Chapter 12
I’m getting hungry. I don’t know how long I’ve been in my room for, lying back on my bed looking up at the ceiling, but I have been hungry for a long time. At the very least, I could do with getting a mug of tea. But it’s not so simple, as I can hear Mitsuko banging and crashing in the kitchen below me. She is one of these people that cannot just close a cupboard door, but has to slam it. Someone who cannot just put a mug on a table or a counter, but crashes it down as if the actual surface is a few inches below. On the one hand, it pisses me off, distracting my thoughts until I am consumed, waiting for the inevitability of the next crash, wondering why it has to take her so long, getting angrier and angrier, more and more frustrated, especially at night when I am trying to sleep. On the other hand, it indicates where she is, meaning I know not to go down there. Instead I have to lie up here, pissed off and hungry, both feeding into each other as my blood sugar levels keep dropping.
Eventually it goes quiet. I want to give her time. Time to make sure that she has left, but not enough for her to come back in with the washing up when I am down there. And now I make my break. I open my door, face down so that I do not need to look into the fragments of mirror and head out, closing my door softly. I begin to creep along the landing, realising that this is ridiculous as it makes me look automatically suspicious and so start walking normally, making sure that my steps are silent as that at least gives me a power that Mitsuko does not have.
I go into the kitchen, and put the kettle on to boil. I can hear the sounds of the TV from the other room, so I don’t fear being heard, but still I manage to close cupboard doors quietly. As I want to be in and out as quickly as possible, I resolve to only have a sandwich. This should be more than enough nourishment, even if it is not as satisfying or filling as a hot meal. But it’s all that I need. I keep tidying up after myself, even placing a tea towel on the counter to soak the inevitable slops that my making a cup of tea will produce. There is a strong desire, a strong need in me to leave as little trace of me having been down here as possible. It is completely irrelevant in the grander scheme of things, indeed in any scheme, but it is still something that I have to do.
There is a knock at the door. As Mitsuko goes to answer it, I practically stop breathing in case she finds out I am here. It is only at this point that I realise what a paranoid state I have gotten myself into. I try to calm m yself down, telling myself that it doesn’t matter if she knows I am in here or not. It is unimportant to her, and I have every right to be in here. I am not a prisoner in my room (currently), and I need to eat at some point, but just by trying to calm myself, my paranoia tells me that I am only failing myself.
It is Squiggle who is at the door, having come back as promised, and he wants everybody together. I am called. I wish, dearly, that I could come from my room as some kind of martyr, someone banished there, even under his own pretences, hurt and wounded by the other two, but instead I emerge from the kitchen, a mug of tea in one hand, and a plate with a marmite sandwich in the other, surprising Mitsuko who is staring up the stairs for me.
“And where’s our head boy, Hemmingway?” Squiggle asks.
“He’s out looking for Annette, his girlfriend.”
Squiggle is taken aback and looks at me as if I should really not have heard that. I head into the living room to give them some privacy to the approval of both. I nod at Bunuel, who fails to register my presence, engrossed in the local news. I can still hear the other two talking, however, so naturally I listen to them even though the sound of the telly makes it hard.
“And why is… she not here?” Mind you, he hardly seems happy having this conversation with Mitsuko.
“Dunno. She went out. Hemmingway didn’t seem too happy about it either. I think that’s why he went out looking for her.” The penny drops as Mitsuko realises that she shouldn’t be discussing such private affairs. “She’s not staying here or anything. No, er… Hemmingway had a text on his mobile. She doesn’t even know about this place. No one does.”
“She’s not staying here?”
“No. Definitely not.”
“And she’s his girlfriend?”
“Yes.”
“Idiot! He knows the dangers.”
“Dangers, sir?”
“Come on.”
They come into the room, Squiggle seething, Mitsuko looking embarrassed and ashamed, a state that she should have more familiarity with. They take seats and we sit in silence, all watching the news, presumably awaiting Hemmingway’s arrival. I eat my sandwich, as silently as possible, as if it is an indulgence that I am not allowed in these circumstances. A prisoner awarded a luxury and made to feel guilty for it. My tea sits there getting cold as by reaching for it, I am making my presence known too much.
The news finishes, some crappy reality TV show comes on, followed by Coronation Street. When that finishes, Mitsuko makes a movement. “Maybe I should call him?” Squiggle nods. She dials, and I make a dive for my tea. If I can keep it in my hands, I don’t have to move so much, but it is cold. I drink it anyway. Mitsuko hangs up.
“No answer.”
It is another half hour of dire television, everyone too afraid to change the channel should someone actually be enjoying the show, before Hemmingway comes in. We are alerted to his presence when the front door slams open with the sounds of struggle at the doorway. He is halfway up the stairs, carrying a kicking, gagged woman before he realises he is being watched by all of us. He turns to face us, his face scratched and bleeding.
“Safe and sound, no casualties, sir.”
Squiggle nods, satisfied and heads back into the living room. We all hear “Fuck! There’s no lock. Mitsuko, I’m taking your room!” before he returns twenty minutes later. He comes in, having attempted to clean himself up, and announcing that he has left all Mitsuko’s things outside her new room. I just stare at him in shock. He has his left arm tucked into his side as if it is heavily wounded, a limp in his right leg and he is hunched up, having difficulty breathing. The scratches on his face do not attest to anything that Hemmingway might have been up to tonight. Only the imagination can possibly do that.
Squiggle sits himself up. It is now close to nine o’clock, no doubt he wants to get this business sorted out as quickly as possible. “Right. Frankly, after your ‘adventures’ today, this whole thing has become far too high profile.” He is affecting a pissed off manner, and Mitsuko’s guilt allows her to believe it, but I am not one hundred percent convinced. I have had tellings off, and the concern, the pity much more than the anger is missing from Squiggle. “We have certainly reached the Camden Journal who will be printing an article in next weeks issue and this is too much for us. We are a secret organisation. Today the Camden Journal, tomorrow the BBC worldwide service, if you continue in this fashion.”
“I’m sorry, sir. We’ll tone things down.” Mitsuko gives me a dirty look with this, strangely she is still not finger pointing. Does she actually have a sense of decency in her? That refusal to rat out someone else, despite the odds?
“I’m afraid you won’t. I am terminating you from the case, and I will be replacing you with more efficient officers. Crunchy, I’m afraid this is where we part as you will be going home tomorrow.”
I am shocked by just how much I do not want to leave now, how much I need to stay. When I left before, that was because it was my choice, but to be forced out, especially when it’s not by Mitsuko or Hemmingway is the hardest punch to take as I have no way of fighting back, no way of maintaining control. “Hemmingway, I want you to stop by the office tomorrow as we’ve already got a couple of gigs lined up for you.
“And Mitsuko. Well, have you got anywhere booked for holidays? If not, I suggest you do and soon. We currently do not have any use for your talents, and in light of today’s services, we feel it best to suspend you from all duties until further notice.
“And Fellini Bunuel. You’re going to stay here tonight, I’m afraid, but as of tomorrow, you will become Government property until we have finished questioning you. We’re getting things sorted out about adoption, so you will have new parents pretty soon.”
Squiggle gets up. And heads towards the door. With the exception of Hemmingway everyone looks like a bomb has just exploded in their faces, no doubt I do, each of us looking severely wounded in some way. For some reason, Bunuel is staring into the corner, as if trying to placate an invisible person there.
We sit there in silence for a while, and I finish off my tea. Just as well that I do. Mitsuko turns to Bunuel. “Don’t worry, I’ll adopt you. I’ll be your new family.”
Bunuel turns away from the corner, a tear in his eye, but I doubt it is from Mitsuko’s words. “I don’t need a new family. Not you nor an yone else. I already have a family.” There is a slight pause as if he is listening to something before turning back to the corner, a proud smile on his face.
Mitsuko turns back to face me, and this is where I am soon to be glad that I finished my tea. “You,” she accuses in a guttural voice, a crazed, demented look on her face. She launches herself at me, and grabs me, completely off guard, by my shirt, literally pulling me over the back of the chair her momentum is that great. I land with a thud on my back the breath knocked out of me and into Mitsuko’s face who has landed on top of me, her knee managing to sink itself into my groin, by design or by accident, I don’t know, but it brings a tear to my eye. She leaps up, ramming her rubber souls into the inside of my thigh as she does so, this time I am certain it is on purpose. Still holding my shirt. I have to follow her up as much as my imprisoned leg will allow me, stopping our momentum and causing Mitsuko to collapse back onto me.
“Get up you, fuck!” she half yells, half sobs at me, and pulls me up. She lets go; her half swaying, me crouched over in pain. She uppercuts me under the chin and I fall back into the windowsill, my head cracking the glass of the window but not smashing it. She grabs me, pulling me towards her, into a head butt coming fast the other way. This time it is she that stumbles into the windowsill, myself having been bounced in a different direction. I catch myself on an armchair, and lean over it for support, before having to collapse into it to get my breath back.
This whole event has taken me off guard, and I haven’t had time to recover enough to mount a defence. But now the anger hits me. I get up out of the seat, staggering towards her, the pain in my thigh and groin still intense. She faces me, ready and prepared and takes a swing. It hits me in the chest, but I care little, I was prepared and it has little effect. I grab her with both hands. My left taking her right arm by the cloth, my right reaching towards the chest. I actually manage to grab part of her boob, but my leg swings out as she is still recoiling her arm from the punch and I swipe her feet from under her. With a final push, I send her crashing to the floor. I stand over her, defiant, even when she makes a half assed attempt to kick my feet from under me.
“You’ve taken my baby away from me. You’ve taken my job away from me. You’ve taken my baby away from me,” she repeats. Although she is on her back, she swivels around so that she grabs my legs and pulls me down. We tussle on the floor until my hair is being pulled back by Hemmingway. Mitsuko takes this final opportunity to land a few more punches until she, too, is stopped. I get up and leave, neither defiant nor defeated. I just leave.
I head to my room and inspect the damage in the shattered mirror. Bateman, however, looks gleeful. “What did you think you were doing?” he mocks, in a singsong voice. I give him the middle finger and go to bed. I can hear him calling out to me throughout the night, even through my fractured dreams.