BOILER

Chapter 25

Jack's apartment building was a colourful thing due to the city and a local college coming up with a scheme to let art students use its walls as creative space, and there was plenty of space to get creative with. Someone had done a good job of depicting a small girl flying a kite.

Jack looked hot and bothered. His eyes were red, and so was his nose, and he didn't seem able to stop his jaw moving. He went and sat on the couch.

'I've been calling you,' Jack said.

'I haven't been home,' Pott said. 'But I heard Sorin was nowhere to be found.'

'Nowhere, man,' Jack said, just noticing Pott's hair colour was brown now.

'That's all right,' Pott said. 'He'll pop up sooner or later, and it's not a dead cert that he knows anything worth knowing.'

'He knows who I am.'

'Well, yeah.'

'But you haven't heard anything else?'

'Nothing.'

'And from the law?'

'I just said, nothing.'

Pott walked to the kitchen counter where he fed the goldfish drifting around the bowl. He dabbed a finger in some misplaced cocaine and licked it and then he watched Jack, looking sorry for himself on the couch.

'This is a disaster,' Jack said.

'That just now dawning on you?' Pott asked, with a smile.

Jack nodded. He was staring at his reflection in the tv screen. 'I don't know what to do,' he said. He kept a budgerigar in a cage, and it had knocked over its bath and been flapping about since Pott walked in. Jack went to the kitchen and poured himself a drink. Pott herded the powder together with his thumb and licked it when he was done. He noticed a gun on the couch. He settled on a stool and dabbed the cocaine again. He sucked his lips.

'I'm sorry I lost the dope, Pott,' Moses said, as he went and sat down again.

'I don't think that matters much at this point, Jack.'

'What are we gonna do?'

'Leave this situation as best we can and try not to drag anything home with us.'

Jack got up and snatched his drink. He paced back and fore, stopping like he wanted to say something, then off walking again. He stopped in the middle of the living room. He was wondering how to stay useful. Pott knew it. And he knew he wasn't.

'I think you should just let it go,' Pott said. He poked at the dope again. 'Forget about the mistake and think about the mess we made last night. The city will be working hard to clean that up.'

'You made the mess,' Jack said. He hadn't finished his drink, but he was heading back to the kitchen for a refill.

'No, no, Jack. Last night was inevitable. It was the natural course. All that was ever going to happen. And in the end, it might help us.'

'How?'

'Well, the city doesn't like losing people like that. It makes them look weak. And I bet whoever put them in our way is under some serious pressure to make amends. So, that's what got me thinking. That's the way out.'

'How?'

Pott poked at the powder. He sighed and sucked some of the residue off his fingers. Jack's pacing had got him closer to the gun. He sipped his drink and watched Pott. He was trying to glean something from his expression but thinking about Pott gave him the feeling of being underwater. He took another sip. Not even the bird was moving now.

'To give them what they want,' Pott said. 'So, me and you have to go our separate ways.'

It all dawned on Jack in a rush of dread. He tried to smile, but the feeling wouldn't let him.

'Did you come here to kill me?' Jack asked.

Pott stared right into him and gave the vaguest of nods. 'It's the best way forward and out of this I can think of.'

'You knew Sorin wasn't at home.'

'Why would he be at home, Jack? It's just that you stick out and one or two people might see you around up there.'

Jack got near the gun. Pott smiled and said it was, 'A bad idea.'

'What do you think you are?'

Pott sighed and smiled politely. 'I've been thinking about that myself lately. All I can say is everybody is good at something. But you think about what I've had to do over the last few days. All because you lost some dope. You make a mistake, and they call me. You're a replaceable idiot. Sometimes, I think I don't need the bother anymore, and maybe I could find some other way to make money, but I keep coming back to this. You have to do what makes you happy.'

He fixed his stare on Jack. 'I hoped this would be quick and painless.'

Jack stood there, holding his breath and meeting Pott's stare as best he could. 'No, you didn't,' he said.

Pott had the cord arranged in his pocket. Jack twitched. Pott moved forward with a lot of speed and little effort, like his bones were hollow, and there was something of the bullfighter in how the cord was strung out and tucked under Jack's chin. He pulled it tight in under his jaw line. Jack threw awkward punches up and back at him. He clawed at his eyes. They stumbled into the kitchen and Pott dragged him to the floor. He sat behind Jack with a knee in his back and pulled. Jack kicked out and thrashed about. Pott was rather calm about it all. He watched Jack's legs kick about and pulled the cord deeper into his throat.

Jack's skin tore as he struggled, and blood ran out. Something broke in his throat. Pott felt it through the cord. His kicks became fleeting, feeble things. And then no more. Pott kept the pressure on for a time after the last kick before letting go and standing up.

He left Jack there and went to a cupboardin his bedroom. He pulled out the clothes and took out the backboard and fromthere a small toolbox. He opened it and made a rough count of sixty thousand.He came back to the living room and dabbed the cocaine. He watched Jack bleedfor a while, and then he started to move furniture off the living roomrug.