see a group of Chinese men throw a couple of punches at Underwood. I see one guy land on Underwood’s temple and he crumples. Something in me snaps and I blast my way through the throng.
I smash one guy straight in the face with a straight right hander. His face explodes on my knuckles. Crimson flies in the Red Dragon. I weave out of the way of a chunky twat who tries to grab me and punch him in the right temple as he falls right past me. Underwood is on the floor below me and I pick him up off the floor. He’s a heavy cunt and he’s bellowing at me. I jab another guy in the stomach but it’s too weak and I get one back in the chin. The pain makes me wince but also fires me up even more. It’s rage time.
I pick up a bottle and force it over the guy who chinned me’s head. I spin round and Underwood has hold of someone else by the throat. I use the remnants of the bottle to send the guy to the floor in a crumpled, pathetic heap. Underwood is still bellowing at me and the whole bar is now ready to take us on. I look stupidly at the roaring monster whose arm I’m holding on to. He’s shouting in my face. I can’t make it out at first but then it dawns on me.
‘Castelano!’
We head for the exit but the patrons are blocking us. I pick up some more bottles, throw a couple to Underwood and we smash them on the floor and point them at the angry mob. We edge our way out as nobody wants to risk taking on the two crazy white guys who have just possibly killed some of their fellow drinkers. We reach the doors when the bottles start flying at us. Shards and specks of glass pepper my face as we get out of the door and look left on October 1st Street- downhill. I catch a glimpse of someone running. Could it be Rowan? I chase the shadowy figure down the street. My blood and other peoples’ blood fly off my face as the wind and adrenalin put me at top speed down the main Chinatown street. The smells and sights of Chinatown flow through and out of me. Jasmine, smoke, tea, Money Exchange shops, young students are turning in to a blur as I catch up with the man ahead. It’s definitely my brother, Castelano.
I look round to see if Underwood is behind. I can’t see him. I carry on at top speed, sure that this time I’m taking my brother out of the game.
============================================
I start to give chase after McBride but I only make it a few steps before my legs turn from flesh and bone into a wobbling strand of jelly. I head back towards the car noting that I’m still full of adrenaline, the pain still hasn’t come but I know it’s on its way. I have to concentrate and jog my memory of how to walk, remembering to put one foot in the other.
When I get to the car, gravity feels like it’s forgotten where my stomach belongs and I heave all over the door but now isn’t the time. I need to get to McBride. Now. So I get in, fumbling again with my bloody hands and the car keys that don’t want to go where they need to. Key, ignition, turn, clutch, gear, biting point, accelerate and go. I reverse up to thirty and try to do one of those J turns but miscalculate badly and clip a curb as I over-steer, then overcompensate in the other direction. I’m weaving across both sides of the road wildly trying to get control of the car, then finally I ease of the petrol and the road becomes more solid and easier to manage.
I race through what happened whilst trying to concentrate on the road and look for McBride. That man in the grey suit was there in the bar, he was shouting something about Kuzinsky but I couldn’t get it inbetween those damaging body shots I was taking, then I heard ‘Castelano’ come across the air.
Then I see McBride growing in size as the distance between us gets smaller. He looks like he’s arguing with himself. I pull up, but they seem oblivious to my presence.
‘The enigmatic Castelano I presume?’
‘Underwood right? Me and Aidan need a bit of space yeh? Back off a minute.’
‘You’re not in any position to be making pleas for time and space. There’s plenty of that in Woodlands son, which is where you’ll be going.’ I spit.
His face changes and he looks at McBride. ‘Give us two minutes mate. This is complicated.’
‘I’ll be in the car.’ I turn away. Back towards the Sunny. As I climb down into the seat I feel a creak and an ache, my body sensing that the pain is coming. My temperature is lowering, my breathing rate slowing and the sweat beginning to dry off into a cool layer, chilling my skin.
And I sit. And watch. They offer very little between them in body language, it’s all tense and jittery and probably a good idea that I’m not there.
—
About ten minutes have passed before there seems to have been an agreement or stalemate reached. There’s more nodding that before and then they both start walking back to the car.
‘How’s the reunion going then boys? I’m taking the kids to Alton Towers in a couple of weeks if you fancy it?’
In unison I’m greeted with ‘Fuck off.’
‘That’s the spirit lads.’
===========================================
‘Can you turn that music off chief,’ my brother says. Underwood’s playing that soul shite again.
Underwood glares behind him at my brother in the back. I think that’s all he needs to do to get his message across.
‘So that’s a “no” then I take it?’ my brother says. I notice Underwood clench the steering wheel tighter.
‘Yes son, you are correct, this the Marvelettes and Don’t Mess With Bill. Now if you fucking ask me anything stupid again, it’ll be Don’t Mess With Dennis Because Dennis Will Tear Your Tongue Out And Make You Eat It. Is that clear “chief”?’
‘Yeah whatever mate.’
We glide on down the Roseby Way in silence for a few minutes. We’re heading to the airport at my behest. Underwood hasn’t asked me anything about my conversation with Rowan yet. I decide to take the initiative.
‘Walker had Wong killed,’ I say whilst maintaining my view outside of the window at the trees that line the great boulevard of Rosestone. Underwood nods, a grimace appears but he doesn’t speak,
‘Yeah,’ I continue, ‘Wong was helping Walker out with information, probably for a while and in the end the bastard betrayed him.’
‘Is this what he said?’ Underwood doesn’t need to even acknowledge my brother but I guess his intention.
‘Yeah.’
‘And you believe him…’
‘I do. Wong discovered the links between Walker and the Changs, through Rowan.’ This time I gesticulate with my head to the back of the car. ‘Wong apparently told Walker that he wasn’t going to work for him anymore. Proper kicked off at him, no wonder he sounded so off on the phone to me when I arranged to meet him. He must’ve thought that I was involved too.’
‘And he probably thought you were all the way to his death.’ Underwood says. He’s right Walker must have had him tailed and then executed when he was in a discreet spot. And that discreet spot happened to be at my behest. I inadvertently had contributed to Joey’s death.
Silence polluted the car again. Although I have been surrounded by death for what seems like all my life, each death in this case has affected in me in two ways. Firstly, the ability to get on with my life and file the death neatly away in a safe compartment where it doesn’t affect my everyday self has continued. Yet conversely each death has made me question the point of life itself. The futility and the cheapness of it all. The futility of death has always made me brave out death and let me rise above it. I don’t know if ‘rise above’ is the phrase I’d use but I can’t find the words in my brain to do it justice. But now it seems like the empty cavernous space in my head that I use to try and resolve these deaths is being intruded by something primitive and gnawing.
Am I finally now beginning to properly mourn my parents, and possibly also the brother I loved who is now someone I know by a pseudonym? I feel it may be so. Even more than the huge events that I have experienced; for some reason this one is hitting me hard. My emotions are swinging wildly, yet I seem to have more focus when it matters. My brain is thinking clearer than at any time, but the blurring between black and white has surpassed grey and is becoming transparent like my ethics are being washed away.
Despite feeling like we haven’t got near to solving this case it also feels like it is arriving on the crescendo. These hours will be momentous and I am scared for my own life for the first time ever.
