Goose launched at him. I shoved Goose back into his chair, pointed at Farrell, nodded for him to fuck off out the house. Stared at him until he moved. Which took a while, because Farrell was a stubborn bastard.
"Get that fuckin' bastard back in here," said Goose.
I rolled my shoulders. "Listen, Goose—"
"You're dead, you know that, don't you?"
The speech, the one I had all prepared, the one about us just having a lend of the gun for a bit, and how we could bring it back in a couple days and nobody would know any different, that went out the window as soon as Goose said that. Because all I could see right then was the nasty little prick who'd shown us that Polaroid of himself with his cock in a dead Argie's mouth.
"You walk out of here, you steal from us, I'll fuckin' come for you. I'll fuckin' find you."
I took a deep breath. It smelled rotten in here. "You do, and you know what'll be waiting."
"You what, a fuckin' sock full of batteries?"
I went to the door. Goose's voice got louder.
"You charva fuckin' cunt, you think I'm scared of you ? Wasn't so long ago you would've choked on my length for a fuckin' gram bag."
I left the front door standing open.
"Fuckin' Cromwell had the right idea!"
I went to the car. I could hear him shouting still, but I didn't know what he was saying. Couldn't hear much over the thump in my napper. I tried to unlock the driver's door, but my hand wouldn't stay still.
Looked up, and there was Farrell watching us.
"Jimmy," he said.
"I'm fine." I pulled the door open. "You got what you came for, so lash on."
FARRELL
There was no talk on the drive back to Cobb's flat. No music, either. He stared straight ahead the whole journey, his eyes shadowed by a heavy frown. As soon as we got back to the flat, Cobb made for the kitchen. I heard the cap spin from the bottle of whisky, watched Cobb return to the doorway and give me a murderous look.
"Okay, I'll say it: thank you, Jimmy."
"For what?" Cobb pushed off the doorway and went over to the couch. "I never did nowt, me. I never got him all riled up. I never nicked his gun. All I fuckin' did was stand around like a spare dick."
"You and him had some history."
"Fuck me, you're perceptive."
"Anything you want to tell me?"
"No."
"Is he dangerous?"
"He's in a wheelchair." Cobb took a large gulp from the bottle, showed his teeth. "How dangerous can a gadgie in a wheelchair be, eh?" He waved one hand. "He's a pussycat, man. All mouth, no trousers. One leg, plenty of bad dreams, fucker's a mess. Watch, you give it a night and he'll have forgotten about us."
"Sure?"
"No." said Cobb. "But it doesn't matter now, does it?"
"I should've stayed on the bench."
"You should've stayed in the fuckin' car ." Cobb rubbed at the side of his head, then took another swig. "Nah, you know what, it doesn't fuckin' matter. I mean, I ever get back on the coke, I'm fucked for a dealer, but I suppose it's closure, isn't it? Not like I didn't need it. Never liked it that much in the first place. I know you're a fan, but I drink a dozen double espressos I turn into the same kind of gibbering cunt as I used to on the coke. Costs less an' all. So, no, Sean, it's all good, don't you worry." He put the bottle on the floor, lifted one cheek from the couch and felt around in his back pocket. "Fuck's sake, I left my tabs in the car."
I threw my Silk Cuts at him. Cobb picked up the pack, pulled a cigarette out.
"I never got the whole Ultra thing."
"Rip off the filter."
Cobb ripped off the filter, lit the rest with my lighter. He took a couple of puffs. "Shite."
"So you going to tell me?"
"About what?"
"The coke."
"I just did."
"That's not the whole story."
"Aye, it is."
"What, you were on it bad and now you're not?"
"In a nutshell."
"Fuck off," I said. I knew Cobb better than he knew himself. He wasn't going to brush this off. He was one of those blokes, had themselves a full-on addictive personality. "There's more to this. You haven't
"Get that fuckin' bastard back in here," said Goose.
I rolled my shoulders. "Listen, Goose—"
"You're dead, you know that, don't you?"
The speech, the one I had all prepared, the one about us just having a lend of the gun for a bit, and how we could bring it back in a couple days and nobody would know any different, that went out the window as soon as Goose said that. Because all I could see right then was the nasty little prick who'd shown us that Polaroid of himself with his cock in a dead Argie's mouth.
"You walk out of here, you steal from us, I'll fuckin' come for you. I'll fuckin' find you."
I took a deep breath. It smelled rotten in here. "You do, and you know what'll be waiting."
"You what, a fuckin' sock full of batteries?"
I went to the door. Goose's voice got louder.
"You charva fuckin' cunt, you think I'm scared of you ? Wasn't so long ago you would've choked on my length for a fuckin' gram bag."
I left the front door standing open.
"Fuckin' Cromwell had the right idea!"
I went to the car. I could hear him shouting still, but I didn't know what he was saying. Couldn't hear much over the thump in my napper. I tried to unlock the driver's door, but my hand wouldn't stay still.
Looked up, and there was Farrell watching us.
"Jimmy," he said.
"I'm fine." I pulled the door open. "You got what you came for, so lash on."
FARRELL
There was no talk on the drive back to Cobb's flat. No music, either. He stared straight ahead the whole journey, his eyes shadowed by a heavy frown. As soon as we got back to the flat, Cobb made for the kitchen. I heard the cap spin from the bottle of whisky, watched Cobb return to the doorway and give me a murderous look.
"Okay, I'll say it: thank you, Jimmy."
"For what?" Cobb pushed off the doorway and went over to the couch. "I never did nowt, me. I never got him all riled up. I never nicked his gun. All I fuckin' did was stand around like a spare dick."
"You and him had some history."
"Fuck me, you're perceptive."
"Anything you want to tell me?"
"No."
"Is he dangerous?"
"He's in a wheelchair." Cobb took a large gulp from the bottle, showed his teeth. "How dangerous can a gadgie in a wheelchair be, eh?" He waved one hand. "He's a pussycat, man. All mouth, no trousers. One leg, plenty of bad dreams, fucker's a mess. Watch, you give it a night and he'll have forgotten about us."
"Sure?"
"No." said Cobb. "But it doesn't matter now, does it?"
"I should've stayed on the bench."
"You should've stayed in the fuckin' car ." Cobb rubbed at the side of his head, then took another swig. "Nah, you know what, it doesn't fuckin' matter. I mean, I ever get back on the coke, I'm fucked for a dealer, but I suppose it's closure, isn't it? Not like I didn't need it. Never liked it that much in the first place. I know you're a fan, but I drink a dozen double espressos I turn into the same kind of gibbering cunt as I used to on the coke. Costs less an' all. So, no, Sean, it's all good, don't you worry." He put the bottle on the floor, lifted one cheek from the couch and felt around in his back pocket. "Fuck's sake, I left my tabs in the car."
I threw my Silk Cuts at him. Cobb picked up the pack, pulled a cigarette out.
"I never got the whole Ultra thing."
"Rip off the filter."
Cobb ripped off the filter, lit the rest with my lighter. He took a couple of puffs. "Shite."
"So you going to tell me?"
"About what?"
"The coke."
"I just did."
"That's not the whole story."
"Aye, it is."
"What, you were on it bad and now you're not?"
"In a nutshell."
"Fuck off," I said. I knew Cobb better than he knew himself. He wasn't going to brush this off. He was one of those blokes, had themselves a full-on addictive personality. "There's more to this. You haven't
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