Blackwater - By Conn Iggulden Page 0,17

up to the heart attack that kills them. I folded my arms across the front of my dressing gown and nodded to him. We had planned everything, but I could feel my heart pounding at an insane speed.

‘Are you ready, little brother? No second thoughts?’ he asked me, amusement in his voice. He didn’t seem nervous at all.

‘No second thoughts,’ I said.

We moved fast after that. It was just possible that Denis might hear Carol had come back to work. For all we knew, he walked by the office every morning, or paid the secretary to pass on any news of her. It was probably just nerves, but it didn’t hurt to move things along as quickly as possible. The way my brother worked things out, we had one chance to get this right. Even with Carol knowing he was in Brighton, it would still work, he assured me. He’d been to court over Bobby Penrith and got away with it. He would again.

I sat in the kitchen with the phone on the table in front of me, just looking at it and going over what we’d planned in my head. It was all very well to work out the details in my imagination, but when I picked up that phone and dialled, it would really begin. After that it would be like stepping off a cliff – it just doesn’t matter if you change your mind halfway through.

‘Try it on me first,’ my brother demanded. It was the first sign of nervousness I’d seen from him. I shook my head, going over what we’d planned to say. It would bring Denis running, I knew it would.

I saw him pour a glass of the whisky I’d bought the night before. I jerked back as his hand moved, but most of it still caught me in the face. I cried out in anger, remembering Michael doing just the same.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ I said, holding one eye closed against the sting.

‘Now you’re ready to make the call,’ he said, laughing at my expression. ‘You were just a little too relaxed before. Go on. Do it.’

I glanced at the scrap of paper beside the phone with the number of Denis Tanter on it. One call to directory enquiries had given me the last thing I needed.

I punched in the numbers and took a deep breath.

‘WT Limited,’ it was a woman’s voice, not one I knew. A secretary, maybe. I kept calm. This was the number I’d been given.

‘Get Denis Tanter on the line,’ I said, slurring slightly. The whisky fumes helped a little, strangely enough.

‘Who is this?’ she asked. I felt acid flood into my mouth and I grimaced at the taste of it.

‘Just you go and get him. Tell him to come and clear up his messes, all right? Tell him…’

I heard the change-over going on and I was ready for it when the new voice came.

‘Who is this?’ Michael. That was all I’d wanted.

‘You bastard,’ I sneered at him. ‘She’s dead and it’s because of Denis bloody Tanter, isn’t it? You go to hell, you…’ I trailed off, snuffling drunkenly as if I were weeping, or pressing a hand against my face. Give the man a chance to respond.

‘Davey? Who’s dead? Not Carol? Davey, is that you?’ Perfect. I could hear the fear in his voice. It was just the beginning of what he had coming.

‘Pills!’ I spat the word at the phone, leaving a trail of whisky and spittle on it. ‘You pushed and you pushed, didn’t you, Michael? You and Denis. You pushed us, and now Carol’s dead. I swear, I’m –’

My brother took the phone from me and pressed the button that ended the call. His face was a study in quiet awe.

‘That was just right, Davey boy. That should bring them running,’ he said. I nodded at him, wiping roughly at my mouth.

‘We’d better get ready,’ he muttered, dropping the phone back into its cradle with a clatter. He’d brought a bag in from the car and I watched as he removed an eighteen-inch length of iron bar that I couldn’t help but pick up. It fitted the hand very well indeed. I took a swing with it and imagined it cracking into a skull.

To my surprise, the bag went on to reveal a number of other pieces of pipe and various other tools.

‘For afterwards,’ he said. ‘It explains why you had a weapon to hand in a kitchen, doesn’t it?’ With a grim