BOILER

Chapter 16

Toland woke up in a small cell under bright lights with a tight knot getting tighter in his head. He groaned and rubbed his head, eyes, and temples and pulled his hair and squirmed as pain shot through his skull. The blood was tacky on his head and cold in the pillow. He covered his eyes with one hand while the other felt the concrete floor. His mouth was gritty. He tongued the line of his teeth and located all of them along with some new rough spot and the faint taste of copper.

'Right where I left you.'

Toland stared out from under his hand at the liaison standing in his cell. His face and torso were narrow and long, and his shoulders were set close in. You couldn't keep him in a cell without moving the bars closer together. His hands were huge and wrought with thick veins. They looked like he could choke an oak tree. His hair was white, and his eyes were small and deep in their sockets.

'What'd you want?' Toland asked, not looking at him.

'I came down to collect you. Why don't you get up and we'll talk?'

Toland didn't move.

'Who gave you a pasting?'

'I don't know,' Toland said, looking around the four walls and covering his eyes again. 'I feel like I got some good ones in. Can't be sure, though.'

He stared at the ceiling. The liaison sniffed the air. 'There's a stink in here. Is that you or the room?'

'My nose is blocked,' Toland mumbled. He creased his nose and lay still for a while, and then he sighed. It seemed to take a lot of effort, and the bed creaked as he rolled on to a shoulder and finally sat up. He closed a nostril and blew blood and black lumps at the floor, wiping what clung to him in the mattress. The cut on his head throbbed, and he flinched when he touched it.

'What happened?' the liaison asked.

'Somebody tried to break a bottle on me. Did they bring anybody else in?'

'Just you. They're happy enough to throw one of us in a cell.'

Toland finally looked straight at him. 'But me and you aren't the same are we, Bill?'

The light hurt, and he tried blinking it away. His coat was in a heap on the floor. He dragged it over and felt around for his cigarettes. He took one and searched for the lighter.

'They won't let you keep a lighter in here, James. Let's get you signed out.'

Bill stepped out of the cell and walked his miserable companion to the booking desk. Toland had his weapon, lighter, and ID signed back over to him, and then, as if to make a point of it, a pill bottle was shaken and handed over. The sun was late getting up from the winter night, and its light did nothing to break the cold. They got to the steps outside when Bill got a handful of Toland's coat and cracked him with that slab of a hand. The cigarette he was trying to light went spinning end on end down the steps. Toland dropped to his knees for a moment. There was a new pulse travelling around his skull. He felt the hotness in his cheek.

'You piece of shit,' Bill said.

Toland looked about the floor for his cigarette and looked up when he didn't find it. 'What'd I do now?' he asked.

Bill kept his chin up and with his dark eyes, he stared down at him. 'Get up.'

Toland got up and went down the steps to collect his cigarette before the pigeons got at it. He left the cigarette in his mouth while his hands tried to remember where the lighter was. They found the lighter. He stretched out his shoulders and stood up straight for the first time that day. He looked up the steps at Bill.