Blackwater - By Conn Iggulden Page 0,20

see that. Perhaps she’d refused a second round, or he’d refused her. It didn’t matter to me much, not any more.

It was strange to see the bodies in my own kitchen. I’d seen it in my imagination enough times, but to have actually reached the point was like time standing still and more than a little bit frightening. Reality is like that, I’ve found.

I’d worked out most of the details while I was standing in the freezing sea waiting for my brother to read the note I’d left for Carol and come and get me. I remember worrying that he might have had an accident or a flat tyre, and all my effort would have been wasted. I knew seeing me there would get him on my side. I was always his blind spot, his little brother. I don’t think he cared about another living soul. I’m not ashamed to say there were tears in my eyes for a while, looking at him. Brothers are close.

I’d hardly needed to persuade him after he found me standing in a foot of dark water, trying hard to imagine what it must be like to commit suicide. Really, it couldn’t have gone better, it really couldn’t. My debts were all paid, and I sort of hoped Bobby Penrith knew they had been.

The police would accept my story, if I left enough shocked blanks in it. It was simple enough, after all. I’d let him guide me where I wanted to go. Just two brothers fixing a pipe in a kitchen and being attacked by a violent pair of criminals. I wondered if I should explain about Carol to the police. No. I didn’t want them knowing I had any kind of motive. I thought they would believe Denis was obsessed with her without knowing he’d tried her out a few times as well. It worked very nicely.

I walked outside the front door, pulling it shut behind me. The neighbours were at work as always, so there wouldn’t be any witnesses the police could interrogate. It took a couple of thumps with my shoulder to break the lock. No doubt it would be another bruise to show the police when I told them how Denis Tanter had tortured me. Perfect.

I remembered to put my pipe in Michael’s hand while I was scattering the contents of the plumber’s bag over the kitchen floor. I found a knife in his other pocket, the one he’d been reaching for when my brother knocked him down. After a bit of thought, I let him hold it in his other hand, taking care with my own prints.

There were a lot of things to remember. There would be blood spatter on my clothes, but I thought that would be fine. I could see it would be suspicious if there wasn’t in such a small space, with three men beaten to death. I was pleased with how clearly I was thinking.

When I sat down at last, I had the phone in my hand to call them. I’d done everything I could and I thought, yes, Davey, you will get away with this. I said the words aloud, even, while they all just lay there and bled. That was one surprise. No matter what you’ve heard, the sheer volume of blood is a shock. It just doesn’t seem possible to have that much in you. It’s not true that dead men don’t bleed, either. These ones did, for a while at least. The kitchen was covered in the stuff and I still can’t believe just how sticky it is when it gets on you. Different shades of red as well.

I had thought I could handle Denis Tanter, just as I’ve dealt with a few other men over the years. When I realized I couldn’t, I thought I would let my brother handle him. It was just an idle thought at first of how nice it would be if both of the bastards killed each other. I hadn’t really thought about afterwards, though. If there had ever been a place to think about afterwards, it was that kitchen with its pool of blood and a smell I never want to get near again.

It’s not often you have an opportunity like that, you see. Yes, I could beat the court case, if it even went to court. The Crown Prosecution Service has to decide there’s a case they can win, and my plea of self-defence against those boys was going to be a beauty. I could walk away, but then there was Carol. Did I really want to walk away with her? I couldn’t help but think that if she had been in the middle of this mess when Denis and Michael arrived, perhaps she too would be lying there and I would be free. Really free, as opposed to the shadow of it I’d been enjoying for a few brief moments.

It was clearly a day for new beginnings. Instead of the police, I rang her and told her I was going to take all her sleeping pills in one go. I put the phone down in the middle of a sentence, then removed its battery. I wasn’t worried. I’d work out the details before she got home.

About the Author

Blackwater

Born in London, Conn Iggulden read English at London University and worked as a teacher for seven years before becoming a full-time writer. He lives in Hertfordshire with his wife and their children. He is the author of the number one bestselling Emperor series.

For more information about Conn Iggulden and his books, please visit his website at www.conniggulden.com

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By The Same Author

Emperor: The Gates of Rome

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A paperback original 2006

Conn Iggulden asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

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