Utsyev seemed genuinely interested in how the men felt. They looked at each other, wondering what he really wanted to hear.
Red Scarf shrugged. 'He doesn't scream as much as he did at first,' he said, looking at Orange Peel for support.
Orange Peel nodded enthusiastically. 'We've been working on him since this morning. He's hurting, all right.' He looked at Utsyev and seemed to detect the beginnings of a frown. 'Of course, we could keep going for a while. No problem.'
'No problem at all,' Red Scarf agreed. He smacked the bat against his palm again as if to emphasise his enthusiasm.
Utsyev nodded his approval. 'What about you, Derbyshire?
What do you think?'
Derbyshire glared at his tormentor through puffy eyes. 'Just don't kill me. Please. I've got a wife. A kid.'
Utsyev looked across at Red Scarf. 'He had a photo in his wallet,' Red Scarf confirmed. 'Ugly bitches, both of 'em.'
'He should have thought of them before he stuck his nose in our business,' Utsyev said. 'Give him another beating. Break his fucking hands as well. Then we'll take him for a picnic'
The two heavies began hitting the detective straight away, keen to impress Utsyev. He watched them go about their work for a minute or so, then left them to it.
Derbyshire closed his eyes tight and tried to picture his safe place – the green field, the trees, and the train track. In the distance he could hear the whistle of a steam engine and he went to stand on the track. As unseen blows rained down on his legs and chest, he clung to the image of the train, roaring down on him, wheels clicking, pistons hissing, whistle screeching. Derbyshire smiled through the pain. The train was coming. It really was.
Katherine Freeman sat with her legs curled underneath her on the sofa as she smoked a cigarette and stared at the framed photograph of Luke and Tony. She missed her son fiercely.
She no longer felt the agonising pain of the loss – that had mercifully faded some eighteen months or so after the accident – and she now rarely dreamed of him, but there was still an ever-present sense that something was missing from her life.
She exhaled deeply and studied her husband's smiling face through the smoke. Grinning as if he didn't have a care in the world, bursting with pride for his beautiful, smart, bubbly, healthy son.
Once the sharp pain had faded, Katherine would play a game in her imagination, replaying the accident in her mind and giving herself the power to change its outcome, to have Luke survive and to have Tony go crashing through the windscreen and die in the road. At first she played the game despite herself. Images would creep up on her, almost against her will, as she carried out the housework or sat trying to read a magazine. She'd find herself picturing Luke, alive and well and loving her, and she'd shut him out, knowing that it was only wishful thinking. But later, after the doctors had told her that she'd be unable to have any more children, she would lie in bed and summon up the images of Luke, standing by his father's grave, holding back the tears, squeezing her hand bravely and telling her that it was all right because he'd take care of her, no matter what. She would have married again, of course, but only after a respectable period, and it would have to be someone who got on with Luke. A father figure, but not a replacement for Tony. There would never be anyone to replace him. She'd explain that to Luke, and he'd nod and say that he understood, but that he was pleased that Mommy had found someone to make her happy. Maybe in time he'd even call him Daddy. Katherine could play the game for hours, picturing her life with Luke, wiping his tears and sharing his triumphs, even though she knew that the longer she played, the worse the hurt when she came back to earth. Back to the real world, a world of Tony and no Luke.
Katherine realised with a jolt that the cigarette had burned down to its filter tip. She tossed it into the ashtray. A tear ran down her cheek and she wiped it away. The doorbell startled her out of her reverie. She looked at the gold carriage clock on the bookcase. Tony and Mersiha wouldn't be back for hours. She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief and then walked through the hallway and opened the front door. Maury Anderson stood there, smiling like an eager-to-please puppy. 'Hello, Maury,' she said, wondering if he could tell that she'd been crying. 'Tony's not here.'
'I know,' he said, his grin widening. 'Can I come in?' Katherine stepped aside and Anderson walked into the house as if he owned it. Katherine closed the door and followed him into the sitting room. 'Tony said he was taking Mersiha sailing,' Anderson said, as if an explanation was called for.
'Do you want a drink?' Katherine asked, going over to the drinks cabinet.
'It's a bit early for me, but you go ahead,' Anderson said, dropping down on to the sofa by the fireplace.
Katherine put her head on one side like an inquisitive bird as she weighed Anderson up, wondering if he'd meant it nastily or if it was just because he knew her so well. She decided it was the latter and turned her back on him to pour herself a generous measure of brandy and Coke. She felt rather than heard him ease himself up off the sofa and come up behind her. His hands slipped around her waist, then slid upwards until he was holding her breasts. He squeezed gently, rubbing her nipples with his thumbs through the material of her dress. She gasped. 'Damn you, Maury,' she whispered. 'You know how that turns me on.'
Anderson brushed his lips against her hair and then kissed her shoulder. He nipped her with his teeth, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make her gasp again. 'No,' she said, but even she could tell from her voice that her heart wasn't in the denial. Anderson's hands roamed up and down her body, always returning to her breasts, and she felt him press himself against her.
'I want you,' he whispered.
'I can tell,' she said.
'I want you now,' he said, his voice thick with desire. Katherine sipped at her drink. Anderson tightened his grip on her breasts as if to punish her for her nonchalance. 'Now,' he repeated.
'No,' she said, putting the half-empty glass down. She twisted around so that she was facing him. Anderson's hands moved as she did so, sliding back over her breasts as if held there by magnets. 'Not here.'
'He won't be back for hours,' he insisted. 'You know what he's like when he's on that boat.'
His head jerked forward and he fastened his mouth to her lips, slipping his tongue between her teeth like a lizard.
Katherine almost gagged. She pushed him away. 'Maury, no,' she pleaded.
'Come on,' he said. He tried to kiss her again but Katherine twisted her head to the side and his lips landed on her cheek.
'What part of no don't you understand, Maury?' she said.
'The part where your mouth says no but your body says yes,' he said.
Katherine couldn't argue with that. She could feel how hard her nipples had become under his caresses and she was breathing like a train. Anderson could play her body like a violin, and he knew it. 'Bastard,' she whispered. Her insides had turned to liquid. Anderson's eyes burned into her as if he knew how wet she was between her legs, how ready she was for him. 'This isn't fair,' she said. Anderson moved his face towards her, more slowly this time, and she let him kiss her, softly at first, and then with passion. His hands moved confidently to the top button of her dress, his lips never leaving hers. The button popped and he moved down to the next one.
Katherine put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back. 'No,' she said, more firmly this time.
'No?' Anderson seemed genuinely stunned by her refusal.
'I told you right at the start, never in this house.'
'But they won't be back for ages,' he whined, like a small boy being refused the last chocolate biscuit.
'It's one of the rules,' Katherine said. 'If you want to play the game, you have to obey the rules.'
'Rules are made to be broken,' he said, trying to kiss her again.
'Not this rule,' she said.
'You're crazy,' Anderson said. 'We've made love in motel rooms all over Maryland. What's the difference? You have a weird sense of morality.'
'First of all, we've never made love,' she said, putting her fingers on his lips to shut him up. 'We've had sex, and I'm not saying it's not great sex…' Anderson grinned and she glared at him. The grin vanished.'… but it's not love, Maury. Don't ever confuse what we have with love. Okay?' He nodded. Katherine kept her fingers pressed against his lips. 'Second of all, it's not morality. It's etiquette. This is Tony's home. I'm not going to desecrate it by having sex with you, or any other man, in his bed.
Do you understand?'
She slowly took her fingers away from Anderson's lips. His eyes sparkled. 'How about we do it on the floor, then?' he said.
Katherine laughed, and pulled him towards her, kissing him hard on the lips, keeping her eyes open so she could watch him.
She moved her right hand down his chest, tracing circles around his stomach, feeling the muscles there tense and hearing him groan with pleasure. She pressed her lips harder against his, biting and nibbling as she slid her hand between his legs. He was panting as they kissed, though his eyes were still tightly closed. She stroked him through his trousers, then, like a farmer grabbing a wayward chicken, she seized his balls and squeezed.
He jerked away as if he'd been given an electric shock, but Katherine maintained her grip.
'Ow, ow, ow,' Anderson said, his eyes wide open.
'Maury, believe me, this is hurting me more than it's hurting you,' Katherine said sweetly.
He shook his head. 'No, no, no,' he said, shifting his weight from foot to foot. 'Let go. Let go. Let go.'