‘That’s the one. And then when my dad was stabbed in the guts in Dartmoor—’
‘Slashed across the throat in Wormwood Scrubs.’
‘Who’s telling this story, Jeremy, you or me?’
‘You are. I do apologize.’
‘When Dad died, is the point, when he was so brutally murdered by men who had been using him as their sex toy for two years—’
‘Four years.’
‘His body was sent back to Auckland too. To be buried alongside his own father. And his dying wish, it was in his will, was that his beloved Ustym Karmaliuk would one day be buried in the same grave.’
Jeremy stared at him as if he had gone mad. ‘Ustym Karmaliuk?’ he asked. ‘The famous Ukrainian folk hero?’
‘I am constantly impressed by how many people are aware of this man,’ replied Achilles, more to himself than anyone else. ‘No, not Ustym Karmaliuk. I don’t know why I said that name. I might be having a stroke. No, he wanted … he wanted …’
‘Tommy the Tortoise?’
‘That’s right. He wanted Tommy the Tortoise to be buried with him. And I want to do that for my father. But flying to New Zealand and back costs money.’
‘I’m sure it does.’
‘It can be very expensive.’
‘Let me guess, five thousand pounds?’
‘Spot on.’
‘That seems quite pricey.’
‘Well, you have to factor in hotel costs, and so on. The flights themselves wouldn’t cost that much. I could probably get a cheap business class seat for about half that amount if I wanted to slum it. But I’d have to eat while I was there too. And, you know, buy a wreath. All in all, I’d say we’re looking at around five grand all in. And I couldn’t possibly expect you to give me that.’
‘No,’ said Jeremy, looking a little relieved. ‘No, of course not. But if you wanted to bury him here in London, I could probably help you dig a hole in a park somewhere.’
Achilles smiled. ‘Would that be legal, do you think?’ he asked.
‘We could do it under cover of night.’
‘You and me in a London park, in the dead of night, with the moon shining down on us,’ said Achilles. ‘You wouldn’t be trying to get into my pants, would you?’
Jeremy stared at him and his mouth opened and closed a few times, like a goldfish in a bowl.
‘I only ask,’ continued Achilles, ‘because I’ve started to worry about where this friendship is going. I mean, you are a lot older than me.’
‘Well, only by about thirty years,’ protested Jeremy. ‘That’s only a fifth of a lifetime, in tortoise terms.’
‘But we’re not tortoises, are we, Jeremy?’ asked Achilles. ‘We’re not tortoises. You’re a grown man. And I’m a teenage boy.’
‘True,’ replied Jeremy, looking a little disconcerted now.
‘I mean, I know that we’re just friends and it’s not as if you’ve tried to get me into bed, is it?’
Jeremy flushed. ‘No, of course not,’ he said. ‘I’ve never even suggested—’
‘But you do take me out for drinks a lot, don’t you? And I am underage.’
‘You said you were eighteen.’
‘I might have exaggerated by about a year.’
Jeremy stared at him for a moment, then looked around, tapping the tip of his thumb against the tips of each of his fingers in a strange, fretful tic, and Achilles watched him, always intrigued by how his victims behaved at this moment.
‘Perhaps it’s best if we don’t see each other again,’ said Jeremy, drinking the rest of his pint quickly.
‘Probably, yes.’
‘I don’t know what I’ve done to give you the impression that I had any … nefarious intentions towards you.’
‘No idea what that means, to be honest. But if you’re asking do I think you want to take me up the Khyber Pass, then yes, that’s what I think.’
‘But I’ve never … I’ve never so much as—’
‘Doesn’t matter what you’ve said or haven’t said, does it, Jeremy? It’s what it looks like that matters.’
‘And what does it look like?’
‘Looks like you’re a middle-aged man taking out a teenage boy who he met on a dating app to get him all liquored up and then … well, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what comes next, does it?’
Jeremy stared at the boy for a moment before looking around and biting his lip.
‘Is that what this has been all about?’ he asked, utter disappointment in his tone. ‘Extortion?’
‘I really don’t like that word,’ said Achilles, frowning. ‘And I’m sure you’re a nice guy, other than the obvious paedophiliac tendencies, but let’s face it, why would I be interested in you? You’re old enough to be my dad. And I barely give him the time of day.’
‘Your dad is dead.’
‘Oh yeah.’
‘Your dad is dead, isn’t he?’
Achilles shrugged. He hadn’t intended to get this deep into things. ‘Does it matter?’
‘Is anything you’ve told me the truth? Is your name even Nick?’
Achilles thought about it. ‘The tortoise story was true,’ he said. ‘Most of it. And my advice about the After Eights. They’re what killed the little bastard. Keep them away from your cockatoo or whatever it was.’
‘Cockapoo.’
‘I don’t know much about birds, but I do like a cockatoo, am I right?’ said Achilles, laughing, and Jeremy’s face turned into an angry sneer.
‘You little shit,’ he said.
‘We can sit here trading insults if you want,’ said Achilles. ‘Or we can just get on with our business. I get my five thousand pounds and you get my silence. After you pay me off, you won’t ever hear from me again. I don’t go back to the same well twice. What do you say?’
Jeremy looked down at the table and tapped his fingers against the woodwork. ‘It doesn’t feel as if you’re leaving me much choice,’ he said.
‘Probably not, no.’
‘It’s a lot of money.’
‘It could be a lot more.’
‘How soon would you want it?’
Achilles thought about it. ‘Tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Six o’clock.’
‘All right,’ said Jeremy, sounding defeated. ‘And then you won’t contact me again?’
Achilles made the shape of a cross over his heart. ‘Scout’s honour,’ he said.
Jeremy shook his head. ‘Were you ever a Scout?’ he asked.
‘Oh, Jeremy,’ said Achilles, laughing a little. ‘That hurts me. It really does. I’m wounded.’
A DEATH IN THE FAMILY
It was almost 10 p.m. when Beverley returned home, exhausted from her day. The house was in darkness and she went straight into the living room, kicked off her shoes and poured herself a large whisky. On the table in front of her, a copy of that day’s Evening Standard was lying folded in half and she picked it up, only to be confronted by her husband’s face.