Murderous by David Hickson (best ereader for comics .txt) 📕

used front doors. He was wearing an ankle length black overcoat with raised wing collars so he looked as if he was starring in a Dracula remake. The overcoat was open and beneath it were his standard black paramilitary clothes. Tight black top that revealed each of the muscle groups, and pants with extra pockets for spare ammunition. His white hair was cropped short like a futuristic helmet, and his face was sculpted with the clearly etched lines of a life spent squinting through the battlefield smoke.

“I said to meet at the Apostles,” I said.

Chandler stretched his mouth into a perfectly horizontal line, which was what he deemed a smile.

“And you said that on your mobile phone,” he said. “Everyone else on the line will be putting on their finery and applying their make-up so as not to be late for our meeting.”

Chandler removed his overcoat and handed it to Aldo, who had magically appeared at his side as if they had choreographed the entrance. Everything that Chandler did left you with the feeling that it had been planned in advance like a military operation. It was mildly irritating. Sometimes not so mildly.

“An ice bucket for you, colonel,” said Aldo and he placed a fresh bottle of Verdicchio into it. I might be an old and favourite customer, but Chandler had the red carpet rolled out for him.

“He’s a captain,” I said to Aldo, “not a colonel.”

Aldo gave me a sympathetic smile. He’d heard Robyn call Chandler ‘colonel’ and that meant that he was a colonel, even if I persisted in my delusional, and frankly rather pathetic denial.

“And I know what nasty little secrets they put in those khaki folders,” said Chandler once Aldo had departed and Chandler had arranged his seat so he could monitor the exits by means of the mirrors behind the bar. Only dullard juniors like me actually needed to face the doors.

“You don’t need to work with those goons, Gabriel, you know you don’t. That nonsense is all over.”

“My creditors haven’t found the stories of my unrealised future as convincing as you seem to think,” I said.

“Your stories?” said Chandler, and his eyes sharpened. Everything about Chandler was hard and cold, like chiselled stone, but his eyes gave him away. They were kind; windows into a soul that was caring. I knew that because I’d had those eyes hold mine at moments I had not believed I would survive. Even now I felt the icy chill of the hull of the plane behind me as Chandler held me back from going in after Brian and stumbling over the dead bodies and the mines placed around them as booby-traps.

“Oh,” Chandler stretched his mouth again, “you’re teasing me. You wouldn’t be foolish enough to tell stories. I can tide you over, you know that.”

“Thank you,” I said, but we both knew that I would accept no ‘tiding over’ from him.

“It’s a purely logistical problem,” said Chandler. “A temporary delay.”

“It might be time to un-logistical the problem. Breytenbach will have discovered by now that I am still in the country.”

“Why on earth did you hand them your genuine ID?”

“It’s complicated.”

Chandler sniffed at his wine, then sipped it and did the mouthwash routine, then swallowed and allowed the full thirty seconds for the aftertaste to strike.

“Not as good as the last one,” he pronounced.

“I told Aldo I thought it was better.”

Chandler smiled in dismissal of that idea.

“He knows you’ve got no taste,” he said, and held up his glass and shook his head at the mirror behind me.

Aldo bustled over as if he had nothing better to do but wait for Chandler’s summons.

“You’ve given us the cheap stuff, Aldo,” said Chandler accusingly. “How could you?”

Aldo gave a big Mediterranean shrug, and his face split into the biggest smile I’d ever seen him produce.

“This colonel of yours,” he said to me with pride, “he is just the best. Is it not true?”

I smiled to show that I thought Chandler was the best.

“It must have been such an honour to serve with him.”

“It was an honour,” I said, because that was my scripted line. “But he was only a captain in those days.”

Aldo thought that was hilarious, as he always did, removed the offending bottle of wine, and promised to return with the real thing.

“It was inevitable,” said Chandler. “We knew that ruse wouldn’t last. Didn’t I tell you BB would realise you were still here? Just a matter of time.”

“From my apartment I can see his gorillas coming,” I said. “Better the enemy you can see.”

Chandler shook his head. “You need to disappear. Robyn too. Both of you must disappear. I’ve spoken to her; she put up a fight but agreed, eventually. It is for the best.”

Aldo returned and poured from a fresh bottle for Chandler to taste. Chandler gave him the full encore performance and finally proclaimed that Aldo had done us proud. Aldo gave Chandler some more praise, and the two of them looked very pleased with each other. Aldo even remembered to give me some wine before he left us to our business.

“How’s that going by the way?” asked Chandler. “With Robyn. All OK?” I knew that his mind had been on Robyn all the while. After Brian’s death he had supported her in the way a good friend or perhaps a family member would. He had been there when I hadn’t.

“Never better,” I said.

Chandler nodded and took a small sip of wine, which contrasted with my large gulp. I was sure Robyn would have called him and explained the truth of our situation. Chandler was like a surrogate father to Robyn.

“I told you she’s damaged,” he said.

“You did.”

“You know what her stepfather did to her.”

“I do.”

“There are some kinds of damage that cannot be repaired. She was only eleven when it started.”

“I know.”

Chandler sighed and took another sip of his wine. But he couldn’t lay off the older brother routine that easily.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, Gabriel, but I cannot have your