Bad Men

by Allan Guthrie

  "Well," Jacob said, "we'll never know." Truth was, Jacob thought Pearce was probably capable of doing the job. The glaikit lump wasn't that big, but he could undoubtedly handle himself. He'd taken Rodge and Flash apart easily enough.

  "What now?" Flash asked.

  Jacob walked over to the drawer under the sink, took out the brochure, flipped it open to page eighty-three. Pointed to the property he'd circled.

  Flash grabbed the brochure, pulled out a chair and sat at the table. "Means dragging May away from school," he said. "Away from all her friends." He burped again, crushed his can.

  "But it'd get her away from that psycho husband of hers." Pearce had left Jacob with his bum hanging out the window, naked as a baby's. May was vulnerable: he had no choice now. He'd have to put down a month's deposit on the villa. Wallace would never find them in a white mountain village in Andalusia. Looked nice in the brochure. Nice and quiet. Not too many people to ask awkward questions. Perfect, eh?

  Spain, though. Made his stomach churn. Made his nose ache all the harder. Not so much Spain itself, he was sure it'd be fine, but the idea of leaving home after all this time. He didn't want to leave his familiar surroundings and learn a new language and live in constant heat, even if it was just for a year or two. Ah, he was being old and stupid again. Got to make sacrifices for your bairns or you were no kind of father. He couldn't risk staying, no doubt about that. Not with May in her condition. And anywhere else in Britain, Wallace would hunt them down. Jacob was sure of that. Distance. It was all about putting distance between Wallace and May.

  Oh, it was bad. Pearce had let him down.

  Wouldn't be quite as bad once the baby was born. Jacob wouldn't be so worried, and maybe they could come back then, but at the moment, he was terrified she'd lose it if they stayed.

  That was that, then. Off to Andalusia.

  The kitchen door swung open and Rodge said, "Seen my swimming goggles anywhere?"

  Flash said, "They so's you can stick your head underwater and grab an eyeful of young men in their bathing trunks?"

  Rodge ran over to him and punched him on the shoulder. "How are your nuts?"

  "Maricon," Flash said, formed a fist and threatened Rodge with it.

  "Dad, help," Rodge said. "He's using Spanish on me."

  Jacob couldn't take their schoolboy banter at the moment. He knew it didn't do any real harm, but it was driving him doolally. Having Rodge around was fine, but having Flash and Rodge around together was sometimes hard. He shouted, "Will you two stop it?"

  "Sorry, Dad," Flash said.

  Rodge scurried out of the kitchen, grinning.

  When Jacob first brought up the idea of leaving the country, Rodge had offered to accompany May, but Jacob wouldn't let him. Rodge had a life and a career here and Jacob didn't want to interrupt it. Jacob was retired, his wife had died nearly six years ago, and he only had one close friend, Norrie. He could leave the country tomorrow and hardly anybody would notice.

  "Definitely got enough money for this?" Flash asked, indicating the brochure.

  Jacob nodded. They had the money they were going to use to pay for a bodyguard. What with Jacob's savings, and a couple of grand that Flash had promised, the kitty stood at nearly fifteen thousand. It ought to be enough to rent the villa for as long as they needed. Didn't have a swimming pool, but May would just have to deal with that. Probably not safe anyway with a baby about. Didn't have to worry about their home in Edinburgh. Annie's death had paid off the mortgage, which was some small consolation for the fact that it wasn't right that a man's wife should die before him, not when she was younger by ten years. He missed her. He still missed her. When she died, it was as if his heart had been stolen, and he hadn't got it back yet.

  Flash closed the brochure. "There must be another way," he said.

  Jacob wished there was. He really didn't want to have to go to Spain.

  If Pearce wasn't prepared to take on the job, maybe Jacob could look elsewhere. But he needed someone in place quickly. And how did you do that? Did bodyguards advertise? The sort he was looking for? Rodge had proved that a bouncer was no use against a trained fighter. It was tricky. Anything to avoid Spain, though. Maybe he could try Cooper again, see if there wasn't someone else he could recommend.

  A rap on the front door, and moments later a familiar face appeared in the kitchen doorway. Norrie nodded towards Flash. "Cheers, boss," he said to Jacob. "You okay? Hard to tell with that nose of yours, but it looks to me like you've got your sad face on."

  Jacob was glad to see Norrie. "Cup of tea, pal?"

  Rodge stood in the kitchen doorway dangling his goggles on the end of his finger.

  Jacob knew Flash was making obscene gestures under the table, but he said nothing.

  "We're off, then," May said, giving Jacob a peck on the cheek. "Catch you later, Flash. Norrie."

  Norrie raised his mug of tea.

  "Have fun," Jacob said. She was still doing her best to come to terms with Louis's death and Jacob wished he could help her. Louis had been her dog. They'd buried him in the front garden last night. Hadn't let her see the body, just told her he'd been run over. No point alarming her.

  She closed the door behind her.

  Jacob worried every time she left the house. But he couldn't imprison her. And today she had Rodge to chaperone her. Not great, but the best they could do under the circumstances. A public place, they'd be safe enough. If Wallace was going to try something, he'd do it where there weren't any witnesses. He was mad, but he was also canny.

  Anyway, now May was gone, Jacob, Flash and Norrie could talk freely. Norrie was a rock. He'd come out of his accident stronger than ever. A bit distracted maybe sometimes, but not so you'd noticed if you weren't looking or didn't know what had happened.

  Flash said, "So if it's definitely Spain, I'll need to give you a crash course in español."

  Big family joke. When Flash was about ten years old, he'd claimed to be a fluent Spanish speaker. And he was serious. He'd picked up about half a dozen words, and thought he'd mastered the language. He was odd that way. Jacob remembered when Flash was a toddler, about three years old, sitting in the back of the car, saying, "Daddy. I know everything." What he meant, Jacob realised afterwards, was that he could name everything he could see. It was as if his imagination was constricted. He couldn't see beyond what he knew. These days, Flash still thought he knew everything. He could say no problemo, so he was muy fluente.

  "I'd appreciate that," Jacob said.

  "You can't go to Spain," Norrie said. "It's not right. That ... swine can't dic ... tate where you should live your life."

  "Been thinking that, too," Jacob said. "But I don't see an alternative."

  "There's only one thing to do, Jacob," Norrie said. "You know that. Flash knows that. Even Rodge knows that."

  Flash got to his feet, walked a few steps, then bent over and started to play with the lace on his right shoe. He tied a bow, then untied the whole thing and straightened up. He wedged his hands into the pockets of his baggy pants and looked at Norrie, the shadows under his eyes darker than usual. "You mean what I think you mean?" he said.

  "It's the only way to be sure."

  "If we can't find a bodyguard for May," Flash said, rubbing his shoulder, "how are we going to persuade somebody to kill Wallace?" He looked at his father.

  Well, now, that was a good question. Jacob had considered asking Cooper if he could talk to his friend, Park. Park was a hit man. Well, not officially, but it was an open secret. He was in prison at the moment, got sent down with Cooper, but he might know someone else in the same line of work. Dunno, did hitmen socialise together? Jacob had considered doing the dirty deed himself. But taking Wallace out, pleasure though it may be, was not as easy as it might seem. Might be possible to get close enough. But getting away with it was a different story.

  Flash was clearly thinking the same thing. "Be pretty obvious we were responsible."

  Norrie looked at him. "Wallace has a mil
lion enemies."

  Jacob said, "Tell that to the police, Norrie." He still couldn't believe they'd spent the night in jail. Wallace threatens them, they defend themselves against him, and they're the ones who're punished. Is that justice?

  No wonder Wallace was grinning all over his baby face.

  Maybe Norrie had the right idea. Consign Plan A to the dustbin. Implement Plan B. They'd reached the end of the line.

  Just a matter of finding someone to do the job. Wasn't it always?

  Flash said, "Maybe we could offer Wallace the money on condition he fucks off for good."

  Jacob said, "You'd trust him to uphold his side of the deal?"

  "I suppose not."

  There was more. Jacob could tell that Flash wasn't finished. He sat back in his seat, folded his arms and waited.

  After a bit of lip-chewing and a quick pull on his gold earring, Flash said, "Maybe we can persuade Pearce. Maybe ..." He paused while Jacob indicated with a brief shake of the head that he should continue. " ... we should apply a bit more pressure."

  Same thing had occurred to Jacob. Question was, how? Pearce was as tough, maybe tougher than Wallace. Which is why Jacob had dismissed the idea. "Threatening Pearce won't do any good."

  "Depends," Flash said, "on the threat."

  Jacob looked at Norrie. "What do you think?"

  Norrie said, "Nah."

  "I agree with Norrie," Jacob said. "It's kill Wallace or nothing."

  REVOLVER

  Jacob watched May through the window. Her hair was still damp from swimming. She was talking to the dog, or rather to the mound of earth under which Louis was dead and buried. She hadn't cried once, which worried Jacob. Norrie was standing next to her, head down.

  Jacob turned to face his sons and said, "I'll do it."

  "Even if we agree to this," Flash said, "you can't kill him". Flash had taken Rodge aside and briefed him on what he'd missed while he was out with May. Rodge had agreed that killing Wallace was a good idea.

  Jacob said, "Why not?"

  "Dad, you know why not. You'll get caught, sent to prison."

  "And you think that's too high a price to pay? How can you say that, Flash? How can you put a price on the life of May's unborn child?"

  Flash lowered his gaze. Jacob knew there was no answer. So did his son. Well, both his sons knew.

  Rodge said, "You think you could do it, Dad? Really think you could pull the trigger?"

  Jacob looked at his hands. Old man's hands. Knobbly and thick-veined, with a constant little shake to them. Could he? Once upon a time, aye. But now? The truth was he didn't know. "There's only one way to find out."

  "Dad," Flash said. "I'll do it."

  Jacob paid Cooper a prison visit. He was surprised that the visiting room was open-planned. He'd expected partitions, having to speak to Cooper on the phone. But they were sitting at a desk. They could touch if they wanted to. Only two guards in the room, although there were lots of cameras and probably other guards watching the video.

  Cooper had a yellowing bruise on his chin, a cut over his left eye.

  Jacob said, "You're looking well."

  "Like you can speak, Jake."

  Jacob's hand went to his nose, hovered there without touching it, then dropped back to the table. "Still the hard man, eh? That's what I like to see."

  Cooper said, "Okay, I look a right bloody mess and I know it. It's no fucking picnic in here, whatever the papers might have you believe." He flexed his fingers. The index finger was nicotine-stained. "You should see the other guy." He smiled. Couldn't hold it. His lips began twitching.

  "Only one?" Jacob asked him.

  Cooper dropped the smile and pursed his lips. His voice was quiet. "Four," he said. "There were four of them."

  Sounded like Cooper could use some counselling. Jacob was going to suggest it, but decided that counselling probably wasn't Cooper's bag.

  After a while, Cooper sniffed hard, said, "No luck with Pearce, then?"

  Jacob shook his head.

  "Didn't offer him enough money?" Cooper asked.

  "Just the job. He didn't much fancy it. I don't think I managed to convince him of the seriousness of the situation. He thought I was overreacting."

  Cooper scratched his earlobe. "What you going to do, then?"

  Jacob glanced around, then whispered, "Kill him."

  "Kill Pearce? That's harsh."

  "Cut it out, Cooper. You know who I mean."

  "If you weren't my uncle I'd plant you for telling me what to do."

  Jacob stared at him. Cooper was such a big-mouthed fathead. Even as a kid, he annoyed the crap out of everybody with his cockiness. His dad should have skelped his bahookie more often. His dad, Jacob's brother-in-law, had been a real waste of space, though. Quietly drank himself to death over the years while nobody was looking.

  "Yeah," Cooper said, the muscles in his cheeks taut. "But lucky for you, you are."

  "Come on, Cooper. Drop the macho crap, will you?"

  "Drop the fucking macho crap in here you'll have some queer up your arse first time you bend down to tie your laces."

  Jacob couldn't help feeling sorry for his nephew, even if he was a complete animal. Blood was thicker than disgust. Mind you, where Cooper was concerned, it was a close-run thing.

  "So," Cooper continued, his voice breaking, "you looking to take out a contract on Wallace?"

  "I was thinking of doing it myself," Jacob said.

  Cooper put his hand over his mouth. He cleared his throat. Jacob could see that Cooper was grinning behind his fingers. And on this occasion he wasn't having any trouble holding his smile.

  "What do you have to smirk about?" Jacob said. Couldn't help himself.

  Cooper shook his head, still grinning. He let his fingers slip from his mouth.

  Jacob leaned forward, his stomach pitching and rolling, a buzzing in his temples, and said, "Maybe one of your boyfriends might fancy the job? Want to ask for me?"

  Cooper stood up, fists balled.

  Jacob thought, here we go. Lights out. Jesus, he'd made a big mistake. Cooper would go crazy, tear him into strips. Jacob's stomach was somersaulting. But he got to his feet, too, and realised they were attracting unwanted attention. "You're a disgrace to your family," he said in a whisper. If Cooper had been ... you know ... by those four, well, that was a kind of justice. Maybe not justice enough for what he'd done to end up in prison – beaten a poor woman to death with a baseball bat – but it was something. "Now sit down and compose yourself," Jacob said, "or you'll have a ... guard over here." He'd been about to say ‘screw' but caught himself at the last minute.

  Cooper clenched his teeth. His eyes swept the room. Slowly, he sat down. He shifted in his chair, staring at Jacob, the heat gradually leaving his face.

  "Hate me all you like," Jacob said. "I don't give a tinker's curse. Just tell me where I can get a gun."

  Cooper said, "Why should I?"

  Jacob shrugged. "Rumours, Cooper," he told him. "They can hurt a man. Damage his reputation."

  Cooper eyeballed him. Jesus, he looked mad. Maybe Jacob had gone too far. How the hell had this happened? Something to do with the fact that he'd been pleased when he realised what had happened to Cooper. Couldn't keep it a secret. Didn't want to keep it a secret. That was it. He wanted Cooper to know what he thought of him.

  Aye, screw him. The guy was blood, but he was bad blood.

  Cooper was looking down at his hands. After a while, he looked up and told Jacob where he could get a gun. Then he told him where he could shove it.

  Twenty-four hours later, Jacob and Norrie were sitting opposite a heavy man with a Mohican haircut, who was holding a gun that looked like it was last used during the American Civil War.

  "You claiming that thing works?" Norrie asked.

  "Trust me." Joe-Bob pulled a face. Presumably it was supposed to convey innocence, but it was the kind of face you'd pull if you were lying through your teeth.

  Anyway, how could you trus
t someone called Joe-Bob?

  "He doesn't want it," Norrie said. "Eh, boss?"

  Jacob nodded.

  Joe-Bob said, "Well, that's all I've got."

  Norrie nudged Jacob. Jacob said, "Then I'll take my business elsewhere."

  "Best of luck."

  "Thanks, but I won't need it."

  "Yeah?" Joe-Bob said. "Think it's easy to find someone to sell you a gun?"

  "I found you. I can find someone else." Jacob paused. "Worst case scenario, I'll go through to Glasgow." He waited a minute. "Go to any pub in Govan." He grinned to show he wasn't being serious. "Isn't that how it works?"

  Joe-Bob ran his tongue over his lips. "I like your style, Mr Smith." He took the gun from the table, held it. "And Mr Jones isn't wrong about this," he said, turning towards Norrie. "It's a real piece of shit."

  Flash said, "You can't do it, Dad."

  "What alternative is there?"

  "I told you. I'll do it." Flash was serious, poor kid.

  "Who are you trying to fool?" Jacob asked him. "Pearce beat the crap out of you. What chance would you have against Wallace?"

  "I didn't have a gun before."

  "That's right. Just a knife." Jacob paused. He'd hurt Flash with that comment and he hadn't meant to. "Look," he said, "maybe I can find someone else to do it."

  "We can't afford it."

  Jacob was silent. Flash was probably right.

  "Anyway," Flash said, "we'd be throwing our money away. I'll do it for free."

  "You won't," Jacob said. "There's no point gaining a grandson only to lose a son. I don't want you spending the rest of your life in prison." He thought of Cooper. There were four of them. "You never know what might happen to you inside."

  Pearce finished reading an article in the newspaper about yet another rape. The police suspected it was the fourth by the same guy. Offered lifts to his victims, then drove them to a secluded spot, like an industrial estate or a churchyard. Yeah, two were abused in God's shadow. Fucking God by proxy, Pearce figured. Guy was clearly a religious nut. Probably couldn't hack it as a priest. Too friendly with his parishioners. Got ex-communicated and was paying God back in his own special way. If Pearce was God he'd get a baseball bat and fuck the bastard with it, then pound the shit out of his balls until they burst. Give him a full-length circumcision with a pair of scissors to round things off. Wouldn't be so keen to use his cock after that.