Stay Dead (39 page)

They reached the top of the stairs and there was the door. On the other side of it, there would be the fake bookcase, nothing to give them away. So they had the element of surprise on their
side. Annie remembered once marvelling at the books in that case right beside the bed, how convincing they appeared; they gave every appearance of real books when they were anything but. She had
read to Constantine sometimes in the last year or so, sitting beside his bed; and he had joked sometimes, get another book, that one’s crap, and he would indicate the bookcase. Once she went
there and tried to pick a book out from the others; but the book she selected was nothing, just blank pages inside a gold-blocked cover.

Max stopped, breathing hard, looking at his watch.

‘Minute to go,’ he mouthed at her as she stood there on the top step, heart pounding, breath coming in shallow gasps.

Max kept the penlight trained on his Rolex, and slipped the gun out of his pocket. Annie’s eyes met his.

‘No prisoners,’ he said. ‘You stay here.’

‘No fucking way,’ she said.

‘I
said
, you stay here,’ he repeated.

‘And I said, forget it.’ She looked at the watch. ‘Three minutes are up,’ she said, and that was when they heard the gunshot.

Annie, standing right behind Max, felt him stiffen and then push forward. He shoved the bookcase open and sprang into the room beyond, gun raised, looking down the barrel as he
scanned the bedroom.

Over Max’s shoulder Annie saw Alberto and his two men surging into the room through the main door. There was the fireworks smell of cordite in the air and a man was lying on the floor near
the bed with most of his chest shot away, a gun near him on the carpet, and blood all over the place. Annie looked in horror at the face of the dead man. But it wasn’t Redmond. It was his
sidekick, Mitchell.

Then she looked at the old man sitting up in the bed. Constantine was holding a big smoking Magnum in his shaking, age-spotted hand, and his face was twisted in triumph.

‘Fucker came in here and thought he’d get the draw on me?’ he asked the assembled company. ‘No chance. I always keep this right under my pillow.’ He shook the gun
in his hand. Looked around at Alberto, the two men with him. Then he turned his head and saw Max.

‘Nico! You old bastard, I’ve been looking for you,’ he said with a happy grin, looking straight at Max. ‘Where the hell have you been?’

Alberto moved quickly forward and took the gun from his father’s hand. He looked sharply at Max. ‘So Redmond didn’t come alone. He had company.’

Twisted and clever, that was Redmond. Annie knew it. Cold as ice and sick with it. He’d let his accomplice barge in the front door, let him take the hit. And himself . . . ? Suddenly it
was all clear.

She started to turn, but it was too late. Annie felt something cold, metallic, press into the skin of her neck. ‘He’s here . . .’ she managed to get out.

Then from behind her, there came a voice. It whispered in soft southern Irish, very close beside her ear.

‘Yes, Mrs Carter. He certainly is,’ said Redmond.

And then she felt the pressure of the knife harden, nearly cutting off her air, and knew that this time there would be no second chances, no reprieves. She was about to die.

She tried to speak and couldn’t. Clever Redmond had laid low and simply followed them on their run up the stairs of the secret passage. She could see Max standing there,
all his attention riveted to her and the monster standing behind her. She could see Alberto, raising the gun he’d taken off his father. And the other two – everyone was watching,
everyone was still, wondering what to do now.

‘Put the guns down,’ said Redmond.

No one moved.

‘Put them down, or I slit her open right now. It’s messy. And really – do you want to risk that, any of you?’

Annie watched as first Max and then Alberto threw the guns on to the floor. Alberto turned and nodded to the two men behind him, and they too dropped their weapons. Constantine, his expression
bewildered now, watched from close by on the bed as Redmond nudged her, straining painfully back against the front of his body, further into the room.

‘Back up, Mr Carter,’ he said, and Max did. ‘You too,’ he said to Alberto, and Alberto instantly did so.

‘Well, this is interesting, wouldn’t you say?’ Redmond looked around the room at them all. ‘Bit of a stalemate, yes? But now listen: all I want is
him
.’
Redmond nodded to Constantine. ‘The rest of you?’ he shrugged. ‘Not interested.’ The pale grape-green eyes met Max’s. ‘Not even interested where you’re
concerned, Max Carter. Old days, we were enemies, weren’t we? Competitors, really.’ He gave a chilly smile. ‘Think you may have accounted for a brother or two of mine, but can I
prove it? No, I can’t. And do I give a shit? To be honest, no. I don’t. Now – all that needs to happen is that you all leave the room. That’s all. I’ll keep Mrs Carter
here, as insurance. And when I’m done, I’ll let her—’

Out of the corner of her eye Annie saw Constantine move, lunging over the bed toward Redmond. She saw the flash of a blade in his hand as he plunged it into Redmond’s flesh. Redmond
buckled to one side and looked down in pained amazement at the knife that was deeply embedded in the side of his thigh.

An agonized high-pitched shriek came out of his mouth, deafening Annie. His hand jerked against her neck and the knife bit hard into her flesh. She felt the stinging pain of it and thought
that’s it, I’m dead
.

Constantine pulled himself back straight in the bed and as Redmond tottered, off-balance, eyes screwed shut in agony, Max dived flat to the floor, grabbed his fallen gun and fired, shooting low
and getting Redmond in the other leg. Redmond shrieked again and went down, dragging Annie with him, choking off her air. The knife grazed her skin deeper, trailing a fiery line of pain behind
it.

Max came to his feet in a rush and whacked Redmond on the head with the handgun, hard. Blood flew as the blow opened Redmond’s scalp like a crushed fruit. Finally his grip on the knife at
Annie’s throat loosened and he collapsed.

Max hit Redmond again, then grabbed the knife out of his hand as he keeled over, dragging Annie to the floor with him. Max pulled her upright, shoved her roughly away from Redmond and, eyes
blazing with hate, he aimed the gun at his old enemy’s head.

Now Redmond was blinking dazedly up at him, blood stinging his eyes from the head wound. He was wincing with the pain of his wounded legs and panting for air.

Alberto came forward and touched Max’s arm. ‘No,’ he said. ‘This one’s ours.’

His two men grabbed Redmond roughly and hauled him up; he couldn’t stand. Dragging his feet behind him, blood cascading down both legs, he was hauled across the room.

‘Do it properly this time,’ said Max.

One of the men was yanking back heavy brocade curtains at the window. He threw the window wide open. A strong gust of salty air swept in and Annie sagged on to a corner of the bed, a hand to her
bloodied throat. She watched in horror as she realized what was about to happen.

Below this window there was nothing but a two-hundred-foot drop to the rocks and sea below.

She saw the realization hit Redmond, too.

‘No. No!’ he yelled.

He fought like a mad dog, but he was weak from blood loss and shock. Redmond was lifted off his feet and thrust out to dangle from the window, his hands clawing at the stonework, his bloodied
face a rigid mask of terror. His eyes met Annie’s. She thought she would never forget the look on his face. And then the men simply let go, and he vanished, crying out a slowly dwindling yell
of despair, until he struck the rocks and was silent at last.

‘Maria? Are you all right?’ Constantine asked Annie.

Annie shot Max a look.
You see? He thinks you’re Nico, and he thinks I’m Maria
.

‘I’m fine,’ she said.

‘Thank God,’ he said, his voice trembling with emotion, and grabbed her hand and kissed it. ‘That bastard, did he hurt you?’

Annie shook her head. She glanced up at Max, standing there in silence, taking this all in.

Constantine looked over at Alberto. ‘Your mother’s OK, son,’ he said.

‘Yeah.’ With a sad sigh Alberto moved closer to the bed while his two henchmen hefted Redmond’s dead minder up on to the window sill, shoving and pulling until he too went
spiralling out and down on to the rocks. Then they closed the windows, dragged the brocade curtains closed, and left the room, shutting the door behind them.

‘You and I should have a talk,’ said Max to Constantine. ‘We’ve got a lot to catch up on, wouldn’t you say?’

‘He’s tired,’ said Annie quickly, her eyes pleading with Max.
Don’t kill him
.

‘Let them talk,’ said Alberto, taking Annie’s arm. ‘It will do Papa good. All this mess? We’ll clear it away later. No worries.’

No worries?

Annie stood up and let Alberto lead her from the room. She glanced back, and there was Max standing with a gun in his hand looking down at Constantine. She was terrified for both of them. Max
could kill Constantine, who was helpless now, not the man he was, couldn’t Max see that? And if he did . . . oh Christ, if he
did
then Alberto would never let Max out of here
alive.

‘Remember the old days, Nico?’ Constantine was smiling, his eyes vacant. He’d just killed one man and maimed another, and he was no more concerned than if he
had squashed a gnat. ‘Sit, sit!’ said Constantine, patting the edge of the bed.

Mental or not, this is one dangerous old cunt
, thought Max.

Max pulled up a chair instead, giving himself some distance, and kept the gun in his hand for insurance. If Constantine could hide a bloody great Magnum pistol and a knife under his pillows,
then he could have other weapons hidden, too.

‘Remember all those times we had together?’ said Constantine, heaving a fond sigh. ‘When we were young foot soldiers, getting
agita
off our women for being so wild? What
times we had, Nico. Chasing the coin, having sit-downs with the other people when there were turf disputes, we were on top of the world.’

‘I’m not Nico, I’m Max,’ he told him. ‘Remember? Max Carter.’

Constantine looked puzzled. ‘But . . . I don’t understand. You were dead. That woman, that other one . . .’

‘Annie.’

‘I helped her find her daughter when you’d been hit. Abroad somewhere, in Europe.’

‘You did.’ Max thought about this: yes, he did owe Constantine a debt of gratitude. And he hated that. He thought of this old cunt trying to seduce
his
wife, trying to get her
drunk, tormenting her with sex shows.

‘I never see her these days,’ said Constantine. ‘Annie, I mean. Maria comes and visits me. You know what I wish?’ Constantine lay back on the pillows and for a moment he
looked ancient, ready for the tomb.

‘No. What do you wish?’ asked Max.

‘I wish I could die now,’ said Constantine, closing his eyes wearily. ‘This life? It ain’t all that, my friend. You get old and you ache and you forget things. Nothing
tastes good. You don’t even want a fuck. It’s pathetic.’

Max stared at the face of the man who had once been so powerful, so fearful. Now, he was nothing but a shell. There was nothing for Max to do except what he’d come for. To kill
Constantine, to finish him once and for all. To have revenge on the guy who’d stepped into his shoes with Annie and made her deceive him for so long.

Now was his chance. He had the gun in his hand, it would be a simple matter to pull the trigger and finish it at last; end the old godfather’s sad remnant of a life.

The eyes opened, still blue, but no longer sharp. They were milky; faded with age. The head turned on the scrawny neck and Constantine looked straight at Max.

‘You understand what I’m saying, don’t you, Nico?’ he asked.

‘Yeah,’ said Max, not bothering to correct him this time. ‘I do.’

‘That’s what I would like,’ said Constantine.

‘You could have done it,’ said Max. ‘You had the gun, the knife. So did you really want it that much?’

Constantine shrugged. ‘Maybe I could. Nothing’s right any more, Nico. You’re the only friend I have left in the world, you’ll look after Maria for me, I know that. You
swear that, don’t you? I’ve been waiting for you to come and now you have, it’s time. If I know you’ll do that, then I’m ready and there’s nothing else left for
me.’

Max cleared his throat. Stupid to feel choked up, but he did. ‘Yeah. I swear.’

‘OK.’ Constantine raised a tired smile. ‘Then, I tell you what. Put the gun on the bed and go and look at that tapestry over there. It’s a good one. French, you know. The
best. Cost a fucking fortune like everything else in this damned cold hole of a place. When they come in, you can tell them I snatched the gun off you.’

Max stood up. Carefully, he placed the gun on the bed near Constantine’s right hand.

And now I’ll turn my back and the crazy old cunt will shoot me, thinking I’m some old enemy.

Ah, fuck it. Max turned away from the bed and took two steps away to look at the tapestry, all sewn in faded rose-pinks, greens and golds. Nymphs and cherubs, angels and demons, all writhing
together in pink fleshy chaos.

He’s going to shoot me.

Max could feel the skin between his shoulder blades crawling as he waited for the hammer-blow of the gunshot. He wouldn’t hear it – you never heard the shot that killed you. And
thank God for that.

Thirty seconds after he turned his back on Constantine, the shot rang out, deafeningly.

Max flinched at the noise, and spun back toward the bed.

The gun lay in Constantine’s open hand. There was a head wound and blood – not much. Actually Constantine looked quite peaceful, lying there. Max stood and listened to the commotion
start outside, to running footsteps coming closer. He sat down in the chair again, feeling neither satisfaction nor pleasure.

It was just
done
, that was all.

Constantine – finally, at long, long last – was dead.