Thinking about it. ‘Doesn’t ring any bells. Is he involved?’
‘I don’t know for sure,’ Fisher’s saying. ‘He disappeared the same night Kenny did. Might have been a victim of the same manoeuvres. I’m just trying to get a clear picture.’
Never heard of Hardy. Feels like Fisher’s clutching at straws here. What does he expect to hear from her? If there was something worth hearing, she would have said it already. She’s beginning to suspect that Fisher has nothing to go on.
‘The job he did the night he went missing,’ Fisher’s saying. ‘He told you he had a job. What did he tell you about it?’
‘Nothing really,’ she’s saying. Relieved that she’s on safe ground here. Kenny didn’t go into much detail. He told her it was a big job. Told her he was nervous about it. Nothing else. ‘He didn’t say what it was. Just said it was a big job. Bigger than usual for him. I mean, he was a driver. That’s all. He drove Peter Jamieson home at night. That was it. He was never involved in anything that mattered.’
Fisher’s nodding. There’s some truth in that. But sometimes you need a driver for a big job. Hell of a coincidence if he’s working a big job for Jamieson and is then picked up by Shug. Everything else makes sense but that. Shug getting into bed with MacArthur. Getting rid of the man who knows all his financial secrets. Making a hit against Jamieson, just to show that he can. That all adds up. It’s this job of Kenny’s–it would be an obvious set-up by Jamieson. Tell your driver you have a big job for him. Get him somewhere secluded and kill him. Punishment for being a grass. That was the risk Kenny took.
‘But this was a bigger-than-usual job. He told you that,’ Fisher’s going on. ‘He must have said something else. I mean, presumably he didn’t go on this job alone. It can’t have been a driver-only job. He must have been driving someone. Did he hint who he was going with? More importantly, where they were going? I need to know where to look.’
How much does she tell him? She doesn’t want Fisher to know that she’s talking to John Young. That’ll get him back on his high horse.
‘He did say there would be someone with him. Someone he trusted. Didn’t say anything about what it was or where it would be.’
Fisher’s sighing. ‘You believe that Shug was behind this and not Jamieson?’ he’s asking her. A sincere question. Not trying to get at anything, genuinely interested.
A little shrug. ‘I believe it. I don’t think they know that Kenny was talking to you. I, er… John Young called. I went to the club. He asked if I knew where Kenny was. We discussed it. Discussed it a little. I didn’t tell him everything, obviously. I’m sure they don’t know. They think it was Shug. I’m convinced of that.’
Fisher’s grimacing. ‘Jesus!’ he’s muttering, and shaking his head. This was always going to mean war, but it’s moving faster than he expected.
Jamieson will strike against Shug. Has to. If Shug’s taken out one of Jamieson’s men, then he has to be seen to hit back. Fisher’s hope was that he could get an arrest made before retaliation. That could take the wind out of some sails, cool people down. Leave them without a target. But not if they know already.
‘What did Young say to you? Exactly what?’
‘Just that,’ she’s saying. ‘He wanted to know if I’d seen Kenny. Said that Kenny was the only one missing. I guess they heard a rumour or something. I think I confirmed what they were expecting.’
Fisher’s getting up. He’s heard all he’s going to hear. He’s not prepared to assume that Jamieson is innocent in this. Not yet. But it’s all pointing to Shug now. He’s out the front door and into the night. Knowing that he needs more. He has two or three days at the most to make an arrest, or there will be more blood.
22
It’s getting uncomfortable. Neither of them would ever say it. They’re brothers. Calum and William should be able to deal with this. William gets it. He knows that Calum can’t just run. He needs to have everything in place first. Say he runs to London. Tries to get all the things he needs for a new ID when he arrives. That’ll take a while. He doesn’t know where to go, for a start. So by the time he has everything, Jamieson knows he’s run. Sends someone after him. They catch him. They’ve got him bang to rights. They won’t forgive and forget. Stay in the city; get everything organized more quickly. Then disappear completely. If they catch you in the meantime? Well, you never left the city. You were at your brother’s house. Lying low after a job. Gives Calum a chance to tell them what they want to hear.
All of which is fine, until you live it. The sheer intensity of it. Every sound a scare. A knock on the door while they’re having breakfast. Calum running into the spare bedroom. William going nervously to the door. Terrified at first. Then angry at his own fear. Defiant by the time he’s opening the door and seeing his friend, Maurice ‘Sly’ Cooper.
‘William,’ Sly’s saying. ‘I was starting to think you had fallen off the world. Where you been?’
Pausing before he answers. Not thinking about himself, but thinking about Calum. People must be talking. Talking about the fact that William hasn’t been out much. Not his usual, social self. Been to work, but mostly ignoring his friends. Keeping appointments, but making no new ones. ‘I’ve been here. Busy, you know. Work stuff.’
Sly comes in, stays five minutes and leaves. He’ll have got the message that he wasn’t entirely welcome. He’ll go back and tell their mutual friends that something’s definitely going on with William. And they’ll speculate. Things can’t go on this way.
‘He’s gone,’ William’s saying to Calum. Calum coming out of the spare room and looking at his brother. Seeing the tension in him. There’s going to be another day of this.
‘Maybe I can find somewhere else to stay for the night,’ Calum’s saying. ‘Wouldn’t be any great hardship for me. Bed-and-breakfast. Maybe find an empty flat somewhere. It would be safer.’
‘No,’ William’s saying with force. ‘I won’t have that. No way. You stay here until it’s time. It wouldn’t be safer to go somewhere else. Not now–you know that. More chance of someone seeing you. You’d be throwing away everything you’ve done so far. You’re nearly out, Calum. Nearly out of that business. You’re not going to do anything to let them catch you now.’
Can’t argue with his brother. Doesn’t want to. Going somewhere else is inviting failure. He has to stick it out here. No matter how unpleasant it becomes. The phone rings. They both look up sharply. William’s laughing and walking across to it. Trying to take away some of the tension. Calum’s watching. Listening. William agreeing with someone. Checking his watch and saying it’ll be fine. Skipping across to the table and getting a pen. Writing something down on the front page of a newspaper. Then hanging up.
‘That was Barry Fairly; he’s got your stuff. Wants me to go pick it up right away.’
Calum’s nodding. This is good news. Progress. But also a worry. Anything could happen here. Could easily be a set-up. ‘You know where to go?’ he’s asking.
‘Yeah, he gave me an address. Some office. I know the street, I’ll find the building.’
William’s gone to get a coat and the rest of the payment. Calum’s standing by the front door. William’s smart, but he still needs instruction. Even if he doesn’t like hearing it, he needs it.
‘Listen,’ Calum’s saying when his brother reaches the front door. ‘When you get there, park a little away from the building. Check every car on the street. If there’s anyone out of place, just leave. Come back here. When you get inside, if there’s anyone other than Fairly, leave. Even if it’s just him, collect the stuff, hand over the money, get out. Nothing else. Fairly tries to get you talking, ignore him.’
William’s raising a hand and smiling. ‘Don’t worry. I’m going to be more cautious than I’ve ever been. Captain Cautious. In and out like lightning. They won’t see me for dust. I’ll be a blur of dodgy ID and bank notes. Okay?’ Seems like a joke, but serious.
‘You stick to that,’ Calum’s saying.
It’s an ordinary little street. William’s driving down it for the second time. Found somewhere to park a few doors down from the office Fairly named. Office above a gadget shop. Plenty of little shops on the street. Well-populated area. That’s reassuring. Maybe it’s supposed to be. He looked in every car on his first approach. Now walking slowly along the wrong side of the street, looking for anything out of place. Nobody sitting in a car waiting. Nobody hanging around a doorway or alleyway. If someone’s hiding, then they’re doing a fine job. Just shoppers, all disinterested in William. Across the street and up to the door. Not the door to the gadget shop, a plain door to the right of it. Pressing a buzzer and waiting. A buzz for a reply. William pushing open the door, finding himself at the bottom of dimly lit stairs. Starting to get pretty damned nervous now. This is the sort of thing Calum does regularly. This is his life. That’s what William’s thinking as he walks up the stairs. Walking into the unknown.
A plain door at the top of the stairs. No markings. An office, Fairly said. An office that doesn’t advertise, obviously. Standing outside staring at a blank door isn’t going to get him anywhere. William’s pushing the door open. An office inside. Three desks. A bunch of filing cabinets. Computers on the desk, but there’s something odd about the place. Takes William a few seconds to realize. There’s nothing lying around that could identify what work they do here. There are times, in the garage, when he’s been careful to keep some documents out of view. Cars he shouldn’t be handling, that sort of thing. This is obviously a whole company of things worth hiding. Probably loan-sharking, something like that. Which isn’t reassuring. Not even Barry Fairly sitting alone at one of the desks is reassuring. He’s the only one here, but there’s a door behind him and another to his right. Anyone could be in there. Anyone could come up the stairs behind William and block him in. This is not a time to relax.
‘Don’t worry,’ Barry’s saying, ‘this place is safe. I do some work for the guy who owns it. He lets me use it now and then. It’s fine.’
Now it sounds like Barry’s trying too hard to reassure him. William’s getting paranoid. ‘You have the stuff?’ he’s asking.
‘I do,’ Barry’s saying, tapping a plastic bag on the desk. ‘You have the money?’
‘I do,’ William’s saying. Taking a wad of notes from his pocket. Taking a few steps across to the desk where Barry’s sitting. Putting the two hundred pounds down beside the bag. Doing his best to look confident. Not an easy trick. He’s picking up the bag and opening it. Yes, he remembers what Calum said. Get it and get out, quick as you can. But he’s not going to get outside and find that he has a couple of pieces of cardboard in there. He has to know that he’s getting what he came for. Pulling out a passport. Looks convincing. Driver’s licence the same.
‘There’s a printout in there with a few details about the ID. Stuff that isn’t on the passport or licence. Parents’ names. That sort of thing,’ Barry’s saying.
‘Looks good to me,’ William’s nodding, dropping them back into the bag. ‘I’m sure we can do more business in the future. A lot more.’
Out the door and down the stairs. Going a little faster than his sense of pride says is proper. Never mind that. Out the front door and onto the street. Crashing into someone. Dropping the bag. William taking a step back, getting ready to throw a punch. Ready to run. To do anything that keeps him alive.
‘Whoa, look out there, fellow,’ a short guy in his thirties is saying. ‘I didn’t see you.’ He’s looking at William with bemusement now, seeing the intensity of his reaction.
‘Sorry,’ William’s saying. Pulling himself together. ‘I was in such a rush. My fault.’ Saying it with a smile. The man stepping back out of William’s way. Walking on down the street, glancing back over his shoulder as he goes. William’s reaching down and picking up the bag. Looking up and down the street. Nobody suspicious. Nobody paying him any attention, other than the guy he crashed into. Walking briskly back to his car. By the time he reaches it he’s so glad to be there that he doesn’t even check for threats. Just gets in, starts up and drives.
‘Here you go, Donald Tompkin–everything you need to fuck off with.’ A relieved grin on William’s face as he drops the bag on the kitchen table.
‘No problems?’ Calum’s asking.
‘Nope.’
‘And you weren’t followed?’
‘Nope,’ William’s saying, and wishing he’d checked.
Calum’s taking the passport and driver’s licence out of the bag. They look good. Perfect, in fact. As good as he hoped Barry Fairly could manage. Just about the last piece of the puzzle. Just needs to set up bank accounts in his new ID and use them to pay for his plane ticket.
‘Thanks, William,’ he’s saying with a smile. ‘You’ve done brilliantly. And that’s the last thing I’ll ask of you.’ A fact that’s a relief to both men.
23
The man keeps walking down the street. Looking behind him all the time. Watching the guy pick up the stuff he dropped and scurry off down the street. So this was the guy Fairly was meeting. They’re not usually complete saps. Fairly’s just about the best counterfeiter in the business. His clientele usually know how to carry themselves without drawing attention. Without drawing suspicion. Not this one. Must be new at this. Better not scare him. Marty’s walking away until he’s sure Fairly’s client can’t see him any more. Now he’s stopping, turning and walking back the way he came. That extra little walk down the street was a favour for Fairly. Don’t scare his clients. Don’t give him anything to complain about. Fairly is useful. Very useful, sometimes. His passports work like a charm. Best you can get, other than the real thing.
In the door and up the stairs. It’s his office above the gadget shop. Doesn’t use it a lot, but he needs it. He lends people money. Short-term loans, long-term customers. It continues to amaze and amuse, how stupid people can be. And Marty just keeps taking advantage. Because Marty’s smart like that. He sees people’s weaknesses, and he makes money from it. Cash and women. Those are the two that make the most money. Marty’s involved in all sorts of other things, but those two are golden. The moneylending is harder. It’s a bitch, truth be known. See, there’s always more women. Some of them let you down. Some go work for someone else, but there’s always more. The moneylending? Jesus, that’s shark-infested waters. Brutal. As bad as it gets. Some of the biggest thugs are lurking in this part of the industry. Marty wouldn’t be involved at all if he didn’t have Jamieson’s protection. And he’s in danger of throwing that away.
Fairly’s still in the office, looking all gormless as usual. Smart guy, but he doesn’t get involved in the brutal side of things. He doesn’t live it, like Marty. Shit, nobody lives it like Marty, Marty’s thinking to himself.
‘Was that your guy I saw stumbling out of here a couple of minutes ago?’ Marty’s asking. Making polite conversation. He wants Fairly out of here. Got a couple of his guys coming round with money they’ve collected this morning. Tough guys. Better Fairly doesn’t see them.
‘Yep, that was him.’
‘Didn’t seem like one of your usual. Looked nervous as hell to me.’
Fairly’s shrugging. People like Marty think it makes them seem tough if they pretend they never get nervous. That’s bullshit. Marty’s probably shitting himself right now. Word going around is that Marty and his brother are in Jamieson’s bad books. Throwing private parties at the brother’s nightclub, not cutting Jamieson in on his share. Stupid, greedy bastard. Yet he thinks he’s the tough one. Huh!
‘Things are changing,’ Fairly’s saying as he gets up from his seat. ‘Especially in the car trade. Opening up. He’s a new one. William MacLean, got a garage on the east side.’
There’s a pause. Fairly’s starting to head for the door, about to say goodbye. Marty’s standing in the middle of the room, his brain trying to find a gear that lets it move forward. Still trying. There it is.
‘You say William MacLean?’
‘Uh-huh.’
<
br /> ‘Got a garage in the east?’
‘That’s what I said.’
Marty’s holding up a hand. Telling Fairly to stop while he thinks. Fairly’s sighing, but he’s doing as he’s told. Marty pays well. He’s a little shit, but if Barry was prone to judging people, he wouldn’t be in this business.
‘You have a copy of the stuff you did for him?’ Marty’s asking.
Fairly’s looking at Marty with a frown now. You don’t stick your nose into someone else’s business. Even Marty has to know something as simple as that.
Fairly’s turning to walk for the door. Marty’s darting in front of him. Blocking the way out, but with his hands up, pleadingly.
‘Look, Barry. This is important. That William MacLean–there might be more to this. Trust me. I might be about to do you the biggest fucking favour anyone ever did you. No word of a lie. Let me see a copy. If I’m wrong, I’m wrong. Who cares? If I’m right, I’ll be saving your bacon here, mate. Saving it.’
That wheedling tone. Fairly would love to tell him to shove it, but he can’t. Self-preservation. He’s going back across to the table, unbuttoning the pocket on his jacket. Taking out the rough copy he made. That he always makes. Because you never know.
Marty’s standing over the table, looking down at the picture. Puffing out his cheeks.
‘Well?’ Fairly’s asking. Annoyed, impatient.
‘This is…’ Marty’s lost for words. He wants to say that this is a brilliant opportunity. That this could get him right back into Peter Jamieson’s good books. But that’s not what he’s going to say to Fairly. ‘This is important. Listen to me, Barry, yeah? Listen. Right. I need to keep this. Just for a wee while. Go home, I’ll call you. I need to set up a meeting. You’ll need to be there. This is important. I’m not kidding you here.’
Fairly’s left the office. Marty’s sitting at the desk, looking at the copy of the passport in front of him. He knows the face. Not a recent photo, but he knows the face. How to profit most. Go for the long-term. That’s always the answer. Especially when you’re hanging on, like Marty is. This could solve a lot of problems. He’s picking up the phone. Calling Young. No answer. Shit! Probably ignoring him. They’re still pissed off. Fine, be like that. There’s another way. Calling Kevin Currie. Explaining a little, holding back enough. He needs to have something to take to the meeting with him. Marty knows how to play these games. Currie doesn’t like it. He wants everything. Sure he does. He wants to be able to pass on all the information himself. Gain more of the credit for it. Marty’s pissed off that he’s having to go through Currie anyway. Currie’s a senior man with Young and Jamieson. Makes them a lot of money with booze and fags. They trust him. Shouldn’t be this way. Young should just answer his damn phone.
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