Marie moved away from the window and opened the top drawer of the chest. She was surprised to find it empty; the second and third drawer, the same empty except for some faded sheets of wallpaper used to line the bases. Maybe he kept his stuff in the other room.

There was an unexpected lull in the music from next door: a brief pause.

Suddenly a floorboard creaked nearby. Marie stood frozen to the spot trying to hold her breath, but her heart was pounding, demanding oxygen. She tightened her grip on the Snub Nose and listened more intently. It was difficult to tell if the noise had come from inside the flat or from one of the other apartments. The noise came again, but this time she got a fix on it. She was certain it had come from the apartment above. Marie's shoulders sagged and she started to breathe again. 'Just grab what you came for and get to hell out of there, come on.'

Moments later she was heading back along the corridor towards the lounge. Without thinking, she reached up for the light switch. It was an instinctive reaction, but Marie knew instantly that it was too late.

The light had been on only for a split second, but that was enough for Marie to see the guy's face pressed against the balcony door.

She screamed and tried to lift the Snub Nose, but it felt like it had suddenly gained two hundred pounds. The muscles in her arms had drained of all their strength and her fingers refused to work. It was only when she saw the figure out on the balcony reach for his gun that she managed to pull the trigger.

There were two loud explosions and the room was instantly filled with acrid smoke. She could hear Finn's words echoing in her mind: 'Start firing, and don't stop until they stop breathing.'

Before Marie knew what had happened, she'd emptied the gun and the trigger was clicking lamely in her hand.

Another two loud cracks reverberated round the walls of the small lounge.

The guy was firing back.

Marie turned and ran.

Yet another shot. This time the bullet fizzed overhead and burst into the ceiling just above her head, showering her in fine white plaster dust.

She could hear the guy crashing through the balcony doors. He was in the apartment.

Marie pulled frantically at the front door, her hands trembling with fear.

She was sobbing.

She knew that the door was locked, but what had she done with the goddamn keys?

Suddenly it hit her. They were sitting on top of the chest of drawers in Finn's bedroom, where she'd left them alongside his gun.

Chapter 26.

Cottondale Easter Sunday evening

Vincent Lee Croll lifted the bell-bottomed glass and sucked margarita through two twisted pink straws till it made a sound like a coffee percolator. The woman behind the counter might have a face on her like a bulldog's ass, but she knew how to mix a drink. Vincent was on his fourth. The painkillers had stopped working a long time ago and various parts of his body were beginning to hurt. The alcohol was helping, but he needed more. It was only when he stood up and tried to walk over to the bar that it hit him just how strong the margaritas were. The toe of Vincent's shoe caught an uneven floorboard and he nearly went over. Jo behind the bar flashed a look when she heard him cussing, but he didn't give a shit. It wasn't as if he was upsetting a packed house in fact, apart from one other guy sitting at the bar and an old couple over in the corner, Vincent was the only one there. He knew the old bulldog wasn't going to throw out a fee-paying customer, even if the look on her face said she wanted to.

'Be easier if you did service at the tables,' he dribbled as he placed his glass on the counter.

'Who fur,' she replied with a heavy southern drawl, 'me or you?'

Vincent checked his pockets: he had fifteen dollars left which meant another three drinks, or two drinks and a couple of packets of Marlboros. Either way he was nearly out of cash. 'Any chance of a "good customer" discount, seeing as I'm keeping the place going all by myself here?' he said, giving it his best toothy grin.

Bulldog Jo didn't lift her head from the newspaper she was leaning over.

'Sure. How about I refuse to serve you another margarita. That way you get a discount of five bucks.'

Vincent's big dopey eyes stared back at her for a few seconds while he decided which way to take it.

'Why you chewing on my ass, sis? You been nibbling at it ever since I got here. So much so that I got no ass left to sit on that seat over there. Gonna need a cushion to rest the bare knuckle of my butt on. All I'm suggesting is that I buy three drinks at a reduced rate to save me getting up and down every couple of minutes and you throw in a packet of smokes as an all-inclusive deal.'

'How about I serve you one more drink for the road and you can have one of my cigarettes as a going-away present?' she replied, still reading the newspaper. 'That way you'll have enough money to call a cab.'

Vincent kept up the dumb smile. He thought about shooting her right between the fucking eyes, but he would then have to kill everyone else in the bar and that might turn his luck the wrong way. Vincent sucked air in through his teeth and tried again.

'C'mon, sis, I'm asking you nice now. You standing there looking so sweet you're rotting my teeth. Okay, I will buy one more drink, but I'd like it to be a pitcher of margaritas and if you could possibly include a packet of smokes I'll give you fifteen bucks, and that is everything I own.'

Bulldog Jo was peering at him now, over the thin metallic rim of her glasses. 'Well seeing as how you asked so nice,' she said, making no attempt to hide the sarcasm.

Vincent watched as she threw together the ingredients of his drink and poured the mixture into a glass jug. She put the jug down on the bar and pulled a packet of cigarettes from a display stand just behind her.

'You need a fresh glass?'

'Shit, for fifteen bucks I'm expectin a goddamn butler to carry me and the drink to my table,' replied Vincent, even though his cheeks were beginning to hurt with all the smiling he was doing.

He fished in his trouser pocket for his last three bills and slapped them down just far enough out of reach to make Bulldog have to stretch across the counter top.

Vincent pushed himself away from the bar and slouched back to the window. After lighting another cigarette he climbed unsteadily onto a tall wooden bar stool and stared out at a blanket of cloud that had pushed in from the south, making the evening seem darker than usual. Through the dirty window of the bar Vincent could also see a dim blue glow lighting up the balcony of the two skinny dopeheads that lived next to O'Hanlon. Vincent had sat at the window for over an hour watching people come and go from their apartment. Within minutes of arriving each visitor would appear on the balcony for a smoke, which confirmed what Vincent already suspected. The guys across the street were dealers: the visitors were trying out the merchandise.

Now that the margaritas were hitting home runs unopposed Vincent was starting to get ideas again. If O'Hanlon didn't show up soon, he'd go over and bust the dope dealers. It'd be an easy hit. Knock on the door like he wanted to ask them some more about O'Hanlon, then as soon as they opened up . . . whack. Knock one of them out straight away. Let the other one know he was serious and not to fuck him about. It hadn't occurred to Vincent when he'd been over earlier that they were stoned, but now he'd figured it out, it made sense. Only problem he could see was if Mr De Garza had them on his books. If that were the case they would be off limits. But in all his years of smoking dope he had never heard of anyone dealing out of Cottondale. Vincent smiled. What had started off as a fairly ordinary day was turning out to be a rollercoaster ride with a shitload of opportunities opening up for him. When the cops had come into his hospital room Vincent thought that was it, game over. But as soon as they had been removed from the equation, everything had started to turn around.

The first bit of luck: the room he'd jumped out of at the hospital was right next to the parking lot. Within seconds he had the driver's door of an Oldsmobile Cutlass sedan open and was heading to his sister's house for a shower and a change of clothes with WTXT blasting out some classic Country on the radio. The plan to go to Cola's mum's house and sort the old bitch out would have to wait.

The second bit of luck: when he'd turned into his sister's street he'd seen the Black and White sitting out front, in her drive. Vincent had driven straight past just as the cops were getting out of the car and crossing the street. They didn't even look his way. Vincent drove on to a friend's house instead and got fixed up there.

The third bit of luck: finding the two wasters across the street, Ardel and Hud. There for the taking was a big bag of weed and a cash bonus for the minimum of effort.

Vincent tipped the jug of margaritas and filled his glass to the brim. A thought struck him and he turned to shout over at Bulldog Jo.

'Hey sis how many drinks in a jug?'

Jo looked over at him and frowned.

'What?'

'How many glasses d'you get in a jug?'

Bulldog Jo knew straight away where this was heading. 'Four!'

'How much does it cost?'

'Twelve bucks for a pitcher.'

Vincent's smile was gone.

'So how come I've been paying tourist rates buying them individually for five bucks each and you never says?'

Bulldog Jo shrugged her shoulders. 'You never asked.'

'Plus you owe me three,' said Vincent.

Jo shook her head. 'No, you got a pack of smokes.'

'Okay, but they is only two-fifty a pack, or are you charging me tourist on them as well?' said Vincent, beginning to get a rise. 'You took three bucks off me.'

'So I owe you fifty cents you can collect it on your way out. Now relax your bony ass and stop shouting your mouth off all over the place. You annoying the other customers.'

Vincent was about to start on her again when something caught his eye.

Someone was climbing over the railings on the balcony above O'Hanlon's apartment. The guy was trying to drop down but his feet were a few inches short of the railing below: dangling there like he was about to fall. Next thing Ardel and Hud were out on their balcony making conversation with the guy like they were all best of friends.

Vincent couldn't believe what he was seeing.

'Sheeeit . . . O'Hanlon!'

Vincent smiled to himself and muttered under his breath. 'You see tha's why I didn't shoot this place up . . . cause I knew it would turn my luck in the wrong direction. Vincent looks to me like you staring at the double jackpot.'

Vincent picked up the jug of margaritas and carried it back over to the bar, taking care not to let any of it spill.

'What time you close?'

Jo was reading her newspaper again.

'Usually round midnight but I'm thinking I might close up early tonight.'

'Closing early for the tourists?' Vincent shrugged like he wasn't bothered. 'You keep this in the cooler till I get back. Got some work to do, but it won't take long. You can hang on to the fifty cents you owe me too. Call it a tip.'

'Gee, you sure?' said Jo, out loud so the other drinkers could hear. Got the two old folk in the corner smiling till Vincent stared them down.

When he was finished across the road Vincent would come back and pistol-whip the bitch, but for now he'd settle for hitting her with an exit line.

'Lady, we used to have a dog looked like you when I was growing up. Bitch was so ugly we tied the leash to its hind legs, shaved its ass, and walked it backwards.' Vincent looked over at the old couple again and scowled. 'Why ain't you smiling now for fuck's sake? That's a good line.'

If he'd waited a few seconds he'd have seen Jo pouring the jug of margaritas down the sink and picking up the telephone, but Vincent was already out onto the street. He kept tight to the edge of the building, skirting the shadows as he made his way quickly along the sidewalk opposite O'Hanlon's.

He figured this guy O'Hanlon was scared to go in through his front door, in case someone was waiting for him on the other side. From where Vincent was standing now it looked as if the guy had his face pressed up against the balcony doors trying to see in.

Suddenly the guy was in silhouette. For a split second there was light flooding onto the balcony from inside the apartment.

Vincent had to duck down as the balcony doors suddenly erupted with a loud crack and a bullet ripped through the air, embedding itself into the wall beside him. 'Sheeeit.'

Vincent had to stay low as two more bullets whizzed past.

When he looked up again the light was off and the guy had disappeared.

Vincent wasn't sure what was happening: maybe someone else had been hired to finish the hit, and had been waiting inside the apartment just like O'Hanlon had feared. But jumping in on someone else's contract was against the rules. If another asshole was trying to prevent Vincent claiming the prize money then they would get a goddamn bullet too.

Right now, though, he didn't give a shit. O'Hanlon was back and that meant Vincent was still in the frame to collect.

As he crossed the road Vincent pulled the 9 mm from his belt and flipped the safety off.

'Tomorrow you is heading straight to the track to bet on some nags, you lucky hound-dog,' he said to himself. The big toothy grin was back.

He lifted the gun to his lips and kissed it. 'Okay doll, you ready to spit some nasties.'

Chapter 27.

Cottondale Easter Sunday evening

'Listen!' she heard him say. 'I'm unarmed, and you're the boss. If you want to talk, I'll be in the kitchen looking for something to drink.'

Considering she'd just tried to shoot him, the guy sounded pretty calm.

Marie heard some movement, then a thump as his gun hit the floor and slid along the hallway. It was out of reach, but there it was, just as he'd said.

There was always the chance that he might be carrying another weapon, but for whatever reason her instinct was to trust him.

Marie stood in the darkness for a few moments wondering what to do next.

She had the front-door key now, but her hand was trembling so much that she'd never get the key in the lock.

The guy was rummaging around for something in the kitchen.