But it wasn’t Donovan’s fault. Davie should never have allowed Fraser to come with him. He should not have hesitated when faced with his father. He should have gone for him immediately, surprised him. But instead he froze and gave Danny McCall the chance to take someone else away from him. Audrey had been right to silently accuse him. Les Fraser had been right. Davie had killed Audrey, sure as if he had wielded the blade himself. He had allowed his feelings for her to keep her close. He had ignored the creature within him, the one he had inherited from Danny McCall, and had failed to act.
And as he sat silently, watching the girl sleep, he vowed it would never happen again.
35
LUCA SAW THE young man come in and sensed his nervousness, but thought little of it. He was used to jittery young men in the café and knew he was in many ways responsible. This boy was clearly a junkie mired deeply in his addiction. His face was pale, shining with sweat despite the low mercury reading outside and when he spoke his voice had the distinctive choked sound of the seasoned user. His body shook as he asked for a cup of coffee. The boy dropped some coins with trembling fingers onto the counter top and then shuffled to a table, his hand vibrating so badly he spilled some of the liquid onto the floor. Luca sighed, knowing he’d have to clean that up.
It was a quiet night, with rain rattling against the café windows and only two other customers, a middle-aged couple Luca knew lived round the corner. Enrico had gone but Joe was there, the first time he’d made an appearance in days. He sat in his booth, watching Luca work. Luca ignored him.
The couple left, the man giving him a nod of farewell, the woman shooting him a little smile. He knew them, they were regulars, and sometimes he thought they came to his small café just to pass the time. They always ordered the same thing, a pot of tea for two and a brace of cheese toasties. It was hardly going to make him a millionaire but hell, he didn’t need their cash. He didn’t mind them nursing their tea for half an hour or so. They were a nice couple and it was good to have regulars.
He stepped into the small kitchen to fetch the mop and bucket in order to clean up the spilled coffee. When he moved back out, the boy was standing at the counter, his body pressed hard against the wood, as if it was holding him up. ‘What can I get you, kid?’ Luca asked. The boy watched him with such intensity that Luca thought, Jesus, this kid’s gonna try to rob me. He glanced at the pickaxe handle lying on its shelf just under the counter and edged closer. He couldn’t believe it, did he not know who he was? ‘You want something else?’
He laid his hand on the solid wood of the handle just as the boy raised his arm and aimed a gun directly at him. The muzzle juddered as the hand that held it shivered feverishly and Luca stepped back, his arms outstretched as if he could catch the bullet he knew was coming his way. The boy said nothing as he pulled the trigger and Luca’s chest caught fire as he jerked back, slamming into the mirrored wall behind him. The gun bucked again as the boy fired a second time and Luca felt the round slam into him, twisting his torso round. The third bullet ploughed into his back and then Luca was falling backwards, his head striking the edge of the sink below the counter. He lay on his back, hearing the boy’s footsteps, then the door opening and closing. He closed his eyes, listening to the rain lashing against the windows and wishing he was out there, just to feel its touch one last time. He felt as if he was drifting, floating free, no pain, no sensation, nothing but the sound of the rain. He opened his eyes and saw Joe looking down at him.
‘I’ll be with you soon, Joe,’ Luca said.
But Joe shook his head, almost sadly, then straightened and as he did so began to fade until there was nothing left but his voice. No, my friend, you will never see me again.
So Luca closed his eyes and listened to the rain until he floated off and he heard no more.
* * *
Bernadette McClymont lay on her back in bed, listening to her husband snoring at her side. She had grown used to the sound, could even sleep through it, but tonight she was awake, her mind filled with the events of the past few days. She knew everything about Rab’s business, he often discussed it with her beforehand, and she actively promoted some of his actions. She was not the sweet Irish colleen she pretended to be. She was tough – she’d had to be, growing up in her father’s household, with four brothers, every one of them as crooked as a mountain road. She knew the score, as they said in Glasgow. Her dad doted on her but had questioned her choice of man. He thought Rab was nothing but muscle – and a Prod, too. But she knew Rab had greatness in him. She loved him, would never allow anything to harm him. She wanted him to be top dog in the city, even if it meant getting her own hands dirty in the process.
Rab had been right in having Luca done. The old man had become nothing more than a parasite. He hadn’t contributed to the business for some time, he’d merely sat in that café of his and leeched off the hard work of others. Rab knew all that was needed about the business now. He’d been correct in having Mulvery taken out, too. He would just have come back again, wiser, stronger. Stringer would have to be watched, though. He’d turned on one boss, he could easily turn on another.
And then there was Davie.
She knew her husband had grassed his old mate and she knew the guilt weighed heavily upon him. She also knew that a part of him feared Davie McCall, and from what Bernadette had learned, he had good reason. She feared what McCall would do if he ever found out about Rab’s arrangement with the Black Knight.
That was why, through contacts of her father, she had arranged the attacks in prison.
He had proved his mettle by surviving every attempt. She liked that. It impressed her. But he remained a danger. Even so, she could not risk another bid. Luca was gone, Danny McCall was gone, and Davie remained convinced it was one or the other behind the attacks. No – she would keep him on side her own way now. She would keep him off balance by flirting with him, for that was his Achilles Heel. Oh yes, she had his measure. Others thought he was unbeatable, that he was a hardcase to his very core. Bernadette saw him differently. Old Joe had taught him well, too well. Never hurt women, children or animals. It was his weak spot.
Some day, it would be his downfall.
Author’s Note
This is a work of fiction. The events, characters, situations described here are not based on any in real-life. The places mentioned exist, of course, but what occurs in these pages is, well, fictional.
There is no fisherman’s shed on the beach at Ballantrae, so don’t go looking for it, although there are sheds at the harbour. None of them have ever been owned by Danny McCall.
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