The Sudden Arrival of Violence

by Malcolm Mackay

  He got the meeting with Kirk out of the way yesterday. Fake phone calls set up. Thank Christ for that! That means today is for meetings with competent people. Already had the first one. That provided an interesting name. Apparently Deana Burke has been talking to the police. Silly girl. That was a good first meeting, with a good contact. Another one now. Not really a contact. An employee. George Daly. George is a good boy. A talent. Hard not to think of him as a waster, though. So much talent, but he won’t step up. Young’s been trying to persuade George to take on more responsibility. Wanted him to become a gunman, in fact. George wasn’t having it. George is allergic to responsibility. Another reason Young wants him to take more of it. Someone smart enough to see the danger of power is exactly the sort of person who should have it. But George is stubborn. So Young’s trying a different approach. Gently reducing the amount of muscle-work George does. Replacing it with seemingly small jobs. Things that don’t look, on the surface, to be important. Build it up. Eventually he will make George important.

  A knock on the front door. Young’s been here for the last twenty minutes. A quiet little flat, hidden away in a quiet part of the city. A good place to meet contacts. Been useful, but they’ve been using it too long. Time to put it on the market. Young’s found an alternative, but he’ll miss this place. Had a great run here. They’ll lose money on it. The market isn’t where it was when they bought. Doesn’t matter. This place has paid for itself a dozen times over. Information is always the most valuable currency. This place has delivered on that front. But neighbours will start to ask questions. An empty flat in a good area. What’s happening with it? People don’t like seeing a place like that empty. Makes them nervous. So you sell, and go through the same routine somewhere else. Buy the flat, keep it empty, use it for a few months. Then move on. Young thought about putting someone in this place, just to keep it. But no. Contacts much prefer coming to a sparsely furnished place that nobody lives in. The comfort of the contact matters most. Gets you more information.

  Young’s answering the door to George, gesturing for him to come in. George hasn’t been here before. No need for such secrecy with someone who works for the organization, but Young has another meeting here in a little while. George is walking through to the living room. Sitting where Young gestures him to sit.

  ‘So what’s the news?’ Young’s asking. He’s had George out on the streets. Dealing with contacts. Gathering information. George must see that this is more responsibility. But he does it, because he can’t argue.

  ‘They’ve started an investigation into the disappearance of Richard Hardy,’ George is saying. Getting straight to the point. ‘Don’t know yet which way it’s going.’

  Hardly a surprise. People will be talking about it. Shug’s accountant goes missing, it’s not going to take long for the information to start leaking out. Young’s wondering if Shug knows. He doesn’t seem very well connected, and the people who matter won’t rush to tell him.

  ‘What about Shug? What are his moves?’

  ‘Predictable, so far,’ George is saying. ‘I know he got in touch with Angus Lafferty, but that won’t go anywhere. Shug’s trying to be friendly to start with. Win people round. Hinting about the backing he has. Didn’t come straight out and say it, not to Angus anyway.’

  Young’s nodding. Makes sense. Shug will look to move fast. Make moves against only the most senior men. Lafferty is Jamieson’s largest importer. A key man.

  ‘I also had a word with wee Bobby Wayne. He’s nervous. Reckons someone was sniffing around his warehouse last night. Broke in. He says he doesn’t know if they took anything, but I think that’s bullshit. They took something, he just doesn’t want to admit what it was. Something he shouldn’t have had, probably.’

  Young’s nodding again. Bobby Wayne is smaller than Lafferty, but valuable. Runs a warehouse through which a lot of things flow. Jamieson gets his cut. Wayne runs a well-oiled machine. Useful for Shug.

  ‘What’s your opinion of all this?’ Young’s asking George.

  George is frowning. Doesn’t want to be drawn into this. ‘I think it’s no big deal that Shug approached Lafferty. That was obvious from the start. I think the Wayne one is more important. If that was Shug, then he’s moving broadly. Getting a lot of people talking. Makes us look weak. I don’t know. Just my opinion. You get people talking, and people believe what they hear.’

  Young’s smiling. George is far too smart to be muscle. Shug’s moving against all the senior people, not just some. Charm some, intimidate others. Looking to cause a little panic. Jamieson looks like he’s lost control. Shug looks like he’s gained it. Smart move, if you have the people to back it up with.

  ‘Thanks, George. Keep your ear to the ground. Keep listening.’

  George has left. Young’s sitting alone in the flat, considering their position. So the moneyman’s dead, and Kenny-fucking-McBride has fallen off the face of the Earth with him. Young’s thinking that Calum MacLean is a little bit special. Every job he’s done for Jamieson has had complications, and he’s handled them all brilliantly. They really should give him a rest–been using him more than is reasonable. Won’t happen, though; plenty more work on the horizon. Young’s up and walking to the window, glancing out. Nothing to see here. Never is in this flat. Quiet area, that’s the point. Another meeting this morning before he heads to the club. A cop. This is a routine meeting. Well, as routine as these things get.

  That’s the knock on the door now. Fifteen minutes late. A contact Young neither likes nor trusts. One he uses as little as possible, but one who is useful. PC Paul Greig, standing in the corridor, looking as casual as you like. Not a care in the world, this one. Coming to meet a criminal, and oh so calm about it. Wrapped up in a complicated turf war, and not the least bit concerned. Young’s opening the door, nodding for him to come in. Greig was the first police contact he cultivated. An achievement in itself. Would be nice if he’d turned out to be an achievement to be proud of.

  ‘How are things?’ Young’s asking.

  ‘Complicated,’ Greig’s shrugging. ‘As usual.’

  Aye, Young’s thinking, complicated because that’s how you make it. How you like it.

  ‘Any news?’ Young’s asking. Greig won’t have anything Young doesn’t already know. Greig’s role in helping Shug is over. He helped negotiate with Don Park. Helped get Shug his meeting with MacArthur. Greig needs to be careful not to think he’s become terribly important because of that. He’s dangerous enough already, without thinking he matters.

  ‘Not really,’ Greig’s shrugging. ‘I know the meeting’s happened between Shug and MacArthur. I know that Shug was up bright and early this morning. Calling around, looking to get things moving. Started yesterday, I think. He’s not wasting time. Seems to be moving about as fast as possible.’

  Young’s nodding. Interesting. Not because of the basic information–that was obvious. Of course Shug’s moving fast. It’s the only chance he has. Go slow and die. But it’s interesting that Greig knows. Shows that he’s already had a discussion this morning. Probably not with Shug. Probably with Don Park, MacArthur’s right-hand man. Which suggests that Park is dumb enough to trust Greig.

  ‘Heard something else this morning as well,’ Greig’s saying. ‘Something interesting, I think, anyway. Seems like Shug’s had a falling-out with his right-hand man. That Fizzy guy. They’ve been friends since school. Fizzy’s been key to Shug’s business. Word is, Fizzy was against the MacArthur deal. Could leave Fizzy on the outside.’

  Okay. Young’s often critical of Greig, but this is actually interesting stuff. Potentially valuable, if used right. Fizzy on the outside. It’s a maybe, but it’s a start. A man not used to being in danger. They could make a lot from this.

  ‘Thank you, Paul,’ Young’s saying as he’s walking Greig to the door. Been a long time since he said that to him. Greig’s shrugging, taking it casual. He already knew that info would be important to Young. He always knows what matters and what doesn’
t.

  Greig’s gone and Young’s alone in the flat again. Always good to see the back of the little bastard. They might not have time to make a profit from Fizzy. Depends how things play out with Shug. Seems to be moving nicely. Perfect, even. Shug spilling his guts to Park, Park to Greig, and Greig to Young. All flowing in the right direction. But it’s tenuous. Could all fall apart in an instant. Going to need a lot of attention to keep everything going their way. There’s plenty to worry about, but it’s not worry that’s coursing through Young now. It’s excitement. It’s all cranking up. Shug making his moves, walking into the trap. The police starting to pay attention. Need to make sure they pay attention to the right things. He’s waited ten minutes. That’ll do. Young’s up and making for the door. Making for the club to see Jamieson.

  14

  Calum talked him through what to say. Doesn’t help. Doesn’t make this any easier. William’s still going to meet a crook he doesn’t trust, to buy material that could get him arrested. Or worse. If Jamieson finds out that William helped Calum escape, there will be greater consequences than prison. That thought runs through his head as he’s driving to the counter-feiter’s house. It’s not a thought that lasts long. Replaced by thoughts of Calum. For the last–what is it now?–nearly a decade, William’s watched his brother’s life with worry. Terror, even. Wanting him to get out. Well, Calum’s getting out. Can’t do it alone. Someone has to be there to help him out the door, and who else can he trust? This is a duty. William was there when this started. Partly his fault. This is a responsibility. In fact, this is a pleasure. William’s smiling, thinking about his brother. Every late-night phone call has caused a flash of panic for William. Someone calling to say they found his brother’s body. To say he’s been arrested. No more of those fears. This is a price worth paying.

  There’s still the problem of their mother. Calum won’t go to say goodbye, and William can understand that. It’s for her own good. She can’t know something that might get her into trouble. Spin her a yarn, and hope nobody else goes to the police to report him missing.

  ‘Who else would?’ Calum asked. ‘If you or Ma don’t do it, nobody will.’

  William raised an eyebrow, but didn’t go any further. Pretty damning indictment of his brother’s social life. William’s never really thought about it before, but that must be because of the job. Calum was always quiet, but he was a nice guy. The isolation comes from hiding, and the hiding is because of his work. Something else his job has ruined. So there are no friends to report him gone. His employers aren’t going to raise the alarm. William will keep his mouth shut. That just leaves their mother. She’ll accept a story. She’ll take William’s word for it. He just has to get the story right.

  That’s out of his mind now. He’s pulling onto the street where the counterfeiter lives. William’s been on this street before, recognizes a house on the corner where he went to a party. That was a couple of years ago, but he has a good memory for parties. Parties and cars. What else is there? Nice area. The counterfeiter lives further along the street on the right-hand side. Trees on the street–always a good sign. Bad areas don’t get foliage. There’s parking at the side of the road, if he can find a gap. Stopping the car, taking a deep breath. This is the big moment for William. There will be more to do, but this is the one job that he absolutely has to get right, all by himself. Find a distraction. He’s calling the garage, asking how they’re getting along with Calum’s car. William wants it sprayed, tagged and sold within three days. One of the two mechanics he employs is telling him that they’re working on it right now. Doesn’t sound impressed that William is checking up.

  Stop wasting time. Time is the one thing you don’t have. Barry Fairly is the counterfeiter’s name, apparently. William’s never heard of him. Calum has, seems to think he’s the best in the business. But they can’t afford to look like they’re in a hurry. William wasn’t going to argue with that. Last thing you do is look desperate. Didn’t need Calum to warn him. You look desperate, and a counterfeiter starts to worry. Starts to think he can’t trust you to keep him out of trouble. You play by his rules, and you play casual. William’s stepping out of the car, checking his pockets. A small wad of cash. This bastard’s going to account for a big lump of the cash Calum has available to him. Something else for William to worry about. A little passport photo. A printed sheet with the required details. It’s all he needs.

  Up the steps to the front door. More steps than he realized. Ringing the doorbell. Barry doesn’t know to expect him. You don’t phone ahead. You go round and ask if he’ll help. If he will, he takes the job. If not, you go away and don’t come back. If he takes the job, then this and the collection will be the only points of contact. The collection will not happen at the house. The collection is the other thing William has to get right. William’s standing two steps down, holding onto the railing. The door’s opening. A stout middle-aged woman is looking down at him. She doesn’t look impressed with what she’s seeing, which seems a bit rich.

  ‘Yes?’ she’s saying.

  ‘I’m looking for Barry,’ William’s saying. Remembering Calum’s orders. Keep it polite. Tell Barry you want to see him about his hobby. Tell him you have a garage. ‘I’m here to see him about his hobby.’

  ‘Hold on there,’ she’s saying.

  She’s closed the door in his face, which suggests the politeness is a one-way street. She’s obviously waddled off down the corridor to see if Barry wants to meet this new arrival. It’s more than a minute and a half later when the door opens again. Same stout little woman.

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘William,’ he’s saying.

  ‘Hold on there.’ She’s closed the door again, and William’s still standing on the doorstep. Feels pretty conspicuous to him, but if that’s how they want to play it. Another two minutes have gone by. Doesn’t feel like this is going well. The door opening. This time a man. Still closer to obesity than is advisable, still short in the arse, but definitely not the woman. Curly, sandy hair and glasses meet the description of Barry Fairly that Calum gave William.

  ‘You are?’ the man’s saying, looking down through his glasses. He sounds annoyed. That’ll be with the wife he sent to find out who was at the door, and who came back with no useful information.

  ‘William MacLean. I have a garage on the east side. I heard you might be able to help me,’ he’s saying quietly. ‘With your hobby.’

  The man’s nodding. Calum had told him to mention the garage. That’ll get him in the front door, at least. If you stand on the steps saying you want a passport for someone else you could spook him. Certainly make him wary. He hears ‘garage’ and he thinks it’s car stuff. That’ll get William inside. Good money supplying garages. The man’s giving a single nod for William to follow him.

  Front door shut behind them. These are big houses, but old. Narrow corridors, lots of small rooms, gloomy. They’re along a corridor, through a kitchen, into a utility room and out into the back garden. William’s getting a little concerned, but now he’s seeing the large shed at the bottom of the garden. Door open.

  Into the shed. There’s a heater opposite the door. A radio on a shelf. A power supply coming from the house. There’s a comfy chair, and a desk against the single window. On the desk is a single sheet of paper, with a closed folder beside it. Work, obviously. William can catch a glimpse of a couple of things pushed out of view under the desk. One will be a laminator. He can smell that it’s been used in the last few minutes. Under the folders he can see what looks like a laptop. Barry hiding a sophisticated operation behind the shoddy appearance of a garden shed.

  ‘So you have a garage, huh?’ Barry’s asking him.

  ‘I do.’

  ‘So what are you looking for, book or licence?’

  William’s a little taken aback. Didn’t even ask for the name of the garage. Didn’t ask for any proof of ID. Doesn’t seem to be very cautious. Maybe he already knows who William is from the name. Calum says he
’s the best for passports.

  ‘Licence,’ William’s saying casually. ‘While we’re at it, I thought you could do me a passport as well. I heard you were good at them.’

  That’s got a look from Barry. He doesn’t seem to like the combination of driving licence and passport.

  ‘Did you now? And why does a guy with a garage need a passport along with a driving licence?’

  William’s shrugging. ‘He doesn’t. But he thought he might as well kill two birds with one stone, you know. Reduces the risk, I figured.’

  Barry’s nodding a little, looking up at William. William has what people like to call an open face. He looks friendly, the sort of guy you can trust. ‘Thing is,’ Barry’s saying, ‘it’s not like I know you. Not like I know I can trust you.’

  ‘I don’t know you, either,’ William’s saying, ‘but I’m willing to risk it. I know you have a good reputation. You’ll find mine is solid. Besides, this goes well, I might need more licences and log books.’

  Greed. That’s what it’s all about. You don’t find out that you’re good at counterfeiting by accident. You find out you’re good because you give it a shot. And you give it a shot because you want easy money. The prospect of another garage coming to him is more temptation than a simple man can resist.

  ‘Well, things are changing in the car business in this city,’ Barry’s saying with a knowing nod. He heard about Shug. Heard about him trying his hand at harder work. If it succeeds, he’ll leave his humble car business behind. If it fails, he’s out of the business anyway. It’s a golden opportunity for anyone who isn’t already his counterfeiter. ‘I’ve got a bit of a backlog,’ Barry’s saying. He’s not a good liar, but you have to try, don’t you?

  ‘I don’t want this taking long,’ William’s saying. ‘An opportunity kind of fell into my lap here. I’ve been thinking about switching. Things going on, you know how it is. Changes. Anyway, I need it quick as you can do it.’