35
He’s left it as long as he reasonably can. Hoping that Young would call him and tell him not to bother. No such luck. No such call. So now George has to make one of his own. Do it with subtlety, Young said. Yeah, because muscle is famous for its subtlety. It’s a stupid thing to have to do. Stupid and treacherous. Muscle trying to be subtle, pissing off a gunman. What could possibly go wrong? Calum’s stable, that’s one thing. Not the sort of guy to go over the top with his reaction. Doesn’t change the fact that he’s a guy who knows how to punish people.
He should probably have made this call last night. Get it out of the way. That’s how George has always done his work. People think it’s because he’s decisive. Enthusiastic, even. It’s just common sense. You get a job and you go do it. Don’t sit on it. Don’t let it fester. Most muscle jobs are simple enough, so there’s no need to agonize over them. Go and do your work.
This would be easier if he knew Emma. Call her up, sit her down and chat about it. Go through it. Make her understand. Don’t tell her anything incriminating, but enough so that she works it out for herself. Give her the chance to do the sensible thing and walk away. No heartbreak, just common sense. But no, it’s never that simple. He doesn’t know her. Met her once, hardly remembers what she looks like. He remembers her friend Anna Milton. She was George’s date for the night. Pretty little blonde thing. He liked her, for the first ten minutes or so. Then she started to grate. Really grate. Annoying laugh. Clingy. Loud. By then he was getting drunk enough not to notice. In the morning, when he woke up, he noticed. He said he would call her. And here he is, more than a month later, calling her.
There’s a slightly puzzled tone to her voice as she says hello. She doesn’t recognize the number.
‘Hi, Anna, it’s George. You remember me? George?’
There’s a pause on the other end. ‘Oh, I remember you,’ she’s saying. The polite phone voice that said hello is gone. It’s been trampled underfoot by the loud and angry voice that she so prefers. ‘I remember giving you my number. You said you would call me.’
‘And I am,’ he’s saying, going for the cheeky-chappie tone. ‘You wouldn’t believe the trouble I’ve had getting your number. It took me weeks to get my phone back. I only got it back yesterday,’ he’s saying, winging it. ‘I bet you’re real pissed off with me, aren’t you?’
‘Got your phone back from where?’ she’s asking. Not angry, puzzled. He knows he’s got her.
‘I don’t blame you,’ he’s saying. Determined to avoid that previous question. ‘Listen, how about lunch? My treat. To say sorry.’
‘Today?’
‘Sure, if you’re available.’
‘Yeah . . . I guess so.’
Do the job. Get it out of the way. One lunch date, and then never call her again. Work the conversation round to Calum. Give her enough ammo to go to Emma with. Then go through life pretending that you didn’t stab your friend in the back.
He’s getting dressed. He’ll pick her up. They’ll go somewhere nice. Easier to control a conversation in generous surroundings. No need to book ahead for lunch, just make an effort not to stand out when you get there. He can’t cause a scene. There are so many ways this could get back to Calum. It may well get from Anna to Emma to Calum. George’s name could be passed along the line. More so if Anna’s unhappy with him, again. Nice shirt, plain trousers. Tidy hair. That’ll do. Out the door and into the car. He remembers where she lives. Nice enough area for a student. Probably paid for by the bank of mum and dad. He doesn’t begrudge her wealthy parents. He’d have scrounged from his parents too, if there was anything to take.
It’s not her he’s thinking about as he drives. It’s Calum. His friend. Does Calum think of him as a friend? Surely. Not like he has that many of them. He must consider George a friend. After that night, surely. George was the one he called. The one he trusted. Calum needed someone to help him. To rescue him, if we’re being honest. He’d killed Davidson, but Davidson had stabbed him in the hands. He was useless. Still mentally strong, but he could do nothing for himself. He needed someone he could trust. George went round there. Middle of the night. A strained phone call asking him to come round. He didn’t know what he was walking into. Calum toughed it out. Ordered him around. They got the job done, and done well. Removed the body. It helped enhance both their reputations with Jamieson. George was the first guy Calum called. The guy he trusted most when the odds were against him. This is how George repays him.
She’s waiting outside her flat. Looking into the car as he pulls up. She is pretty, he’ll give her that. She would never get away with that personality if she wasn’t.
‘Good to see you,’ he’s saying with his happiest smile. ‘It should never have taken this long, but we can make up for that.’
She’s smiling back. ‘I’m sure we can,’ she’s saying suggestively. What was it Young said about subtlety? Probably shouldn’t be using Anna then. ‘Are we going somewhere nice?’ she’s asking.
‘The best I can afford. You’ll like it. It has class.’
‘I didn’t think I was going to hear from you again, you naughty boy,’ she’s saying. Grating already. She doesn’t waste time. Suffer her. It’ll make you feel better about the betrayal if you’re suffering too.
They’re in the restaurant. It’s quiet, which is a blessing. They’ve ordered now. She’s waiting for George. She’s going to ask about the phone. He’s going to change the subject. Keep the lies as simple as possible. Give yourself little to remember. Work the conversation round to Calum. Food’s arrived. They’re both eating, which shuts her up. She hasn’t mentioned the phone yet. Maybe she won’t. Maybe she doesn’t want to push her luck. Maybe she’d rather accept the vague lie.
‘So how’re your studies coming along?’ he’s asking her. A polite way of working the conversation round to Emma.
‘Okay, I suppose. Sometimes it’s not, you know, involved enough. I can’t wait to be finished and get working. There’s so much I want to do.’
He’s nodding along between mouthfuls. Keeping it polite. Doing his damnedest to seem interested.
‘Let me ask you something,’ she’s saying. Putting her fork down. Reaching a hand across the table. Going for something intense, it seems. ‘What do you do for a living? I think I know, but I want you to tell me.’
It’s a question he doesn’t want to have to answer; it’s the subject they’re here to talk about. It’s not just her. He won’t answer that question to anyone. A loudmouth least of all, obviously. It’s not impossible that this is a set-up. She’s annoying, but she’s not stupid. He doesn’t underestimate her ability to screw him royally. She could even be wired. Pity the poor bastard that has to listen to her recordings.
‘What do you think I do?’ he’s asking. Going for the cheeky smile.
‘No, I asked you first. What do you do?’ Her voice is low. Conspiratorial.
It’s going to be another vague one. ‘I do all sorts of things. Odd jobs, I suppose you could say. This and that.’
She’s frowning now. ‘If you’re not going to be honest with me, then this isn’t going to work.’
He’s not going to be honest with her, and this isn’t going to work. Still, he needs to make this relationship last to the end of this conversation. Beyond that, it can be happily consigned to oblivion.
‘Okay, I’ll be honest with you. I’m involved in all sorts of things. Not all of them are – how can I put this? – on the books. I play around in some slightly iffy things, I’ll be honest. Nothing too hot,’ he’s saying. He’s raised a hand as though in defence of his honour. Trying to sound earnest. ‘I know that some of the things I do I shouldn’t be proud of. Still, I’ve never crossed the line.’ Time to pull the conversation round to a direction that suits his purpose. ‘I know a few people who have, I admit. There are times when I’ve run with a rough crowd. Been friends with people who are way over the line. Involved in some things I don’t like at all. I’ve just been trying to make a living. Keep myself out of trouble. So far, I’ve managed. I don’t want you thinking that I’m some sort of crook; I’m not. When I was younger, maybe. Not now.’
He’s letting her think. She’ll be thinking about herself first. How much can she trust him? Should she walk away from him now? Spare herself trouble. He’s a competent liar; she’ll fall for the talk of a reformed character. A bit of a chancer in the past, now living clean. It’s what she wants to believe, so she’ll believe it. Now that she’s considered her own position, she’ll get round to the rest of what was said. Process it. Dwell on what he said about the kinds of friends he has. Think about how that relates to her. She’ll get to Emma eventually. In her own sweet time. George is still sitting there, waiting. She’ll get there. Any second now.
‘So you have some friends that are more involved in that sort of life?’
‘Some, sure.’
‘What about your friend Calum?’
Here it is. This is the moment he’s been waiting for. Has to play it carefully. Don’t lay it on thick. Start by not saying anything at all. Look as though you regret this turn in the conversation. Look as though you don’t want to talk about Calum. Now say something. ‘I don’t want to get him into any trouble,’ he’s saying.
She’s managed to look grave. ‘Is he one of the friends you were talking about?’ she’s asking.
‘Listen,’ he’s saying, ‘Calum’s a good guy. I like him. We’re not terribly close, but we get on well. I know he’s been involved in some stuff.’ A thoughtful pause. ‘I don’t want to go into detail. I just know that he’s been involved in some heavier stuff than I think is decent. That doesn’t make him a bad guy, though. He’s always been a good friend to me.’
‘Serious stuff? What’s that?’
‘Look, I’ve said too much. I don’t want it getting back to him that I’ve said stuff about him behind his back.’ That sounds genuine. It is. ‘He’s a friend. I’m not going to gossip about him. I like him, I just wouldn’t do the things he does for a living. I’d be way too scared of getting caught. That’s all I’ll say.’ Another pause. Let her think about all that for a few seconds. ‘Let’s not talk about him, huh? Let’s enjoy this lunch. We need to give ourselves a chance here.’
She didn’t mention Calum again. She actually didn’t say an awful lot. At one point she even seemed a little upset. George struggled through the next half-hour. It’s a strange thing. He’s done some rough stuff in his work. Beaten up people who didn’t deserve it. Good people, too. He didn’t feel as sorry for them as he does for Anna right now. They’re walking out; she has her coat. Into the car and driving back to her flat. Silent, most of the way.
‘Well, that was nice,’ she’s saying. They’re outside the flat again. Saying it to be polite. It wasn’t nice. ‘You have my number. You can call me if you’d like.’ Saying it with no enthusiasm. Like she already knows he never will.
‘I will,’ he’s saying. He won’t. ‘I enjoyed that.’ He didn’t. She’s smiling and going inside. He’s back in the car. Hated every minute of that ordeal. Not because of her, but because of what he was doing. Hating John Young right now. Hating himself.