snakehead fish and herbal seedless tamarind jam.
‘How long have you been stocking this stuff?’ he says, with a queasy sense that certain tendencies are propagating through his surroundings much too fast, as if someone has been editing the machine code on which the world runs.
‘Since last week. New supplier.’
‘Do you sell much of it?’
The twin shrugs. ‘Not yet.’
3.50 p.m.
Raf lied on the phone to the guy he met in McDonald’s, or half lied, and said he had new information about the white vans. But this time the guy didn’t want to go back to McDonald’s, or anywhere else public. And Raf, feeling a crackle of paranoia now, didn’t really want to be on his own with the guy, so he suggested that he come to Isaac’s flat. Today, the girl knitting at the table by the front door is wearing muddy skate shoes and a gabardine blazer with a lot of zips, and the girl dozing on the futon is wearing transparent stiletto heels and a dress that looks like a banana skin. As always, they are magnificent. When the guy arrives, he looks around and says to Raf, ‘Who are all these people?’ Raf notices that he still has that ketchup stain on his lapel, like a pin badge in support of a charitable foundation for gluttons. If he works for the British government, shouldn’t he own a spare suit?
‘Nothing to worry about,’ says Isaac, who is growing a beard at the moment. ‘Their English isn’t great, and I’m involved.’
‘Involved?’
‘I’m another mate of Theo’s. Who disappeared. Sit down.’
The guy looks around for a few seconds as if he’s expecting a chair to be wheeled out for him, but at least when he finally resigns himself to Isaac’s sagging sofa he flops right into it instead of perching on the edge. A folding plastic clothes airer hung with damp T-shirts blocks off one corner of the living room like some sort of ramshackle crowd-control barrier. ‘So what more do you know?’ he says.
‘I met this girl . . .’ begins Raf.
‘I’m delighted for you.’
‘She – they tried to kidnap her, like Theo. I saw the van. They had guns. And I stopped them once, but some time last night I think they took her from my flat. When I woke up, she was gone.’ He describes Rose’s reaction. ‘So I know there was someone in my flat. And if they broke in and took her I might not have heard anything, because of how I have to sleep.’
‘Quite audacious to snatch her from right beside you, if it’s anyone but Nosferatu that we’re dealing with. Do you have any other evidence?’
‘She didn’t drink any water.’
‘What do you mean?’ says Isaac.
Raf didn’t mention this earlier, although Isaac did ask a lot about Cherish, excited that his best friend had finally got laid after seven weeks of dolorous chastity.
‘There is no way a human being could voluntarily leave a flat the morning after drinking as much whisky as we did without drinking a glass of water first. And there was no glass on the counter.’
‘Maybe she washed it up.’
‘There was nothing in the drying rack. All my glasses and mugs were where I left them.’
‘Maybe she drank straight from the tap.’
‘You can’t. The taps are too low.’
‘I’m really sorry, man, but that is the shittiest “clue” I’ve ever heard.’
Raf knows Isaac might be right, but at the same time he feels certain, as certain as he’s ever felt of anything, that right now Cherish is in the back of a white van, or somewhere even worse, with Theo. He thinks of her in a dark room, in front of a camera, motionless and naked and very clean.
‘Still, congratulations on finding a girl who will spend an evening just sitting in your flat getting wasted with you for fun,’ adds Isaac. ‘They are the best kind.’
‘Anything else whatsoever?’ says the guy in the suit. ‘So far this has been, once again, a total bloody waste of time. My fault, I suppose. Fool me once, and so on.’
‘She left this note.’ Raf passes it
‘How long have you been stocking this stuff?’ he says, with a queasy sense that certain tendencies are propagating through his surroundings much too fast, as if someone has been editing the machine code on which the world runs.
‘Since last week. New supplier.’
‘Do you sell much of it?’
The twin shrugs. ‘Not yet.’
3.50 p.m.
Raf lied on the phone to the guy he met in McDonald’s, or half lied, and said he had new information about the white vans. But this time the guy didn’t want to go back to McDonald’s, or anywhere else public. And Raf, feeling a crackle of paranoia now, didn’t really want to be on his own with the guy, so he suggested that he come to Isaac’s flat. Today, the girl knitting at the table by the front door is wearing muddy skate shoes and a gabardine blazer with a lot of zips, and the girl dozing on the futon is wearing transparent stiletto heels and a dress that looks like a banana skin. As always, they are magnificent. When the guy arrives, he looks around and says to Raf, ‘Who are all these people?’ Raf notices that he still has that ketchup stain on his lapel, like a pin badge in support of a charitable foundation for gluttons. If he works for the British government, shouldn’t he own a spare suit?
‘Nothing to worry about,’ says Isaac, who is growing a beard at the moment. ‘Their English isn’t great, and I’m involved.’
‘Involved?’
‘I’m another mate of Theo’s. Who disappeared. Sit down.’
The guy looks around for a few seconds as if he’s expecting a chair to be wheeled out for him, but at least when he finally resigns himself to Isaac’s sagging sofa he flops right into it instead of perching on the edge. A folding plastic clothes airer hung with damp T-shirts blocks off one corner of the living room like some sort of ramshackle crowd-control barrier. ‘So what more do you know?’ he says.
‘I met this girl . . .’ begins Raf.
‘I’m delighted for you.’
‘She – they tried to kidnap her, like Theo. I saw the van. They had guns. And I stopped them once, but some time last night I think they took her from my flat. When I woke up, she was gone.’ He describes Rose’s reaction. ‘So I know there was someone in my flat. And if they broke in and took her I might not have heard anything, because of how I have to sleep.’
‘Quite audacious to snatch her from right beside you, if it’s anyone but Nosferatu that we’re dealing with. Do you have any other evidence?’
‘She didn’t drink any water.’
‘What do you mean?’ says Isaac.
Raf didn’t mention this earlier, although Isaac did ask a lot about Cherish, excited that his best friend had finally got laid after seven weeks of dolorous chastity.
‘There is no way a human being could voluntarily leave a flat the morning after drinking as much whisky as we did without drinking a glass of water first. And there was no glass on the counter.’
‘Maybe she washed it up.’
‘There was nothing in the drying rack. All my glasses and mugs were where I left them.’
‘Maybe she drank straight from the tap.’
‘You can’t. The taps are too low.’
‘I’m really sorry, man, but that is the shittiest “clue” I’ve ever heard.’
Raf knows Isaac might be right, but at the same time he feels certain, as certain as he’s ever felt of anything, that right now Cherish is in the back of a white van, or somewhere even worse, with Theo. He thinks of her in a dark room, in front of a camera, motionless and naked and very clean.
‘Still, congratulations on finding a girl who will spend an evening just sitting in your flat getting wasted with you for fun,’ adds Isaac. ‘They are the best kind.’
‘Anything else whatsoever?’ says the guy in the suit. ‘So far this has been, once again, a total bloody waste of time. My fault, I suppose. Fool me once, and so on.’
‘She left this note.’ Raf passes it
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