George is inside. The first hurdle over. He’s not carrying, so if this turns nasty, it’s going to be tough for him. He has to assume that Fizzy’s armed. Assume it, even though it’s unlikely. Fizzy is in his own home, which has to comfort him as well. No reason why this should turn nasty, but you never know. Don’t assume you know what goes through the head of another person. Fizzy’s smart, but inexperienced. If he realizes he’s on the outside, he should be desperate for help. This should be an easy conversation. Should be.
Fizzy’s led him through to the family room at the back of the house. Houses round here are bigger than they look from the front. George is impressed, a little jealous. Shows how well Fizzy was doing from the car-ring. Enough to buy a place like this. There was good money in what they were doing. Shows how stupid they were to want more. There’s a lot of people like that. Made stupid by greed and ambition.
‘I shouldn’t need to tell you what the situation is here,’ George is saying as he sits down. ‘You know that Shug’s throwing away everything. He’s tied himself to MacArthur, but MacArthur’s setting him up. MacArthur’s been feeding info to Peter for weeks now. Looking to get rid of Shug and take his business, so he’s hoping Peter will take Shug out. He actually called Peter the night you had your big meeting with MacArthur. I’m guessing you’re not surprised by that,’ he’s saying, watching Fizzy’s expression.
‘No. Not really. Sounds about right.’
‘You should also know,’ George is saying, and looking at the floor. Pick the right words. Don’t make it sound melodramatic. Sometimes the truth can be made to sound like a lie. Tread carefully. ‘Shug called up Shaun Hutton last night. Told him he wanted rid of you. Said you were a danger to him–a threat. I don’t know what went on between you and Shug, but he seems to want rid of you.’
Fizzy’s sitting there, just staring straight ahead. No shock. No immediate emotion. ‘Okay.’
‘Now, you don’t need to worry,’ George is assuring him. ‘Well, you do need to worry a little bit, but not about Hutton. He’s not going to carry out the job, that’s been made sure of.’ Keep that bit vague. Fizzy doesn’t need to know that Hutton’s crossed over until he follows him. ‘You may still need to worry about Shug, though. Once he has it in his head to kill you, it’s not easy to turn that around. In this business, when someone thinks of you as an enemy there’s usually no way back.’
Keep talking. Fizzy’s clammed up, but that’s fine. He’s not arguing against what George is saying, which is enough. ‘I’m not going to pretend that Peter’s sent me here out of the goodness of his heart. He hasn’t. Shug pissed him off. Shug’s going to go down, you know that? MacArthur’s setting him up for a big fall. If he lives long enough, he’s looking at big time. You need to be as far away from him as possible when that happens. Anyway, Peter Jamieson has bigger things to worry about. Shug was a nuisance, but MacArthur is more than that. He’s sizing up Peter, looking to make a move against him. Everyone knows it, Peter included. He’s not going to let that happen. Peter’s going to undercut MacArthur in this wee game. See, MacArthur wants all of Shug’s business. Peter reckons he can get it instead. If he does, he needs someone to run it. Someone credible. Someone with the know-how. That’s where you come in. In exchange, you get the full benefits and protection of a senior person in the Jamieson organization.’
It would look amateurish to leap to an answer, so Fizzy’s taking his time. Doesn’t really need to. What else is he going to say but yes? Jamieson’s offer is the only one on the table. The bastard probably knows it. He can stay loyal to Shug, but that’ll get him precisely nowhere. Not now. Shug wants him dead. He’d like to pretend that the order probably came from MacArthur, but it’s only pretending. It came from Shug. George is right, the friendship is over. Fizzy has to look after himself now.
‘If your man can get control of the business and keep me safe, then I’ll run it for him. I’ll want to do it a certain way, keep it out of the drug trade.’
George is putting a hand up and nodding. ‘There’ll be no crossover, I can guarantee that. Most of all they want the legit business.’
Fizzy’s nodding. ‘Fine. They get control of it. Keep me safe. Shug goes down, and I’ll run the business for Jamieson.’
26
They haven’t lived together since they were kids. More than thirteen years since William moved out of the family home. Now they’re together, knowing it might be for the last time. Calum’s on the laptop, sitting on the couch. Looking for flights to London. Today, preferably. Willing to wait until tomorrow if there are no seats. Not from Glasgow: he’ll drive across to Edinburgh and fly down from there. Glasgow would make things too easy for anyone who wanted to chase.
‘I don’t want to leave it any later than early tomorrow,’ Calum’s saying. ‘If people start digging around, it won’t take them long to find out something’s up.’
‘Who’s going to dig around? No reason for people to look,’ William’s saying.
‘There’s risk,’ Calum’s shrugging. ‘Barry Fairly, for one.’
‘Nah,’ William’s saying. ‘He knows what side his bread is buttered.’
William’s right. Counterfeiters aren’t stupid. Takes smarts to get where they are. They know not to ask questions. They have a keen sense for maintaining deniability. But there are other risks. Jamieson getting twitchy and looking for Calum. An emergency job comes along that only Calum can do for them; they go looking and don’t find him. Or the police. Always possible that they come looking for him, too. Not likely, though. He’s been careful. And even if there was an emergency, Jamieson would draft in a freelancer this close to the Hardy and Kenny hit. Calum knows he should feel safe, but he doesn’t. Sitting around the flat, watching the clock tick. Waiting for his chance to get away. That chance is coming, and coming fast.
So he’ll book flights. The money will come out of a bank account he set up this morning. It’s in William’s name, opened using Calum’s money. Opening the account was no bother at all. He’ll use it to pay for this flight, and then close it. Calum will open another to pay for his flight out of London. Then another for accommodation, wherever he ends up after that. By the time he settles down and starts to build a new life for himself, he’ll be onto his fifth or sixth new account. The first two or three in William’s name, before he switches to his false ID. He hasn’t told William, because William hasn’t asked, but the intention is to find another new ID when he settles. Donald Tompkin will be a travel name. Hopefully, when he settles somewhere, he’ll be able to find another counterfeiter, another false ID. Another link in an ever-growing chain leading away from his old life.
There’s another reason he hasn’t told William. Something he doesn’t want to discuss. Or even think about, if we’re being honest here. Focus on getting away. On freeing himself from the life he’ll leave behind. So what will he walk into? What will his new life be? There’s only one thing he knows how to do well. Kill people. He knows how to scout a target. Knows how to do the job. Knows how to get away. He’s good at it. Spent years thinking about it, planning each job, learning every detail. His biggest challenge will be avoiding that career from now on. Making sure he doesn’t weaken, and take a job somewhere. Wouldn’t be hard. Every city has its own criminal industry. Every criminal industry needs talented gunmen. The pay is good; the work is easy, if you have the skill for it. Wouldn’t be hard to meet the right people. Not if you know what you’re looking for. And his first day in a new city, he’ll look for a counterfeiter.
That thought’s been running through Calum’s head all day. No seats available tonight. Too late to get an available seat on an afternoon flight. Wouldn’t get to Edinburgh in time. Booking a morning flight for tomorrow. Then thinking about what he’s flying towards. What job will he do? Anything that pays money, probably. Not exactly weighed down by moral quandaries about raising cash. No, stop that train of thought right now. Stay away from the criminal stuff. Easy money, but a slippery slope. You start down it and
before long you’re back where you started. Killing people, making enemies and living a life of isolation. The whole point of this is to get away from all that. It’ll be a legal job. Legal money. You live that life and you can have all the things this life has denied you. You can meet anyone you want. Have a social life. Have a relationship that goes somewhere. Keep that ambition in mind. Put up with the boredom of a nine-to-five. Suffer the tedium of mind-numbing work. Ignore the thrill-seeker inside you. Ignore the lazy bastard who only wants to work a few days every few months. Ignore the perfectionist who wants to do what he’s good at. Focus on the ambition of a normal life; ignore anything that stands in the way.
He and William have had an argument about money already. Not a furious row. Just William trying to be the big brother. Worries about Calum’s financial situation. He started by trying to persuade Calum to empty his old account.
‘No, they might be able to get access to my account. They have contacts working in banks that can check these things. Bank staff they pay off. Probably not every bank, but I can’t risk it. I don’t want them seeing anything out of place. They have to doubt that I’m even alive.’
William gave up on that line of attack. Moved onto what he considered safer ground. The car. It’s been resprayed, retagged. There’s nothing on it that could identify it as having been Calum’s. Now it’s time to put it up for sale.
‘That might take a wee while,’ William’s saying. ‘It’s in good nick, but the market isn’t exactly booming right now. I’ll sell it,’ he’s saying, ‘and I’ll get a decent price for it, but not before you go. So, if you’re going to be farting about, changing accounts and whatnot, I should give you the money up front. You know, so that you have it with you now, when you need it.’
He’s not what you would call cunning, is he? A man concerned about his brother’s financial situation, suddenly offering a large amount of cash up front. He does have a point, though. By the time he sells the car, William might have no idea what account to put the proceeds into. It is more convenient to do it this way, but it makes Calum uncomfortable. He knows exactly what William will do. He’ll put far more money into the account than he’ll ever make from selling the car. He loves Calum, and he wants his brother’s new life to succeed. He feels responsible for introducing him to the old life. And he is the big brother. Doesn’t matter what Calum’s done in his life, it’s still hard to argue against the guy who grew up across the hall from you. The guy you secretly wanted to emulate.
‘How about you put half the money into the account now, and the other half you’ll owe me when you’ve sold it. I’ll drop you a line, tell you where to put the money.’
William’s looking at him, a mixture of incredulous and offended. ‘How does that help? This ain’t a regular job here. You’re family. I’ll put it in now. Then, when I sell it, I just keep the money for myself. Hell, I might even make a profit on you.’
Calum’s smiling now. ‘You think you can make a profit, huh? So how much are you going to give me for it, and how much do you think you can make back on the sale?’ he’s asking. He’s filled out his false details for the flight while talking, clicking confirm to pay.
William’s putting on the face and tone he uses when he’s being dishonest with a customer. It won’t work with Calum, but it’s worth a shot. He’s usually overcharging someone, not undercharging them. This is new. ‘Well,’ he’s saying, trying to work out how much extra he can give Calum without starting an argument. ‘I reckon I can give you about three grand. I’ll make somewhere around that.’
‘Really?’ Calum’s saying. ‘You remember how much you said I would get for it when I showed up here on Tuesday? A grand and a half, if I’m lucky. And there was mention of costs. Now it’s three grand and no mention of costs.’
William’s getting a little pissed off now. He doesn’t like Calum acting all superior. ‘All right, fine–you want to play it that way, let’s play it that way. You’ll be lucky to get a grand and a half for that car,’ he’s saying with aggression, his voice rising. ‘It cost me about three hundred just to make the fucking thing safe, so that’s a grand and two hundred. But I’ll tell you something, if I decide I’m putting three grand into that fucking account, then I’m putting three grand into that fucking account. I don’t see you doing anything about it, either, Mr Invisible. You’ll take what I give you, and one day you might just be bloody grateful for it.’ There’s a pause. William still angry, Calum looking sheepish. ‘If you want to be a total dick about it,’ William’s continuing more quietly, ‘then when you get yourself set up somewhere you can owe it me back. Okay?’
Calum’s nodding, putting the laptop to one side. ‘Look, I didn’t mean it that way. I am grateful. I just don’t want you being out of pocket on my behalf. And I don’t want you being in a position where you’re not able to explain what you did with that money. I’ll take it, and I will be grateful for it. And, if I’m able, I’ll pay it back, because that’s the kind of total dick I am.’ That got a laugh, and it’s taken the heat out of the conversation.
William’s standing at the window now, looking out at the rain. He has a cup of tea in his hand. Sandwich finished, ready to put in an appearance at the garage. Been slacking off. Needs to show his face, make sure nobody mentions a change in his routine.
‘You think they’re out there somewhere looking for you?’ William’s asking. First time he’s mentioned the people who might be looking. Thinks about them a lot, though.
‘No,’ Calum’s saying. ‘Not yet. They wouldn’t expect to hear from me yet. They won’t think anything’s wrong. Not for another week at least.’ And they’ll be distracted. Very distracted. They’ll be setting up Shug by now. They’ll be moving against him. Calum knows the general plan. Setting up the cop to do their work for them. They’ll be too busy moving against their enemies to check on their friends.
27
A lot of people want to meet Peter Jamieson. Not surprising. Nothing new. Hardly any of them get to. Not unless they’re already known to him. It’s John Young’s job to do the filtering. The top people–the ones they know are important–get Jamieson. Very few of those. Then there’s the next level down. Interesting people they haven’t met before. People who might have something worth hearing. They get to meet Young. There’s a few of them, but not many. Three or four a week, tops. Of whom maybe half go on to have a meeting with Jamieson. The vast majority of people who want to meet him fall at the first hurdle. They want a meeting with the boss. They’re not interesting enough to warrant a meeting with his right-hand man. Usually more than twenty of those a week. They have to make do with talking to someone much lower down the chain. Like it or lump it.
On a week like this one, nobody gets to see the boss. Jamieson’s busy, you’ll have noticed. Young, too. He’s still taking a glance at a few names. Couple of people wanting a meeting who have been in touch in the last couple of days. Usually these people go to someone lower down. That person passes the message up the chain. Some guy who thinks he has a good business opportunity. Don’t they all. Jesus, the amount of shitty ideas that Young has to wade through. Fantasists, mostly. A busy week like this, there’s no way he’s finding time to meet this guy. Kick it back down the chain. Other one’s interesting, though. Barry Fairly. Been in contact with Marty Jones. Marty called one of Jamieson’s senior men, Kevin Currie. Currie, a very profitable tax-free cigarette and booze seller, has marked it urgent. Says Fairly has possible info relating to an employee. Won’t say who. Fairly does counterfeit ID. That makes him interesting. The fact that it comes from Currie matters, too. He’s an independent thinker. Handles most of this stuff himself. Always pays his percentage to Jamieson, grows his business well. For him to suggest this is urgent means it’s urgent.
Young’s made the call to Currie. Currie’s delivered a warning. Marty Jones is sniffing around this one. Not just reporting it, but wants to be a part of it. Young sighed, but accepted it. Told Currie to find Marty and Fairly and send them round
to the club. Be interesting to know who’s been going round buying ID. Could be some idiot of no value. Or some idiot of value who’s prone to doing stupid things. But Currie’s a good judge. And Fairly seems like a solid member of the industry. Marty’s a fucking nuisance, but that doesn’t mean he’s wrong. It’s only an hour later when the barman’s sticking his head round the door. Christ, still haven’t learned his name. See, this is why so many people think Young’s not very nice. Too impersonal. If it was Jamieson, he would have learned the name ages ago.
‘Couple of fellows here to see you. Barry Fairly and Marty Jones.’
‘Send them in, thanks,’ Young’s saying. Making a point of adding the thanks. It would be nice to be as well liked as Jamieson. All the staff think Jamieson’s terrific. A charmer. Generous and likeable. They’re all good at showing that they don’t think of Young in the same way.
Fairly’s coming into the office. Looks uncertain. Coming over to Young with a hand outstretched. Shaking enthusiastically. Sweaty hand, but Young won’t mention that. Unimpressive-looking man. Won’t mention that, either. Marty’s behind him all the way. Shifty-looking bastard. Always too confident. A quick shake of his dry hand.
‘Take a couple of chairs across,’ Young’s saying, and sitting on the couch.
They’re doing as they’re told. Fairly seems nervous. You’d think a man of his reputation would be used to meetings like this, coming to see a man like Young. Fairly’s known in the business. Respected for his art. Done a lot of work for a lot of people. He’s brought the chair across and he’s sitting opposite the couch. Hands on his knees, looking straight ahead at Young. They all do this. Sit there staring at Young. Waiting for him to say something. They make an appointment because they have something to say, but they expect Young to start the conversation. Mostly afraid of saying anything without permission. Even people with Fairly’s experience fall prey to the fictional bullshit. Don’t speak unless spoken to. The big bad gangster might blow a fuse if you do. As though nut jobs who can’t stand other people talking to them are going to last in this business. No such issue with Marty. He’s sitting next to Fairly, and he’s talking already.
The Sudden Arrival of Violence Page 14