Open the door. Just open the door and let me in.
‘I get it, man, but now’s not a good time, you understand? I’m expecting company.’
Yeah, company. So you can offload your drugs money.
‘All I need to do is replace the line of sealant. It’s a two-minute job.’
‘Sorry and all that, man, but it’s not, like, convenient, you know what I’m saying?’
Scott shrugged, the tools clinking again. ‘All right, but I’ll have to go back down and tell your neighbour, and I can’t get back out here again for a couple of days.’ He lowered his voice conspiratorially. ‘Between you and me, he’s a pain in the arse. You’re going to have a fight on your hands, so good luck with it.’
Barrington considered it. ‘Two minutes?’
‘Max.’
Let me in, let me in.
‘Okay. Don’t want to upset the neighbours, right?’
Barrington took off the chain, opened the door wide. Scott stepped inside.
The first thing that struck him was that the layout of this corner flat was very different from his own. Instead of a hallway, he had walked straight into the living area. Two doors to his left led, presumably, to a bathroom and a bedroom, whereas his own flat also had a second bedroom.
‘Your heating okay?’ Scott asked.
‘Yeah. Why d’you ask?’
‘The coat. Plus, it feels pretty chilly in here. You want me to take a look at your boiler some time?’
He wondered if he was going too far with the act, but Barrington didn’t seem concerned. As if only just made aware of how he appeared, Barrington pulled back his hood. Scott was relieved to see that he didn’t look as menacing as he’d anticipated. In fact, there were marks on his face that suggested he’d taken something of a beating recently.
‘Heating costs money,’ Barrington said. ‘Speaking of which, you’re not gonna charge me for this, right? I mean, I’m not the one asking you to do this.’
‘No, don’t worry. No charge.’
He started moving to his left.
And then he saw it.
The white Adidas bag. Just sitting there on the glass coffee table. Pregnant with cash.
Keep going. Don’t stop, don’t react.
‘Hold up, bro.’
Scott halted, his heart leaping into his mouth.
‘That’s my bedroom,’ Barrington said. ‘You want the other door.’
‘Right,’ Scott said. He adjusted his path, thinking to himself, Don’t look at the bag, don’t look at the bag.
He entered the bathroom. It looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in months. Thick tide marks on the sink and bath. White splashes of what looked like toothpaste on the tiles. A mirror so clouded with dust and grime it was barely usable.
‘Excuse the mess,’ Barrington said, closing the toilet lid and picking up a pair of boxer shorts from the floor, as if that fixed the problem.
‘I’ve seen worse.’ Scott went across to the bath and flicked at the sealant along one edge. It came away easily, as he’d expected it would. He’d had the same problem in his own flat.
‘See?’ he said. ‘This is the problem. It’s not blocking the water. Every time you put the shower on, some of the water escapes down here.’
‘So, like, what do you need to do?’
‘I take this out, put in some new stuff, that’s it.’
Barrington moved closer. ‘Go for it.’
Scott nodded, but he was thinking, Move back so I can get my gun out.
He smiled. ‘I work better with a cup of tea.’
Barrington narrowed his eyes. ‘Two minutes, you said.’
Scott shrugged. No tea.
He slipped his backpack from his shoulder, opened it up, felt around inside. Barrington wasn’t moving, wasn’t giving him any space. Scott found what he wanted. His fingers curled around the handle. He pressed his index finger lightly on the trigger.
Barrington didn’t budge.
Scott was left with no choice.
