The Sudden Arrival of Violence: A Glasgow Underworld Novel 3 (25 page)

37

He’s lying asleep when the phone starts ringing. It’s only six o’clock in the morning. He’d been planning to let Elaine make the kids breakfast. Get them ready for school and out the door. Sleep until ten. He doesn’t feel like doing anything. Let the world fall apart if it wants. He’ll be under the duvet. Stuck his head up long enough to check his phone. No calls. Nobody wants to talk to Shug Francis. Sure, they all wanted to talk when there was something in it for them. You find out who your friends are when the pressure’s on. No contact from Don Park, despite all the missed calls. Nothing from Shaun Hutton. Nothing from Fizzy. He won’t be dead, just ignoring the calls. Hutton’s not going to have done the job, not if he’s working for MacArthur. There are no friends. Not even the ones you pulled up with you.

He thought about calling Don Park again. He must know what’s going on. If anyone could confirm or deny, it would be Don. But if Shug’s wrong about them working to isolate him, then he looks stupid. If Don has something to say, he’ll call. But that’s not why Shug hasn’t picked up the phone. It’s because he already knows what’ll happen. He’s worked it all out in his mind. Everyone’s involved in this. Everyone has plotted against him. If he calls Don, he won’t get an answer. He’ll ignore him, because Don’s working against him. Doesn’t want to talk to the man he’s ruining. Doesn’t have the balls for it. You think someone’s impressive; you think they’re professional. Then they turn round and screw you. This is what happens when you trust. You give people a chance to rip you off and they will. Anyone. Lifetime friends. New friends. Right now, he wouldn’t trust his own wife.

Reaching out and picking up the phone. Hasn’t bothered to look at the display.

‘Hello.’

‘Shug, is that you?’

The rough, rasping voice. Old and rather weak-sounding. Sounding needlessly aggressive. Alex MacArthur. Couldn’t be anyone else. ‘It is.’ That’s all Shug’s saying. Just about all he trusts himself to say. Don’t accuse the old man of anything. Don’t give him the chance to lose his temper with you. There are legendary stories of him losing his rag. None recent. They say he’s mellowed in his dotage. Bollocks! Dangerous as ever. Just better at hiding it.

‘This is Alex MacArthur. Is now a good time to talk?’ Straight to the point.

‘It is. Would it be better to meet face-to-face?’ Shug’s asking. This question matters. Face-to-face would mean MacArthur’s not afraid of a bad reaction.

‘No, we should do this now,’ MacArthur’s saying.

Shug knows. Doesn’t need to hear it. Barely listening any more. Watching Elaine get up and leave the room, because she knows this is business. Knows she isn’t meant to listen in.

‘We have a problem,’ MacArthur’s saying. ‘I’ve been hearing all sorts about you. Things you’ve been up to. Killing off targets without clearing it with me. Christ knows what you thought you were doing. Why the fuck did you want to draw attention to us? You got all sorts of nonsense going on. Police all over you. We had a deal, and you’ve pissed all over it, Shug. I can’t be a part of this any more.’

Shug’s scoffing. A bitter laugh. ‘Really? You can’t be a part of this because you think I’ve broken the agreement? Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on here.’

‘Doesn’t seem like you have a fucking clue,’ MacArthur’s saying, and coughing. ‘You been running around acting like some Hollywood gangster. Killing people off. Getting all this police attention. I thought you were smarter than this, boy. That’s why I went along with this. I thought you knew better. Fellow with a legitimate business like yours – I thought you were smart. Well, you don’t have an ounce of common sense. Not a fucking ounce.’

Shug’s sitting up in bed, holding the phone to his ear. Hasn’t said anything in ten seconds. Just staring ahead at the wardrobe opposite. Staring into space.

‘Hello?’ MacArthur’s saying. He isn’t finished yet.

‘You’ve made your point,’ Shug’s saying. ‘You might even get your way. You might be able to screw me, but you’ll pay for it in the end. You mark my words. You’ll get what’s coming to you eventually. Everyone does.’ It sounds empty even to Shug.

‘Yeah, well, you listen to me now. You’ve run around trying to act like a big man. Trying to make people think they should fear you. Well, there are people you should fear. You threaten me, and I’ll bloody well give you something to be scared of. But I’ll tell you something else. You still have Peter Jamieson to be scared of. He won’t be happy until he’s crushed you, boy. He’s a dangerous bastard. There’s evidence against him, you know. He’s not as smart as he thinks he is. You might still be able to bring him down.’

It’s just too much to listen to. This old bastard is trying to destroy him, but he still wants a favour. Thinks that Shug is going to do something for him. I break your back, you scratch mine. Trying to persuade Shug to take evidence against Jamieson. Knowing that Shug’s in all kinds of trouble. Knowing that he’ll end up in police company. Hoping that Shug will grass up Jamieson at the same time. Shug’s putting the phone down. Makes him sick to listen to that old man wheezing. Thinking he can persuade Shug to do whatever he wants. There’s nothing else to lose. MacArthur has no leverage left. Shug’s just sitting there. Another twenty seconds passing. The phone ringing again. A man like MacArthur doesn’t give up that easily. He’s used to using people. Used to getting his own way. Shug’s picking up the phone, dropping it back down again to hang up and picking it up again. Leaving it off the hook.

Remember when it used to be easy? Wasn’t that long ago. The legit business was good. The car-ring was profitable and untouchable. Took a lot of work. Some risk. But they had a system that worked. They were generous towards the big organizations. Made sure they kept them all onside. Shug was good at that. None of the big ones made a run at his business. A few smaller ones did, but Shug had enough money to buy protection. Most of the people who tried to muscle in on the car-ring were aligned to big organizations. People lower down the chain who thought they could overpower a bunch of car geeks. Most were dealt with by talking to the big organization under whose umbrella they were operating. They were slapped down. Shug paid a kickback. Problem solved. Everything goes back to normal. Nothing to worry about from the police. The car-ring was never a priority. Police didn’t even care much. Investigating something like a car-ring would cost a fortune. The reward would be to take Shug’s men off the street, leave a vacuum. Would take the best part of a fortnight for someone to set up a replacement. Probably someone who worked for Shug and knew how to do it. Police couldn’t be sure that the new ring would be so non-violent. Better the devil you know.

And it still wasn’t enough. A strong business. Good money from the car-ring, well hidden in the legit accounts. So hard to get a system that works, but he had one. A legit business big enough to absorb the finances from a criminal enterprise. Everyone making money. A loyal little bunch of employees. Good people. Or it seemed like it, anyway. But other people were making more money. Not doing anything complicated. Didn’t seem to be doing anything that Shug couldn’t do. Someone suggests that, as he’s moving cars around the country for sale, why not put something in them? Make a little extra cash. No great risk – great reward. Shug held back. Moving stuff around steps on toes. No great risk from the police, sure. But great risk from people who think you’re working against them. So if you’re going to do it, you can’t go in half-hearted. There’s real money. If you do it well, you make a fortune. A killing, even.

That’s the problem with things being easy. You think it’s going to stay that way. You think that if you can put together a car-ring, then you can put together a drugs network. Control it top to bottom. You become used to that level of control when you have an untouchable operation. So you plot. You organize. You employ. You identify the weakness in others. Identify the target and the mechanisms you can use to bring it down. Take the target’s share of the market. Then move on to the next. The next one always being slightly bigger than the last. Keep working it that way until you get to the top. Of course, Shug knew it would be more dangerous. There are no gunmen in the car trade. At least not that he knows. But he never thought it would be this way. So destructive. Pretty much from day one. And everything he tried blew up in his face. Left him looking weak and stupid. Left him with nothing. All those friends. The perfect system. The easy money. Worthless.

38

His mother’s hardly said anything since she got here. Been hours now. She can’t get her head around it. How could this happen to William? George has stayed. All night. Just sitting in silence, ready to help when he can. Hasn’t made any attempt to contact Young. Still letting Calum have control. Still sitting in the corridor. They operated on William, trying to relieve pressure on the brain. Didn’t go well. Nothing more they can do. They’ve invited Calum and his mother in to sit with William now. The final hour.

George is staying out in the corridor. Not his place to go in. He’s thinking about leaving. He’s entitled. No friend could begrudge him taking this opportunity to protect himself. But he’s not. He’s staying. Still thinking that this is at least partly his fault. Calum probably wanted out, after what happened with Emma. Okay, all the stuff with Frank MacLeod and Glen Davidson probably played a big part. But that’s the job. Calum always handled the job. It’s the personal stuff that would prompt him to run. And that was George’s doing.

Calum and his mother are sitting in silence. Looking at William, lying in the hospital bed hooked up to a machine. It’s a strange sensation for their mother. You take away the tubes and, apart from a broken nose and cut lip, William looks fine. Calum’s seen the patch of hair that was shaved away before they operated. That’s where the damage is. Where he was kicked. He’s seen enough dead people. Seen some who looked like they hadn’t been touched. It just feels strange that it’s William now. Seen so many that he didn’t care about. Frank was different, too – seeing a man he liked lying dead. Burying him. But this is worse. Frank was part of the business. William doesn’t deserve this. This is Calum’s fault. If it weren’t for the work Calum does, William would be fine.

The police have visited. Spoke to Calum and George in the corridor. Calum did most of the talking. George was just the friend who went to the garage with him. Calum said he couldn’t understand it. Didn’t know of anyone who would want to hurt his brother. The cops nodded along. A bored-looking detective asking a few questions. At the moment, from the police perspective, this could be anything. Money. A fight over a woman. They can’t even guess at it. Eventually the name will filter around the service. Someone will point out that Calum MacLean is connected to Jamieson. Then people will get excited. Then the police will start swarming. Calum wants to control that. Doesn’t want them anywhere near his brother yet. Not until he’s dead. When William is gone, and Calum’s done his brotherly duty, then things can change.

The machine’s making a noise. Doesn’t look like there’s any change in William, but they know. A nurse is coming in. Sympathizing. Calum’s looking after his mother. She’s crying, and he’s doing what he can to help her. Which is very little, because he knows this is going to get a lot worse for her before it gets any better. He’s going to have to sit her down and have a talk. Have a conversation that might just destroy her. He’s spent hours thinking about it. Trying to come up with an alternative that would spare her. There is none. It has to be the hard approach. Be cold. Hurt her. There’s no other way. For now, he has his arm around her. They’re still in the room with William. The medical staff have left them. Giving them a moment of peace. A chance to say goodbye.

They’re out in the corridor. Judge the moment. Calum’s looking at his watch. Ten past eight. William’s been dead for thirty minutes. Their mother doesn’t want to move. Just wants to sit. Shock, probably. George is lingering in the corridor, waiting to find out what happens next. Calum’s ready to tell.

‘George, will you go wait for me at the front door. I want to talk to you before we leave.’

George is nodding. A little unsure, but willing to do what he’s told. Walking along the corridor and round the corner to the lifts. Thinking that something like this was inevitable. You get pushed to do more important work, and you become involved in a more important fuck-up. Inevitable. The police will be all over this soon. Amazing that they’re not already. Distracted by bigger things, perhaps. They’ll open a murder inquiry. That’ll make his life impossible, because they know he was first on the scene. He’s shaking his head as the lift carries him down.

As soon as George is out of sight, Calum’s turning to his mother. Getting off his chair and crouching down in front of her. Holding both her hands and looking her in the eyes.

‘Listen to me Ma. I need you to listen, and hear what I’m saying. I don’t want you to say anything, because I know you won’t believe a lot of what I tell you. You won’t want to believe it. But it’s all true. It’s my fault that William’s dead. They did that to punish him for helping me. I was working for some bad people. Real bad people. I was important to them. They found out that I wanted to get away. Get out from working for them. Get out of Glasgow. They didn’t like that. People aren’t allowed to walk out on them, but I was trying. I couldn’t do it alone, though. I needed someone to help me. I needed William to help me, and he did. He did it because he’s my big brother and he loves me. And because of that, they killed him. Whatever they say about William, I want you to remember that he did it for me. That he lost his life because of me. Because he was such a good brother. Okay?’

He can see the confusion in her. He can see the hurt. But it’s going to get worse. He has to tell her what’s going to happen next, and that’s going to be even harder for her to take. But the first priority is making sure she doesn’t believe anything she hears about William. The police will uncover stuff he’s done. Handling stolen vehicles and parts. They’ll link him to organized crime; make him sound like he was much more involved than he was. She mustn’t believe the bullshit.