The Lornea Island Detective Club Page 24

  "The hell are you saying?" Dad cuts in, starting to sound alarmed now. I still can't get more than two words out I'm so short of breath.

  "The hell is it now?"

  But before I can try again to explain there's another gunshot. I feel a huge flare of panic, and for a second I'm sure it hits me, square in my back, but then I realize it hasn't, it's just the way I've tensed up, in a spasm of panic.

  I see snatches of Dad, trying to make sense of what's happening. I see his face, the emotions flowing across his features. Surprise, shock, fear. I hear more shots. Two. Three. I can't even tell how many. As I watch I can almost see the back of Dad's head explode and blood bursting out, I expect it to happen so much. I'm so freaked, it takes me time to see that this doesn't happen. I realize I'm screaming, and the only thing that stops me is a boot, a few moments later, struck hard into my ribs.

  Sixty-One

  "Shut the fuck up."

  I'm still so short of breath, it doesn't take much for me to do what he says.

  "Get on your knees, hands behind your head."

  It's Vinny, speaking through great panting lunges of breath. It takes me a second to see it's not me he's talking to now, it's Dad. I turn to look, still not sure if he's been shot or not, but I can't see any blood. Our eyes meet. I try to make him see I'm sorry. That I tried to tell him what was happening.

  "Get on your fucking knees and put your hands behind your head." Vinny snarls a second time. He's got his gun held in both hands, pointed right at Dad. His eyes slide to me though now, like he's covering both of us. Slowly Dad does what he says, dropping one leg and then the other until he's kneeling in the dirt of our drive. I feel certain that as soon as he does, Vinny is going to shoot him. Execute him. It's like when he led me to the forest.

  "No!" I call out, putting my hand on Dad to try to stop him.

  "You too, you little shit." Vinny turns to me, aiming the gun at me now. It's amazing the power of it. It makes me freeze, imagining again the death it can deliver, with just a twitch of his fingers.

  "Kneel." Vinny says. I'm shaking, but I do what he tells me. Then Vinny steps carefully around. I see him glancing around, at the house, at the surrounding land, but there's no one around. Our closest neighbors are half a mile away.

  "Well well. If it isn't Jamie fucking Stone. So this is where a rat like you goes to hide," Vinny says. He gives a nasty smile.

  "Vinny," Dad replies. "Let the boy go. Whatever this is about, he's got nothing to do with it."

  "Shut up," Vinny snarls. And Dad takes a breath of air, like he's going to say something else, but then does what he's told. Vinny looks around again.

  "Where the fuck is he?"

  Dad takes a second to answer this, and then when he does, his voice sounds weird. Cautious. Tense.

  "Who?"

  And then, so quick I don't really see it happening, Vinny has an elbow wrapped around my neck, and the barrel of the gun pressed against my temple.

  "Where the fuck is your buddy Tucker?" Vinny spits out the question this time, I can feel flecks of saliva hitting my face.

  I see Dad tense, on the verge of jumping forward, but stopping himself when he sees there's no chance.

  "Tucker Nolan? I haven't seen him in years."

  "Oh yeah? Well how come your boy already told me he's been living here. Two fucking rats. Now where the fuck is he?"

  Dad's quiet for a second.

  "OK, he was here. He got off the island this morning. There's a boat in an hour. If you go now you can get after him..."

  "Bullshit. The truth or I blow the kid's brains out."

  I screw my eyes closed, wondering whether I'll hear the bang, or my brain will explode before the sound hits it. It’s weird how that’s what you think about at times like this.

  "OK,” Dad’s calm, trying to reassure Vinny. “He's in the house. He went to the bathroom."

  I feel the hold around my neck loosen, and open my eyes. But I'm just in time to see Vinny's arm extend, and then he brings the gun crashing down onto the front of Dad's head. It's so quick, there's nothing he can do about it, no time to move out of the way. There's a sickening crack of metal hitting bone, and Dad slumps backward. Then, because of the way he's kneeling, so he can't actually fall backwards, instead he rocks, and then falls to the side. I don't know if he's unconscious or dead. I guess I must scream out again, because the next thing I know Vinny is shouting at me to shut up too.

  "Unless you want the same?" He snarls, and lifts the gun to threaten me.

  I'm quiet again. I look at Dad. He's lying on his side across the driveway. He's not moving, I can't see if he's breathing, but there's blood seeping out of a wound on his forehead. I turn to look at Vinny again, my eyes wide in terror.

  But Vinny doesn't seem interested. He stabs the gun into the small of my back again, and forces me to move, half dragging me so that Dad's truck now stands between us and the front of the house.

  "I know you're in there Tucker," Vinny calls out loudly. He's almost ignoring me now, but he keeps the gun pressed hard against me, and he's strong. He's unbelievably strong, his forearm wrapped around my neck, restricting the air I can get in. I think for a second that maybe I could drop my head down and bite his arm, but my chin is in the way, stopping me from moving. And then he changes his grip, tighter again, so that it's impossible.

  "Tucker you motherfucker. Get your sorry ass out here."

  Then we both wait, watching the front door. It doesn't move. I don't even know if I want it to. I just suddenly know I was wrong to lead Vinny here. I thought it would save me, but it hasn't helped. Not at all.

  "Tucker... Don't make me come in after you," Vinny shouts now. Then suddenly he takes the gun from my neck and aims it at the house. He fires off three shots, shattering the kitchen window and then the windows of the lounge. The noise of it rises up and booms around the clifftop. Then when the echoes die out, nothing's changed.

  "Tucker. Get out here now or the kid dies." Vinny shouts into the silence.

  Nothing moves in the house. Dad's still lying still. I begin to wonder if maybe Tucker has escaped out the back. It's what I'd do. At least. I think it is.

  "You know I'll do it Tuck. I'm gonna count to three."

  I feel my eyes start to flick about, desperate for a way out of this. But he's gripping me tight. The gun is pressed against my temple again. Vinny forces me to my feet, so we're visible from the house. If anyone's there to see.

  "One."

  What if he's not there? What if he's gone? I don't want to die. Not like this.

  "Two," he calls out. Then he speaks to me.

  "Say goodbye boy."

  He takes a deep breath. I struggle, but he tenses and stops me, it doesn't seem to take any effort.

  "Three."

  Sixty-Two

  My eyes close. I don't expect to ever open them again. But when I do, I'm not dead. Instead I see my house. The front door is open, and Tucker’s standing there. He's got his hands raised, and at once, Vinny aims the gun at him.

  "You armed?" Vinny shouts.

  "No." Tucker replies.

  "Bullshit. Lift up your shirt."

  But the second Tucker begins to move his hands, Vinny shouts again.

  "Slow down. Do it slowly."

  Then, moving his hands very deliberately, Tucker does what he's told, unbuttoning, and then pulling open up his shirt until we can see his tattoo.

  "Take it off. Drop it on the ground."

  Tucker slips the shirt from his shoulders and lets it fall.

  "Now turn around. Do it slowly."

  So he does, turning a complete circle until he's back facing forwards. There's no gun, or any weapon on his torso.

  "Now drop your pants."

  "What?"

  "Drop your fucking pants."

  I see a dark look pass over Tucker, but he begins to unbuckle his belt, and then pushes his jeans down his legs. They get down to his knees so he's just standing in his underpants.

 
; "All the way off. Shoes too. Do it slowly."

  Tucker is slow to respond. But I guess he had no choice, because then he reaches down and pulls off one shoe and then the other. As he does so he slowly pulls out a kitchen knife out that he must have put into his sock. He holds it up, handle first, so that Vinny can see it.

  "Toss it away." With his eyes Vinny indicates the direction he wants Tucker to throw it, away into the yard.

  I watch as the knife traces a little arc and lands in the grass. I wonder if there's any way I can get to it, but Vinny is still holding me, and even if he wasn't, I don't know what I'd do with a knife. I try to imagine using it, but I can't.

  "Keep going," Vinny says. His attention hasn't moved from Tucker. And as I turn back, Tucker is continuing to undress, until he's standing there just in his underpants.

  "This ain't got nothing to do with the kid," Tucker begins. He sounds strangely calm, like this isn't that different from a normal conversation. "Nor Jamie neither."

  "You made it to do with them. By hiding out here."

  Tucker doesn't reply. He looks like he's about to, but then doesn't have the words.

  "You knew I'd come for you. That's why you ran. You choose to hide here."

  I stare at Tucker as Vinny says this, and for a second he looks back at me. But he turns back. I see him shake his head, very slightly.

  "I didn't run. Least. I didn't mean to run. We were finished in there. It was going just like we planned it. It ain't my fault you decided to shoot the guy."

  "He would have come after us. I was just doing the job properly. Like we fucking planned."

  Even from here I can see Tucker's nostrils flare in frustration. He doesn't have an answer again.

  "Whatever dude. I don't think we're ever gonna agree on that one."

  "Step forward." Vinny says, and Tucker hesitates.

  "I said step forward." Vinny repeats.

  "If it's the stash you've come for, it's in the truck. You can take it."

  "Oh I will," Vinny says. "But you know I didn't come all the way out here just for a few gold chains. I can get that anywhere I want. There’s a principle here. You don’t split like that. Because there’s consequences…"

  I feel Vinny tighten the grip around my neck even more. He still has the gun pointed at Tucker. His arm outstretched now. I see in Tucker's face how the sight of the gun is affecting him. He can’t even move his eyeballs. I guess it’s because he knows this guy. He knows exactly what he’s capable off.

  "Now kneel." Vinny says. The atmosphere has changed. It's like we all know there's no more talking to be done. Tucker takes a long time to do anything, I can see him looking at his options. If he kneels down, Vinny is going to shoot him. But if he doesn't Vinny is going to shoot him. I suddenly realize I'm going to have to watch. I'm going to have to see Tucker's head burst open and his brains spray out. And then what's going to happen to me?

  But then I suddenly notice another pair of eyes watching what's going on. Uncertain eyes. Nervous, almost reptilian eyes. I blink, not sure if I can trust what I'm seeing. But I can. I try to make contact with the eyes. I try to send a message. But the eyes are only watching.

  "Kneel motherfucker," Vinny shouts out now. "And maybe I leave the kid alive."

  I sense Tucker's turning to me, but I'm not looking at him now. I'm totally fixated on the other pair of eyes. The eyes belonging to a juvenile herring gull, sitting on the top of the house watching the whole scene unfold. A herring gull that doesn't like it when he sees me being threatened. I stare at Steven, desperate for him to understand. In front of me Tucker slowly kneels in the dirt. Vinny grips my neck tighter still and drags me forward, so that the tip of the gun is just a few yards from Tucker's head, bowed down, like he can't face looking at it.

  "Mmmmmmmm," I suddenly say, as loud as I dare. "Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm."

  Vinny shakes me. "Shut the fuck up kid."

  But I don't.

  "Hmmmmmmmmmmm. Mmmmnnnggg." I’m louder this time, and I see the reaction it has in Steven. His head stills, and I see him lean forward where he's perched, like he's contemplating taking off. Considering if I'm in trouble. But he doesn't do it. He still just sits there. I know I have to make Vinny hurt me. It's the only way to make Steven move.

  So I moan again, and I push against Vinny, knocking his aim off Tucker for a second. It's not long enough for Tucker to react, but it annoys Vinny. He has no idea what's going on. He responds by shaking me, harder.

  "Fucking keep it down kid. Unless you want me to shoot you first?"

  "Mmmmhhhhhmmmggghhh" I shout it this time, and I struggle even more, and this time Vinny loses it. The side of the gun makes contact with my head, but it’s more of a push than a blow since there’s no backswing. Even so I see Steven’s reaction to it. He steps forward from the ridge of the roof, his wings opening as he does so.

  I don't hesitate. I know exactly what's coming, and I try with all my might to shake myself free from Vinny's grip. For a second it's easy for him to keep me overpowered, and I realize he's had enough. He's turning the gun now, to shoot me first, to rid himself of this pest. But right at that moment a flashing brown-grey-white creature smashes into him. He doesn't have time to even let out a cry before he's hit by five pounds of bird, slashing with his beak and the three claws on the end of each of his webbed feet.

  Then everything happens so quick it's hard to make out. I feel I'm free, and I roll back. For a moment I see Steven all over Vinny's face, as he's lying on his back on the ground. And then Tucker is in there too. And I see a horrible moment when Steven's wing is caught at a horrible angle, and Vinny rolls on top of him, crushing him beneath his bodyweight. But when he's clear of the bird, his face slashed and bleeding.

  But by then Tucker is standing over him with the gun.

  Sixty-Three

  It's just a few seconds, but everything has changed. I blink at the new reality in front of me. Tucker is holding the gun with both hands, and I can see them shaking. Steven is squawking and calling loudly, and he's dragging one wing behind him over towards his old pen.

  But I rush over to Dad. For a second I don't want to touch him, I don't know why, it's like I'm scared I'll find his skin cold. But that's stupid, even if he was dead, he wouldn't have had time to cool down. But then I don't have to think about that anymore because I see his chest is moving. I can hear the breaths, he rasping as he sucks air in and out. There's a gash on his head, but it's like he's sleeping.

  "He OK?" Tucker shouts to me.

  I look up. He’s keeping Vinny sat on the ground, the gun trained at his head. Vinny’s bleeding from a gash to his cheek.

  "I think so."

  "Get him on his side." Tucker shouts again, but I already know. I've been to lots of talks at the Silverlea Surf Lifesaving Club about how to help people who've nearly drowned. I know all about the recovery position, and I roll Dad into it. It's harder doing it with a real person than it is with the plastic dummies we practice with.

  When I can’t do anymore I run back to Steven. He's sitting still now, one wing folded, the other laid out on the ground. It's clearly broken, and he's obviously in pain, but animals often make a lot less fuss than humans. I let him nudge my hand and talk to him in a quiet soothing voice. I tell him I'll fix it, that he'll fly again.

  "Is that your seagull Billy?" Vinny calls out to me, still watched by Tucker. "Your trained seagull?" He laughs, like he can't believe the question he's just asked, or what's just happened. I don't answer him.

  "Cos that is fucking weird," he goes on. "To be training fucking seagulls."

  I still don't answer him, but I look over this time.

  "At your age you should be going out getting laid. Not training fucking seagulls."

  There's something about Vinny's voice that still scares me. A confidence. I look at Tucker, just as he resettles the gun in his hands that are trembling visibly now. I realize this is isn't quite over. I feel myself wishing Tucker would just shoot him. Just in the legs or som
ething. Not because I want Vinny to die, it's just I'm still scared of him. Still terrified. It's like I can see what’s going to happen. I don’t know how, but somehow he’s going to get the gun back. Vinny is the only one of us who’s still calm. Composed.

  "You got any more animals I should know about?" Vinny goes on. It’s like he’s enjoying himself. "A... I dunno, a ninja fucking rabbit?" He laughs at the idea, and I see him beginning to pull his legs underneath him, like he's preparing to get up.

  "Don't move." Tucker says, but his voice wavers. He doesn't sound in control.

  "Oh I'm just getting comfortable. I ain't gonna cause no trouble." Vinny slows his movement but he doesn't stop. He's testing Tucker, and since Tucker doesn't stop him, he fails the test.

  Shoot him, I want to call out, but I don't. I begin to understand Tucker’s problem. Now he has the gun, he’s got a problem. If he shoots Vinny, he’s shooting an unarmed man. There's consequences for that. Consequences that last forever. I can see the doubt in Tucker's face. I can see it in his arms, they're shaking now. I begin to think that, even if he did pull the trigger, he might actually miss.

  Vinny stops moving now. He’s moved his attention from me and Steven onto Tucker. He has all his attention on Tucker. I can see he's looking for an opportunity, and I'm terrified he's going to get it.

  He glances sideways, at where the knife Tucker had lays discarded in the grass. Vinny doesn't seem to even register this.

  "So," Vinny seems to have come to a decision. He’s got a plan. "You've got my gun. But are you gonna use it? Because the way I see it. Those are your only options."

  Tucker doesn't answer him. He just holds the gun on Vinny, like he's waiting for something. I don't know what.

  "And it seems to me, the longer we sit here, the less chance you’ve got of using it. You know what I mean?"

  Still Tucker doesn't answer. He just waits, not saying anything.

  "Oh we can sit here as long as you like. Nice view and all. But sooner or later you're gonna have to make a decision." Vinny smiles again, he's getting more confident with every passing moment. He starts to move his legs again.