Joe Coffin [Season 4]

by Preston, Ken

‘What the hell did he want?’ Coffin said.

  ‘He d-d-d-didn’t say,’ Stut said. ‘H-h-h—’

  ‘He seemed to be looking for Gilligan,’ Shaw said.

  ‘Yeah?’ Coffin looked at the bottles lined up behind the bar. He felt like he could murder a drink, but he turned away. He had to stay sharp. ‘What’s he want with Gilligan?’

  ‘He didn’t say,’ Shaw said.

  ‘Anyone seen the Irish bastard?’

  Stut shook his head.

  ‘What about Emma? Did Archer say anything about Emma?’

  ‘No,’ Shaw said. ‘Is something wrong, Joe?’

  ‘No, everything’s peachy,’ Coffin said. ‘We still got Stig’s body upstairs?’

  ‘Yeah, and we put Longworth’s carcass down in the cellar.’

  Coffin sighed. ‘Which means we’re going to have to carry the bastard back up again.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Okay, maybe best for now if we stick the Stig down there too. Anyone heard from Gosling?’

  The two men shook their heads.

  ‘All right. I’m going to pay him a visit at his club. You two are coming with me.’ He paused, looked at the bar again, at the drinks. ‘We’re going to need arming up too. We got some artillery at the moment?’

  ‘Yeah, we’re good,’ Shaw said.

  ‘All right. Get some stuff and then meet me down here in five minutes.’

  Coffin went into the back and took the stairs two at a time. He paused outside his door, just for a moment, and then swung it open.

  The Stig lay on his back on the floor, a pool of dark red blood surrounding his head like a demonic halo.

  Coffin walked around the body, scanning the room. Not a single scrap of money had been left behind. Gosling had to have had this planned all along. Except, it didn’t quite make sense. Gosling had taken advantage of the attack by Shanks Longworth downstairs distracting Coffin and the others. Had he known Longworth was on his way? Had they planned it like that?

  No, that didn’t make sense either. Gosling had to have decided to act on the spur of the moment, which meant he’d had something else planned originally.

  But what?

  Coffin headed back downstairs. Shaw and Stut already had a duffel bag stuffed with guns waiting for him.

  Coffin picked up the bag and headed for the door. Paused and looked back.

  Shaw and Stut hadn’t moved.

  ‘What?’ Coffin said.

  ‘We’ve, um, been thinking, Joe,’ Shaw said.

  ‘Yeah?’ Coffin said.

  ‘Yeah.’ Shaw paused, thinking for a moment. ‘We were talking, you know, while we were getting the guns together. We were thinking, like maybe it’s not such a good idea, going to the Punchline right now.’

  ‘Is that right?’ Coffin said.

  Shaw looked at Stut, but Stut wasn’t saying anything. Looked like Shaw was the spokesman.

  ‘Yeah, I mean, things are, you know, not the same anymore.’

  ‘And how’s that?’ Coffin said, placing the bag on the floor.

  ‘Well, you know, since we lost Mort and stuff, things have gone south pretty fast.’

  Coffin strode over to Shaw and grabbed him by his shirt collar, shoving him up against a wall.

  Coffin got his face right in Shaw’s.

  ‘You think I don’t know that?’ Coffin hissed. ‘You think I wanted to be in charge? That I wanted to have to pick up the huge fucking debt that Mort left us with? And don’t forget, Mort betrayed me, he betrayed you and he betrayed the Slaughterhouse Mob. Now I’m doing my best to pick things up and that’s why I took that job with that creep Gosling and his bunch of freaks.’ Coffin let go of Shaw and took a step back. ‘You want to stay, we’re heading on over to the Punchline to get our money back. You want to go, then do it. Do it now, but I’d better never see you again.’

  Shaw straightened his shirt out. Looked at Stut.

  Stut looked back at Shaw. Waiting for Shaw to make the decision.

  ‘I’m sorry, Joe,’ Shaw said.

  ‘Get out,’ Coffin snarled.

  Shaw and Stut turned and walked away. Coffin watched them until they had left the club.

  He stood still for a while, listening to the silence. Something he wasn’t used to doing in this place. Apart from two dead bodies, he was the only person here right now.

  He picked up the bag full of guns.

  Headed for the door.

  an octopus

  Emma woke up shivering and hungry. Her sleep had been fitful, interrupted by nightmares of teeth and blood and sex and bats.

  But she was awake now even if the feelings of terror lingered.

  Her legs were curled up, her knees up close to her chest, and she tried stretching them out to ease the ache in her joints. She only got halfway when her feet encountered an obstacle. She was lying on her side, facing the rear of a car seat. Her body stiffened reflexively when she remembered where she was.

  Lying on the back seat of Gerry Gilligan’s car.

  Emma kept very still, worked at slowing her breathing down, at not panicking or showing any signs that she was awake. Gilligan was sitting in the driver’s seat, puffing away on a cigarette like it might be the last one he ever smoked.

  Last night the Irishman had dragged her to his car and manhandled her inside. After her experience with Steffanie and Chitrita, Emma had been exhausted and weak. Unable to resist too much.

  Besides, the gun he had in his hand kept her from doing anything too rash.

  They had driven for several miles until Gilligan had found a place to park. Emma hadn’t recognised any place markers in the dark.

  Now there was a little daylight but Emma still had no idea where they were as the windows were all fogged up.

  ‘There’s no point pretending to be asleep, young woman,’ Gilligan said. ‘I can see you’re awake, so you might as well sit up now, mightn’t you?’

  Emma pulled herself up, lowering her legs to the floor. She ran her hand through her tangled hair.

  ‘Where are we?’ she said.

  ‘Oh, just somewhere out of the way,’ Gilligan said. ‘Somewhere to give me a little thinking time, a little planning time, that’s all.’

  ‘And what about me, what are you going to do with me?’ Emma said. ‘Do I feature in your plans?’

  ‘Ah, well now, that is an interesting question, is it not?’ Gilligan had his back to her, as though he couldn’t acknowledge her presence in his car. He sucked on his cigarette while he thought. ‘You know, it seems to me we’re both in trouble right now.’

  ‘You’re the one in trouble,’ Emma said.

  Gilligan chuckled. ‘You’re a feisty one, that you are. You’d have made a man a good wife back in the old country.’

  Emma wiped at her side window, the glass cold against her palm, the condensation running down her arm. She could see trees, nothing more.

  ‘Where are we?’ she said.

  Gilligan didn’t reply.

  ‘Where have you taken me?’

  ‘We’re in the Clent hills, young lady. I’ve parked us somewhere out of sight of the road, give us a little privacy.’

  Emma pulled at the door handle and pushed at the door, but it stayed shut.

  ‘Child locks,’ Gilligan said. ‘You wouldn’t get far, anyway.’

  Emma knew he was right. Last night, after he had bundled her in the car he had made a point of brandishing his gun in front of her face. As though she hadn’t already seen it. Placed it in a recess in the dashboard within easy reach if he needed to use it.

  No, she wouldn’t get far at all.

  Emma watched Gilligan sitting in silence. His head wreathed in a cloud of cigarette smoke. He’d brought her here to kill her, that much was obvious. He knew she was after him for Karl Edward’s murder. And that she would never give up, he knew that too.

  But why hadn’t he done it yet? Why wait until daylight when getting away with murder would be that much more difficult?

  Nick would be looking for her, he
would have been looking for her all night. What about Joe? Was he even alive still?

  But Emma doubted there was much chance of either of them finding her.

  ‘What have you found out then?’ Gilligan said, breaking the silence.

  She could see his eyes in the rear-view mirror, looking at her. Examining her.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Emma said.

  ‘I know you’ve been digging around, asking questions,’ Gilligan said. ‘You’re a reporter, of course you have. So you’ve been looking into my background and I’m asking you now, what have you found out?’

  ‘Not much,’ Emma said.

  ‘Come on, now,’ Gilligan said, still looking at her. ‘Don’t be so modest. I know what you’ve been up to, you and your friend Barry.’

  Emma’s face went cold.

  ‘Now don’t you worry your pretty little head, the young lad’s got nothing to worry about,’ Gilligan said. ‘I thought of taking him out, of course I did, but the time’s passed for that kind of thing. I’m in too deep for a little killing to make any difference.’

  ‘You’re in trouble, aren’t you?’ Emma said.

  ‘Didn’t I just tell you that?’ Gilligan said. ‘Now come on young lady, I’m curious, what have you found out?’

  ‘That you were born in County Cork in 1975 to a single mother, you moved around Ireland a lot as you grew up and you were always a trouble maker, even as a child.’

  ‘Keep going,’ Gilligan said.

  ‘You joined the Real IRA in your midtwenties, mainly because you thought it would be fun. That’s where you met Brendan, not long before he left and moved to Birmingham. That you love playing the game, and you have loyalty to no one, or no cause, but yourself,’ Emma said.

  Gilligan roared with laughter and smacked the steering wheel. ‘Go on, carry on.’

  ‘That you’ve been cosying up to the Seven Ghosts even while you’ve been a part of the Slaughterhouse Mob. You’ve been playing both sides, you’re not even loyal to the Real IRA.’

  ‘Well now, you have been a good, investigative little girl now, haven’t you?’ Gilligan said. ‘A right little Nancy Drew, that’s what you are.’

  ‘But I’m right, aren’t I?’

  Gilligan nodded slightly, thoughtful. ‘Maybe, maybe. A man’s got to look out for himself these days. It’s not like the old times when you could count on your friends, on your compadres,’ he said, grinning. ‘It’s every man, and woman, for himself these days.’

  ‘Whose side are you on right now?’ Emma said.

  ‘Haven’t you been listening to a word I say? I’m on my own side, I’m loyal to me and nobody else.’ Gilligan took a drag on his cigarette. Smoke billowed around his head, filling the car. ‘You know, I had planned on taking out Craggs and Coffin, getting my hands on the top job. And then that vampire took care of Craggs for me, which just left Joe.’

  Gilligan sighed, smoke billowing from his mouth, and then quickly took another drag.

  ‘Why didn’t you?’ Emma said.

  ‘Those fucking wet girls Shaw and Stig were supposed to be with me, helping me take Coffin down. But they backed out, didn’t they? Like the fucking spineless weasels they are.’ Gilligan shifted in his seat. Wiped his hand over his window and looked outside. ‘It’s getting late, we need to finish this soon.’

  Emma kept her mouth shut. There was no need to ask Gilligan what he meant by that.

  ‘You know, I thought about joining the church at one point?’ he said.

  ‘I find that hard to believe,’ Emma said.

  ‘It’s true. I’d got my mind set on going to theology college and then becoming a priest.’ He paused again while he took another drag on his cigarette. ‘It’s all a long time ago now. I was a young lad back then. I’d been in trouble, done some bad things.’ Gilligan looked out of his window, lost in his own thoughts. ‘I’d grown sick of it, sick of all the violence and constantly being on the lookout, you know. Like there could be trouble at any moment, and you always had to be ready. And I remember thinking to myself, what’s the fucking point? All this hurt, all this violence and anger? Surely there’s got to be more to life than that. More meaning, if you know what I’m saying.’

  ‘Why didn’t you?’ Emma said, softly.

  ‘Well, I started going to church, and I was doing it secretly, you know. If any of my mates had found out about that, I’d have been a laughingstock. And for a while there it were like I were living two lives. There were the one version of me who was doing some bad things, some very bad things during the week. And then there were the other me that went to church on a Sunday, my head still banging with an hangover from the night before. And it just made me feel even worse.’

  ‘You were conflicted,’ Emma said.

  Gilligan chuckled. ‘Now that’s some trendy psychobabble, if ever I heard any. But I suppose I was.’

  ‘Do you still believe in God?’

  Gilligan was silent for a while, his head bowed while he thought about this. He was quiet for so long that Emma wondered if she should repeat the question. It seemed to her she was on a knife edge here, that the wrong word could set him off. But she had to keep him talking. The longer they sat here, the more likely they were to be discovered.

  Eventually, Gilligan stirred. ‘I think I do, yes. Seems to me I was right all those years ago, that there must be more to this world than what we have. Pain and suffering and misery.’ Gilligan lifted his head and looked at Emma in the mirror. ‘I’m a dead man walking, did you know that?’

  Emma shook her head.

  ‘The Seven Ghosts, they’ve got people looking for me. Bad people.’

  ‘You should run, get away from here.’

  Gilligan laughed, a short, sharp bark on the edge of hysteria. ‘You think there’s anywhere I can run to that they won’t find me? They’re like an octopus, with tentacles everywhere, and they are just growing bigger and bigger and bigger.’

  ‘What do you know about the Jiangchi Corporation?’ Emma said.

  ‘Ah, now, you are a clever girl, aren’t you?’ Gilligan said. ‘The Jiangchi Corporation is the legal front for the Seven Ghosts. And the Jiangchi Corporation really does have its fingers, or tentacles you might say, in pies everywhere around the world. Casinos, entertainment, clubs, online channels, everywhere and everything. And all the money they make gets channelled back into their black market dealings, into drugs and illegal investments.’

  ‘But what’s the point?’ Emma said. ‘What are they trying to achieve?’

  ‘What’s the point?’ Gilligan cackled again. ‘Money, power, sex, what do you think? It’s always the same old story. The thing is, Nancy Drew, they want a slice of the pie in Birmingham. And although the Slaughterhouse Mob is a shadow of its former glory, the name still carries a certain cache with it, if you see what I mean.’

  ‘Are you saying the Seven Ghosts want to take over the Slaughterhouse Mob?’ Emma said.

  ‘If only that were all they wanted,’ Gilligan said. ‘No, they want to obliterate the Mob. Completely and utterly destroy it, wipe it from the collective memory. And everybody associated with it.’

  ‘But why are they looking for you?’

  Gilligan sighed. ‘When Shaw and the Stig flounced off, I threw my hand in with the Seven Ghosts. Got myself a contact there, tipped them off where Coffin was likely to be. That big bastard’s fucking indestructible. Twice they sent someone to kill him and both times they lost a guy. I tipped them off again, about the robbery on the old bird’s place. They sent a fucking army that time, and even then they couldn’t kill him.’

  Gilligan fell silent.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Emma said, finally. ‘Why are they after you now?’

  ‘Turns out they’ve got a man on the inside, someone who’s there specifically to kill Joe. No one knew, a case of the left twat not knowing what the right fucker was doing. But now they’ve got it into their heads that I knew, that I was playing some kind of double bluff, that I was trying
to get their inside man killed.’ Gilligan put his head in his hands. ‘Ah, fuck knows. Whatever those chink bastards think, they’re after me now.’

  Emma looked out of her window, through the part of the glass she had cleared with her hand. The view was smeared with water, but she could see well enough that the light was growing stronger.

  Gilligan had fallen silent. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, morose.

  He’d brought her here to kill her, Emma had no doubt about that. But now he seemed to be a little lost within himself, almost as though he had talked himself out of committing murder. Emma couldn’t be sure that wouldn’t change though. The man was obviously on a mental and emotional high wire, and when he fell off it wasn’t going to be pretty.

  Suddenly he stirred, shaking himself from his reverie. ‘It’s getting late. Let’s get this done.’

  Emma shrank back in her seat. ‘No. Whatever you’ve got planned, whatever you think you want to do to me, it’s not too late to back out. You could just leave, now, run as far away as you can.’

  ‘Haven’t I already told you? There’s nowhere far enough to go. Nowhere.’

  ‘But why kill me? That’s what you’re planning, isn’t it? To murder me?’

  ‘Oh, it’s going to be more fun that that,’ Gilligan said.

  He opened his door and climbed out of the car. He opened the rear door. In his hand he was holding the gun, and he waved it at Emma, beckoning her out of the car.

  ‘Come on now, or I’ll have to shoot you where you are and that’s going to make a mess of the car,’ he said.

  Emma climbed stiffly out. The ground was dirt and gravel. They were surrounded on all sides by woodland, apart from the dirt road leading to the parking area. Emma couldn’t see a proper tarmac road, but she had a feeling they weren’t far from one. There was one more car on the car park, but it was empty and looked like it had been abandoned some time ago.

  ‘Take the path over there,’ Gilligan said, pointing to a narrow path through the woodland.

  He slammed the rear door shut, disturbing crows from a tree, sending them flapping upwards and away, cawing as they went.

  Emma took the path Gilligan had indicated. It twisted between the trees on an incline sometimes steep enough that steps had been built into the path using thick logs. Every step of the way she could sense Gilligan right behind her.