R.I.P Robbie Silva Read online

  'You've some bottle haven't you, considering your position?' As I spoke, Ben patted his cheek with his shirtsleeve.

  Silva turned away from Gail, faced us. He noticed I had the long gun barrel pointed at his son's head.

  'Now watch what you're doing there, Jed,' said Silva.

  'Shut the fuck up. His card's marked,' I said.

  Ben's colour changed. His eyes seemed to drop further into his head as he realised I had no intention of letting him off the hook. He looked at me for a moment, then his gaze darted towards his father and his sister. Somewhere inside that fucked-up head of his he had a notion: he wanted to wound me before I finished him.

  'He fucked her for years you know,' said Ben. His top lip quivered; a line of sweat formed on his forehead. 'She didn't tell you that, did she?'

  Silva sparked up, 'Ben ... what are you doing?'

  'Ask them, he said ... it's true. Father and daughter. What do you make of that? Still got a thing for her now, have you?'

  I looked at Silva; he had guilty eyes. Gail had her face in her hands. She was in tears again.

  My heart started to pound.

  'You're making it up. You think I'll bite on that, you're mistaken.'

  Ben started to giggle. 'It's true! It's true! ... I used to see them. He made videos too.'

  I remembered what Jasper had said about Silva ''road-testing'' his porn starlets himself.

  'Shut up!' said Silva.

  I put the gun to Ben's head. 'You are one sick fuck.' He had known about the abuse and did nothing. He could have stopped it, saved her. I would have done anything to save Jody – I wished I had killed my own father to save her.

  Ben was laughing as the gunshot came. As he fell back a black mess appeared on the wall behind him. At its edges there was red blood and indiscriminate brain matter.

  After the gun's discharge the room was silent, except for the ringing in my ears. Nobody moved for some time and then Silva ran for me with his arms out.

  I smacked the gun barrel off his head and he fell on the ground, moaning. I started to reload the shooter.

  Gail rose up. As I looked at her I suddenly understood why she reminded me so much of Jody. Then I knew what Ben had said was true.

  Gail looked down.

  I wanted to see her smile.

  I wanted to see her sigh, in relief.

  I wanted to see her run to me, open arms, shower thanks on me.

  But she cried.

  'Gail,' I said. I put the gun down on the sofa, went to her. Silva writhed on the floor.

  'Gail, why the tears?'

  She couldn't find words. Breath was a trouble. She raised her hands to her face. 'He's in pain.'

  'So fucking what?' I said.

  Silva slapped about on the floor, grimaced in agony.

  She started to pat her cheeks, make bellows of her face. 'He's in pain.'

  'So fucking what?' I repeated.

  I stomped past her, picked up the gun again and shoved it in Silva's face.

  He yelled out: 'You're fucked, Jed Collins!''

  I smacked the gun off his head; I wanted Gail to see him in agony, the way he'd seen her in agony – I hauled her down.

  'Look at his face. Remember that ...' I grabbed Silva's hair; he screamed as I smacked at his head. 'See the way he's squirming, trying to get away?'

  She looked.

  'See him?'

  I wanted her to see her father in pain, but more than that I wanted her to see him in terror. The kind of terror he'd inflicted on her. I was full of an anger I didn't know I possessed.

  'Gail, see him ... ?'

  She froze. I think she understood. I took the shooter and aimed it at Silva, but thought it was too easy a way out for him. I threw the gun down, roared at him. 'You dirty fucking bastard. Your own daughter ... your own daughter. How? You fucking animal.'

  I knew the words I wanted to say; they came easily. They were the same words I'd wanted to say to my own father.

  'You dirty bastard. You dirty fucking bastard ... your own daughter.'

  I was crying. I watched my tears falling on Silva's chest. The look on his face was defiant though; he couldn't care less what he'd done.

  He smiled, laughed at me. 'You dumb bastard ... the whore loved every minute of it!'

  I was motionless as the gun went off behind me. I felt my ears ring. One side of me went numb. I turned quickly to see Gail holding the shooter; she was motionless. Her face cold, firm.

  Dark blood pooled on the floor under Silva's groin.

  'Is he dead?' she said after a few moments.

  'Yes.'

  She looked at me; her look had changed. 'What now?'

  I grabbed a deep breath. 'We take the money.'

  'Where?'

  I looked out the window; it was starting to rain, said, 'I hear the weather's nice in Spain.'

  'Spain?'

  'I know where there's a boat leaving. If we're quick ...'

  ###

  About the author

  Tony Black is Irvine Welsh's favourite British crime writer. The author of six critically acclaimed crime novels, his works include the Gus Dury PI series: Paying For It, Gutted, Loss and Long Time Dead, the final instalment of which will be filmed for the screen by Richard Jobson in 2012. His police inspector series, featuring DI Rob Brennan, includes the titles Truth Lies Bleeding and Murder Mile; both published by Random House UK. An Ayr-set crime thriller, The Storm Without, is also available from Blasted Heath. Before turning to the novel, Tony was an award-winning national newspaper journalist covering subjects as diverse as crime and nightclub reviews. He still writes for the press from time to time but most of his non-fiction now turns up on his blog, Pulp Pusher, and his website.

  For news, reviews, interviews and lots more about Tony Black and our other great authors, visit Blasted Heath.