‘Aye, it’s in the car park at the St Enoch’s Centre. Why do you ask, Zander?’
‘Give me the keys!’
‘Eh? Come on, big man. You’ve had a few.’
‘Just give me them!’ Finn’s eyes flashed. ‘And don’t worry about the car, I’ll buy you another one if anything goes wrong.’
‘Are you sure? I mean, if you get caught, they’ll throw away the key.’
‘Just let me worry about that. What’s the make and model – the reggie?’
Reluctantly, Willie reached under the bar and fished out a set of car keys. ‘It’s a pink Mini. “WES” are the last letters on the plate. You can’t miss it.’
Finn looked him up and down.
‘It’s my daughter’s motor. She’s in Australia.’ He shrugged.
Finn grabbed the keys and shot out of the door.
‘A pink Mini? Fuck me. How do you manage to get into the bloody thing?’ said Jackie.
‘Just you keep drinking,’ Willie replied.
*
Kevin Mannion pulled up outside a one-storey building on the far south side of Glasgow. It stood alone in some trees, a relatively new construction, though with an unkempt quality about it. Boarded-up windows, sprays of graffiti on the walls and broken glass in the car park adding to the impression.
‘Well, what do you think?’ said Kevin.
‘What is it?’ Gillian asked.
‘It’s an old Chinese restaurant. I picked it up for buttons.’ He smiled broadly.
‘Oh, great. What are you going to do with it?’
‘I know it doesn’t look much just now. But it has real potential.’
‘It’s a bit far out.’ Gillian looked out of the car windows at the surrounding area. She could see some distant houses and a factory nearer by. ‘It doesn’t exactly have a big catchment area, does it? And you’re not Chinese.’
‘You have no vision. I’m going to turn it into a tech bar.’
‘A what?
‘A tech bar. You know, with VR headsets, big screens – all the latest stuff. Serve food, coffee – energy drinks. There’s a railway station not far away. I’m telling you, it’ll be great.’
Gillian bit her lip. ‘You don’t think that Sandra is going to be able to work in here, do you? Have you any idea how time-consuming having a baby is?’
‘I’m not daft! This is for me – us. Something we can make money from, buy a proper house instead of a flat. It’ll be our own, not my dad’s. You must understand that, Gildy.’
She smiled. ‘Yes, I see what you’re doing. Just like me, really. Though instead of acting, you’re running a pub.’
‘Don’t call it a pub! Come on, I’ll show you inside. I have the keys.’
Gillian was caught up in his obvious enthusiasm for the project. Old-fashioned pubs were closing down all over the place. But this idea seemed to be a good one. Everyone her age loved phones, laptops and tablets – gaming. But not everyone could afford the expensive devices. She supposed that Kevin’s idea was a sound one.
Gillian followed him out of the car. She looked at her phone: no signal. ‘You’ll have to get 5G, there’s nothing here.’
‘Don’t worry. There will be superfast broadband all round.
Gillian shrugged. ‘Okay, Mr Tesla, lead on.’
‘Who?’ Kevin looked confused.
‘Never mind. Just show me this great new idea.’
*
Finn was speeding towards his eldest daughter’s flat through heavy traffic. It was all he could think to do. Nobody else was answering. He’d called her, but, as expected, there was no reply. Unlike Gillian, Sandra hadn’t forgiven him for disappearing. Their relationship was ice cold, despite his attempts to welcome her Mannion boyfriend to the family. Mannion.
He was stopped at traffic lights when he heard a car horn sound repeatedly. He looked across at the car in the next lane to his. Two young lads were blowing kisses at him. At first Finn was confused, but then he realised he was driving a pink Mini.
As they pulled away from the lights, he gave them a single finger gesture.
Finn looked at his watch. It was at least another fifteen minutes until he made it to Sandra’s. Desperately thinking what to do, he dialled a number.
‘Hello, Zander.’ Donnie Paton’s voice was calm and reassuring. He was back at his desk in Chancellor Fabrications. Though everyone else had left for the evening, he had things to do; things that were best done out of the gaze of secretaries and other colleagues.
‘Donnie, I don’t have much time. I want you to round everyone up. This is serious. I’ll explain.’
Paton listened, and when Finn was finished he nodded. ‘Okay, try not to panic, Zan. I’ll round up the troops. We’re ready, you know that.’
‘Okay, thanks, Donnie. I know I can rely on you, buddy.’
Paton heard the call click off. He scrolled down his contacts until he came to the initials ‘MG’. He pressed the screen and put the phone back to his ear.
‘ACC Green, please.’ Within moments, he was connected.
‘Well,’ said Mary Green at the Organised Crime Unit, ‘I didn’t think we’d be speaking again so soon, Mr Paton.’
Paton told her about the call he’d received from Finn. ‘He’s desperate, that’s for sure.’
ACC Mary Green thought for a few moments. ‘Okay, do as he says. Assemble your merry band of men. Make sure they come armed.’
‘What?’
‘Just do as I say, Mr Paton.’
‘So you’re going to spring them when they’re tooled up. What about me?’
‘You’ll wait until they arrive, make an excuse and tell them you have to pop out for a few minutes. Let’s say a little job for Mr Finn you can’t tell them about. When you’re on the road, call me. Then we’ll call in the cavalry.’
Paton’s face was pale now. ‘What about Zander?’
‘Well, I think he’s about to meet his nemesis, is he not?’
‘And you’ll just let that happen?’
‘Mr Paton, I know how sentimental you are about your criminal associates. But you can be assured of this: the ship is going down, whether you like it or not. If you want to be on that ship – well, stay. If not, and you want a clean break – a new name, a new life – then you’ll do as I say.’
‘So, people will die. I’ve known him since he was a boy!’
‘How many other boys did you know that have been lying in the ground for years?’
‘A few.’
‘Also, I want to rid my country of shit like Finn. If, like the other night, one violent criminal chooses to turn on another – well, so be it. Saves me a job and the country a great deal of money. Do you see?’
‘Yes.’ Paton’s tone was one of sad resignation.
‘Think, very soon now you’ll be free from all this. Oh, have you copied the books, as I asked?’
‘I’m doing it now. I had no idea all this would kick off.’
‘Belts and braces, then. Leave them in your desk, where I can find them. Just in case we need anything on Zander Finn.’ She ended the call.
Paton sighed. He inserted a flash drive in the computer on his desk. The real set of books – the ghost books, as Zander Finn always referred to them – were enough to put him in jail for years for tax evasion and other financial crimes.
Before he could start the computer rolling he heard the buzzer coming from the front door. ‘Fuck!’ he swore. With a bit of luck one of the boys had heard about Finn’s plight and they’d turned up early. If that was the case, they could call round the rest of the crew while he was busy with his clandestine work for ACC Green.
As he left his office to go and answer the door, he wondered what life would be like from now on. He’d wanted to move abroad for years. Now was his chance, and all paid for by the taxpayer, the very people he’d been defrauding for so long. But Donald Paton wasn’t sentimental about it. He should have taken over the family when Willie Finn had died. The man had been a liability. I
t had been down to Paton that the young Zander Finn was able to run and grow their ‘business’. Did he feel guilty for saving his own skin? No. He’d suffered enough.
He hurried down the stairs as fast as his arthritic knees would allow – another reason for living somewhere warm, he considered.
*
Sandra Finn had enjoyed the long lunch with her sister, but she’d become more uncomfortable the longer she’d sat on the restaurant chair. She was glad to be home. All she wanted was a mug of herbal tea and to go for a lie-down.
She filled the kettle and looked out of her kitchen window at the long expanse of communal gardens at the back of the flats. They were well tended by the residents, and she often found herself staring out of this window, letting her mind wander.
She noticed a robin frighten away some starlings. It was a sure sign that winter was on the way. She remembered reading that robins were one of the most violent birds to be found, often fighting each other to death. If they were the size of eagles, there would likely be no other bird in the sky.
The size of eagles.
The words stuck with her.
She waddled to the cupboard, holding her aching back with both hands. She found the herbal teabags and went in search of her favourite china mug. Kevin was obsessively tidy, which sometimes annoyed her. She had to stand on tiptoes to reach the shelf where the mugs were kept.
Just as she managed to hook her fingers around the mug, she was doubled in two by a sharp pain in her stomach, sending the mug smashing to the ground.
Sandra was leaning against the kitchen unit now, agony etched across her face.
‘Shit, not now,’ she mumbled to herself. When she looked at her feet, she saw a wet pool. Suddenly she felt dizzy and fell to the floor, head spinning. As she landed, her face fell into one of the shards of what remained of her favourite mug.
Desperately, with blood pouring down her cheek, Sandra tried to pull herself to her feet. The fall had twisted her knee, and the slick laminate floor made matters worse.
She flopped back against the kitchen wall, screaming in pain. ‘Kevin, where the fuck are you?’
*
Kevin Mannion turned first one key in a large padlock, then another in the door and pushed it open. He searched with one hand and flicked on a switch, bringing some strip lights bursting into life above them.
Gillian looked round. They were standing in a dusty, tiled corridor. The place smelled of decay and rotting food. Gillian screwed up her face in distaste.
‘Don’t worry, we’ll soon get things cleaned up.’ He beckoned her forward. ‘Come and see the main area.’
They stepped into a room, which, without Kevin doing anything, was quickly illuminated in bright lights. It took a second for Gillian to note that they weren’t alone. Three figures stood before them.
‘Ah, young Miss Finn,’ said Joe Mannion deliberately, as though he were a foreigner speaking slowly to make sure he got it right.
‘What’s he doing here?’ Gillian turned to Kevin, but he was already edging away down the tiled corridor, a guilty look on his face.
‘You promised, Dad. Don’t hurt her,’ he said earnestly.
‘Just you get back to that fat-bellied girl of yours. You did the deal. I bought you this place in return for bringing the charming Gillian here. Done! Now get to fuck.’
Gillian began to shake, as Kevin headed towards the door. He shook his head and shot her a look of apology.
‘Sandra will never forgive you, you bastard!’ shouted Gillian.
For a moment, the glow of streetlights shone through the opened door as Kevin Mannion disappeared, slamming it shut behind him.
‘And who’s going to tell your sister what our Kevin did?’
‘What?’ Gillian spun to face Joe Mannion.
‘Och, dear, it pains me to do this, but there’s a lot of dosh at stake. Anyway, they tell me you tried to top yourself not that long ago. You can’t be that happy with your life.’ He said this while puffing clouds of cigar smoke into the fetid air. ‘When somebody finds you dead in some dive full of drugs, well, there’s only one conclusion.’
‘And you think my father will let you get away with this?’
‘That’s just why you’re here. You’re about to phone Daddy and tell him that you need him to come and rescue you. You know what a noble guy your father is. He’ll come running to save his favourite little daughter.’
‘Phone him yourself. I’m not doing it!’
Gillian was grabbed from behind, both arms pulled back painfully. Mannion put his face in hers, as she struggled with the pain. ‘You’ll do just what I ask you. It’s my mate Sammy that has a grip of you, by the way. He’s an expert at getting folk to do what he wants them to do. Aren’t you, Sammy?’
‘Sure am, big man.’
‘Fuck you!’ Gillian spat in his face and screamed in pain as Sammy Sloane pulled sharply on her twisted arms.
Mannion wiped the spit from his face with a hanky and glared at her. ‘Do that one more time and I’ll make sure when you’re finally dispatched it’ll be long and very painful.’
Despite herself, Gillian felt a sob rack her body.
Mannion grabbed her chin and pulled it up so she was looking straight into his eyes. ‘That old granny of yours. I’m guessing you like her, aye?’
‘What?’
‘You see, she’s about to take a tumble out of that window of hers – you know, the one on the seventeenth floor.’
‘I don’t believe you!’ Gillian screamed.
‘Well, you’re here, aren’t you? I mean, we did consider trying to lure Zander to come and save her, but I reckoned nobody – not even him – gives a flying fuck about that old tart, right?’ He stood up and relit his cigar. ‘Grab her phone, Davie.’
A man appeared from behind Mannion. ‘Where will I look, big man?’
‘Och, maybe she’s got it hidden in her hair,’ said Mannion.
‘You think?’
‘In her fucking handbag, you halfwit!’
‘Oh aye, right enough.’ Davie, a squat, powerful-looking man covered in colourful tattoos, grabbed the bag hanging from Gillian’s shoulder. But she was struggling so much he found it impossible to look inside.
‘Here,’ said Mannion. He handed Davie a long-bladed stiletto knife. ‘Cut the straps, for fuck’s sake.’
When Davie did as he was asked, the bag fell onto the floor. He picked it up and handed it to Mannion.
The man with the cigar clamped between his teeth rummaged in the young woman’s handbag. ‘You know, maybe you can answer this question for me. What do you need with a huge bag like this? See, when I was a boy, women had neat wee bags. You could go on holiday for a fortnight with this bloody thing.’ He smiled, cigar still between his teeth, as he pulled the mobile phone from the bag. He let the handbag drop at his feet and looked at the screen. ‘Now, you be a clever lassie and unlock this.’
‘No, I won’t do it.’
‘Suit yourself. Jim, fetch the buckets of water and that towel.’
‘If you want to give me a wash, I’m perfectly clean, thank you.’ Gillian screamed again as Sammy Sloane pulled her arms. They felt as though they would either snap or pop out of their sockets at any moment. The pain was excruciating. It was Sammy’s trademark.
‘Wash you? No, you smell quite sweet enough as it is. I’m going to drown you.’
Gillian screamed.
*
The steel door was heavy. It was locked at a number of points, but Donald Paton had his keys. When he pulled it open, he was surprised to see the man standing on the pavement. He knew him, of course. But somehow, seeing him here at Chancellor, he seemed out of place.
A light drizzle was now falling from the darkening sky over Abercorn Street. ‘Come in, come in. I’m afraid it’s not a very good time.’ Paton showed his new guest into the hallway beside the main office. ‘But I’ll do my best to help if I can.’ He locked the door and was about to take his visitor up to his office w
hen he felt a jarring pain in the small of his back. Before he could turn, strong hands caught him around the neck.
The room began to spin, as his pain and desperation increased. His attacker was muttering something, but not intended for the man he was strangling.
For Donald Paton, everything went black.
48
Zander Finn pulled the Mini up onto the pavement outside Sandra’s block of flats.
An old man shook his head at him as he left the car. ‘You can’t park here,’ he shouted. ‘You’ve not got a parking permit.’
‘Mind your own business,’ said Finn, as he ran for the close door.
‘Cheeky bastard,’ the man spat, then carried on his slow march down the road.
Finn bounded up the steps and hammered on Sandra’s door. ‘Open up! I need to speak to you!’ He was breathless, his heart pounding.
There was no sound of approaching footsteps in the hall, so he put his ear to the door. It was then he heard a distant cry for help.
‘Sandra!’ he yelled. When there was no answer, he put his shoulder to the door. It took a few hits to make an impression, by which time his shoulder ached. Wood snapped, but to gain full entry he had no choice other than to kick the door in.
Finn ran into the hallway. He could hear his daughter shouting again, her desperate cry coming from the kitchen.
‘Dad,’ she said, as she saw her father appear round the kitchen door.
Finn took in the scene with barely disguised horror. His eldest daughter’s face was plastered with blood, and she looked pale and frightened. ‘Who did this to you?’
‘What?’ Sandra tried to move.
‘Who did this. I want to know now!’
‘I’m having a baby, you idiot!’
‘What?’ Finn looked confused.
‘The baby – my waters have broken.’
‘Shit!’
‘My father: just the man for a crisis. Please, you have to get me to hospital.’ Sandra’s face was distorted with pain.
‘Okay, I’ll call an ambulance.’ Finn pulled the phone from his pocket.
‘Are you still living in the eighties, Dad? I can’t wait for an ambulance. You’ll have to take me.’
‘Right, okay.’ Finn stood over her helplessly.
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