STARSHINE, THE OCEAN AND THE UNICORN
                               Chapter two                                        Part three


                        The quiet sounds of wind charmers and the tappings of chopsticks in bowls of eggshell china.  Joe looked through the tinted glass door at soundless cars moving past and the wished he were in one.  But he was in a small, closed in eating house where daylight was exchanged for the twilight glows of paper lanterns on red walls.  Joe was in a corner at a small round table. Jason sat opposite him, his hulking great frame blocking any exit.  They were served by waiters with silk black hair, their blank eyes looked nowhere, their straight mouths opened for no one.  Joe ate chunks of pink, glazed meat but the noodles slid from his chopsticks.  Jason's massive shoulders stooped round his little bowl as he shovelled and slobbered his food into his ugly face.
                        More unnerving, tranquility was served with tea that felt good but tasted of nothing. Then Jason looked at his watch and stood up abruptly,"Give 'im the bill Chan!" he said to a waiter and left the restaurant.  The waiter brought the bill on a saucer and placed it in front of Joe.  Joe had no money,but as he unfolded the bill he realised that it was not money he needed.  It read;
                                                   
                                              Bernie Summers
                                              Silver Jaguar. Reg. RUH  200Y
                                              Car Park Level 3B.
                                              Three 'o' clock.
                              Joe looked at the saucer and a dragon looked back




                              It was five to three.  Joe found the silver Jaguar.  He knew it anyway, he knew Bernie Summers.  Joe could not imagine Bernie had done anyone much harm apart from dippig his fingers too far into some chinaman's pot, but never enough to get killed for it.  When Joe and Roy had been kids on an estate of grey net curtains and peeling paint, where all the outside walls had had graffiti scrawled over them and everywhere smelt of dog's piss, Bernie had been every kids' kind uncle, the estate's pied piper, making sure the kids had fun without being too nosey about unhappy homes and screaming parents.  Tousle haired kids used to follow him about for games of football and apples.  Bernie never handed out sweets but had a way of making a kid think an apple was exotic, even precious.
                              Joe froze his memory for the sake of his own preservation.  He checked that the black-jack was hidden inside his jacket and the clear, household polythene bag was ready in his pocket.  These gruesome murder weapons had been handed to him in a brown paper package as he had left the restaurant.  He leaned against a wide concrete pillar hidden from the lift door from where Bernie ,would approach.  He flexed his fingers inside his leather gloves and waited.
                              Bernie stepped out of the lift, he was whistling an old cockney tune.  He wore a smart sheepskin coat and carried an executive briefcase.  Joe watched the bald pate come closer as Bernie walked with his head down watching his own footsteps but seeing nothing, only his far away thoughts, happy thoughts that shaped his mouth into a grin.  Joe stepped out from behind the pillar.  Bernie looked up, surprise jolted him back to earth but the grin remained as a warm smile for Joe.  "Hello Joey boy!"
 "Hello Bernie"
 "What are you up to round 'ere?"
 "Oh nothing much,  Just waiting around."
Bernie walked towards his car, feeling in his coat pocket for his keys.  Joe followed him, his body slipped easily into the old role of a kid waiting around, tagging on for an apple or a magic trick.  But inside his soul darkened, it was hard, tensed and ready.
"What's your brother up to these days?" Bernie asked.
"Oh nothing much.  This your motor?"
"Yeah, lovely isn't she"
"I'd love something like this."
"You were always a sharp one Joey, you'll 'ave one soon enough."
Warning shadows swept through Bernie's mind.  Joe was not the sort to wait around anywhere and he had certainly seen the Jag before.  The car park was not Joe's place, he just did not fit with it.  But Bernie's good nature shrugged it off.  He opened a rear door and put his briefcase down on the back seat, turning his back on Joe to prove to himself that trust had never been in question.  The black-jack cracked down on the back of his head and his body slumped forward onto the back seat.  Joe was over the body in a split second, his eyes darting round the grey, concrete semi-daylight of the multi-storey for intruders.  There were none.  Bernie was out cold, no skin was broken, there was no blood.  Joe pulled the polythene bag over Bernie's head. Bernie's breath sucked the plastic bag into his face, his skin went purple, his throat throbbed, his long pink swollen tongue was drawn right out.  He no longer lived.
                    Joe wedged the body on the floor between the seats.  He took the keys and opened the boot, he found a blanket, closed the boot and covered the body.  The Jag's tinted glass and the blanket would keep Bernie's body well hidden before somebody came looking.  Joe again let his eyes slip around level 3B.  There was nobody, only silence.  He sat on the edge of the car seat with the briefcase on his lap.  He had it open in seconds, it was full of money, real money.
"Leave it!"
Joe's head shot up to the harsh, tinny voice.  An overcoated, barrel chested chinaman had appeared from nowhere, his feet square and flat on the ground.  The chinaman had witnessed the murder.  Joe felt dirty and guilty.  They could have least given him a little privacy while he murdered a kind friend.  Joe did not move, he felt heavy with realisation that this deal was designed to go much deeper.  Joe's was not a clear understanding, only an emotion of humiliation that weighed down his heart and filled him with fear.  The chinaman came forward, closed up the briefcase and took it from him.
"Not even one note? Only I need a drink" said Joe.  The chinaman said nothing,he took a silver flask from inside his overcoat, unscrewed the top and offered it.  Joe did not accept.  He stared at the chinaman and pushed his fists hard into his pockets.  The chinaman simply screwed on the top and methodically replaced the flask inside his coat.  Joe turned and walked away, his footsteps echoed loud but he knew his contempt could never match theirs.  Jason and the chinaman had him by the short and curlies.  It had all happened too quickly.  There had been no time to find a way out.