Spoil the Kill

Chapter 4: Outside Help

I meet Nimmo that evening, in the overgrown back garden of a vacant house. It's just one of a whole street of rundown terraced houses. I find him sitting on a broken piece of wall that divides what was once the patio from what was once the lawn. He's got that ever-present look of laid-back wary about him, his lean face bearing its typical neutral expression, framed by tight-cut red hair and the grey woollen hat he's always got on. And he's dressed, as usual, in a worn black leather jacket and loose-fitting jeans. He has the body of a dancer.

Nimmo's not much older than me, but where criminal qualifications are concerned, he couldn't be more different. He's a thief – a good one – and a hustler too. From what little I know of him, I think he was raised by thieves, though there might have been a copper somewhere in the family, too. The cagey sod is almost impossible to read and you could be forgiven for thinking he's a cold fish. He's tough enough to take care of himself amongst the most serious villains and doesn't seem to give a damn about anyone but himself.

It's more complicated than that, though. He's got bigger trust issues than most, but once he's let you past the armor you're in for good. Even so, I never feel that I can take his friendship for granted. Now I need his help again. And I'm really, really hoping he'll say yes.

He's killing time by rolling a cricket ball from his wrist to his shoulder and back again. Sometimes he flicks it into the air before catching it on his arm again, never using his hands.

"Hey, Nimmo," I greet him.

"Hey, Scope."

"Never figured you for a cricket fan," I say.

"I'm not – I hate the game," he replies, "but I admire their balls."

He slips the ball into the pocket of his leather jacket and leans back, waiting for me to tell him why we're here. I figure there's no point beating around the bush.

"Move-Easy wants me to find someone so he can kill them. Manikin and FX are on the job too. We need to spoil the kill 'cos ... y'know, we don't want to help murder anyone. We need to screw it up so the guy can escape."

"Right. You hopin' to do this without losing any fingers or toes?"

"That's the plan."

"You got any more to this plan of yours?" he asks.

"No. That's about it so far."

Nimmo regards me for what seems like a very long time. I'm beginning to wonder if I've made a mistake in coming to him.

"So you want to double-cross your mass-murderer boss," he says carefully. "And you want me to help?"

I shrug. I wish I had a good reason for him to do it, but I don't. We've got each other out of a few holes, but he doesn't owe me any favors – if anything, I owe him. He's still looking at me. I have to remind myself that he generally doesn't give a toss about other people's problems. He is a professional thief, after all. But I trust him. If he won't pitch in, at least I can count on him to keep his mouth shut.

"Manikin and FX can't know it's me who's helping you," he says. "I don't know them too well, so I don't trust them."

"Okay." I hesitate. "They won't be happy, but I think I can make that work."

"Right then – tell me about it," he says.

I explain that we've been given this job to track down Jonathan Grodin so that Easy can use him to draw Jonny's father, the Duke, out of hiding. Nimmo actually winces when he hears that the Duke's testimony put Easy's brother in prison. It's not often you see him making any kind of expression.

"Bloody hell, Easy's vicious enough on a normal day. If you grassed up his brother ..."

"He said he was going to cut off the Duke's arms and legs."

"Yeah, I'd say that was the all-sweetness-and-light version. Anyway, what else've you got?"

"Okay, so we've found Jonny," I go on. "FX is able to track his phone, so we pretty much know where he is all the time, and we can look back through the records for months too. That said, Jonny's either really smart, or a complete flake; we can't figure out which. Judging by the movements of his phone over the last month, he doesn't keep any kind of routine. It doesn't look like he has a job – we don't know where he gets his money – and he spends a lot of nights away from where we think he's living."

"Does he have a car?" Nimmo asks. "Motorbike?"

"No," I reply. "He seems to avoid owning anything that requires him to have ID. The phone is pre-pay too. So here's the thing: we can stall for a bit, but sooner or later, we've got to bring it to Easy. We do that, and Jonny's on the barbecue."

Nimmo is quiet for a while. Quieter than normal, I mean.

"When you have to tell Easy you've found Jonny," he says at last, "drop a hint that you think he's still in contact with his dad. Easy might hold off doing anything immediately if he thinks there's a chance you could find the Duke by trailing Jonny. But that'll only work for so long. You need to give Jonny a proper scare – one that really puts the boot up his arse and sends him running. If he so much as stops to pack his toothbrush, Easy'll have him."

"Yeah, I kind of figured that," I say. "But how do we do it without Easy getting suspicious?"

"I reckon Jonny Grodin needs another enemy," Nimmo adds. "Or his dad does. Someone to try and get to Jonny first. Easy's trolls have to see it happen, to make him believe it. But it'll need some serious timing."

I nod, but don't say anything. The nerves are really starting to set in now.

Nimmo regards me for a moment, and then adds: "You'll need a gun."

"I'm not going to shoot anybody, Nimmo."

"That's the whole idea," he assures me. "Do you know someone who can get you a piece?"

"The only people I know like that are Easy's guys," I tell him.

"Really?" Nimmo looks surprised. "Nobody else?"

"What can I say? I lead a sheltered life."

"I'll have to get one for you," he says, looking off into the distance. Then he glances back at me, and adds: "But you're paying for it."

"That's fair," I reply.