Kane was not happy. His rage had two, distinct constituents. The first: simply that she was there (he was tired. He had dumped her. She was a pest). The second, that she was flirting. And this other man (his rival; a young man, looked Italian) had his filthy hands pretty much everywhere.
Kelly didnt notice Kane until he was almost upon them. When she did, she let out a small squawk and dropped the chocolate bar on to her lap (as though Kane was the caustic battle-axe in charge of her slimming club). The Italian glanced up (blankly, momentarily) then returned his full attention to her thigh (it was an appealing thigh. Even Kane knew that).
How cosy Kane murmured, affably (brandishing his finely wrought shield of charm before him).
How cosy Kane murmured, affably (brandishing his finely wrought shield of charm before him).
Oh Fuck. Kelly seemed mortified, almost frightened. This aintits justI fell off the wall and I
Kane was so unimpressed by the calibre of her excuse that he didnt even bother to let her finish it. Fell off the wall? How awful for you. He smiled, falsely.
She grimaced. I was waitin on Beede. I had a special package for him. The gate was locked
Kane seemed quite riveted by this story. The gate was locked, you say? That gate? He pointed behind him, towards the open gate. How strangeAnd you were waiting for Beede? The Beede? Daniel Beede? It fuckin was, she almost squealed, I swear
Hmmn. A special package Kane mused.
Kelly looked down, then around her, in a sudden panic. Oh shit. Where is the fuckin thing?
Kane rolled his eyes. Kelly didnt even notice. She was still looking around for the brown envelope, visibly alarmed by its absence. I had a package. Some black girl gave it me. Cross my heart
Kane reached out his foot and gently poked the crouching Italian with it. Excuse me, he said sweetly. May I interrupt you for a moment?
The Italian turned, sharply (still crouching) and raised the flat of his hand. No, he said (in his threadbare English), get loss.
He wasnt Italian. He had a heavy accent (mid-European, maybe an Arab, maybe Romanian). He was crazy-looking, like a sallow Frankie Dettori on some kind of growth hormone. Kane carefully reconsidered booting him for a second time. He was smallish, and thin, but the veins stood out on his fists like worm-casts.
Kelly struggled to get up. Oh bollocks, she was muttering, I lost Beedes package. Im in so much fuckin shit
What the hell are you doing?! the Romanian bellowed (and in his indigenous tongue, so it was just a stream of crazy babble to the both of them), then, You, he continued, more haltingly (giving Kelly a firm glare), jus stay! Okay?
Kelly fell down again, shocked.
Wow. Kane took a small step back, as if the Romanian was a complex work of modernist art, best appreciated at a distance of several paces. This guys a real gem, Kell. How on earthd you hook up with him?
I already told you, Kelly snapped, I was waitin on Beede
Enough. Kane raised his hand in a gesture of weary compliance. I give in. Do what you like. Im knackered. My heads totally mashed. Just shift out of my way, will you?
He touched his fingers to his pounding temples.
The Romanian did not move. Kane tapped him on the shoulder. I said just shift
The Romanian sprang around. What are you? he demanded. Some kind of imbecile? Then, You! Go! he insisted, flapping Kane away as if he were some kind of vile bluebottle.
Go where? Kane tapped his index finger against his own chest. This is where I live, you moron. This is my home.
Kelly attempted to struggle up again.
The Romanian turnedIdiot girl!and firmly pushed her back down.
Ow! she expostulated, plaintively, as her bony arse made contact with the stone step.
At the sight of the Romanian manhandling Kelly, Kane completely lost it. He grabbed him by the shoulders as if to spin him around again but the Romanian was already moving smoothly of his own volition, and as he turned, his right fist turned with him. He punched Kane in the chest with it, then followed through with a hard left to his gut. They were powerful punches.
Kane doubled over with an embarrassing squeak. He saw the Romanian starting to lift his knee, then hesitating, as if re-considering delivering him a swift kick to the groin area (although it was still very obvious even to him that if the Romanian had seriously wanted to finish him off, he probably already wouldve. Those were amazing punches for a man of his stature he was 55, at a push).
Kane remained down for a few seconds (catching his breath, consolidating, thinking this all over), before his watering eyes finally settled on the steaming coffee Thermos (Ye Gods! A gift!), and, quick as a flash, hed grabbed it, straightened up, and thrown the contents into the Romanians face.
The Romanian screamed. Kelly screamed (she was splattered, and the Romanian staggered sideways, accidentally knocking into her). Kane dropped the Thermos and heard the glass break inside of it (he took an active almost adolescent pleasure in the sound of its fracturing).
The Thermos had been open for some minutes and the coffee wasnt exactly boiling, but it was hot enough. The Romanian was scalded, yet seemed far more concerned by the damage to his clothing. He was hopping mad.
This is my work shirt! he yelled, pulling the still-steaming fabric away from his hairy chest, gesticulating wildly. You have ruined me!
Kane suddenly started laughing. It was a hoarse laugh (he was winded). He pointed, weakly, at the ruined shirt (it was hardly the most glamorous-looking garment hed ever laid eyes upon). The Romanian, meanwhile, had noticed his damaged Thermos. He snatched it up from the paving, almost howling.
My Thermos! he wailed (his pronunciation of the brand-name was even to Kanes ears rather endearing). What have you done?
At this point a second man arrived; another entry-phone engineer, potentially the Romanians senior. He had Kellys two lurchers with him.
Whats going on? he asked the Romanian. The Romanian didnt answer. Instead he took the Thermos his knuckles white with fury and threw it, violently, against the nearest windowpane. The window it was a large, double-glazed one chipped but did not shatter.
Even so, the second entry-phone man was visibly alarmed by this display. Gaffar, he gasped, are you off your fuckin head?!
Gaffar stood his ground, his arms at his sides, breathing heavily (like the Invisible Hulk, transforming), his fists clenching and unclenching (the glass hasnt shattered, dammithis eyes were screamingso now I might be obliged to hospitalise somebody). Thats not even my window, Kane said, still chuckling, still limply pointing, like everything was a joke to him.
The second engineer glanced down at Kelly. You all right there, love?
Kelly nodded. Her eyes were closed now. She was resting her head against the door. Her face was very pale. One of the lurchers nuzzled her open hand. At its tender ministrations she emitted a gentle groan.
The second engineer glanced down at Kelly. You all right there, love?
Kelly nodded. Her eyes were closed now. She was resting her head against the door. Her face was very pale. One of the lurchers nuzzled her open hand. At its tender ministrations she emitted a gentle groan.
In the midst of all his hilarity, it finally dawned on Kane that she might not actually be bullshitting him about the fall. Had she fallen? He peered down at her, properly. He blinked (it was almost as though he hadnt seen her there before
Kelly?).
His mirth evaporated. A shattered piece of shin-bone was poking out like a discarded lolly stick through the tight, smooth flesh just underneath her knee. The lower half of her leg was purpling and swollen to almost twice its normal proportions. Her trainer was off (lying on the ground nearby, next to her slightly mangled-looking Nokia). If her foot was a balloon, then itd been pumped too full of air (looked like some kind of zeppelin sent up to advertise a discount shoe-store; or one of those themed lilos which kids loved to bob around upon, in the hotel pool, on holiday).
It was gruesome. As a boy Kane suddenly remembered shoving a piece of driftwood into the heart of a beached-up, blue-white jellyfish (to see if it was alive, to see how it would react). That was her leg what it reminded him of
Christ
What a cruel child I was
He glanced over at the Romanian. The Romanian was standing exactly as before (arms down, fists clenched, breathing, breathing). His cheeks were wet were shiny with remnants of the coffee. In the distance Kane picked out the insistent bray of an ambulance
Hee-haw!
Hee-haw!
Oh shit.
If the Romanian had punched him again right there, right then: square in the face he wouldve considered it an act of the most extreme beneficence.
His full name was Gaffar Celik and he wasnt Romanian. He was a Kurd. He had just turned twenty-four. He was born in a poor town called Silopi, in Turkey, on the Iraqi border. His father had died when Gaffar was only three working as a Village Guard in a private army under the control of a Kurdish feudal lord. His mother had then taken them eastward (Gaffar, and his younger brother), first to Marlin (to stay with her widowed father), then on (when he passed) to be with her sister, in the beautiful mountainous village of Hasankeyf.
Hasankeyf was a kind of tabernacle to Kurdish culture (40 miles from Batman, straddling the Tigris River), and the sister was married to a man whose paternal line had found gainful employment for over twelve generations guiding tourists around the ancient sights there (the legendary caves, the remains of the old bridge, the magnificent obelisk, the beautiful, stone archway).
But few people visited them any more. The Turkish government had plans to flood the town as part of the Llisu Dam project, and so, gradually, one by one, the tour operators had wiped them from the cultural map (the south east had always been a difficult area). The decision they insisted was in no way political (to systematically flood all significant Kurdish landmarks? But what, they asked gently, was remotely contentious in that?).