"Pixel Juice" - читать интересную книгу автора (Noon Jeff)

SUPER-EASY-NO-TAG-SPECIAL

So they threw me out of Strangeways with a packet of stale fags and the clothes I went in with. And a letter from the governor praising my good-boy behaviour and my spirited reform, and claiming I was perfectly capable of holding down an honest job, given the chance. Right, so that's why the last thing inside, they stick this tagging device around my left ankle. Radio bleeper, satellite mapping, locking encryption, nifty little sonic ball-and-chain. I had to wear the thing for two years, two years of being followed, of having my every movement logged on some giant cop computer. Don't ask me how the thing works, I'm just the guy that has to sport the accessory. Two years of never leaving Manchester.

Betsy was waiting for me outside the prison, the sweet-hearted old girl. We gave each other a kiss, and said hello and she told me that nobody was wearing trousers like that any more, and I said you should try being off the scene for four years, see what you come out like. Then she said we need to get you out of those trousers, and I said we most certainly do.

First she was a touch put off by the contraption strapped tight around my ankle, then she got kinda excited like it was some weird bondage device, then when it was the third time over, she said it was sad that I'd never be naked, not really naked, not for two whole years anyway. Me, I was just thinking that some greasy cop was watching this little bleep on a computerized map going jigger-jigger. It was like having a voyeur in the boudoir. Gave me the shivers. Then we talked about the job, and the money and where the fuck was Danny Boy with the takings. Then she went quiet, and turned away.

So, Danny Boy. Good old faithful Danny the Boy, trusty assistant of yesteryear, now gone AWOL with the loot. London, said Betsy. Last month, said Betsy. And she said, I wanted to tell you, visiting times, but I thought it'd only make your time go slow. And I said, no, the anger would've sped it along no end. And she said, so when are you going after him, Dex? And I said, now that's the problem, I can't.

I can't wait two years, because Danny will have spent it all by then, if not already. So I did some enquiries, and the friend of a friend said there just might be a way out of it, but it would cost. I said name it, cause it's gotta be less than I stand to make if I catch up with the bastard. And it was, a whole load of cash, but a lot less than the big takings. I had to pull in some bad debts, and make some bad debts myself just to raise the unlocking money.

The guy said his name was the YoYo, which is pretty damn stupid, but he did have a way of bouncing up and down when he got excited, which is when I showed him the fee. Of course he had to come visit me to do the operation, because no way could I let my bleep-bleep show up on the bad part of the map.

He had all the equipment with him, which fitted inside a case you might keep a pair of spectacles in, posh ones. Things have gotten smaller since I was put away. Soon the whole world will vanish, I swear. So this guy, this YoYo guy, he gets this gadget out of the case, presses some keys on it, holds it against the tagging device on my ankle. The gadget goes whirrrrr, and the tag goes wheeeep! And I said, that's it, is it? And he said, that's it. Super-easy-no-tag-special. Just like that. Super, easy, no tag, special. Proud of it he was. But I was nervous, and I said, you're sure this is safe? I mean, I can really leave Manchester now, no problems? And he said, leave right now, your bleep still shows up on the cop map. It moves around the streets just like you're still living here. It's a phantom bleep, isn't it? Because I've hijacked their fucking system, haven't I? Any trouble, call this number. Twenty-four-hour care line. And he went off on another bouncing spree, a little heavier this time on account of the fee I'd paid him.

So I went down to London, and I found Danny, and it took five days all told, and we had a nice little tete-a-tete, and he handed over the money. Just my rightful share mind, because that shows the difference between us, I'm fair, me, even when I've been cheated. So it was good, everything was back on plan. Get back to Manchester, sit tight on the loot, wait out the two years, get to know Betsy all over and all over again. Easy. Like the man says, super easy!

I got back to Manchester on the Saturday, the afternoon it was, and I thought maybe I should go see that YoYo right off, get him to turn me back onto the real map. But then I thought maybe not, maybe I'm needing to leave town again some time soon. He didn't say anything about a time limit, did he? So I thought instead I'd go round and see if Betsy was up for a night out, but who should I see on the way but Nasty Dave, who was an old acquaintance and not at all nasty, not if you ignored the business with the Kumar Brothers anyway. And he says to me, hi Dex, you're out then? And I say, yeah. And he says, I thought it was you. And I say, well it is me. And he says, no, last Wednesday I mean, I saw you on the street, thought it was you but I was on the bus, so I couldn't stop. And I says, nah, you're wrong there, cause I was away last Wednesday. Oh, he says, must have been someone else then. And I says, yeah, it must've been. Strange, he says, it sure looked like you.

I give Betsy a call, but she's not in. Now, I could go round there if I want, cause I've got a key. I'm more or less living there until I get settled. Instead, I'm thinking, well it's a Saturday night isn't it? Let's do the town, just like the old days, me and my shadow working the clubs and playing the chances. I have a pretty good time, meet up with some of the old guys, get drunk. Someone says, can't remember who, that he sees I'm back with Betsy. And I say, well kind of, just messing around you know. And he says, well it looked serious to me. What did? I ask. Holding hands and everything, he says. Of course this gets a laugh from the boys, the thought of me holding hands with anything, never mind a woman. When was this? I ask. And he says, Thursday I think. Yeah, Thursday. In the park. I was walking the dog. Yeah, holding hands and everything.

I left after that, laughing with the rest of them. I took a cab over to Betsy's flat. More than anything, it was an insane surge of jealousy that drove me there. Strange this, considering our relationship, which was always loose and easy. Maybe it was the fact that she was taking up with someone else, so soon after I'd got out of Strangeways. And the fact that the guy looked like me, that was the killer. OK, maybe it showed her love; I'd been away for four years, and so enamoured was she, the only person who could keep her company was a lookalike. These thoughts didn't help me any. And when I got to the flat, and I rang the bell to no answer, and when I tried the key, and it didn't work…

So I bust the door down. Straight away, I could see that the nasties had been done recently, and with some vigour, because the bed was in a mess, and the smell, and the stains… Jesus! Who was this guy? And the cheek of Betsy - right under my nose. I didn't know what to do for the best, except just to wait there, perched on the bed, slowly getting angrier. My only problem was who to hit first, the man or the woman. I must have dozed off at some point, because the next thing I know it's gone one o'clock and all the lights are off. I wake up wondering where I am, and then who I am. I shake myself out of the feeling. Then I hear noises down below at the door. Well, here it comes. Betsy will see the door is smashed, she'll know. Maybe they won't come up. No, here they come, two sets of footsteps. I can hear them moving through the living room. I sit up, get myself in a relaxed position. The bedroom door opens. Two men come in.

It was the cops. Inspector This, Deputy Inspector That. The bastards only arrest me, don't they. I'm screaming at them, what have I done wrong now? They inform, kindly, that a robbery took place Friday night, and that, according to my location on their tagging equipment, I was in the exact vicinity, the exact time. I protest at this, but what can I say, no, I was in London, I'm innocent? Eventually, when we get to the cop station, I'm more or less pleading with them to believe me, I was in London! London! Does no good, and I get my one call. I think about a lawyer, then about Betsy, then about the only person who can really get me out of this mess. I call the number that YoYo gave me.

It was a dead line.