The White Trilogy: A White Arrest, Taming the Alien, The McDead (38 page)

A She’d physically attack him,

B She’d verbally attack him,

C A
and
B.

Or, worse, report him.

He was playing these various scenes when she appeared in the corridor and ... she was smiling! Jeez, he thought, has she a knife? His experience linked women’s smiles to violence.

‘Hi,’ she said.

‘Oh right ... listen, about last night ... I... She waved him quiet, said, ‘I’m the one who needs to apologise. I blacked out after the pub, you must have taken me home.’

‘Ahm ... yeah ... I did ... you don’t remember?’

‘I am mortified. Please let me make it up to you.’

‘What?’

‘Dinner at my place, Friday ... eight o’ clock ... do you eat curry?’

‘Curry ... sure, that’s great ... I’ll bring some wine.’

She gave a shy smile, ‘Just mineral water for me. I want to remember this night.’

‘Sparkling?’

‘I’m lit up already.’

B
RANT STIRRED, THOUGHT, OH
no, not again.

But OK ... he wasn’t dying. Went to stretch and his left hand touched a face.

‘Jesus!’ he roared, sitting straight up.

Took a quick look:

A woman ... thank God.

Then he looked again: the Spanish woman.

Yahoo, he’ d scored ... way to go, Brant!

For one horrible moment a movie flashed through his head. Jane Fonda comes out of a blackout to find a corpse beside her.

If he could just remember her name. Weren’t all these Spanish women called the same?

His hangover, though not a killer, was jamming his mental faculties.
Isabella!
Yeah, didn’t they even have a queen with the name?

He went to get some tea and clothes. Took another peek at her, not bad at all. Made the tea and dry swallowed aspirin.

Rough.

Got some toast done then took it back to the bedroom. Thought it was a shame to wake her, because then she’d start to talk. Touched her arm, said, ‘Isabella?’

No movement.

Poked harder.

‘
Que?
’

‘
Buenos tardes
, Isabella.’

She took a moment to focus, landed, asked, ‘
Que es
Isabella ... who is this ... is evening?’

‘No, it’s morning.’

She sat up, none of the modest grabbing for sheets.

Let it show.

‘You said,
Buenos tardes.
’

‘It’s kinda all I got.’

She tasted the tea, went, ‘
Caramba
!
’

And leapt out of bed, said, ‘This is no good, I’ll make us Spanish coffee.’

‘But I don’t have anything from Spain.’

She put her hands on her hips, asked, ‘And what am I?’

‘Oh ... right.’

She disappeared into the kitchen with a shopping bag. Time on, she’s back with coffee and baked or heated toast—sorta. Brant tasted the coffee, said, ‘It tastes like ... vanilla...

‘
Bueno,
now eat, and then you’ll make fiery love to your woman.’

Brant was less sure about the last bit. Mornings were not a passionate time for him. He asked, ‘So what, you carry mini meals around with you just in case?’

‘It’s my shopping and I didn’t get home.’

He thought the coffee wasn’t half bad. Could vanilla taste bitter? This did.

Took some toast and said, ‘I never ate sweet toast, like it’s got edge.’

‘Now we make love.’

He stood up, time to take charge.

Went and got her a T-shirt, said, ‘You go and shower, I’ve got to go to work.’

She put on the T-shirt and it reached her knees. On its front were the words:

I am a natural blond

Please talk slowly

It amused him all over again. He gave her a slap on the arse, said, ‘Let’s move it, toots.’

As he headed for work, she said, ‘My name is Concheta.’

For one bizarre moment, he thought she said ‘Cochise’.

He said nothing and she added, ‘Those close to me call me Cheta.’

‘OK.’

‘Please, one time, say it.’

‘What ... oh ... all right ... Cheta.’

‘
A muy buena,
you are
mucho simpatico.
’

He looked at his watch, said, ‘I’m bloody late is what I am.’

•        •        •

That evening, Brant was saying to Roberts, ‘I swear, guv, she stayed the night.’

‘I don’t believe it.’

‘Straight up, guv—and mad for it. Got to go.’

Roberts was impressed and envious, said, ‘You always land on yer feet.’

Brant gave his lucky smile, answered, ‘Always.’

Outside the station, the rain was lashing down. To Brant’s amazement, he saw two white teenagers about to break into his Volvo. If not exactly broad daylight, it was brazen.

‘Oi!’ he shouted and came running.

Grabbed one by the neck. A long steel bar slipped from the kid’s hands, clattered on the kerb. Brant was about to launch forth when an incredible pain wound up his insides, sweat poured down his face.

He dropped to one knee, near doubled in agony.

The first kid asked, ‘What’s with ’im?’

The other kid, marvelling at their deliverance, said, ‘Bugger’s sick he is.’

Brant pushed out his left hand to grab the car for support.

The second kid said, ‘Jeez, look at the watch, it’s a Tag.’

‘What?’

‘Take the bleeding thing.’

The first kid was dubious, ‘Is it a fake?’

Through his pain, Brant tried to say yes but it emerged as a grunt. The second kid moved forward, grabbed Brant’s wrist and took the watch, said, ‘Let’s go ... quick.’ Brant lay on the pavement, rain caressing his face.

•        •        •

Brant threw up and that made him a little better. He managed to get to his feet and, after four attempts, he got the door open. Fell in behind the wheel and let his head rest. Every inch of him was soaked. He almost passed out, then came to. Weak as a kitten but better. Put the car in gear and drove slowly home.

He didn’t intend reporting this. Him, mugged by kids. He’d lose his rep. The Tag he’d get back, by Christ, see if he didn’t. But his rep, he couldn’t jeopardise that. Like luck it was near impossible to recapture. At home he fell on the bed, damp clothes an’ all and slept for ten hours.

R
OBERTS, AS PER DEAL
, bought a copy of the
Big Issue
every week. His vendor knew he was a cop and seemed unfazed. He was eating from a tub of Haagen Dazs ice-cream.

Roberts said, ‘Bit cold for it, isn’t it?’

The vendor moved aside, said, ‘Look.’

Behind him was a large box with maybe another dozen tubs.

Roberts asked, ‘You also sell ice-cream?’

The vendor laughed, ‘A while ago a Daimler pulled up at the kerb. The window rolls down and a woman said, “You there, come here”.’

He mimicked the posh to perfection, continued, ‘I thought it was Liz, come to give me an MBE.’

Roberts laughed.

‘Ere, I’m serious, guv ... they gave one to a traffic warden last year. So, I goes over, took me cap off and this woman, leans out, asks, “Are you one of the homeless chappies?” ’

‘I said, we sell the
Big Issue
for the homeless, yes Ma’am.

‘She says, “Righty ho, my driver has something for you people.” Then she tapped the glass partition for the driver and shuts the window on me.

‘The driver gets out and he’s in all the gear, peaked cap and boots. Like a nazi!’

The vendor stopped and sold two copies to two girls and gave them a tub each. They were delighted.

He winked at Roberts, said, ‘Like loyalty cards, a little bonus for my regulars. Any road, the nazi opens the boot and takes out the ice-cream. I asked, “What am I supposed to do with that?” He gave me the look, said, “Try eating it”.’

The vendor took another taste, said, ‘It’s not bad if you put a touch o’ lager in it.’

Roberts took out his change, had only a fiver ... The vendor said, ‘We take all the major credit cards.’

Roberts gave him the five, got change, then waited a moment ... no tub. Roberts said, ‘Well, see you next week.’

Dejected, he was walking away when the vendor shouted, ‘Oi, you forgot yer Haagen Dazs.’

F
ALLS SMILED AS SHE
recalled Ryan’s reaction to
A Cry In The Dark
when she put on the video.

They’d planned an evening at home, her home, where they’d:

Make love

Eat

Make love

Watch a video.

He cried, ‘Oh Jesus, no, not Streep again. C’mon darlin’, I watched
Out Of Africa
with you, but I swear, I can’t go another session with her.’

They watched
The Untouchables
instead.

She’d been seeing Ryan for two weeks, twice he’d stayed over. On the video nights. Little did he realise, she’d planned on the whole Streep catalogue. Most days she felt:

Queasy

Exhilarated

Nervous

Giddy

Had no appetite

Phone fixated.

And realising, said, ‘Oh shit, I love him.’

She was acting like a schoolgirl, trying out his name, projecting babies, wanting to talk about him incessantly. Tried to burst her own balloon with:

He’s married,

Kids,

Said he won’t leave.

But no, that balloon of hope just climbed on up there.

He’d said, ‘You look good in red.’ Changed her whole wardrobe. Oh yeah.

She turned on the telly, got local news,
London Tonight.

The top story was:

RETURN OF THE CLAPHAM RAPIST

She felt dizzy. Another attack had taken place, the details were the same: a black woman, a knife, an alleyway.

‘It can’t be!’ she cried.

A local councillor followed demanding an inquiry into police methods. And then he asked, ‘Who was the man killed in a police decoy operation?’

The phone rang. She picked it up, heard, ‘You and McDonald in the Super’s office at nine sharp.’

‘Yes, sir.’

She rang Brant. He sounded groggy and she told him the news. He didn’t reply for a moment, then, ‘It’s a copycat.’

‘But what about the guy who attacked me?’

Deep intake of breath and he snarled back, ‘When a guy jumps you in a dark alley, and puts a knife to yer throat, he’s up to no good, believe me.’

‘But maybe he wasn’t
the
Clapham Rapist.’

‘Well he was some bloody area’s rapist and good friggin’ riddance.’

He slammed down the phone. She started to cry ... wanted to drink, then rang Ryan.

He answered, ‘Yeah?’

‘Help me.’

‘I’m on my way.’

She tried to compose herself. Decided she’d only tell him a little.

When he arrived, he put his arms round her and she told him the lot. He’d made her a cup of sweet tea and held it while she drank. When she’d finished her story, he said, ‘I’d never have took you for a copper.’

‘Because I’m black.’

‘Cos you’re beautiful.’

N
EVILLE SMITH WAS DOING
good. A stockbroker, he had a house in Dulwich, two kids at boarding school, and his new car. An Audi. As he gazed at it he said, ‘
Vorsprung Techniquo.
’

It was that and more.

Neville liked to drive fast and just a tad recklessly. He truly believed that ninety percent of drivers had no right to be there. They all had the look of National Assistance. He liked to cut them up and take the road. Austin Micras, Ka’s, Datsuns, ‘all garbage,’ he said.

There’d been a diversion so he found himself heading for the Elephant roundabout. If he could make the light, he’d gain time. He swerved in front of a Rover almost touching the fender. He definitely took paint and made the light. He could see the driver and his passenger shouting at him. The adrenalin rush made him near euphoric and he put up the two fingers.

Through the lights and he accelerated, shouted, ‘Morons!’

The Rover pulled in near the park and Tommy Logan asked, ‘You got the number?’

‘Sure did, guv.’

‘Good man, I want to know who he is by lunchtime.’

The driver was speed dialling, said, ‘I’m on it.’

Two days later, Neville was relaxing over a gin and tonic. His wife asked, ‘How about sushi?’

He took his cue, followed with the expected line, ‘If you knew sushi like I know sushi...

They both laughed, not so much humour as the ease of familiarity.

‘Will you open the wine darling while I prepare the table?’

‘Of course.’

He’d done that and was about to glance at the news when the door bell rang.

He said, ‘I’ll go.’

Opening the door, he saw two heavy set men. One asked, ‘Do you own an Audi?’ And gave the registration.

‘Yes I do ... why?’

The first said, ‘You’ve got dirt on the side.’

‘What?’

Then he was pushed backwards and the men followed him in closing the door. The first man began to slap Neville across the face. His wife came running, started to scream.

Tommy Logan kicked her in the stomach, said, ‘Don’t start.’

Now Tommy moved over to Neville and spun him round, face down on the stairs. Tore Neville’s pants down and said, ‘Do yah want it, eh? Want some of this?’

Tommy stood back, asked, ‘Have I got yer attention?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you know who I am?’

‘No.’

Tommy lashed out with his fist, roaring ‘I’m the guy you cut up in traffic.’

Another blow and, ‘And gave the two fingers to.’

‘Oh God, I’m sorry.’

‘You’re sorry now, sorry we caught you.’

Neville was blubbering, ‘Let me make it up to you ... money...

‘Shaddup!’ Tommy said. And, as if he’d just thought of it, ‘Course, the car’s to blame.’

Neville, sensing a tiny shimmer of hope, said, ‘You’re right ... one gets carried away.’

Tommy smiled said, ‘It must be punished ... bad car.’