How To Kill Friends And Implicate People

by Jay Stringer

  If looks could kill, I don’t think Sam would be ending me on the spot, but I’d need urgent medical attention. ‘I’m not handing him over to be killed.’

  ‘Look, Sam, I hear you. I do.’ I try my nicest, most reasonable voice. ‘But we don’t have a lot of options here. You don’t want to kill him. Neither of us want me to do any more killing.’

  ‘I agree with this,’ Robinson says.

  ‘I’m okay with you killing him,’ Phil says, which draws a glare from both Sam and Robinson.

  I carry on. ‘And the one thing we know for sure right now is that we can’t hand him over to the polis. Mike Gibson is the best way out. Everyone can be happy with that.’

  ‘Not me,’ Robinson says.

  I raise a fist and say, ‘This isn’t a democracy.’

  ‘You’re right,’ says Sam. ‘It’s not. It’s my office.’

  Sam pulls Phil with her through to the small room at the back for a private talk. Robinson smiles up at me. ‘I’m rooting for you two crazy kids to work it out,’ he says. ‘If it helps?’

  With Sam out of sight, I punch him a couple times.

  Enough to knock him out.

  EIGHTY-SIX

  SAM

  08:43

  In our small office, I settled onto the edge of the desk and Phil took his own seat. We watched each other in silence, waiting to see who would speak first.

  ‘I think he’s right, Sam,’ Phil said, quietly.

  Part of me agreed. The part that would cut a red light on my bike if there was no traffic around. It was a voice that had kept me alive a couple of times in the past, when I’d walked away from cases that could be too big.

  Take the easy way out.

  Hell,

  Take the only way out.

  And hadn’t this always been where the Gibson case was headed? I knew from the minute Mike asked me to find Cal that the old man would want to beat on his son. But that had felt different, somehow, to handing Todd over to Mike.

  But without Hanya, I didn’t know which cops I could trust. Handing Todd back to them was most likely a death sentence for me, Phil and Fergus.

  And when did I start thinking of us as a trio?

  I nodded. Phil understood. We could hand Todd over, but I didn’t want to say it. Making it verbal was a step I wasn’t ready to take. Somehow, leaving it unsaid was easier.

  I eased off the desk and walked back out into the main room. Phil trailed after me. I saw him give a small nod to Fergus, who read the same signal. Phil started making a call on his mobile. He stepped over to the doorway to speak outside, where I couldn’t hear.

  Well, look at what a messed up little team we made.

  Todd was unconscious. I thought for a second he might have died. He’d been shot three times, after all. Fergus shook his head, and said Todd was just ‘taking a wee nap’.

  We had another big problem to deal with. Despite knowing what the whole conspiracy had been about, we were still as trapped as when I’d talked to Hanya at Belahouston Park. There was nobody to turn to.

  ‘There has to be a way out if this,’ I said out loud.

  Fergus asked, ‘How’d you mean?’

  ‘We can’t go to the cops. We can’t go to the papers. You’ve got a laptop full of proof, but who could we trust to publish it? The only way would be to put it online.’

  ‘I don’t think that would help, anyway,’ Fergus said. ‘People like MHW, they’re all doing bad things all the time, and all the information is available on the net, but it doesn’t stop it happening. Most people don’t go looking for the details.’

  ‘He’s right,’ Phil said, joining us. ‘Just putting it online wouldn’t help. A page full of numbers? Dates? Business deals? Nobody will look. Not without something that’s a quick sell, you know, something sexy or sound-bitey.’

  ‘So we’re still trapped,’ I growled in frustration and dropped down onto the sofa.

  ‘It’s not looking good,’ Fergus said. ‘Aye. The cartel on one side, Joe on the other. One of them has already put a red flag out on you. Between the two of them, we can’t go to the cops or the press, and they can make any proof of us disappear. I’ve got cash,’ Fergus turned to me. ‘A lot. I can pay for us three to vanish.’

  There was no way I wanted to touch anything of his ever again.

  ‘I don’t want your money,’ I said. I made it as frosty as I could. ‘And I don’t want to run away.’

  ‘I don’t know, Sammy.’ Phil sat down next to me. ‘Maybe we should. Maybe he’s right. If there’s no way to win, why don’t we just get the hell out of the trap?’

  I would never have expected this kind of realism from Phil. He was the dreamer. The geek. The guy with the crazy talk and the stupid theories. ‘What about all your usual talk?’ I said. ‘All your superhero stuff. You’d hate it if they just gave up and hid.’

  ‘I don’t think we’re in that kind of story,’ he sighed. He looked broken. I hated it. ‘I think we’re in something more like Watchmen.’

  Todd, who had come to at my feet without us noticing, coughed and spat before saying, ‘Forget it, Jake, it’s Glasgow.’

  Fergus stood up. He pulled his gun. ‘In that case,’ he said. ‘I’ll just have to give them what they want.’

  EIGHTY-SEVEN

  FERGUS

  12:00

  I’m stood in the doorway of Anderston train station.

  It’s noon, and we’re running late.

  It’s the perfect place to meet Joe. The station is on a concrete island, cut off on all sides by traffic, and with the M8 motorway above us. Even on a sunny day like this, Anderston is dark and secluded.

  Sure, there are cars driving by us constantly, but none of them will notice. Who would be watching out for a conversation between strangers, while driving on one of the busiest stretches of road in Scotland?

  All manner of deals go down here. And the cops have learned to keep an eye on the area, but that won’t matter to us, because the cops are in on it already.

  I’m holding my Ruger. Robinson’s weapon is tucked into the small of my back, just in case.

  There’s movement at the other end of the concrete island, and Joe Pepper steps out into the light, starts walking toward us.

  I let him see my gun and he nods an acknowledgement. I press it into Sam’s back and say, ‘Okay. Time to go. And be scared.’

  We walk out to meet Joe in the middle of the island.

  EIGHTY-EIGHT

  SAM

  12:05

  I felt the gun at my back.

  ‘Time to go,’ Fergus said. ‘And be scared.’

  In all fairness, he didn’t need to prompt me to look afraid. I already had that part nailed. I was method acting. We’d gone over the plan enough times that we both knew our lines. It was the only way that any of us could see out of the situation, but still, it didn’t mean I had to like it. And the gun at my back was making it pretty easy to look scared as hell.

  Phil was parked a few hundred yards away, on the old strip of Argyle Street that had been cut off from the rest when the motorway was built. He had his laptop running in the car, recording everything we said on a conference call, the same way he’d done it when Hanya talked to Joe.

  We’d met up here an hour earlier, and each of us had set up our parts of the deal. Fergus had caught the train in from Bridgeton, so he’d be on CCTV if anyone was watching, and I’d cycled here. My bike was chained up next to the train station door.

  Once we were both in the doorway, we played out the act, with Fergus showing me his gun and telling me not to move.

  Merciful mother of stupid plans, don’t fail us now.

  EIGHTY-NINE

  FERGUS

  12:06

  I tell Sam to get down on her knees. Sounding like a bastard. She hadn’t been happy about that part of it, but we both knew it was for the best.

  If Joe does anything unexpected, if he tries to screw us over, I want to be able to draw on him, and it’ll be easier if Sam
is already down low.

  I rest my gun hand on Sam’s shoulder, pointed at her neck. She flinches. We’ve gone over it a few times, but I don’t blame her. This is the part I’m not comfortable with, either. Modern weapons don’t go off accidentally, but that doesn’t make me any happier about pointing it at Sam.

  It’s a convincer. If we give Joe any sign that we’re working together, even something as small as me not wanting to threaten Sam, it’s all over.

  ‘You were right. She’s figured out about the MHW deal,’ I say.

  I leave it there. No mention of Joe’s own angle on it all.

  ‘You didn’t need to bring her here like this,’ Joe says. Smooth fucker that he is, for a second it sounds like he’s being nice to Sam. ‘A photo would have done.’

  ‘I felt like I needed to make a gesture. Good faith, like. I know things got tense between us, and I don’t want you holding any grudges after MHW take over.’

  Come on, Joe, take the bait.

  NINETY

  SAM

  12:08

  The concrete was hard on my knees. I should have worn jeans. Fergus had tried feeding Joe two chances at falling for the trick, and he hadn’t bitten either time.

  We needed him to explain his plan. Not all of it, just enough to show what he was up to, in his own words.

  Come on, Joe, take the bait.

  Joe just smiled. The plan wasn’t working.

  We needed something else to get him going. I decided to go off script. I was going to improvise, and hoped that the man with a gun to my neck could trust what I was doing.

  I started to laugh.

  Joe’s attention shifted between me and what, I assumed, was also eye contact with Fergus behind me. ‘What’s so fucking funny?’ he said.

  ‘Your little puppy here doesn’t know the truth, does he?’

  Joe stared at me, then a cruel smile ripped outwards from his calm, smug, punchable face. ‘No. He doesn’t.’

  And here we go.

  NINETY-ONE

  FERGUS

  12:09

  ‘Know what?’ I say, aiming for a mix of panic and frustration.

  Sam’s played this perfectly. I was worried when she ditched our agreed lines, but this will work.

  ‘Maybe it’s not MHW taking over,’ Joe says. ‘Or the idiots behind them. Maybe it’s going to be me you’ll want to suck up to.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  He steps in closer. I feel like thanking him, because that’s going to make his words even clearer on the phones Sam and I have in our pockets.

  ‘This is my Babycham,’ he says, looking way too happy with himself at using Cal’s word. ‘I’ve set up my own deal. The cartel money goes through in less than an hour, but I’ve already railroaded their buyout. I’m using their money to make people loyal to me. What’s the line? King Kong ain’t got nothing on me.’

  Not only is he a bastard, but he murders movie quotes, too.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say. Then, in a higher voice so he knows I’m talking to someone else, ‘You get that?’

  Long Hair and Buzz Cut, still in their snazzy black coats, step out from the concrete pillars that support the M8.

  ‘Got it,’ they say.

  NINETY-TWO

  SAM

  12:10

  Joe went through a few different reactions all at the same time. He let out a howl that sounded something like a swear word mashing together with Whaaaaat? He tried to bolt and, at the same time, pulled a gun on us. A small revolver that suddenly became the most important thing I’d ever seen.

  I couldn’t help but stare at it.

  Fergus shoved me hard, pushing me to one side while he stepped forward and raised his own gun.

  Before any shooting started, one of the two security guys pulled out a taser and zapped Joe, who fell to his knees in a fit of shakes and odd vocal noises.

  At the pedestrian crossing that separated the concrete island from the street, we saw Asma Khan and Emma Poole, waiting for the lights to change.

  Fergus had called Asma from the office to set up a meet. Once Mike Gibson had turned up to collect his prize, we headed straight to where Khan was waiting. A hat shop. She was a bit of an oddball. There, we’d explained Joe’s plan, and given her the laptop with all of Alex Pennan’s evidence.

  Emma had examined the information. She was Alex’s replacement. In fact, to listen to the way Khan talked about her, Emma had been the brains behind the whole deal. Alex Pennan hadn’t been long for this world even if things had worked out differently. Emma confirmed that our story was backed up by the numbers. She followed the trails to each of the gangs that Joe had made private deals with. Khan got on the phone to half a dozen people and threatened them back into line. The coup had been averted.

  Khan called off the red flag that was out on my name, but said she’d reinstate it if Joe didn’t come clean. Even with all the proof, and with the situation under control, she wanted to hear his confession. She hadn’t got to where she was by simply believing everything she was told.

  But now Joe’s game was up.

  Khan knelt down next to him on the concrete.

  He looked up at her, still shaking, with wide eyes.

  He was a rabbit in the headlights, but it was his own car rushing toward him.

  ‘I’ve contacted everyone you’ve made a deal with,’ Khan said to Joe. ‘And had a quiet chat with them. We’re back in control of this. Come,’ she checked a Fitbit on her wrist, ‘fifty minutes time, we own Glasgow. If you’re nice and talkative, I might let you live long enough to see it.’

  Fergus helped me to my feet and looked down into my eyes. He was waiting on a cue from me, something to say what we were going to be from there on forward. I wanted, more than just about anything, to tell him things were okay.

  To say I could forget what he’d done, and the lies he’d told.

  I met his eyes. ‘Fuck off.’

  Before that moment, I’d never actually seen someone’s heart break. He crumpled inward a little, but did his best not to let it show. He touched my arm and whispered a small, ‘Sorry,’ before turning and walking toward the train station.

  I nodded at Khan. I didn’t want to linger here. I’d made the only deal available, but that meant I’d still helped a criminal organisation. I didn’t want to spend any more time with these people.

  ‘Samantha,’ Khan said. She offered her hand in a shake. ‘You’ve done good today. Joseph here might have pulled it off, if you hadn’t helped us.’ She paused, reading me. ‘Your name keeps coming up. I hear it in all sorts of meetings. I can keep you out of trouble for everything you’ve done so far, I think we owe you that. But don’t get up to any more, okay?’

  That was perhaps the nicest threat I’d ever received.

  Joe spat, but nothing came out. ‘Your boyfriend’s still fucking dead,’ he said.

  That was perhaps the emptiest threat I’d ever received.

  I turned to walk back toward my bike, but Khan called my name again. When I looked back, she had her hand to her ear, where a Bluetooth headpiece was still connected to the conference call.

  ‘Your brother is asking to speak to you,’ she said.

  I pulled out my phone and said, ‘What?’ It came out much blunter than I’d intended. There was a rumble beneath my feet as the train pulled into the station beneath us.

  ‘When Joe turned up alone, I checked the GPS.’

  That’s right. In all the tension, I’d forgotten one part of our plan. We’d expected Joe would turn up with Alan Dasho in tow. The way we’d sold it to Joe was that Fergus would hand me over to them and then leave.

  The GPS tracker was still active on Dasho’s car.

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘The car’s parked up by Bridgeton train station,’ Phil said.

  Shit.

  That’s where Fergus would get off.

  Joe had planned a double cross, just not the one we’d expected. Fergus would hand me over to Joe here, th
en Dasho would kill Fergus when he got off the train, keeping the two deaths on opposite sides of the city.

  Your boyfriend’s still fucking dead.

  The ground shook again as the train left the station.

  ‘Phil, can you get Fergus on the line?’

  ‘There’s no signal down there.’

  Crap.

  He wasn’t my boyfriend, but he didn’t deserve to die.

  I looked at my bike.

  Bridgeton was three miles away. It was a straight line, if I ignored all the traffic, one-way systems, red lights and people. The train had a couple of stops before then, at underground stations with ticket barriers. Fergus would be at Bridgeton in seven or eight minutes.

  Could I make it?

  ‘Keep trying,’ I shouted into the phone as I unlocked the bike. I put my Bluetooth earpiece in and kicked off, skidding into the oncoming traffic.

  NINETY-THREE

  SAM

  12:15

  I was on the filter lane that directed traffic down from the motorway. I skidded to the left to avoid being hit by a red Ford that wouldn’t slow down, then cycled out into the box junction and turned left onto Argyle Street.

  ‘I’m checking the train times,’ Phil said in my ear.

  I got down close to the frame of my bike, as close to flat as I could make it, then started pumping hard on the pedals.

  I overtook one car, then another.

  Horns blared.

  I blocked the sound out. I was going to be doing a lot of that with the number of traffic laws I was about to break. I drifted into the lane to my right, which gave me a clear run for a few blocks.

  ‘Train’s due at Bridgeton at twelve twenty-three,’ Phil said.

  ‘What time is it now?’

  ‘You don’t want to know.’

  A car pulled out from the left and drove straight across into my lane, aiming for the spot straight ahead of me. If I slowed down I would lose momentum. I veered into the left lane, missing the car by inches as we went in opposite directions.