The Sudden Arrival of Violence: A Glasgow Underworld Novel 3 (15 page)

21

A knock on the door. Loud, demanding. Deana Burke is sitting bolt upright in bed. Looking at the clock. Five minutes past eleven. It won’t be someone she wants to see. Creeping to the window and looking down onto the street. There’s a red car parked two doors down that she doesn’t recognize. Can’t see anyone. She’s wearing a thin slip, so she’s grabbing a dressing gown from the wardrobe. Putting slippers on, thinking it’s a good idea in case she has to run outside. Run in slippers. Yeah, that’ll get you far. She’s cursing herself. She should be ready for the worst. She should have to hand everything she needs for a quick exit. So some thug tells you that Shug doesn’t see you as a target. That doesn’t mean you stop thinking for yourself. Plan. Plan for everything.

She’s standing at the top of the stairs. Another knock. Just as loud second time around. She hasn’t switched a light on. They can’t know for certain that she’s home. Unless they’ve been watching the house. Of course they bloody have. They’ll have been watching it for hours. They’ll have seen the lights on. They’ll know she hasn’t left, just gone to bed. She knows this is how they do it. Can’t remember now who told her. Not Kenny. Another boyfriend, years ago. She said something about people breaking doors down or sneaking in with lock-picks. Someone or other laughed and said no, gunmen mostly just ring the doorbell. You answer and they shoot. The gun’s going to make a noise anyway. Better it makes a noise when you’re standing on the doorstep ready to run, than upstairs in a dark house you don’t know. This person banging on her door could have the gun out already. Ready to fire on her the second she opens it. She never asked what happens when the person doesn’t answer.

Out the back. No. They’ll have that covered. This isn’t some halfwit organization. They got rid of Kenny. They’ve won round Nate Colgan. They’re lashing out at Peter Jamieson. They know better than to leave the back door unguarded. Face it – that’s what you do. You hold your head up and you face it. Like when Colgan turned up for Shug, she answered the door because the alternative was to hide in terror. That’s not her. She won’t let them turn her into that sort of person. She’s marching down the stairs – and marching is the word – flicking on two light switches at the bottom. One for the stairs, one for the hallway at the front door. It’s overkill, but she wants the place lit up. She wants people to see. She’s grabbing the door handle. Twisting the lock and yanking open the door. The man on the step has taken a sudden step backwards. Surprised by her aggression. She’s about to say something quite unladylike when she sees who it is. Now she’s saying something worse.

‘Bloody hell, what the fuck are you doing knocking on my door like that at this hour? I nearly had a heart attack.’

‘I’m sorry,’ DI Fisher’s saying, putting up a calming hand. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you. I knew you were in bed, so I had to knock loud.’

‘How the hell did you know I was in bed?’

‘I’ve been watching the house for the last couple of hours,’ he’s saying. ‘Checking up. You said someone came and threatened you. I wanted to see if they were watching you. See if they were keeping tabs. Might be that you’re a target too, no matter what anyone says. So I’ve been out here for the last couple of hours. Further down the street. I saw the lights going off in the house. Figured if they were going to change shifts, it would be then. Nothing. There’s nobody watching you.’

‘I don’t recognize that red car,’ she’s saying, nodding out towards the street. It’s a surly comeback, wanting to shoot a hole in his argument because he rattled her.

‘That’s mine,’ he’s saying. ‘I moved it up the street just now. Listen, Deana, can I come in? We still need to talk.’

They don’t need to talk. That’s what Deana’s thinking. But she knows you don’t send a copper away. You play along and let them say and do whatever makes them happy. She’s stepping aside and letting him pass. Glancing out into the street as she does so. What if one of Shug’s men
is
watching? She’s closing the door and turning to face him. Fisher’s standing politely in the hallway, waiting for her to decide where the conversation will take place. Politeness doesn’t seem a natural fit for him, from everything Kenny said. She’s seen pictures of the cop. Kenny pointed him out in a couple of newspaper articles. He looks older in real life. Shorter, less imposing. He does look tough, though, and Kenny said he was. Looks like he’s struggling with his politeness.

Deana’s decided that they’re going to have this conversation in the kitchen. Better to have a light on at the back of the house than the front, she’s figuring. Fisher’s sitting at the table. She hasn’t offered him a cup of tea, and she won’t. Nothing that encourages him to stay. He isn’t going to do anything for her. He’s not capable. She’s put all her eggs in Peter Jamieson’s basket, and she’s content with that. If anyone’s going to make sure Kenny’s killers see justice, it’ll be Jamieson. She’s making sure her dressing gown is pulled firmly shut. No hint of skin. Only a face with no make-up. Nothing that would make him want to stay.

‘Have you had any trouble since?’ Fisher’s asking. Opening the conversation, trying to keep it friendly. Hard to keep it friendly. He hates this woman. Can’t put it any simpler than that. She’s every bit as bad as Kenny. She knew everything he was up to. She turned a blind eye, because she liked the life it paid for. These gangster tarts make him sick. But he is better at hiding it than he was.

She can see the effort. The strain it puts on him just to make conversation. But she can’t see the loathing, or at least doesn’t recognize it. She just thinks he’s an arrogant, antisocial prick.

‘No trouble since,’ she’s saying with a shrug. ‘The thug who was here said there wouldn’t be. So long as I don’t talk to you, so thank you very much for coming.’

‘We need to have a conversation that you can’t hang up on,’ he’s saying. ‘I can’t find the people who took Kenny until I know what you know. I’m working on the assumption that Kenny is dead. I think that’s the common-sense approach to take. But I also have another missing person to try and find. Have you heard the name Richard Hardy?’

Thinking about it. ‘Doesn’t ring any bells. Is he involved?’

‘I don’t know for sure,’ Fisher’s saying. ‘He disappeared the same night Kenny did. Might have been a victim of the same manoeuvres. I’m just trying to get a clear picture.’

Never heard of Hardy. Feels like Fisher’s clutching at straws here. What does he expect to hear from her? If there was something worth hearing, she would have said it already. She’s beginning to suspect that Fisher has nothing to go on.

‘The job he did the night he went missing,’ Fisher’s saying. ‘He told you he had a job. What did he tell you about it?’

‘Nothing really,’ she’s saying. Relieved that she’s on safe ground here. Kenny didn’t go into much detail. He told her it was a big job. Told her he was nervous about it. Nothing else. ‘He didn’t say what it was. Just said it was a big job. Bigger than usual for him. I mean, he was a driver. That’s all. He drove Peter Jamieson home at night. That was it. He was never involved in anything that mattered.’

Fisher’s nodding. There’s some truth in that. But sometimes you need a driver for a big job. Hell of a coincidence if he’s working a big job for Jamieson and is then picked up by Shug. Everything else makes sense but that. Shug getting into bed with MacArthur. Getting rid of the man who knows all his financial secrets. Making a hit against Jamieson, just to show that he can. That all adds up. It’s this job of Kenny’s – it would be an obvious set-up by Jamieson. Tell your driver you have a big job for him. Get him somewhere secluded and kill him. Punishment for being a grass. That was the risk Kenny took.

‘But this was a bigger-than-usual job. He told you that,’ Fisher’s going on. ‘He must have said something else. I mean, presumably he didn’t go on this job alone. It can’t have been a driver-only job. He must have been driving someone. Did he hint who he was going with? More importantly, where they were going? I need to know where to look.’

How much does she tell him? She doesn’t want Fisher to know that she’s talking to John Young. That’ll get him back on his high horse.

‘He did say there would be someone with him. Someone he trusted. Didn’t say anything about what it was or where it would be.’

Fisher’s sighing. ‘You believe that Shug was behind this and not Jamieson?’ he’s asking her. A sincere question. Not trying to get at anything, genuinely interested.

A little shrug. ‘I believe it. I don’t think they know that Kenny was talking to you. I, er . . . John Young called. I went to the club. He asked if I knew where Kenny was. We discussed it. Discussed it a little. I didn’t tell him everything, obviously. I’m sure they don’t know. They think it was Shug. I’m convinced of that.’

Fisher’s grimacing. ‘Jesus!’ he’s muttering, and shaking his head. This was always going to mean war, but it’s moving faster than he expected.

Jamieson will strike against Shug. Has to. If Shug’s taken out one of Jamieson’s men, then he has to be seen to hit back. Fisher’s hope was that he could get an arrest made before retaliation. That could take the wind out of some sails, cool people down. Leave them without a target. But not if they know already.

‘What did Young say to you? Exactly what?’

‘Just that,’ she’s saying. ‘He wanted to know if I’d seen Kenny. Said that Kenny was the only one missing. I guess they heard a rumour or something. I think I confirmed what they were expecting.’

Fisher’s getting up. He’s heard all he’s going to hear. He’s not prepared to assume that Jamieson is innocent in this. Not yet. But it’s all pointing to Shug now. He’s out the front door and into the night. Knowing that he needs more. He has two or three days at the most to make an arrest, or there will be more blood.

22

It’s getting uncomfortable. Neither of them would ever say it. They’re brothers. Calum and William should be able to deal with this. William gets it. He knows that Calum can’t just run. He needs to have everything in place first. Say he runs to London. Tries to get all the things he needs for a new ID when he arrives. That’ll take a while. He doesn’t know where to go, for a start. So by the time he has everything, Jamieson knows he’s run. Sends someone after him. They catch him. They’ve got him bang to rights. They won’t forgive and forget. Stay in the city; get everything organized more quickly. Then disappear completely. If they catch you in the meantime? Well, you never left the city. You were at your brother’s house. Lying low after a job. Gives Calum a chance to tell them what they want to hear.

All of which is fine, until you live it. The sheer intensity of it. Every sound a scare. A knock on the door while they’re having breakfast. Calum running into the spare bedroom. William going nervously to the door. Terrified at first. Then angry at his own fear. Defiant by the time he’s opening the door and seeing his friend, Maurice ‘Sly’ Cooper.

‘William,’ Sly’s saying. ‘I was starting to think you had fallen off the world. Where you been?’

Pausing before he answers. Not thinking about himself, but thinking about Calum. People must be talking. Talking about the fact that William hasn’t been out much. Not his usual, social self. Been to work, but mostly ignoring his friends. Keeping appointments, but making no new ones. ‘I’ve been here. Busy, you know. Work stuff.’

Sly comes in, stays five minutes and leaves. He’ll have got the message that he wasn’t entirely welcome. He’ll go back and tell their mutual friends that something’s definitely going on with William. And they’ll speculate. Things can’t go on this way.

‘He’s gone,’ William’s saying to Calum. Calum coming out of the spare room and looking at his brother. Seeing the tension in him. There’s going to be another day of this.

‘Maybe I can find somewhere else to stay for the night,’ Calum’s saying. ‘Wouldn’t be any great hardship for me. Bed-and-breakfast. Maybe find an empty flat somewhere. It would be safer.’

‘No,’ William’s saying with force. ‘I won’t have that. No way. You stay here until it’s time. It wouldn’t be safer to go somewhere else. Not now – you know that. More chance of someone seeing you. You’d be throwing away everything you’ve done so far. You’re nearly out, Calum. Nearly out of that business. You’re not going to do anything to let them catch you now.’

Can’t argue with his brother. Doesn’t want to. Going somewhere else is inviting failure. He has to stick it out here. No matter how unpleasant it becomes. The phone rings. They both look up sharply. William’s laughing and walking across to it. Trying to take away some of the tension. Calum’s watching. Listening. William agreeing with someone. Checking his watch and saying it’ll be fine. Skipping across to the table and getting a pen. Writing something down on the front page of a newspaper. Then hanging up.

‘That was Barry Fairly; he’s got your stuff. Wants me to go pick it up right away.’

Calum’s nodding. This is good news. Progress. But also a worry. Anything could happen here. Could easily be a set-up. ‘You know where to go?’ he’s asking.

‘Yeah, he gave me an address. Some office. I know the street, I’ll find the building.’

William’s gone to get a coat and the rest of the payment. Calum’s standing by the front door. William’s smart, but he still needs instruction. Even if he doesn’t like hearing it, he needs it.

‘Listen,’ Calum’s saying when his brother reaches the front door. ‘When you get there, park a little away from the building. Check every car on the street. If there’s anyone out of place, just leave. Come back here. When you get inside, if there’s anyone other than Fairly, leave. Even if it’s just him, collect the stuff, hand over the money, get out. Nothing else. Fairly tries to get you talking, ignore him.’

William’s raising a hand and smiling. ‘Don’t worry. I’m going to be more cautious than I’ve ever been. Captain Cautious. In and out like lightning. They won’t see me for dust. I’ll be a blur of dodgy ID and bank notes. Okay?’ Seems like a joke, but serious.

‘You stick to that,’ Calum’s saying.

It’s an ordinary little street. William’s driving down it for the second time. Found somewhere to park a few doors down from the office Fairly named. Office above a gadget shop. Plenty of little shops on the street. Well-populated area. That’s reassuring. Maybe it’s supposed to be. He looked in every car on his first approach. Now walking slowly along the wrong side of the street, looking for anything out of place. Nobody sitting in a car waiting. Nobody hanging around a doorway or alleyway. If someone’s hiding, then they’re doing a fine job. Just shoppers, all disinterested in William. Across the street and up to the door. Not the door to the gadget shop, a plain door to the right of it. Pressing a buzzer and waiting. A buzz for a reply. William pushing open the door, finding himself at the bottom of dimly lit stairs. Starting to get pretty damned nervous now. This is the sort of thing Calum does regularly. This is his life. That’s what William’s thinking as he walks up the stairs. Walking into the unknown.