Chapter 81

Chapter 81

Hobbs had a head wound. It was bleeding heavily, even more than the bullet hole in Nash’s ankle. Koenig had cracked him on the skull way harder than he’d intended. Although in his defence, he explained, Hobbs was a dangerous man.

‘It’s not much of a defence,’ Draper said. ‘Look at him.’

She had a point. Hobbs was round-jawed and droopy-eyed. He had male-pattern baldness and a stooped neck. The bad teeth that Cunningham had mentioned looked like popcorn. In direct contrast to his punky daughter, Hobbs wore a three-piece suit. Turd brown. He looked like the kind of person who clapped when the plane landed. Cunningham had been right; he was kinda breathtaking in his blandness.

‘I can’t get the bleeding to stop,’ Carlyle said, discarding a sodden kitchen towel and pressing a fresh one to Hobbs’s head wound.

‘There’s some superglue under the sink,’ Koenig said. ‘I’ll get it.’ It was in a box of miscellaneous crap. The kind of stuff that didn’t naturally belong in any one room. He unscrewed the top, pierced the foil cap, and said, ‘Ready?’

Carlyle nodded. She pinched the wound together while Koenig drizzled a generous glob all along his handiwork. Simple, but effective. Superglue was used to stop bleeding in Vietnam. Saved a lot of lives. The FDA didn’t approve it stateside, due to its unknown toxicity and because the exothermic reaction could cause tissue damage.

Hobbs’s eyes fluttered open. He took in his surroundings in silence. It wasn’t until he glanced to his left and saw his daughter on the stool next to him that he groaned.

Koenig sidled over to Draper. ‘You’re the interrogation expert,’ he whispered into her ear. ‘How do you want to play this?’

‘Do we have a carrot?’

He considered it for a couple of beats. Decided they didn’t. ‘Nothing I can think of.’

‘Stick it is.’

‘Unless not using the stick is the carrot.’

‘In my experience, that never works. But go for it.’

‘You have information we need,’ Koenig said to Hobbs. ‘Unfortunately, there is no way for you to pass on this information without confirming what we already know: that you and your daughter are high-end contract killers.’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mr . . . ?’

‘Koenig. My name is Ben Koenig.’

Which at least got a reaction, even if it was just a widening of the eyes.

‘The fact you’ve heard of me confirms you are who we think you are,’ Koenig said. ‘And even if you hadn’t, your friends in the East Coast Sweeney gave you up. Here’s what’s going to hap—’

‘If you think we’re killers for hire, search our apartment.’ He smiled, some of his swagger back. ‘I assure you, there are no weapons here. No incriminating evidence. And in case you’re recording this, that’s because my daughter and I have committed no crimes. I’ve never had so much as a parking ticket.’ He took an exaggerated pause. ‘But you’re going to prison for a long time. All of you. Someone shot my daughter. Broke her fingers. Struck me on the head with a weapon. That’s aggravated battery times three. You tied us up. That’s abduction. We’re respected members of the community. I’m a businessman. My daughter’s a businesswoman. We’re not killers.’

‘She is,’ Koenig said, pointing at Nash. ‘She killed three men not thirty minutes ago.’

‘You did?’ Hobbs said to his daughter. ‘Why?’

Nash shrugged. ‘They put their hands on me.’

Hobbs’s lips tightened. His breathing sped up. The tips of his nostrils whitened. ‘Then there’s not a court in the—’

‘Exactly what is your business, Mr Hobbs?’ Draper cut in.

‘Excuse me?’

‘You claim you and Miss Nash are in business. If it’s not murder for hire, what is it?’

‘That’s confidential.’

‘It must be lucrative,’ Draper said. ‘This is an expensive apartment.’

Hobbs snorted. Didn’t bother hiding his contempt. This was getting them nowhere, Koenig thought. He needed Hobbs to understand he wasn’t in Kansas any more. ‘Can I have a word?’ he said to Draper.

They moved to the hall. Stood by the front door, out of earshot. Not out of sight, though. Hobbs and Nash were too dangerous for that.

‘I need you to do something.’

‘What?’

Koenig didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The realisation of what he was asking hit Draper like a sledgehammer.

‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding!’ she snapped. ‘All the shit you give me, and now, when it’s something you need, all of a sudden it’s OK.’

‘It’s not OK,’ he said. ‘It’s never OK. But it has to be done and it has to be you. Nash looks like she doesn’t have a care in the world, and we have to assume that Hobbs’s appearance is a carefully cultivated disguise. That underneath his shit-brown suit, he wears a second skin, one that’s just as insane as his daughter’s. We need something more nuanced than no-frills pain.’

‘Don’t ask me to do this, Koenig,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure I’ll get over it again. I witnessed this and did nothing. I did this and said nothing. There must be another way.’

‘I’m all ears.’

Draper said nothing. Eventually she slumped, like an inflatable tube man with a puncture. After a few more moments, she said, ‘Which one?’

‘Her,’ he replied. ‘Definitely her. He’s thinking like a parent right now, not a killer.’

‘OK, Koenig,’ she said. Her spine stiffened. Her face grew hard, her eyes distant. Koenig wondered how many people had seen that expression before. And how many had seen it and wished they hadn’t. ‘But if we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly. That means I talk, you don’t. There’s only one interrogator, and that’s me. You’ll do what I say, when I say it. No exceptions. It doesn’t matter if they want to talk. This isn’t just a case of threatening his daughter; he needs to believe we’ll kill her. That means I’ll have to hurt her. Are you OK with this?’

Koenig wasn’t. But he nodded anyway.

They walked back into the living area.

‘I hope the pair of you are insured for water damage,’ Draper said. ‘Things are about to get very wet.’