Kill Clock Read online

  "Too right, I don’t."

  "Oh, God. I never thought … I swear, Pearce, it's all true." She opened the car door, said something to the kids, took out her bag. Rummaged around in it and fished out her mobile. "Call Banksy. Ask him."

  "I'm not calling anyone."

  She thrust her mobile at him. "Please."

  "Is he in on the scam too?"

  "I'm begging you."

  The car that passed earlier was headed back their way. Pearce watched it inching towards them. Then it stopped. Sat there with the engine running.

  For a moment, he expected the window to roll down and someone to pop their head out and ask for directions. But then he noticed the driver was wearing a ski mask.

  Julie turned to see what he was looking at.

  Car doors clicked open and two guys got out of the back. They were wearing ski masks too.

  Julie dropped her phone. Didn't even glance at where it had fallen.

  Nice touch. Pearce crossed his arms, fingers wedged under his armpits, all set to watch the drama unfold.

  One of the guys grabbed Julie.

  She screamed, "Help me, Pearce! For Christ's sake, help me!"

  Well, she was taking things a bit far now.

  Devon banged on the window with her headless doll. He heard her faint wee voice. "Leave my mummy alone."

  Pearce couldn't believe Julie'd put her kids through this. Poor wee buggers didn't know it was all pretend.

  "Stop this shite now." He took a step forward. One of the masked men pointed a gun at him. It was fitted with a silencer.

  The other man had Julie in a bear hug, arms pinned to her sides. He lifted her off the ground. She stopped screaming, grunted instead while she tried to kick him. He half-dragged, half-carried her towards their car.

  "Julie, come on, you're scaring the kids."

  "Don't let them touch my babies!" She lashed out with her foot as her actor pal pretended to shove her in the rear of his car.

  "Give it a rest, Julie." Pearce had just about had enough now. "Takes more than a balaclava and a fancy water pistol to fool me."

  The gunman waved his weapon at Pearce. "Will you shut your gob?"

  The other bloke was still trying to stuff Julie in the car. She'd lost a shoe in the struggle, but was swiping at him with her bare foot.

  "I'm thinking of the kids, here," Pearce said to the gunman.

  "You should learn to listen." The gunman switched his aim and pulled the trigger.

  There was a dull sound, then something ricocheted off the road beside Pearce's boot, leaving a ragged hole in the tarmac. He shuffled backwards. Couldn't help himself. He'd been shot twice and didn't fancy it again.

  Shit, maybe this was for real.

  Julie wouldn't have OK'd the use of live ammo. Not with her kids around. She wasn't that heartless. Was she?

  She was in their car now, the other masked man sitting next to her, hand clamped over her mouth.

  The gunman spoke to Pearce. "You listening now?"

  He fought to keep his voice steady. "You got something worth saying?"

  "What's your name, Smartarse?"

  Pearce looked at man's eyes through the holes in the mask. Olive-brown. Hilda once rolled in some horseshit that was the exact same colour. "Pearce."

  "Here's the deal, Pearce. Go to the police and your girlfriend's dead."

  "She's not my girlfriend."

  "She'll still be dead. Got it?"

  Pearce breathed in through his nose. Nodded.

  "But if you bring Banksy twenty grand by midnight, she can go free."

  "I don't have twenty grand."

  "Then she's dead."

  "I said I don't have twenty grand."

  "Bright guy like you, I'm sure you can find it."

  Pearce said nothing.

  "Twenty grand. By midnight." The gunman kicked Julie's mobile phone across the tarmac towards Pearce. "We'll be in touch."

  8:10 pm

  Julie's strappy shoe lay on its side, looking like week-old roadkill in the fading light. Pearce walked over to it, picked it up.

  He turned to see Kirk and Devon staring out the car window at him. Explaining what had just happened to their mother was going to be fun.

  He walked back to the car and got in the driver's side. Still stank of sick and smoke. He squeezed into the seat, fiddled around till he found the lever to adjust it and gave himself some leg room.

  "Where's Mummy gone?"

  "She's had to go away, Kirk."

  Hilda poked through the gap between the seats, jumped onto Pearce's lap.

  "That man had a gun."

  Pearce rolled down the window. Breathed in some fresh air. Better. "Yeah, he did."

  "My heart was beating. Faster and faster."

  "Faster!"

  "Shut up, you poof."

  "Kirk!" Pearce put on his 'bad dog' voice. It worked on Hilda. Sometimes. "Be nice, now."

  "They had woolly faces."

  Pearce smiled, covered his mouth with his hand. "Those were masks, Devon."

  "Why were they wearing masks?"

  "No more questions, Kirk."

  "Hilda's got a woolly face too. Is she wearing a mask?"

  "Enough, Kirk!"

  "I don't want Mummy to go," Kirk said.

  "Neither do I." Pearce started the engine. "But what can we do about it?"

  "I don't like you."

  "I don't like you, too!"

  Pearce looked in the rear-view mirror. Devon was grinning. Kirk wasn't, the little bastard.

  "Give me Mummy's shoe."

  "Say please."

  "Please."

  Pearce gave it to him.

  He started to wail.

  Shit. The 'bad dog' approach wasn't going to work now. "It's OK. Kirk? What's wrong?"

  He wailed louder.

  "Hey, it's OK, son."

  Louder still. Face screwed up, eyes wet, blowing bubbles out of his nose.

  Only one thing for it.

  Pearce switched on the radio and turned up the volume till he drowned out the wee bugger. Which was hard, because Kirk was screaming now, and Devon had joined in, grinning like a demented baby clown. Pearce hummed along to the music. Tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. He was getting the hang of driving again. It all clicked back into place.

  But he could use a bit of quiet to help him concentrate. He had things to work out. Like, where was he going? He'd swung the car around, and was heading back home. If he was stopped, it wouldn't look too good, driving someone else's car with someone else's kids in the back and no idea where either of their parents were. Maybe he should go to the nearest police station and let the professionals deal with it.

  Devon was singing now. A tuneless screech. Great lyrics, though. "Shut up, Kirk. Shut up, shut up, shut up your cakehole."

  "You tell him, Devon."

  There was a cop shop in Portobello. He could drive there, explain what had happened, dump the kids and go home. Tempting. If only the threat to Julie wasn't real.

  Jesus, he could have sworn it was all a con. Right up until the moment that joker in the balaclava pulled the trigger.

  He should have known. Second time she'd made him look like a tit. Only this time it was much more serious. She was going to die if he didn't find twenty grand by midnight. What was he going to do?

  First thing: get the kids somewhere safe. Easier said than done. He didn't know anyone who'd be happy to look after a couple of pre-school kids. Didn't know that many people at all. But he had to dump them somewhere before he could go look for their mother. They weren't safe with all these bullets flying around. Apart from which, it had to be getting close to their bedtime, even if they didn't seem remotely tired.

  Seeing Julie again had triggered all sorts of memories. One of the better ones was Ailsa, an old friend of his sister's. She'd helped him out back then, got him hooked up with a gun runner when he'd needed a weapon. He hadn't seen her in six years, but he couldn't think of anywhere else to go
.

  He dug out his phone, scrolled through the contacts. There was a florist on there he'd only ever used once seven or eight years ago. Christ, he'd even kept his mum's number. He should delete it. Maybe one day he would. Maybe one day he'd get rid of Ailsa's too. But for now he was glad he'd kept it.

  She wouldn't be pleased to hear from him, though. Not under these circumstances, anyway.

  Come to think of it …

  He stuffed the phone back in his pocket. He'd be better off paying her a visit. You couldn't beat the personal touch.

  8:40 pm

  "Where are we?"

  Pearce turned off the radio. "Rossie Place, Kirk."

  "Where's that?"

  "Near Easter Road."

  He'd finally found a space big enough to park. There were smaller spaces nearby, but he hadn't fancied squeezing into those. Parking had never been his strong point.

  "Where's that?"

  "You don't need to know."

  "Why not?"

  "Trust me. I wouldn't lie to you."

  "Why wouldn't you lie to me?"

  "No more questions."

  "Are you mad at me?"

  He breathed in through his nose. "Of course not."

  "Why not?"

  "Can you put the music back on, Pearce?"

  "We're going to see a nice lady, Devon." Pearce hadn't been able to find anything he wanted to listen to on the radio and after a few near-accidents while he twiddled the dial, he'd given up. Left it on some Scottish fiddle music station.

  Turned out Kirk and Devon liked it. Kirk even gave Devon his mum's shoe so he could clap along. Kept them entertained, anyway, and it was better than listening to them screaming.

  "Are we going to see Mummy?" Devon held out Julie's shoe.

  "No, this nice lady's called Ailsa."

  Kirk said, "Is she your girlfriend?"

  Why did everyone want to pair him up? "I don't have a girlfriend."

  "Are you a poof?"

  Pearce unclipped his seatbelt.

  "Poofy," Devon said. "Poofy Pearce."

  "I don't want to see a lady."

  "I want to stay with Kirk."

  "Don't like ladies."

  "Ladies!"

  Pearce closed his eyes. He couldn't just leave them in the car while he went to see Ailsa. Could he? He could hardly drag them with him either, kicking and wailing and throwing up and repeating every-bloody-thing.

  "I'll just pop out for a moment, then." He opened the door and Hilda's tail started to wag. "Will you two be good till I get back?"

  "Don't leave me!" Kirk said. "No!"

  "You sure you don't want to stay in the car? After all, you don't like ladies. And I'm a poof."

  "I like you, Pearce." Devon smiled. "You're funny."

  "Don't go," Kirk said. "It's dark outside."

  "You're afraid of the dark?" Pearce raised his eyebrows. "A big boy like you? That's a bit gay, don't you think?"

  Kirk kicked his foot up and down."Yes."

  "That's OK. Nothing wrong with being gay."

  "Can I see your girlfriend?"

  "She's not ... OK."

  "You're poofy."

  "Devon," Pearce said. "Do you know what that means?"

  She beamed at him and nodded. "Smelly!"

  "No, it doesn't, bumhole!"

  "Kirk, behave yourself or you're staying. In the dark. OK?"

  Kirk nodded.

  "Good. We all going, then?"

  "Hilda, too?"

  "Yeah, Hilda too, son." One big happy family.

  8:55 pm

  Ailsa Lillie, it said on the nameplate. Good. She still lived here.

  Kirk tugged at Pearce's T-shirt. "I see one."

  "See one what?"

  He pointed. "A ghost."

  "It's just a shadow." Pearce bent down, looked him in the eye. "If there were ghosts around here, Hilda would bark at them."

  Kirk eyed Hilda, then looked back at Pearce. "How can Hilda see them?"

  "Don't be daft. Hilda doesn't see them." Pearce shook his head. "He smells them."

  "Oh." Kirk's brow wrinkled. "What do ghosts smell like?"

  "A bit like …" God, what the hell would ghosts smell like? Something Hilda would bark at. Well, there was one night the wee fella'd gone mental following a scent trail. Yipped his head off till he sniffed out the scared, balled-up, spiny bugger. "You'd never guess. But they smell like hedgehogs."

  "Hedgehogs are all prickly and Nathan says you have to wear shoes when you stamp on them."

  "You keep bad company, Kirk. How old's Nathan?"

  "He's big. Six and a half."

  And already doling out tips on hedgehog stomping.

  "I'm a ghost!"

  Kirk turned to his sister. "Shut your gob." Faced Pearce again. "Is Devon a ghost?"

  "Does she smell like a hedgehog?"

  "Smell like an edge dog!"

  Kirk took a step towards his sister. She tilted her chin up and he sniffed her neck. "She smells spewy, Pearce. Do hedgehogs smell spewy?"

  "OK, quiet now. There are no ghosts. Hilda's not barking." Pearce gave Hilda a pat and stood up, his right knee clicking. "Let's see if my friend's in."

  "Is she pretty like Mummy?"

  "Almost as pretty." He pressed the buzzer.

  "Hello?" Ailsa's voice.

  And with it, more memories.

  Sorting out her violent boyfriend. Cooking breakfast in her kitchen. Buying a gun from a fat bloke with a Mohican hair-cut. Getting shot with the same gun. Waking up in hospital. Telling her to go. To leave him alone, it would never work.

  "It's Pearce," he said.

  "Who?"

  He moved closer to the speaker. "Pearce."

  "Pearce? Jesus Christ." That trace of an Aberdeen accent.

  The door buzzed.

  He pushed it open, held it for the kids.

  Kirk ducked inside.

  Devon didn't move.

  "What's wrong?"

  "These are a bit heavy for me now."

  He held out his hand and she unburdened herself of her fairy wand and her mum's shoe and they all trooped along to Ailsa's flat. Pearce was about to knock when the door opened.

  "Pearce." Ailsa tucked her hair behind an ear. New messy style. Suited her. Long pale-blue jumper, purple leggings, bare feet. She smiled. Then she saw Kirk and Devon and her expression soured. "What's going on?"

  "Well." He poked the fairy wand under his arm. "Remember I used to have a girlfriend? Julie? These two are hers." Then, to the kids: "Say hi to Ailsa."

  "No." Kirk scowled.

  "I can say bollocks!"

  "Thanks, kids." Pearce dangled the shoe on the end of his finger. "They've lost their mother."

  "And?" Ailsa said.

  "I was hoping you could look after them till I find her."

  Ailsa turned round and closed the door.

  Pearce stared at it. He looked at the kids. They looked back at him. He stared at the door again. They stared at it, too. No amount of staring made any difference. It stayed closed.

  "Scusey me." Devon leaned up, pointed to the fairy wand. He gave it to her and she waved it in an elaborate pattern. "Bradabra!"

  Nothing.

  "Thanks for trying." Pearce rang the bell but it was no more effective than Devon's wand.

  He rang it one more time. Nope. He was about to go when he saw the door handle turn.

  Ailsa opened the door. Stood with her hands on her hips. "You turn up after all these years expecting me to look after your girlfriend's kids?"

  "Julie's not—"

  "Why would I do that?"

  Pearce couldn't think of an answer.

  Devon took a step forward and held out her wand to Ailsa. "Have a go. It's magic."

  9:10 pm

  "Sorry about the kids, Ailsa. Bit out of my depth here."

  She'd invited them all in but hadn't offered anyone a seat. Kirk had sat down anyway. Slumped onto an orange beanbaggy cushion thing about two feet in front of the T
V. One of those talent shows was on, a blonde baring a lot of fake-tanned skin to hide the fact that she had a voice like a drunk Yorkie. Speaking of dogs, Devon was strutting about the carpet on all fours, sticking her tongue out and panting. Hilda was sitting watching her, tail wagging.

  Pearce would have liked to make himself at home too, but Ailsa wasn't making it easy. "Room looks different. Brighter."

  Ailsa ignored him. Didn't look up from slowly twirling Devon's wand.

  "It's nice." Sunny yellow walls. New blonde wood sideboard. Cream-coloured sofa and armchair he didn't remember. More paintings on the wall too. Dozens of them in little frames. Nothing in them Pearce could recognise, just blobs and daubs. "See you've kept up the art."

  He breathed in. Smelled something spicy. Waited a while longer but Ailsa didn't respond. He leaned over, the smell stronger. Nutmeg or ginger. She hadn't been baking, though. Perfume. Fancy soap, maybe. "I'll deal with the kids myself. But I'd really like your help with something else."

  She looked up at last. "You can't just traipse back into my life like this."

  "This one time. Then I'm gone."

  "Christ." She gave him the hint of a smile. "You're hopeless."

  "Always was. I told you that."

  "I'm not the person I used to be, Pearce."

  "None of us is." He waited but she didn't elaborate. "Does that mean you'll help?"

  She ran her fingers across her forehead, nails the colour of just-rinsed blueberries. "What is it you want?"

  A muscle twinged in the back of his neck. Probably from hunching up over the steering wheel. "You still in touch with that fat bloke with the Mohican haircut?"

  Her eyes narrowed. The skin crinkled underneath. "His name's Joe-Bob."

  "That's the guy."

  "You after what I think you're after?"

  "Please."

  "That's not a good idea. Remember what happened last time you got a … " She looked over to the kids. Kirk was still absorbed in the talent show. Devon was pretending to give Hilda a haircut, making snipping motions with her fingers. Ailsa didn't say the word, just raised her eyebrows.

  Pearce nodded. "I'll try to be more careful."

  "It's no laughing matter."

  "I know that." He reached out to place his hand on her arm but she pulled back and he let his hand fall to the side. Didn't seem right to leave it there, though, so he shoved it in his pocket. "Can you do it? If not, I'll make other plans."