Chapter 24
Wednesday 9th October, 2024
Raphael Park, Romford
Whistling rolled through the crisp, greying leaves of shivering Ash tree's and into the evening air. The park surrendered its autumnal gold hours ago and is now laid in silverish tones beneath a half-crescent moon, calm and peaceful and cool. Unlike Kit.
Kit: What's the time, now?
Otis: It's been three minutes since you last asked.
The pair are huddled underneath a cedar tree with dangling branches stretched over the Blacks Canal.
Aside from the gentle tinkling of trickling water, they can hear Angel's raspy breaths through shared AirPods as he sits, smoking his third Marlboro Red, on a rusted park bench one-hundred yards away.
Angel checks his watch; it's now seven 'o' clock.
Angel: Someone should be here by now.
He exhales a final puff and docks the cigarette out on the bin beside him.
Otis: They're probably at home eating hot tomato soup by the fire. I can't believe I let you two talk me into this.
Angel: Strength in numbers, Inspector.
Otis: Well I hope whoever's coming, they aint fast as hell. Cause your numbers need five minutes to thaw out their strong.
It's a chillier-than-usual seven degree's and even the after-work joggers seem to have succumbed to a cosy night in watching Daryl Dixon cure Paris of zombies, from the comfort of their own sofa's. Otis should be running in that race as well – yet here he stands instead, cursing Flake for not negotiating the terms of their location to somewhere warmer - what was wrong with an avant-garde coffee shop or McDonalds?
Flake received specific instructions to pass on: Angel must wait at Raphael Park on the coming Wednesday at six 'o' clock, and he must come alone, where someone would meet him. This someone would provide information on a new dealer rumoured to be distributing pink cocaine in the area, name and address included. But with no indication of what else to expect, and considering the outcome of Angel's last stand-alone mission, Kit volunteered himself and Otis as back-up. Initially, Otis strongly objected, but ultimately based his final decision on an ode to his ever-flowering friendship - and a ten-thousand-pound cash bribe.
Angel bites his lip, feeling slightly more apprehensive than he'd like to admit, and runs fingers over his own Browning Hi-Power in his pocket for reassurance – but it's cold and hard and doesn't feel comfortable, oddly.
Normally, a handgun feels like an extension of Angel's arm, but these days he's feeling less like brutal terminator and more like clown impersonator.
Remembering that making rash decisions almost got him killed last time in the park behind Shoot-Up Hill, he tries to take a deep breath to control his racing heart - he needs a clear mind to focus, but Maura won't talk to him, and he hates that his mood is a reflection of hers. When the fuck did that happen?
Angel's phone vibrates in his other hand, and he minimises Otis' caller ID to check his texts. Part of him - a big part of him - hopes it's Maura, but then he sees the message from Flake – a single thumbs-up emoji.
Angel: I think they're coming now. Eyes peeled lads, now is not the time to blink.
Otis: I can't blink, my fucking eyelids have frozen open.
Angel: Don't be a big baby Ratt.
Otis: We'll see who's a big fucking baby when I drive me and the Kid home to defrost and leave your thug-ass here to fight your own battles.
Angel smiles.
Angel: No, you hang up, cutie.
He's making jokes to cloak his nerves, but Angel is the most anxious he's felt since wearing Nico's penknife as a scarf.
He doesn't know what to expect from todays meet, but the fact its happening in a public park should suggest its going to be civilised; except that no one has walked through this park for over an hour. There's been no dogs. There's been no rebellious school kids cutting through on their way home post-detention. There's not even been a single sodding duck float by. And that makes Angel uneasy.
From the corner of his eye, Angel catches movement - he holds his breath as a padded figure drawers closer, until he can see it's just an elderly man being walked by his Patterdale Terrier.
The man is sporting a full length duffle coat, over a yellowed shirt and a brown paisley kipper tie - the kind of tie that you might find Ricky Gervais wearing in an episode of The Office. He has greyed hair fringing frameless specs and a bulbous red nose tipped with a droplet of snot - and he must be really cold, because he's shaking.
He looks as though he's going to walk straight past Angel without any acknowledgment. Until he doesn't.
Stranger: You were... as...asked to come alone, but you didn't. You...you brought them.
Angel stands up straight and glares.
The man turns his head away, too afraid to make eye contact with eyes so devilishly black.
Stranger: You brought them with you and now there's no one at home. No one who can save them. You sh...should've come alone.
Kit and Otis both shout down the phone, sending shrieks through the AirPod's in Angel's ears. Angel rips out both earphones and grabs the old man by his coat collar.
Angel: What the fuck did you just say?
Kit: Angel, what the fuck is he talking about?
Otis: Save who? At whose home, Angel?
Stranger: P-please - ow- someone stopped me at the gates an-an-and told me to give the m-m-man on a bench a message!
Angel grabs his collar harder and the terrier starts to bark as Otis and Kit emerge from behind the trees.
Angel: Who stopped you? What did they look like?
Stranger: I don't know! P-p-please, ow, he told me not to turn around or he'd sh-sh-shoot me, I swear! Please let me l-leave, I just want to get home to my wife.
The man turns to see Kit climbing up the grassy banks clutching a gun, and winces, scared witless.
The stranger: P-p-please, I have grandchildren! And m-my dog - please!
Otis yells at Angel to 'let the old geezer go', and he disconnects the call with Angel's phone to ring his son.
Angel is stunned still, and releases his grip on the duffle coat - both the stranger and his dog activate flight mode. He moves quick for a pensioner and flees the scene, puppy over one shoulder and his 'David Brent-style tie' waving 'Goodbye' over the other.
Otis: Ruben!? Where are you!? Where's Danae!? Are you and your sister okay!?
Kit: Greta, why aren't you in bed? Where's mummy? Greta please put mummy on the phone quickly!
Angel: What's happening? What have I fucked up this time?
Kit: Harriet? Harriet listen to me!
Angel's head spins - he can hear the panicked echoes of Kit bellowing and the heavy footsteps of Otis running back towards the park entrance - back to his car - back to his family, whom he never should have left. Angel tries to find his balance, steadying himself on the park bench - it's icy cold and jolts him to his senses.
Kit: Angel!? Angel get the fuck up! Angel!? Angel move! We need to get home now! Move!
The word 'home' rings in his ears as he recalls what the old man said: 'You brought them with you and now there's no one at home'.
Angel: Shit! Greta! Call Harriet!
Kit: Greta's fine, Harriet's fine! Your mum, Zola, Faye and Josie, they're all fucking fine! But Angel, Maura isn't answering her phone - I can't get hold of Maura!
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Trestle
Mystery / Thriller**SMUT warning** Following the death of his racketeer father, Angel is left to manage the O'Hare family's rugged affairs. He vows to worship his girls and protect them from the threat of poverty, sin, and dangerous men like himself. But when debts c...
