The Sudden Arrival of Violence: A Glasgow Underworld Novel 3 (22 page)

She’s early. Of course she is. Kenny’s woman was never going to be anything less than a royal pain in the arse. Young’s gone downstairs to meet her at the door, bring her up. Show her some sympathy. He’s good at that sort of thing. He’ll be leading her through the snooker room, down the corridor to the office. She’ll be getting herself ready for a performance. That’s what it is, Jamieson thinks. A performance. She can’t really care this much. Or can she? Maybe she actually did love the back-stabbing little piece of shit. More fool her, if she did. But she probably didn’t. Young’s gone through her back-story with Jamieson. The guys she was with before Kenny. All in the business. No, not love. Convenience. She wanted a man in the business. Someone making reasonable money. Someone who could give her a comfortable life. She just picked the wrong someone this time.

The office door’s opening. Young holding it open for Deana Burke to enter. She’s wearing a tight black skirt, thin grey cardigan over a black top. With her dark hair tied back and minimal make-up, she’s making a good job of looking bereft. Also making a good job of looking appealing. Jamieson’s on his feet and walking towards her. How the hell Kenny McBride managed to get this woman to live with him is anyone’s guess. She looks hard, but pretty. Thirty-four, Young said she was. Looks a little younger. Doesn’t look girlish, but that’s a good thing. She must be a complete idiot. That’s what Jamieson’s thinking to himself as he’s walking towards her. No way a woman like her in a business like this goes with a guy like Kenny unless she’s plain dumb. She could do so much better. If she was smart, she would know that.

He’s reaching down a little and hugging her. Not tight, doesn’t want her to think he’s making a play. Taking a step back.

‘Deana. It’s good to see you. I wish it were under different circumstances. Please, come and sit down. There’s a lot we should talk about.’

She’s walking across to the couch with him. Trying to look demure, but making a piss-poor job of it. She has too much self-confidence to look retiring.

‘I was glad you called,’ she’s saying. ‘It’s important to me that I know what happened to Kenny. And it’s important to me that I know something is done about it.’

Quite a harsh voice, but she sounds bright. Kenny must have been a man of hidden talents.

‘And that’s what I want to talk to you about. I know this must be incredibly difficult for you. I think you probably know now that Kenny’s dead,’ he’s saying, looking her straight in the eye. ‘It can be hard to accept that without a body. Without a funeral. But we know from contacts that Shug organized the killing. We can’t confirm the killing. Only the killer could do that, and we haven’t got to him yet. But we can assume it happened. With that in mind, we now have to move on quickly and aggressively. And I believe you can help us there.’

She likes what she’s hearing. Likes the tone. He’s laying the business detail out for her. Not holding back on the fact that Kenny is dead. Not trying to spread false hope. But he’s offering her the revenge she craves.

‘And I want to help.’ Say nothing more. Don’t throw yourself at the situation. People like Jamieson will use you if you let them. They’ll push you further than you want to go. She won’t get emotional either, because that’s not who she is.

‘We haven’t got to the killer yet,’ Jamieson’s saying, ‘but we believe we know who he is. I don’t know if you’ve heard of Des Collins?’

She’s thinking about it. Trying to remember if Kenny ever mentioned such a person. ‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘Well, he’s a gunman. We believe he’s the gunman who killed Kenny.’

He’s letting that sit for a few seconds. Let the name of Des Collins settle in her consciousness before he mentions anyone else. And Jamieson’s still trying to figure out her motivations. Maybe it
is
justice, of a sort. Hard to see how she thinks she can make any money out of this – unless she’s just that smart. Jesus, surely not. If she is, then she’s a remarkable woman. If she worked out what Jamieson and Young would try to do and played them. Let them have their way, knowing a financial offer would eventually be part of it. Let them feed info through her. Nah, she couldn’t have worked that out. And if she had, she still wouldn’t take the risk. Not after what Kenny did. But it’s a hell of a thought, isn’t it? That she worked out what they would do before they knew it themselves. Played along, waiting patiently for the pay-off that’s about to be offered for the help she’s given them.

‘Kenny didn’t mention that anyone was in touch with him, did he?’ Jamieson’s asking. ‘Anyone that might have been working for Shug. Pretending they were someone else.’

‘Not that I know,’ she’s saying with a shake of the head. ‘Why? Was someone?’

‘We don’t know, but it might have been something they did. We’ve found it very difficult to work out where they picked Kenny up that night. Somewhere between him dropping off . . . his colleague, and getting home. You see, they did a job that night. Not a big one, in all honesty. Just starting something. It needed a driver who knew the area. It wasn’t an especially big deal in itself, but the target was bigger than usual. You see, Shug has an alliance with Alex MacArthur. You’ve heard of MacArthur?’

‘Yes, of course.’ Everyone’s heard of MacArthur.

‘Well, Shug’s gone under his wing for protection. The job Kenny was working on that night was pretty insignificant, except for that the fact that it was against MacArthur. Well, Shug and MacArthur.’

He said it in such a contrite way. Impossible for her not to realize what he’s implying. Saying that Shug killed Kenny because of that job. That it wasn’t random. They didn’t just go for him because he worked for Jamieson. They went for him because of that specific job Jamieson sent him on. She’s nodding slightly, not realizing she’s doing it. It makes more sense. Makes it more certain, somehow.

‘So what happens next?’ she’s asking.

‘Collins has gone to ground,’ Jamieson’s saying. ‘Gunmen do, after a job. Our job is to find him. When we do, well, you can probably work the rest out. We will punish him for what he did. But he’s only part of this. Shug and MacArthur, they can’t go to ground. They have to be visible or they lose everything. That’s where you can play a role. I want you to go to the police and report Kenny missing. We already know there’s a detective looking for him – guy called Fisher. Try and talk to him, if you can. Point him in the direction of Collins. He’ll find his own way to Shug and MacArthur from there. The police pressure on them will give us our opportunity.’

Young’s sitting on the chair three feet away, stifling a smile. Jamieson is good. Damned good. He can go long spells without seemingly making any impact on the running of his own organization. Then the time comes for someone to step up. To deliver something difficult. He’s always the man for the job. Always. He was so convincing about Fisher. Has been so convincing about Kenny. Good actors are dangerous. Now comes the money part.

‘Listen, Deana, I want to talk to you about something sensitive,’ Jamieson’s saying. ‘More so.’ Said with a smile, a hand gently across the back of her hand to stop her getting up. She thought this was over. ‘I know losing Kenny must have been a shock to you. I can’t even imagine how you’re coping so well. But there is going to be an issue with money. I know that you and he weren’t married, and I’m concerned that might complicate things for you. I know you’ll be reluctant, but I want you to accept a payment from us. Not a loan, and not charity. Don’t think of it like that. Kenny was working for us. If he hadn’t been, he would still be alive today. That’s worth something to me. And it’s important to me that you accept it.’

She’s gone now. Sashaying out of the office. They didn’t discuss numbers, but she accepted the offer. She put up a little token resistance at first, as good form dictates. But she took it. She was always going to take it. She won’t get the money until after her meeting with Fisher. It’s payment for telling Fisher what Jamieson wants him to hear, and she must know it. Young’s coming back into the office after escorting her out.

‘Went well, I thought,’ he’s saying when the door’s shut. ‘She’ll definitely take Collins and MacArthur to Fisher.’

‘Uh-huh,’ Jamieson’s nodding. Not looking terribly convinced.

‘What’s up?’

‘She’s a lot smarter than she’s let on. Letting people think of her as the wee woman, out for revenge. It’s bullshit. She might not think we killed Kenny, but she knows not to trust us. Oh, she’s sharp enough. We need to watch her closely.’

‘Not for long,’ Young’s saying. ‘We’re nearly done. Shug will be done inside the day. We’re halfway through this Calum thing. It’s going to work out fine.’

Jamieson’s looking at him, raising an eyebrow. Saying nothing. If you have nothing polite to say, say nothing.

33

He has his single bag packed and sitting on the kitchen table. Been sitting there for the last forty-five minutes. William should have been back half an hour ago. Pick Calum up, drive him across to Edinburgh. Calum’s printed out his boarding pass. It’s in the side pocket of the bag. All he needs is his brother to drive him across. Sitting there, tapping the table. He phoned his brother’s mobile twice, got no response. Called the garage, and no answer. Doesn’t have his own mobile to use, only the house phone. Can’t text him. Maybe William’s driving. On his way back to the house, can’t pull over and answer his phone. That’s no excuse for how late he is. He knows what time he needed to be home. He said it himself when he went out. Calum doesn’t want to think the worst, but there isn’t much room for anything else.

Calling the garage one last time. Nothing. Calling William’s mobile one last time. Nothing. Now his attitude is changing. Assume the worst. Treat everything from this point onwards as a job. Get that focus. They know – Jamieson and Young have found out. They’ve done something to William. Maybe just holding him. Or maybe beating him. Maybe even killing him. A flash of anger. Targeting William, just to get at Calum. To lure him out. Calum’s moving over to the window, looking out into the street. No sign of anyone there, but someone will be there. Someone watching and waiting. Waiting for the message that William’s been punished. When they know the older brother isn’t coming back, they’ll go in and get Calum. They’ll use Hutton. There’s nobody else. Hutton will be nervous. He knows how dangerous Calum will be. Knows what happened to the last man who tried to kill him.

One more phone call. Calling a taxi firm he knows has no connection to Jamieson. Telling them where to pick him up and where he wants to go. Looking at his watch. He wanted to get to the airport early. Get through security and settle down on the other side. He could get the taxi to take him all the way through to Edinburgh. Would cost a fortune, but he could get away. They’re not going to force a taxi off the road. They’re not going to try to hit him in an airport, with all the security there. This could be his one chance at a getaway. When you know they’re on to you, run. That’s obvious. Don’t consider anything else. Just run. If you stay around, chances are they get you. Put yourself first. Be selfish. Take the one chance you have to get away. If they have William, then that’s too bad for William. He knew the risks.

A car blowing the horn outside. Calum over to the window, looking out. A taxi, driver craning his neck to see the front door. Calum’s picking up his bag, slipping the strap over his head. Pausing, just briefly. Flee the city. Leave his brother in all sorts of trouble. Or go to the garage and check. If he finds nothing there, then he’ll have to go to the airport anyway. No time to hang around. He’s sighing. This shouldn’t be a difficult decision. He should put his brother first. But he never has before. Never put anyone other than himself first. The joy of being a gunman. The isolation justifies selfishness. He’s at the front door, pulling it open to let the driver see that he’s there. Stepping out and stopping. He’s making it look like he’s locking the door, but he doesn’t have a key. He’s looking up and down the street. Can’t see anything obviously out of place. He will, though. When the taxi starts moving, he’ll see anyone who follows, because he’ll know what to look for.

He’s dropping into the back of the taxi.

‘East end, is it, mate?’ the driver’s asking him.

A pause. This is the chance to change your mind. To leave William to his fate and go your own way. But he can’t. He might be selfish, but he’s still William’s brother. The least he owes William is to go to the garage and check. ‘That’s right,’ Calum’s saying. The car’s pulling out and getting to the end of the street. Calum’s looking back over his shoulder. There’s a car at the other end of the road. He can just see it as the taxi starts to turn. Its nose is edging out from its parking spot. The watcher, following. Calum’s making a point of not looking over his shoulder too often. Don’t spook the driver. Get to the garage; decide your next move from there. Another thought. They’re luring you to the garage. Hold the brother, so that the target comes looking. It’s a good place to carry out a hit. No. They would only know that Calum’s waiting for William if William told them so. And he wouldn’t tell. Not ever.

Driving through the city. Occasional backward glances, making sure the following car is still there. Could be a gunman tracking him. Could just be a watcher, gathering information for the gunman. The gunman will be Hutton. Has to be. Calum’s thinking. Thinking that he’s tempted to go round to Barry Fairly’s house and punish him for his disloyalty. It must have been him. He grassed. You know what happens to a grass. So Jamieson and Young know the new ID. Can they find out what plane ticket he has booked in that name? Course they can. So they know when he plans to leave. They know his brother’s been helping him. Easy to guess that William’s going to take him to the airport. Lure him to the garage.

Another look over his shoulder. Car’s still there, but it’s a long way back in the traffic. Can’t make out the driver from here. Doesn’t recognize the car. It’ll be a company car. Designed to be unrecognizable. Thinking again. They won’t be luring him to the garage, because they couldn’t rely on him to turn up. They know what sort of person he is. Or, they should. They must know that he would be prepared to leave his brother and run.