All Chapters of The Final Cut: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONEWhen he’d gotten back to his apartment, even though it was late, the first thing Sam did was get straight in the shower.In a repeat of the night he got back from the lock up, Sam stood beneath the scalding hot water and tried to wash away the memories of the previous hours. He was no more successful this time than he had been the last. No amount of soap or water could wash away the spectre of Melissa’s touch. He could still feel her ragged skin pressing against his, her breath on his cheek and her blood spilling out over his loins. Every time he closed his eyes he saw her face and the gaping hole in her throat.His skin was red and smarting when he left the shower. The images in his mind were just as vivid. They weren’t the only thing he couldn’t escape. His whole body was filled with an invisible pressure, an insatiable need for release. He’d fought off his desire to come with Melissa and now it dogged him mercilessly.Sam was reminded of a Sunday afternoon he’

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE“Yeah, like I said,” the barman called over his shoulder, “we ain’t seen him in days, mate. Landlord reckons he’s done a bunk.” He was a bulky man who huffed a lot as he led Jimmy up the stairs. He was losing most of his hair, even though he was only in his late twenties, and had grown a huge pair of mutton chop whiskers to compensate.“Landlord’s coming back this evening to clear the room, so if you want anything you best go through his stuff and grab it now, alright? Good luck though, it’s minging in there.”“That’s okay, I’m only after one thing, I shan’t be long.”The barman coughed, looked at the floor and scratched his neck, waiting for something.“Oh yeah, sorry,” said Jimmy and pulled two twenties and a ten from his pocket.“Cheers,” said the barman, taking the money. He produced a key, unlocked the door then turned and lumbered back down the stairs.The smell hit Jimmy the minute he opened the door. The air was stale and stank of Sam’s unwashed body

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE“Are you sure you’ve got the right spot?” Jimmy said, glancing at his watch.“Yeah,” said Rick, a tall, bulky guy with close cropped ginger hair. He stubbed out his cigarette and put his hands in the pockets of his grey hoodie. “He always makes you wait, he’s worse than a dealer that way.”They were standing on a dark corner in the back streets of Shoreditch. Rick glanced up and down the road then lit another cigarette.Jimmy had met Rick through Alfie. Quite predictably, Alfie had taken the piss the minute Jimmy asked him if he knew anyone who was into hardcore magic, the really dangerous stuff? When he’d had his fun, Alfie introduced Jimmy to Rick. Jimmy explained to Rick that he was looking for someone called ‘the Tailor of the True Cloth.’“I think you’ll need Vince for that,” Rick had said. “Have you heard of him?”Jimmy shook his head. “No.”“Some people call him the ‘Mystic Yardie,’ but never to his face. Other people call him ‘The Baron,’ after Baron

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVENVince was late. But Jimmy expected that. He didn’t know Deptford at all. It was south of the river, between Greenwich and Blackheath, the poor cousin to those well to do areas. It was supposed to be up and coming, shedding its reputation for being rough as arseholes, but Jimmy couldn’t see any difference.He felt vulnerable and out of place as he loitered at the top of the high street. The laptop, with the last surviving copy of the footage, felt unnaturally heavy in its shoulder bag. It bumped his hip as he checked his watch for the hundredth time.Finally, Vince sauntered into view and greeted Jimmy with a simple nod. He stood at the top of the street and tilted his head at odd angles, as though he was trying to see or hear things that Jimmy couldn’t.“So, does this Tailor have a shop around here?” Jimmy asked.Vince shook his head. “The Tailor has no fixed address. He manifests all over the city.”“So why pick a shithole like this?”Vince gave Jimmy anoth

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINETen days later, Jimmy felt just as awkward on the streets of Deptford. It wasn’t that he still thought the place a dump, with its cheesy discount stores and its raucous collection of winos. It was more that he was carrying a briefcase containing hundreds of thousands of pounds, from the sale of Sam’s apartment. The estate agent had advised him to hold out for a higher price, but Jimmy had needed a quick sale, so he’d settled.Without Vince, Jimmy wasn’t sure he could find the alley again. He couldn’t do any of that voodoo stuff that Vince had done, drawing on the ground in flour and ash. He didn’t have any of that weird leaf smoke to inhale either. He was just going to have to wing it and hope he could remember enough to get back to the Tailor.Jimmy moved up the high street to the spot where he last found the alley, doing his best to replicate what Vince had done, dancing in a half-hearted manner. He chanted:“Ouvrie, Ouvrie, Open for me ALL-EE-AY!” under his b