Page 35 of Fury
I didn’t look back. I didn’t want to know whether she just walked away or whether she watched me leave.
“Good evening, Ms Fischer,” I heard the doormen greet her.
When I climbed into the truck she was gone, swallowed by all the glass and the pomp of the hotel.
*****
I heard the voices inside the Dog on the Tyne just as I pushed through the second set of doors. There’d been another car parked in the car park when I arrived in my truck just after breakfast. A car I didn’t recognise, but that wasn’t unusual. Visitors of the Kings, paying respects to Indie or checking whether favours were still owed, or still in place now he was president.
But this wasn’t the business call I had been expecting. The officers stood with their back towards the door, a risky move given most of them knew who we were. The conversation was forced calmness, hushed voices and the strain of words chosen carefully. Indie frowned, glancing upwards as the doors creaked shut behind me, the heads of the uniformed police officers turning in my direction.
“So, what do we owe the pleasure?” I asked loudly, carefully advancing so not to spook the young coppers. No one needed this visit to go down the pan that quickly.
“This doesn’t concern you, Fury,” the younger man commented, turning back to Indie dismissively.
I bit the inside of my cheek, stilling the anger rising inside me. Memories of treachery and misaligned loyalties.
“He’s not wrong. But his business is finished here.” The command in Indie’s voice was clear.
“We really need to speak to Emmie,” he pushed, and I watched Indie shift his weight from one foot to the other.
“She’s not here. I’ll break the news to her.”
“We might have some questions for her.”
“You might or you do?” Indie challenged the younger officer back.
“Might.”
“Then when you do, you can come back. Otherwise, I’ll tell her the news. You won’t be bothering her today.”
“Mr Carter,” the young officer didn’t let up. Fucking stubborn bastard, just like the father I knew he’d never met. “It really won’t take long.”
“You’re right. Won’t take long at all. Because this conversation is over. Fury. Show your kid out, will ya?”
The young officer turned to face me. The same dark eyes, the same dimples, but his hair was cropped short, thick tufts on the top of his head showing how unruly the family curse of the untidy mop was if you didn’t grow it long enough to tame with a bobble. It was like looking in a mirror at my younger, more clean-shaven self.
“Time to go, little brother,” I stepped aside, sweeping my arm in front of me and beckoning towards the door.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Carter.”
“Fuck off with the formalities, Jake. You know who I am.”
Jacob nodded, not addressing him by his first name, and turned away, the pair of police officers moving swiftly across the floor of the bar. And for a second he stopped, like he thought to say something, and then didn’t, staring at me silently before striding out to catch up with his partner.
“Didn’t know your brother was back, Fury.”
“Neither did I until the other day. Saw him at the funeral home a few days back.”
“And you didn’t think to mention it?”
“Didn’t think it was all that relevant. He’s obviously just transferred back.”
“We could do without him breathing down our necks too, particularly with everything he knows about the club and our operations. You reckon he’ll give us grief?”
“I doubt it. He’s too scared of Mamma Dot to start meddling again.”
“Let’s hope so, Fury. Family or not, he’s not a brother. I won’t have him getting in the way.”