by Alex Kane
Jez had walked along the back road to meet him. Diggo, his name was. Jez didn’t know him as anything else until the news had identified him as Allan Diggins. A local down-and-out who was known for dealing class A drugs as well as motor theft. No one would miss him, which was just as well for Jez.
Jez had approached him and he remembered the distinct smell of sweat and cigarette smoke coming from Diggo’s over-sized hoodie.
‘Got my money, Jez?’ Diggo had said. His breath had a bitter, disgusting odour and Jez wasn’t even standing that close to him.
‘Aye,’ Jez had said. ‘Well, not all of it.’
‘What the fuck do you mean, not all of it? You owe me a hundred quid, Jez. I gave you a fucking extension the last time and I warned you it would be the last.’
Jez had noticed how Diggo’s words had slurred. He’d been drinking. A good thing for Jez. It would mean that if need be, he could outrun him.
‘Aye, well, I’m short. So, you’ll have to take this now or wait for the full amount and I won’t have that until next week.’
That was when Jez had noticed the blade slide out from Diggo’s right sleeve.
‘Ah, come on, Diggo. There’s no need for that,’ he’d said, taking a step back.
‘And there’s no need for you to tell me that I can’t have what you owe. So, pay me in full right now or I’ll fucking plug you. Got it?’
Jez had a few seconds to think. It was a fight or flight situation. One he could never have imagined he’d have to face, especially not against someone like Diggo, the junkie dealer, as he was known. It was a wonder he wasn’t dead already. Rumour had it that he’d got high on some of the stash he was dealing out for someone higher than him and that he owed a shit ton of money himself. That was likely the reason he was pulling a blade on Jez, to make sure he paid up so that he could pay off his own debts.
Jez picked the option to fight. He wasn’t going to go down against someone like Diggo. No chance. Jez was used to violence and aggression, having grown up in the scheme. Getting into fights was a way of surviving. Jez and the boys didn’t class themselves as a gang, but society did. Getting into scraps for territory, drugs, booze and girls was just a way of life. From time to time, there was an all-out scheme war. He wasn’t scared to get into this with Diggo. So, Jez had balled his fists and jerked his body towards Diggo so quickly that he dropped the blade in fright. Jez launched himself at him with a swift uppercut, knocking him to the ground. He kicked the knife and it skittered far enough away that Diggo would have to fight with his bare hands.
‘Get up, you fucking prick. You think you can pull a blade on me and get away with it?’
Diggo looked up at Jez through watery eyes as blood poured from his mouth. He said nothing but got to his feet, his body in a defensive stance before taking a swing at Jez who stood back and watched as Diggo stumbled forward and fell at his feet.
Jez saw an opportunity to finish the debacle and lifted his foot and brought it crashing down on the back of Diggo’s head. He raised it again, and again. He stopped, watching for signs of movement, signs of life from Diggo as he lay face down on the track road. The back of his head was a bloodied mess and when Jez looked at his shoes, they too were covered in Diggo’s brain matter, crimson red in colour. The metallic stench of blood mixed with Diggo’s own rancid body odour made Jez gag.
He stood for a moment, wondering what to do. He couldn’t walk away and leave Diggo lying there to be found. That could lead the police straight to him. Jez knew how forensics worked; he could be traced by a single footprint. Especially if the boot that matched the print was covered in blood. He’d have to get rid of them. But first, he had to get rid of Diggo.
Eyeing Diggo’s shitty Nova, he bent down and searched his pockets for the car key. Locating it, he opened the boot of the car and wondered if he’d have the strength to drag Diggo’s dead weight the few feet down the track, let alone lift it into the car. Would his body even fit? It would just have to. Jez wasn’t going to let Diggo ruin his life, dead or alive.
Jez turned Diggo over and slid his hands under his arms. He pulled the body towards the car, the sound of the gravel underfoot deafening. There were no cars in sight; not a sound could be heard. Jez was safe to do this but he had to be quick.
He managed to haul Diggo into the boot and closed it before climbing into the driver seat. Starting the engine, he kept the headlights off and drove up the track road towards the reservoir. It took around ten minutes in second gear but he finally got to the top. The view was outstanding and Jez got out to admire it. He’d never been up there at that time of night and he had to admit, even the scheme looked amazing from up there.
Jez lit a cigarette and smoked it down to the tip to calm the adrenaline rushing through him, as he replayed the sound of his boot smashing into Diggo’s skull over and over. The sound had surprised him. He would have thought it would be harder, like rock hitting rock, where in fact what popped into his head was the memory of his granny tearing celery for her pan of soup on a Sunday.
Jez finished his cigarette and dropped it to the ground. He stomped on it and picked it up to check that it was fully extinguished before placing it in his back pocket. He wasn’t going to leave that behind. Again, forensics. They could find the most miniscule thing and it could be their breakthrough. Climbing back into the driver seat, Jez drove the car to the edge of the grass bank and put the handbrake on before getting back out again and moving around to the back. He had to get rid of the car and the body.
Jez found that getting Diggo into the boot wasn’t as difficult as getting him out and into the driving seat. His body was stiff, heavy. He held his breath as he leaned over and put the seatbelt on the corpse. The smell was beginning to intensify and Jez didn’t want to leave a pile of his own vomit anywhere near Diggo or the car.
Swallowing hard, Jez stood back and sucked in clean, fresh night air. He turned away from the corpse, needing a moment to think, to process what he’d done. This was never the plan. This was never something Jez had thought himself capable of. It seemed he was. It seemed that instead of feeling fear of being caught, the thrill of what he was doing was overwhelming. It shocked him but he accepted it. Jez’s life had never been plain sailing so why should this be any different? Now he knew he had the stomach and the balls to take on the criminal world as a player, as a hunter, rather than the prey. His body would never have to end up at the bottom of a reservoir.
Turning back, Jez leaned in and released the handbrake. He rolled down the driver window too. He didn’t look at Diggo’s face – or what was left of it – before closing the door. He moved around to the back of the car and laid his hands on the hatch, before taking a breath and using all his weight to push the car forward. It took less effort than Jez had thought it would, but the Nova shunted forward and rolled down the bank before plunging into the water.
Jez stood back and lit another cigarette. He counted, one, two, three… It took seventy-eight seconds for the car to become fully submerged in the reservoir. Less time than it took for Jez to smoke the cigarette down to the tip again.
He sat on the edge of the bank and washed his boots in the water, rinsing away the blood and brain matter from Diggo’s head, before getting up and wiping his boots on the dry grass.
‘That’ll teach you to pull a blade on me,’ he said, before turning and heading along the track towards the top of Dunmuir Hill.
He’d enjoyed the walk home that evening. Enjoyed looking up at the stars and down at the view. The Erskine Bridge, Old Kilpatrick. The scheme which he came from. He could even see all the way to the west end of Glasgow, a place he and the boys would often go for a few bevvies, before realising it was full of snooty arseholes and heading into Partick where the real boozers were.
That night made Jez realise that he was capable of much more than he had given himself credit for. He would go on the boys’ holiday and when he was there he would think about what he wanted to do with his life. There were a million Di
ggos in the world. Jez didn’t want to end up like him and staying in the scheme would push him closer to becoming one of them.
* * *
Jez finished his pint and sat back, looking around his old local, taking in the familiar faces and the memories that came to him. Stevo and Marty had been a laugh back then but it was clear to Jez that they’d gone nowhere and done nothing with their lives. It had taken Diggo’s murder to make Jez realise that the scheme was a place that would hold him back. That kill was a turning point in his life, even if he hadn’t realised it back then. He’d stopped himself from becoming one of those petty drug criminals at the bottom of the barrel. He’d moved on, climbed the ladder in a world where you didn’t need qualifications to get to the top. Jez was proud of how far he’d come. He was successful and wealthy – and there was much more where that came from. He’d come far enough to have people do his killing for him if it was ever necessary.
Coming back here to find Cole was a pain in the arse, but it reminded him of how ruthless he could be. Billy was a mate, but business came first.
He’d make a Diggo out of anyone who stood in his way.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Charlene stepped out of the hotel lobby and onto the street. Glasgow smelled exactly as it had all those years ago. Car fumes, cold air and burger and onions. Those were the three main scents that assaulted her senses as she headed along the road towards Queen Street station. Jez had no idea she’d followed him and unless he saw her, he never would.
Being in the city made Charlene nervous about what she would do if she found Jez doing exactly what she suspected of him. The thought turned her stomach. She didn’t love him. In the beginning, she’d almost fallen for him, before she found out what he was really like, before he’d had it off with her best friend. Why hadn’t she been enough for him? Why did he have to abuse her trust, rip apart a friendship she’d had before even meeting him? People said there was a fine line between love and hate. Charlene wasn’t sure how many times she’d crossed it and come back again. It was his fault she felt like this. His fault that she’d wasted her life trying to be a good wife, a good mum. She’d focused all her energy into loving him, yet she’d struggled to forget what he did. He was good-looking, charming and once upon a time had made her feel good about herself. After they’d had their first son, things had got better for a while. She’d managed to somehow live with his infidelity, not just with Roxanne but with others too. They’d worked hard at being affectionate towards each other, but the lie was always there in the back of her mind.
She knew Jez had continued to cheat on her as the boys grew up. The older they got, the more she and Jez grew apart. The idea of him with other women didn’t infuriate her as much as it had when he’d been sleeping with her best friend. That rage had never burnt out.
Purchasing the ticket at the ticket desk, Charlene headed down to the platform to wait for the train. She knew exactly where Jez was. The tracker she’d set up on his phone was accurate. Of course, he was unaware of her constant need to know where he was every second of every day. She’d managed to hide that from him for a very long time. It had only been during the last two years or so that she’d let the mask slip and he’d seen her bitterness and what it had done to her. She’d often wondered why he hadn’t just left her. Maybe he didn’t feel the need. They were barely ever in the house at the same time and when they were, they were at opposite ends. They said absence made the heart grow fonder, but for Charlene, absence made the raging fire grow.
If he was in the location the phone said he was, then there was a very strong possibility that she was there too. The one woman who had destroyed Charlene’s marriage to Jez before they’d even got married. Before he’d even proposed.
The train pulled into the station and Charlene climbed on, sat by the window and took a steadying breath. What would she do when she got to the location which was flashing up on her screen? Would she confront Jez, or watch from afar? Could she bear to look at them together? Why did she want to torture herself like this? Ignorance was bliss, but she wasn’t ignorant like she had been back then.
There was one thing she knew for sure: if that bitch was there, Charlene would deal with her. She would deal with them both.
The image of both her lying, cheating husband and her so-called best friend lying dead at her feet brought a feeling of calm so quickly, it scared her. Maybe she was more like her husband than she thought. Ruthless, vengeful. He was one for getting rid of people who stood in his way. Perhaps she’d learned from the best?
The train pulled out of the station and headed west, out of the city. Charlene looked up at the grey sky and found she was beginning to forget what it felt like to have the sun on her skin. Funny how Scotland made you forget what it was like to feel warm. Even though she’d grown up there, she felt no connection to the place. No family, no friends. That was why she’d never gone back, even when things were at their worst with Jez.
The train continued on its journey and Charlene continued to monitor the screen. Jez could go anywhere and she would know his exact location. Unless he turned his phone off. But Jez was a businessman and he hadn’t turned his phone off since she’d known him.
A voice in her head kept telling her to stop what she was doing; that it wasn’t healthy. Just go back to Spain, pack your things and leave. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She loved him but she hated him. She wanted to know for sure if Cole Woods was the only reason that Jez had come back to Scotland.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Jake stood up and slung the holdall over his left shoulder as Cole packed a second. One was filled with coke and one filled with heroin. Eddie was waiting outside with a van and a set of keys and Jake had brought in one of the guys from his shoplifting mob to be the driver. He barely spoke a word to Cole, barely looked him in the eye. He was worried that if he did, he might not be able to control himself. He hoped that once this deal was over, Cole would just crawl back to where he’d come from and leave Jake to get on with the rest of his life. Although deep down, he knew that was never going to be the case. He knew that if this job went well, Cole would want to keep things going, even if he wasn’t present.
‘Right,’ Cole said, rubbing the palms of his hands together. ‘First round of deliveries ready to go. Ed outside?’
Jake nodded and headed towards the door. ‘I’ll take these two bags to the salon like you said; Rox will be there, ready for the girls to get them onto the street. Once they’re sold and the money’s in, we’ll go again.’
‘Good lad,’ Cole said. ‘Oh, by the way. You know it’s nothing personal, it’s just business.’
Jake turned, his hand on the door handle. He glared at Cole and waited for him to continue.
‘The footage, me having dirt on you. It’s just insurance, that’s all. I like you, Jakey boy, but you understand that I’ve got to do what I’ve got to do. I know you won’t fuck me over if I’ve got something that can ruin you. If it wasn’t you it would have been someone else.’
Jake kept his expression neutral. ‘And what makes you think I’d ever fuck you over in the first place? I’ve never given you the impression that I’m anything other than loyal.’
Cole laughed loudly. ‘Jakey boy, in this game, loyalty only exists until a better offer comes along. This way I know that if an opportunity turned up for you to make more money and you wanted to sack this off, you wouldn’t be able to because I’d be able to show your good woman what you did.’
Jake gritted his teeth so hard that he thought they might shatter.
‘Look, it was an accident and I’d rather you’d stop bringing it up. You came to me with a job, I agreed to all your terms, Rox found a base and you’re still threatening me. What is it with you, eh? Are you sick in the head or something?’
Cole dropped the holdall at his feet and squared up to Jake. ‘Nah mate, the question is, are you sick in the head? Are you forgetting what you did? Are you forgetting the circumstances which led to what hap
pened?’
‘And are you forgetting that you’re the one that set up a fucking camera in my hotel room and filmed the whole fucking thing?’ Jake spat. Cole stood back and a menacing smile crept over his face.
‘Like I said, I film all my associates working a job for me. I’m glad I did it. I’m not sick – you’re the one that got a little too kinky when you were ball-deep in some guy. I wonder what Roxanne would think if she knew that you prefer men to women.’
Jake dropped his own holdall then and shoved Cole hard. He stumbled back but stayed upright. He was laughing, clearly satisfied that he’d got a rise from Jake.
‘You need to calm down, Jakey boy. What’s this really about? Can’t handle the fact that you’re gay? Was it really an accident, Jake? Or did you want to have your wicked way with him and then kill him off to keep your secret buried?’
Jake stepped forward and shoved Cole again, harder this time. Still, Cole kept his balance but this time he wasn’t laughing.
‘Shut you’re fucking mouth, Cole. If that’s really what you think, what’s to stop me from killing you right now to keep you quiet? Eh?’
Cole narrowed his eyes. ‘Don’t fucking threaten me. You’re not as hard as you make out, Jake. I was the one who picked you up off that hotel room floor when you were crying like a baby. I’ve got contacts, ways and means to get the message out there that one of Glasgow’s biggest gangsters is a closet gay. I could get that message out from the grave and don’t you dare doubt it.’
Jake stepped back, lifted the holdall and turned away from Cole. He had to remove himself from the situation, get away from Cole for a bit and calm down. Pulling the door open, he picked up the bag that Cole had packed and left the room, slamming the door behind him. As he walked through the flat, Jake checked through the peephole before stepping into the communal hallway. Taking the steps two at a time, he reached the street and found himself in front of the van. Eddie was standing, his back against it, with a cigarette in his hand.