Fourtold

I never thought I was missing anything from my life. Well that’s not entirely true. I realized that other people had things that I didn’t. And on occasion I would wonder what their days amounted to instead of mine. But that’s curiosity, not desire. They are two different things. As you will soon find out I am very clear on little details like that.

My day had begun by purchasing a pair of rubber gloves. I was keen to make a point that I was useful to the operation going on downstairs.

Downstairs, there were chainsaws and hammers, screaming and pounding in rancid unison. I could hear complaints of rubbery skin and bloated flesh. The smell though entirely obvious, was ignored by everyone. Perhaps they liked to pretend it wasn’t there.

I felt like an apprentice,watching my sponsor bang away at Gary’s teeth. I’ve given him a name now,big mistake.

People are perceptive. But not so much that they’ll be able to figure out that I didn’t want to be here. Not because of the horror of the situation. No not that. Truth is I was in the wrong place.

Things had got swapped around at the last minute and I know exactly why. I am 35 and live the life of a simpleton. They see me as a man easy to push around. I am yet to prove them wrong.

So I was called at 4 this morning, on the fifth hour of a sleep I thought would last until 7. That’s another thing, the hours.

They originally wanted me to head down south. The sea air and all that. Bucket and spade type work, metal detectors and a location illuminated by the headlights of somebody’s car.

Then things changed, as they always do. I’m not trusted.

Do you feel like I’m leaving out certain details? Well you are right. I am. You see because if I don’t explain things my way you’ll take their side. That always happens to me.

They gave me the dirty job because she wanted to drive down south with her lover. Their names aren’t important. I don’t wish for you to lose sight of why you’re reading this .

All that matters is they’re there and I’m here.

It’s like a punishment. Myself and Farmer stand now in front of a large table. There are six different pieces of human body on the table. The head is separate too.

We haven’t always agreed on things but we both know what’s going on now. The fact that we know might save one of us but not both. The seeds of doubt have been planted in both our heads and there is sure to be a harvest sooner or later.

Farmer was making a comeback. Barely a week out of prison. He must have picked up some hacksaw skills while he was there. He moves the blade through the bones with great efficiency. It is hard not to admire him.

But the smell, I don’t know how he stands it. They are the bones of a forty year old man. Forty years of foul smelling internal organs. Forty years of this world, diseased, withered, deep reds and purples and vein after vein. I threaten to wretch every time I look over Farmer’s shoulder but he is without remorse. On he goes until the job is done. I’d hate to see what he does to people he dislikes.

Gary was a cop. There is no point keeping that secret. It will be in the newspapers soon enough. Where I’ll be by that stage is anyone’s guess. I’m quite certain the cop will not be buried on his own.

The other two left an hour ago. All this action, Gary being shot dead and cut up, quick decisions were made in my absence. Loverboy called me while I was in the middle of my dreamless deep sleep and started barking orders at me. I was unprepared for that. His aggression, his nerve.

I drove over here this morning cursing myself for not answering him back. Spent most of the drive reimagining the phone call in my own image, dreaming that I had all the great lines, putting him in his box.

I got there with my pair of rubber gloves. Farmer was just about finished. He was first in command while the lovers were absent. So he started barking his orders. Black sacks this, cotton bedsheets that. Nothing will ever prepare you for slipping and sliding around in the blood of a fellow human being. Gary was like a stuffed pig. That’s what you mightn’t realise and what any qualified butcher will tell you. Blood must be drained from the carcass. This makes any cutting much easier. Otherwise you’ll have a big mess all over the room.

I couldn’t say this to Farmer. He knew just as well as I did. He was told to do it like this. Loverboy was making all his judgements now behind the barrel of his pistol. He had been humbled by Gary.

Gary had become a friend and double-crossed Loverboy. In turn he had followed him home expecting him to go home to his wife. But there was no wife. Instead he had walked into the Police Station, using the rear entrance.

When this comes to pass as it surely will, the media will no doubt refer to us as some elite group of thieves, whose crimes became more homicidal as the stakes were raised. This was the first kill that I could ever be associated with. The lovers I’m not so sure. Farmer was old hat.

Gary and Farmer had been here yesterday with me. We weren’t up to much. Just hanging around, waiting for the lovers to turn up. I enjoyed his company. Farmer had some great stories. I didn’t mind him embellishing nor his questionable attitude to those of a foreign distinction. Respect your elders as best you can I reckon.

I was tired and made my excuses just before eleven last night. I had been wrestling with the idea of getting out and driving past my flat, far away. But I was trapped. I owed money out to so many people. This wing and a prayer was my last chance. The high card.

Loverboy hadn’t told me about Gary until I got back there. He explained who he was and why he had to kill him. I was too stunned to protest.

As I’ve said the original plan was I’d drive down south with the girl. Now it’s difficult for me to explain this woman without you falling for her. Her’s is a life I’ll never know. I’m sure she has a contempt of it. Her beauty. If all this was some way to show she had a brain to go with it she has succeeded.

A diamond is one of the hardest things in the world to find. And even if the object insists on showing itself to you, there is no certainty you will be able to access it, let alone keep it. Perhaps a good woman is the same, but I don’t think she counts as that.

When she rolled up on the beach three weeks ago she couldn’t have imagined the events which were to follow. This is heavy winter now, February not far off, with the ocean more angry than just cold. She must have had to swim nearly a mile to get back on dry land. The elderly magnate she had abandoned on a Yacht not built for purpose.

But oh how she must’ve hated herself. The jewellery. That little piece of magic for which this confession has been scribed, had escaped her.

She was definite, had no doubt that the diamond had made it back with her to the beach. She told us that as she battled the waves back towards land and she had relented every few moments to check inside her brassiere. Every time the reassurance of an uncomfortable rock remained.

Even when she stood up on the beach for the first time and struggled to keep her feet out of sheer exhaustion, she was positive it was still there. Only when she had managed to stumble along for a few more feet did she realise it was gone.

And so it had been agreed, a treasure hunt would commence.

Three weeks. Three weeks since she left that boat. The fat cat businessman was surely at the bottom of the sea now. For him I shed no tears. His was a weakness that befalls so many males, they who live life by scent.

She had shown few signs of reluctance before meeting him and from what I could see fewer indications of remorse after the event.

I had driven her to meet the unfortunate millionaire that fateful morning. Two days before New Year. I was never sold on her to be honest but the scheme seemed sound enough. Her mark was a friend of her uncle. At least that’s what she told him. When you’re nearing retirement age and a young pretty girl is friendly to you for no reason, you have a limited amount of time before the blood leaves your brain and finds its way to other long forgotten organs.

They had been playing casino games at a charity function. He insisted she blew on his dice. She relented eventually. Already fearful of drawing attention to herself, she smiled and bid the man farewell.

To passers by this would have appeared innocuous and typical of the man’s friendly but overbearing personality. But the lovers had been plotting this guy’s demise for months.

She admitted it was hard to resist the temptation not to tell this old man everything at first. When you’re in deep in the foxhole like this, the long piece of string that helps you find your way back can snap at any point.

It is a job for the nerveless, even keelers.

She made sure she saw him again the next day. The local cafe by the pier. He was with a few friends. They were eating too much pig fat to be considered healthy. She immediately noticed the swell in his stomach that she pretended not to see in the casino. For her to see this job through to its conclusion, she had to put her disgust to the back of her mind.

She was hitting her stride very well that morning. She spent just about long enough at the coffee counter. Wasted just those few vital moments at the cash register trying to find her credit card. All this observed by the mark who had gone to relieve himself in the toilet.

He came back out, shaking his damp soapy hands dry and saw an opportunity for harmless chivalry.

To hear her tell it she was a picture of brooding sexuality when he offered to buy her latte. That she had snared him with her winning smile. I guess I could go along with it.

I looked on from a nearby barge, painting the same spot over and over again in a ugly lavender, the kind of which you might see in unloved guestrooms. The boat rocked gently underneath me as I watched her glide out of the coffee shop. The old man’s hand was hovering around her, trying to find the most meaningless part of her he could find. He located her forearm, failing miserably.

Her eyes directed the old man towards me. Cue my part, the friendly wave. Like some hapless tourist on a jaunt from some kinder town. He ignored me perfectly.

She returned to the barge and immediately began arguing with me as part of the performance. Then as I continued with the cheap lavender paint she went below, where Loverboy was hiding. Soon the mumbling began.

I had picked up the general plot without much explanation. The lovers had explained very little to me. Why I was chosen was pretty clear. I was cheap and expendable.

There wasn’t much chatter on the barge that day. The lovers were inseparable as I carried on my weather-proofing charade on the top deck. Eventually she came back up, dressed to the nines, ready for the next part of her her mission.

Loverboy didn’t like talking to me. I didn’t take it personally. He didn’t like anyone. Just a strange man, there’s plenty of them around.

I spent the next hours playing solitaire with a deck of pornographic playing cards, feeling tired. Auld lang syne eventually came from the nearby port and we were getting close.

Nobody would take their boat out in this weather. You would have to be drunk. And she had made certain of that.

I’m not sure exactly what went on in that boat. Or how she survived. But I am here to fill in those gaps between the story. The details that they trusted me with.

We picked her up at about two o’clock that morning. She claimed that she was close to hypothermia. When Loverboy had stopped cuddling her like some lovesick teenager I managed to establish that she had misplaced the rock. I didn’t believe her. She stripped naked and started screaming a lot. To tell you the truth I was quite aroused. Anyway once that happened I had to believe her. Loverboy threw his big jacket around her and we jumped into the car.

We were pretty certain nobody was watching. Of course now we know that isn’t true.

We got back to the base and she explained what had gone wrong. It seemed very unbelievable. She was lying. Loverboy seemed so convinced and supportive, that’s what gave me my first clue. They were playing me for a fool.

So that was three weeks ago. Now I’m helping a man called Farmer put the remains of a policeman’s body in the back of a hatchback. You might wonder why I’m still here. Why I haven’t cut my losses. Maybe you think there was no diamond at all and that I’m far too naive for believing all this.

Do you not think I haven’t already thought of that? I have my insurance fully paid up. I am not worried. the lovers have to come back here.

I hid their passports.

Now all I need to do is stay alive. Farmer is thinking the same as me but I don’t know how much he knows. He was only brought in a day or two ago to help get rid of Gary. I’m sure Loverboy has told Farmer that I am to be killed. Do I bargain with Farmer now and try to turn him or say nothing and pretend we are on the same team? Surely they will kill him too and leave the pair of us with the dead cop’s blood on our hands.

The lovers will be back soon. It is another hour to sunrise. We have put the the two small suitcases with Gary’s remains into the back of the car. I dare now to rest my eyes on the couch. It is dangerously comfortable. I feel myself sinking into its grasp. I fight it, sit up straight. Squinting in the darkness, trying to decipher shapes near the window.

Farmer sits in the kitchen. I can hear him reading a newspaper, the same paper as yesterday.

Maybe our names will be in tomorrow’s edition.