The Tied Man

‘Yeah, little man, it’s true.’

Then the waterworks started again, and before I could stop him, he caught me up in a bear hug.  ‘Oh, for crying out loud.’  I looked down at Henry’s tear-stained face, and tentatively returned the embrace.  ‘Now pull yourself together, you daft wee puff.’

*****

Henry delivered enough coffee to start his own outlet then disappeared again to clean something or other, or maybe even to play hide-and-seek with Gabriel.  As much as I was delighted for my fellow captive, I was glad he was staying out of my way for the next stage.  I wasn’t even sure I wanted to be there myself.

Nat was still hammering away at the keyboard.  ‘Finn, if you’re up to it, I could do with a hand sorting out some of these names and faces?’

‘It’s more a question of you being up to it,’ I said, wondering what the hell our fresh-faced young saviour would make of Blaine’s gallery of depravity.  Mainly starring me.

We both started at the sudden clatter as Lilith fumbled her coffee mug and bounced it across the floorboards.  ‘Oh bugger,’ she mumbled, and I realised she’d just fallen asleep sitting up.

Because I hadn’t slept properly for the best part of a decade, it was easy to forget that other people needed to, and about two hours too late, I realised Lilith might drop at any moment.  ‘Ah hell, sweetheart, you must be knackered.’

‘I’ll manage.  Don’t want to leave you with all this.’  She sounded drunk with fatigue.

‘I reckon I’ll be all right with Nat for a little while, and you’ll be close by.  I can do this, Lili. Promise.  I need to do this.’  I kissed her again, breathing in her warmth to help carry me through.  ‘And  let’s face it, it’s the very fuckin’ least I can do.’

‘As long as you’re sure.  But wake me in an hour, okay?  Not a minute longer.’

‘Of course.’  I hauled myself up and grabbed the fleece blanket from the table.  A fresh strip of temazepam lay under it, and I palmed it; as ever, Lilith had thought of everything.  She piled all the cushions together and lay down, her eyes closing as soon as her head touched the makeshift pillow.  I draped the blanket over her, then took my place in the seat next to Nat.  ‘Ready.’

‘Right then, I’m going to have a good look around, see what else is on here.  Then with your help I’m going to parcel it up, and anything that looks remotely illegal gets sent to Ed’s IT bod.  Anything else that just looks dodgy as fuck,  I follow Lilith’s order and use it to cause as much damage to the existence of those involved as I possibly can, in the time I have available.  And don’t worry – I can pixelate your face out of anything that’s on there before we send it to anyone.  Let’s keep exposure for the guilty, shall we?’

I hadn’t even thought about who might get to look at Blaine’s collection after the night was through.  ‘That’d be good of you.’  I took a quick look around the room.  ‘Before we start, would you do me a favour?’

‘Sure.’

‘Would you check out what’s in those decanters on the cabinet there?  Think I might need one of them.’

As I popped six temazepam into my palm, Nat got up to inspect the bottles.  He took the lid from each one, and gave it a good sniff.  ‘Dry sherry, and a fairly decent Scotch, I’d guess.’

‘The Scotch sounds the best bet.  Don’t think I’m much of a sherry man.’

Nat passed me the decanter.  I threw the tablets into my mouth and washed them down with a couple of gulps of something that tasted like TCP, but worse.  ‘Fuck, that’s rank – give me Irish any day. Okay, let’s do this.’

*****

It was never going to be pretty.  Sometimes it was just words – letters to Blaine, detailing yet another dissolute request; letters from Blaine, detailing her price once that request was granted.  And then there were the photographs.  Picture after picture of every tawdry encounter she had arranged.  I had no memory of some of them – nights when I’d got sufficiently blasted to sail through without ever remembering – and others that I recalled all too well.

Nat just needed verification: was the name correct?  Were there any details missing? Did I want to add anything?  All asked without a trace of disgust or, even worse, pity.  Just dispassionate, calm questions to fill in the gaps.  Not for a second did I regret putting my trust in this man, but I was glad I’d kept hold of the whisky, foul ditch water that it was.