by Anna Smith
It had been nearly eight months since Kerry had walked out of the relationship with Leo. From the day she’d left the flat in London where they’d lived together for three years, she had pushed all thoughts of him to a place where she could manage them. She was good at that. Building walls was something she’d had to learn very quickly, when she was sent to Spain as a teenager. Back then, as the realisation dawned that this was her life, she’d had to fight hard to put the crippling homesickness and pining for her parents into a place where she could deal with it. And she did. On her visits home, though she loved being back, there was something missing. There was a distance between her and her mother that she had created in order to survive. If her mum noticed it, she never mentioned it, and perhaps she was holding back her own emotions because she knew her daughter’s life would have to be away from Glasgow. So Kerry was well versed in zipping up her emotions and putting them in a box, not to be opened again unless she was confident that doing so would not rock her foundations.
It had taken her a long time to come to the conclusion with Leo that whatever they had, it wasn’t for ever. However powerful, dynamic, passionate and tumultuous their love was, it was never going to last. He probably knew it as much as she did, but it had become the relationship where they couldn’t live with each other and couldn’t live without each other. But everything fell apart for her when she lost their baby four months into her pregnancy. The baby hadn’t been planned, but somehow it had cemented them. The miscarriage had overwhelmed Kerry, and she’d never known she could feel this much love and loss for a little person she hadn’t even met. Leo, no doubt, was going through his own agony, and Kerry knew his pain was genuine, but she couldn’t help feeling that there was something of a sense of release for him, because, deep down, he probably hadn’t really hankered after the full family-and-settling-down-for-ever picture. So it was Kerry who made the first move and told him it was over. Leo cried and reeled and promised it could be different. But they both knew it wouldn’t be. She had never told her mother it was over, even eight months after they broke up, or about losing the baby. She’d planned to tell her while she was home for Mickey’s funeral, but that choice was taken from her. She hadn’t even thought about it in these past few days – until Vinny Burns walked back into her life.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Stepping off Hope Street into La Lanterna restaurant was like going back in time, the walls on the way downstairs adorned with old photographs of rural Italy. The family-run restaurant had been an old favourite eating place of her father’s in his day, and she remembered happy Sunday afternoons or Saturday evenings in there as a child with Mickey, and their parents, her dad comfortable and enjoying the respect he always got from the old owner. It was a place where rich businessmen, but also rich gangsters, made deals over long afternoons drinking wine and eating perfect food. It was busy enough today, with lunchtime movers and shakers and retired business types out for a treat with their wives or their much younger mistresses. Kerry quickly glanced around the room when she came downstairs, and before she clocked her lunch date in the far corner, she noticed the two younger men Jack Reilly had told her would also be dining in the place. They were there to keep an eye on her from a discreet distance. It was the same everywhere she went these days; someone, often two bodyguards, always shadowing her. After Mickey’s shooting, and especially now with the revenge killings from the funeral, Kerry was told she was an even bigger target than before. She understood the need for security, but she didn’t always like it. She often yearned for a long afternoon in a restaurant and then going on to a bar just for the sheer hell of it – the way she’d done in Spain or sometimes in London with Leo. But those days were long gone. This was how she lived now. She looked across the restaurant and straight at Vinny Burns who was getting to his feet. Top marks for manners, she smiled to herself, slipping off her coat and making her way across.
‘Kerry,’ he said as she got to the table. ‘Good to see you.’
No handshake, no air kiss. The two of them stood for a moment and studied each other. She couldn’t help noticing how impeccably dressed he was: pinstripe suit, white shirt and dark blue striped tie. She wished he wasn’t so bloody good-looking, as his cool blue eyes fixed her.
‘Inspector,’ she said, a sarcastic smile playing on her lips.
‘Vinny.’ He smiled. ‘We can drop the formalities if we’re going to sit here in the dark and drink wine.’
She sat down.
‘Good to see you too, Vinny.’ She bit her bottom lip and glanced around the room. ‘Who’d have thought it, eh? After all these years, here we are. Downstairs in La Lanterna, like all the old celebrated hoods of yesteryear.’
He smiled as the waiter came up and stood silently.
‘Drink?’ Vinny said.
‘I’ll have wine,’ Kerry said. ‘Red.’
He looked up at the waiter and ordered a bottle from the menu as though he knew what he was doing.
‘You know your Italian wines then?’
‘No. Not at all. But I didn’t want to just plump for the house wine.’
Kerry watched him as he fiddled with the menu, looking a little uneasy. The Vinny Burns who was sitting opposite her was not the same guy who’d come into her home a few days ago, all poker-faced and full of police business. This was more like an original version of the boy she fell for back in school. And looking at him now, there was a little fleeting wrench of the hurt and pain she’d felt back then – but she pushed it away, as it was silly to even think that way. When her father died, and her mother was sending her to live in Spain, Vinny had promised that this wasn’t the end. They would keep in touch, talk on the phone, and write to each other. She’d see him when she came home. But she never did. Why did he simply disappear from her life? She didn’t come back to Glasgow for the two months of the summer holidays, and instead her mother came to Spain. By the winter, Vinny was a memory, but still one that could scorch her. Of course it was all ridiculous now when she looked back. Once, almost a year after she’d left, she came back and saw him with another girl, and was surprised how it still stung her. If only he’d told her why, she would have accepted it. It was a lesson that stood her in good stead for her other relationships, where she seldom let down her guard. Really, she should be thanking him, she used to tell herself. And yet, even now, as she saw him, she was dying to ask why. But that was stupid. Don’t go there now. Keep it simple, businesslike but friendly.
The waiter appeared at the table, opened a bottle of wine and poured it into her glass to taste.
‘That’ll do nicely,’ Kerry said.
He poured the wine and then stepped back. Vinny raised his glass, leaning forward and clinking hers.
‘To . . . What will we drink to, Kerry?’
Suddenly she caught his eyes and for a tiny second she saw herself all those years ago when life seemed uncomplicated, even if it wasn’t. She shook herself out of it.
‘To . . . to . . . to surviving,’ Kerry said. ‘Let’s drink to that, Vinny. To a couple of kids from the schemes who made it this far.’
‘To surviving,’ he said, looking at her then beyond her, as though, for a second, he too was somewhere else.
Kerry drank a mouthful of wine, relishing the taste of it and the feeling as it hit her stomach. She had to be careful to go easy on the alcohol as she drank so little now, and the last thing she wanted to do on a day like this was drop any guards. She picked up the menu and ran her eyes down it, although she had made up her mind before she even arrived to ask if they still did the braised beef cooked in Chianti which had been an old speciality. The waiter came across and took their order, unfolding the napkin and placing it on Kerry’s lap. Vinny took a drink of wine and put the glass down. He ran a hand across his chin and leaned forward.
‘So. How are you? I mean, after your mum. I can’t imagine how that must have been that day. And Mickey. That was a shock.’
Kerry sat forward, her elbows on the table so that th
eir heads were close. How was she? It was a tough question. She sighed. She decided to be honest.
‘Well, it’s hard to say how I am these days, and that’s the truth. I guess I’m still numb from my mother’s death. I still can’t quite believe I’ll never see her again. That’s the hardest part, suddenly thinking I’ll have to tell her something later, and then I remember she’s not there.’ She paused. ‘It’s tough. But Mickey? Well, truth is, I didn’t get on with him. I don’t like the way he ran things.’
‘Yeah. I can see why.’ He looked at her then down at the table. ‘He wasn’t the greatest guy, that’s for sure.’ He half shrugged. ‘Anyway, it’s all yours now though.’
She nodded slowly. ‘Yeah. But it’s going to be different.’
They sat for a moment in silence as the waiter brought the antipasti and she watched as Vinny ate a couple of forkfuls of meat and poured some olive oil onto a side plate.
‘Sure.’ He shrugged. ‘But how you going to do that, Kerry? I mean, make it different.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘It’s not as if you can just shut up shop and go into the retail business.’
‘I know that.’ She didn’t need to hear that.
There was a long moment when they said nothing and she felt a little uncomfortable. Eventually, Vinny spoke.
‘I’m not trying to wind you up, Kerry. Honestly. But you know what Mickey was into. He surrounded himself with all sorts of bad people. Not just here, but down south as well. Dublin too, and Spain. He had too many fingers in too many pies. That’s probably why he got wasted.’ He paused. ‘Look, all I’m saying to you is it’s going to take a bit of doing, getting out of all that – might even be impossible.’
She nodded. ‘Yes. I know that.’ She felt the need to change the subject for the moment. ‘Anyway. Tell me about you, Vinny. How the hell did you become a cop? You kept that quiet when we were at school.’ She smiled. ‘Mind you, coming from where we did, that’s probably just as well. Not too many cops came out of Maryhill, that’s for sure.’
‘Just happened after I left. I was in college, and then I saw an advert to join the police force and I thought, what the hell. Decent money, a career. It was either that or go the other way. It was my uncle Harry who came up from London where he was a cop in the Met, and he told me that whatever I did, I had to get out of Maryhill. So I ended up moving down there. It was the Met where I started out.’
‘Really? I didn’t know that. You were down there all those years?’
‘Yep. Did all right. Out of uniform in about three years and into plain clothes. Then the drugs squad. And then promotion to sergeant, and then into the National Crime Agency. That’s a different world, Kerry, I can tell you that.’
‘Fascinating.’ Kerry’s alarm bells were ringing. If he was in the NCA he probably knew more about her business than she did.
‘Yeah. I could write a book. I was undercover for two years. In Europe and in South America. Mexico, Colombia. Hard graft.’
‘Colombia? Not for the faint-hearted.’
‘Yeah. Would frighten the shit right out of you, what goes on there. And how far the cartels reach. But it’s what they do to people that is sickening. They make people like your Mickey and all the rest of the players in the UK and Europe look like Mother Teresa.’
Kerry watched him swirl his glass and take another swig and she pondered how differently their lives had panned out. Yet here they were, like old friends. She wanted to hear more, her natural curiosity stirred, but her sensible head told her not to ask too many questions. He was telling her this for a reason. He was letting her know that he could buy and sell her when it came to drug dealers.
‘So, when did you quit the NCA?’
‘I haven’t quit – not as such. I’m still with them. Just not living in some backstreet in Amsterdam or Colombia. I’d had enough of that. There was a promotion going in London, and I took it. Then about six months ago, I was seconded up here to the Scottish Drug Enforcement Agency. Drug wars. You know the score.’
Kerry looked at him but said nothing. The main course arrived and as they ate, they got chatting about names of old pals from school and laughing at stories of teachers who used to put them through the wringer. To any of the diners in the restaurant they looked like a couple, or two old mates enjoying a reunion over lunch. When they finished, Vinny poured some more wine into their glasses. He looked straight at her.
‘You know you’re in a lot of danger,’ he said, dabbing his mouth with his napkin. ‘You’re a number one target. Has anyone told you that?’
Her stomach did lurch a little at how starkly he said it. Hearing it from a cop with the kind of background Vinny had just told her about sent a chill through her. She tried to look impassive.
‘It doesn’t take any major police investigation to work that out, Vinny. I know I’m a target.’
‘That’ll be why you’re not alone in here, eh?’
She looked at him then at the table. He half smiled.
‘The two dudes over there getting into their pasta. If I was to walk over there right now and show them my police badge, then frisk them, my guess is I’d find a couple of Glocks in their back pockets.’
She said nothing.
‘Doesn’t matter. I know who they are. Look, I’m not interested in them. But at least someone in your organisation is smart enough to make sure people are watching over you.’
She stayed silent a long moment, knowing he was waiting for her to say something.
‘So I’m a target. That shouldn’t surprise you. It doesn’t surprise me.’
He leaned over.
‘More so, now, Kerry, after the bodies piling up in the city. You know what I mean. The boys from Manchester who were holed up here for weeks and who killed your mother at the funeral. The revenge attack. We know it was your organisation.’
She said nothing, fidgeted with her glass.
‘To be honest,’ Vinny said, ‘scumbags like that are not a priority for us. We’re not even interested.’ He paused. ‘It’s you we’re interested in.’
Kerry rolled her eyes to the ceiling.
‘Ah, the truth at last. And there was me just thinking you wanted to have a catch-up of the old days,’ she said, sarcastic. ‘Of course I know you’re interested in me.’ She smiled. ‘Should I be calling my lawyer?’
He shook his head. ‘No. Come on. I thought we could meet up and have a chat.’
‘What, and maybe I would suddenly just grass everyone up?’
He took a moment before he answered. ‘Not grass anyone up. Just consider the spirit of cooperation.’
She smiled and shook her head. ‘Yeah, right. Grassing.’
‘Kerry. You’re from a different world than this lot. Your life has been a world away from this. You can go back to that.’
She sat for a moment, knowing he was watching her.
‘Vinny.’ She leaned forward, her hand reaching across the table so it was nearly touching his. She saw him flick a glance down at it, but he didn’t move. ‘You’re wrong. I held my mother in my arms as the life ebbed out of her. Everything changed for ever in those final moments. This is who I am now. I wish I could tell you something different, something you want to hear. But this is who I am. The cops? What can they do for me? Nothing, that’s what. You think if the names of the people who murdered my mother were handed over to the police they would pull out all the stops to bring them to justice? No way. And even if it did reach court, some smart lawyer would get them off. That’s how it goes. You know that as well as I do.’ She felt the emotion in her voice and put the glass to her lips and drank the lot. Suddenly she felt his hand on top of hers and she wanted to pull it away, but somehow she couldn’t. Because everything he said was right. She was from a different world. But it was too late now to go back to that.
‘Kerry, I understand where you are, what you’ve been through. But you should know that you can trust me.’
They sat that way in silence, feeling the warmth of his hand over hers
for a long, dangerous moment.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Cal hadn’t been anywhere near the car wash since his disastrous trip to Manchester. It would be asking for trouble. What he did know was that the car wash, like most of the other ones he knew, employed illegal immigrants. In all the times he’d worked there, he was the only non-immigrant, and he was often called upon by some of them to translate for them if a customer was asking questions. One of the lads, Tahir, had become a mate, and on payday sometimes they’d go to the café together. The boy was only two years older than him, but had already been in Glasgow for eighteen months after being smuggled in himself. Cal was fascinated by the story of how he left his war-torn village to make a better life, and how he dreamed of bringing his family over. He’d listen to his dreams, but felt sorry for him because the reality was that none of this was going to happen. Tahir was working illegally for a bunch of gangsters. He could never be legal, and if they wanted to, they could make him disappear any day of the week. Tahir was nobody to them – just a glorified slave in a place where they laundered their drug money. Cal hadn’t seen him since the day before Manchester, but he was pleased when he saw his name coming up on his mobile. They arranged to meet at the café, and at first Cal was suspicious. You never knew if someone had got to Tahir, knowing they were friends, and told him to lure Cal to a trap. But he decided he was letting his imagination get carried away with him, so he agreed to meet. He waited for Tahir in the street, close to the café, but far enough away so that if Tahir turned up with anyone he shouldn’t, then he could make a run for it. Cal was relieved when Tahir came walking up the road alone and spotted him.
‘Hey, man,’ Tahir said as he approached, a smile on his thin, pale face. ‘How you been? You disappear?’ He gave him a playful punch on the shoulder.
Cal smiled. ‘Yeah, mate. Had enough of the place. I’m not coming back.’
Tahir looked surprised.