Bad Catholics (16 page)

‘Take a look. It's yours, you're going to earn it.'

‘It's a serious criminal offence to offer …'

‘Fucking hell,' laughed the blonde, ‘is everything down here a serious criminal offence, and if it is how do you propagate the fucking human race in this town then?'

Jimmy took the package and tore open one end. It was a lot of money, enough to make whatever it was serious, dangerous, and best avoided. Jimmy wanted to get rich but there were other things he wanted besides being rich, staying alive and out of prison being very high on the list. He put the packet back on the seat.

Blondie laughed again.

‘Good man, no questions. It's my party, so I entertain. All right, it's a simple job. Let's talk about Lenny Monk. You know who Lenny Monk is?'

Fuck, thought Jimmy. Lenny Monk ran most of North London.

‘I know who Lenny Monk is.'

‘Thought you might. Well Lenny sent a man to Glasgow to talk but he sent the man to talk to the wrong people. I know Lenny's getting old but he shouldn't get stupid. I don't want him in Glasgow so I sent my youngest son down here to let Lenny know. I was friendly, Jimmy, I didn't send Lenny's wee man back in bits. I just put him on a train in a box, and I sent my son, Jamie. Not a crew, no violence, see, real diplomacy. It was like in the Bible, I sent him my own son.'

Jimmy waited.

‘I want you to find Jamie.'

Blondie wasn't laughing any more.

‘How long has he been down here?'

Blondie was silent for a minute. ‘Three weeks.'

Jimmy pushed the packet across the seat to her. ‘Sorry girlie, I can't help. He's dead.'

Blondie was staring down at the rings on her puffy white hands, which lay on her short, black skirt. The nails were a vivid red. After a minute she looked at him and for the first time he saw her eyes clearly. They scared the shit out him.

‘I know that fucking well enough, and it's Bridie, not girlie,' she paused. ‘Find my son, I want him home for a proper burial.'

So that was it, find a body. That was it, but was that all of it? Lenny Monk was a top villain, Denny Morris's boss. If he was involved it was very serious, and if Lenny was trying to make connections in Glasgow, bits of people were going to be flying around. He didn't want any part of it.

‘Find Jamie? That's all?'

‘That's all.' She nodded to the packet. ‘That's a lot of money, plenty just to find a dead body.'

‘It is, but if I could find him I would probably find out a lot of other things you might want me to tell you, things other people wouldn't want you to know. A lot of money's no good to somebody who's dead.'

‘Listen, I know Monk did it or had it done and I know why he did it, there's nothing else to know. I'll deal with him in my own time and my own way. And if it wasn't Monk who did it himself I'll find the trigger and deal with him as well. I don't need any information or help from you. All I want is to bury my boy properly, have his Requiem said and have him in a cemetery near me. Find him so I can take him home.'

She pushed the money towards him. Jimmy pushed the packet back.

‘All right, Bridie, I'll do what I can, which might be nothing at all. If I find anything I'll let you know and then I'll tell you how much it will cost you.'

Bridie smiled.

‘I was told you were a good detective, Jimmy.' Then she stopped smiling. ‘You find my son or I'll find yours.' Her eyes delivered the message.

Jimmy knew that if Bridie so much as sniffed fear from him now, he would never see his family again.

‘Don't threaten me, Bridie. I haven't taken your money yet and when I do, if I do, it'll be payment for services rendered. And don't ever try to use my family.'

‘Or what?'

‘Or no business will get done.'

She thought about it. ‘You know The Albion on Walker Street?'

He nodded.

‘The barman there will get a message to me. Where can I drop you?'

He looked out of the window. ‘Two streets down and turn left.' The car went two streets down and turned.

‘First right.' The car turned right. ‘This'll do.'

The car stopped. Across the street was a wide doorway

with a blue police sign above it.

‘You're not thinking of doing anything silly?'

‘No, Bridie, nothing silly.'

Jimmy got out and stood on the pavement as the car pulled away, then he crossed the road towards the police station. What he needed most at this moment was a dry pair of trousers.

The two big saloon cars were parked at either end of the quiet suburban street. The fact that they each had two men in them and that their engines were ticking over was not noticed by the very few people who passed them. When the security van which collected the cash from the bank's branches in that district turned into the street and was between them they both moved, forcing the van to skid to a halt and preventing it from reversing. The men were out of the cars quickly and the security guards were almost as quick to open the van's doors. The sawn-offs encouraged a willing co-operation.

The sacks of money were out of the van and into one of the cars along with the four men in under three minutes. The car behind the security van with the men and money in it headed back along the street at speed but, turning right at the first junction braked hard and skidded to a halt, slewed sideways across the quiet road. The road was blocked by police cars backed up with armed police. Two other police cars came up behind, squealed to a halt and blocked any exit.

No one panicked, no one shouted. The police were armed and would shoot. Sawn-offs frightened people, killed people if necessary, but only at close range. They were of no use here and were thrown out of the cars as the blaggers came out of the car quietly, showing it was all over.

Everyone was very professional.

‘Against the cars, boys, let's not have any fuss, eh?' a police voice shouted.

The four men turned and stood facing their car with their hands on it in clear view as the police slowly walked towards them. They were given the once-over, handcuffed, and lined up. The chief inspector leading the operation walked along the line then went back towards the first blocking police car and spoke to the man in the back seat.

‘Not there.'

Jimmy looked at the men by the car. Tommy wasn't often wrong, hardly ever. His information was usually good and this time Tommy had said it was Gospel.

‘They're all Denny's lads, Jimmy, but no Denny.' The CI turned and looked at the men. ‘Except that big black bloke at the far end. I don't know him.'

Jimmy looked.

‘He's one of Denny's. Been with him about three months, clever lad, keeps himself quiet but he's useful.'

‘Denny must have got a tip then.'

Jimmy shrugged. He wasn't getting into this any deeper.

‘It was your information, Jimmy. Who else knew?'

Jimmy shrugged again. He would have to talk to Tommy about this. It didn't smell good.

‘The chief, maybe a couple of people he had to tell, and Tommy Flavin. It originally came from Tommy. We tried to keep this tight, we really wanted Denny.'

‘Well we fucking well didn't get him, did we? All right, Costello, wrap it up and see what you can get.' The chief inspector went to his car and left. Jimmy watched him go.

Keep it tight. What a joke when everything was for sale, almost everyone in his station knew about it and it wasn't even his nick's work. Jimmy and the rest of the team had been specially pulled for it. Tommy Flavin could be a devious bastard. Was it him that had put in the fix? But if it was, why pass on the tip in the first place? It had to be some kind of set-up, but what kind? What the hell. Mark it down as just another balls up. The way the lift was organised might have been made more public, but only if they had taken a lot of television time. It could have been anybody. A sergeant came up to him.

‘Denny's got important friends, this sort of thing happens. You did everything you could. What does the CI want doing with these blokes?'

Jimmy opened the car door and got out. He and the other sergeant walked towards the handcuffed men who were standing by their car looking sullenly at nothing in particular.

‘The usual. See what we can get and then tag on whatever they'll stand for from the backlog.'

‘Which nick?'

‘Suit yourself.' Then he changed his mind. ‘Make it mine.' Jimmy walked to the line of men. He knew them all and they all knew him. They looked at him when he came up.

‘OK lads, decide how much you'll cough to and we'll see what we can work out.'

Officers took the men to the police cars, a DC came up to Jimmy.

‘Why your nick? It's a bit far, isn't it?'

‘Not for me,' and he rejoined the sergeant. They went back to the car and drove off.

The police cars left and the street returned to suburban peace. Only one uniformed officer remained. He stood by the getaway car to keep it company until the recovery vehicle came to collect it. A few lace curtains continued to twitch but the show was over, the circus had left town.

Jimmy and the other sergeant went for a couple of pints before Jimmy was dropped off at his nick. When he went in, the duty sergeant called him over.

‘I've been waiting for you. That big spade they brought in with Denny's lot says he wants to talk to you particular. Said keep it quiet but make it quick.'

‘What did you say?'

‘Nothing, I kept quiet and made sure I was around when you came in, that's all.'

‘No one knows he's asked for me?'

‘No one.'

‘Thanks, Arthur.'

Arthur was scared, that was good. If Arthur was scared it meant that he might have kept quiet. It also meant that the black bloke was serious. You had to be very serious to really scare a bloke like Arthur if all you used were words. He set off to an interview room.

‘I'll take them one at a time, Arthur,' he said loudly. ‘Start with Harry.'

He was sitting at a table in the interview room when Harry came in. There was a DC standing by the wall.

‘Hello, Harry.'

Harry sat down. ‘Hello, Jimmy.'

‘I'll do all this by myself, Eddy. I have some negotiating to do. All right?'

Clarke nodded. It wasn't procedure, but if that's how Jimmy wanted it he wasn't going to argue.

‘Anything for me, anything you think I should know?'

Harry shook his head.

‘Anything you want, a brief or something?'

‘A girl, a bottle of whisky, and the fucker who gave us to you.'

‘In that order?'

‘Just as they come to hand, Jimmy.'

‘What'll you stand for?'

Harry shrugged. ‘Anything that doesn't add time, bits and pieces. The usual.'

‘You're getting too old for this kind of stuff, Harry. Maybe you should learn book-keeping when you go down this time. Come out and be a book-keeper. Accountants are the ones who steal the real money.'

‘You know how it is, you stick to what you know.' Jimmy nodded.

‘OK, Harry, off you go. You know the way, tell them to send another one up.'

‘Anyone special?'

‘No, just as they come to hand.'

Harry got up and left the interview room. Jimmy sat and waited. After a few minutes another man walked in, he wasn't black. Jimmy said the same sort of stuff to him and they chatted for a while before he sent him off. The next man was black. He came in and sat down.

‘The duty sergeant said you wanted to see me. That right?'

The man sat and looked at Jimmy. ‘This normal?'

‘What?'

‘Walking about. No copper with us when we come up here, just come here to you like homing pigeons. What's to stop any of us just walking out?'

‘Walk out if you want to, sunshine, but when we pick you up we'll kick the shit out of you for fucking us about and charge you with all we've got on the books.'

‘What if you don't pick me up?'

‘Then Denny'll pick you up, but he won't just kick the shit out of you for fucking us about. He'll cut your balls off. Look, none of us are tearaways or stupid Jack-the-lads, we all know the score. If Denny can get you off he will. If he can't, well, he can't, and you sit still and take the best he can get for you. It won't be much so why piss about? Denny doesn't want any of his operations screwed up by a lot of coppers charging about looking for some prat who's done a runner and we want a nice clean result with a bit of the backlog off the books, so we all go through the motions. Nobody rocks the boat.'

The man thought about it. ‘OK.'

‘Now, what did you want to say to me?'

‘Nothing. I've changed my mind.'

‘What's your name?'

‘Nat.'

Jimmy grinned.

‘Short for Nat King Cole?'

The man didn't seem to see the joke, or maybe he'd heard it before.

‘You got form, Nat?'

Nat shook his head.

‘Not done time?'

Nat shook his head again.

‘You'll have both soon.'

‘You think so?'

Jimmy nodded. He stood up and walked to the side of the room and looked at the man sitting at the interview table. Then he came back and stood beside him.

‘You're new on this patch, so I'll break a rule and give you some advice. Denny won't get you off this.'

‘No?' Nat didn't agree. ‘If you think that, you don't know Denny.'

‘Yes I do, I know Denny very well and I'll tell you something else I know, this was a set-up and it was an important set-up.' He paused for a second. ‘Denny was supposed to be in on this one, wasn't he?'

Nat was taken by surprise and had confirmed the answer by his hesitation before he had time to think.

‘That was the whole deal. Denny was the target, see? But he got wind of it somehow and somebody got put in for him at the last minute. Am I right?'