“Mick’s out.”
Noddy felt sick. “And he did this? Because of that guy in the club?”
She laughed, dragging nicotine deep into her lungs. “Oh, he did this. But I don’t think he knows about the guy in the club yet. That conversation is still to come.”
Noddy sat down, elbows on knees, hands holding his head.
“So you can forget all these plans for a white picket fence at the end of the rainbow. He’s not going to let that happen. Unless we move now, before he finds his feet again. You still got the gun?”
Noddy looked up. “What gun?”
“Come on. Since when do you care about unconscious dealers in clubs? You snatched that gun from the floor when Dirk grabbed me.”
He nodded, opened his jacket to show the red grip protruding from his inside pocket.
“And you still have Dirk’s spare keys, right?” Noddy remembered that he did. “I bet one of them fits Mick’s door. But we have to do it now.”
“You want to steal from Irish Mick? He’ll kill us.”
Morag dropped to her knees in front of him, hiding the pain this time. “Look. We need money to get away. Now. Today. All of us. Me. You. Janine. The baby. Mick will never know it was us. The place is empty. Trust me. I’ve been watching it.” She held up her hands, pleading. “I’ve never seen him like this. He’s going to kill us anyway. To make a statement. That’s how he thinks. It’s what he does. If we don’t leave right now, before the end of the day we’ll be dancing in Valhalla. And I’m not talking about the fucking nightclub.”
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