‘What do you know about the job Kenny was doing that night?’ he’s asking her. Asked her before, and she said she knew nothing. Let’s see what she’s learned since.
‘I’ve been told that it was a job against MacArthur. Nothing big. Just setting something up, or sending a message, something like that. Kenny dropped off the person doing the job with him. Between then and getting home, they got him.’
There’s almost no point at all in asking. But he will. Has to. It’s his job, after all. They pay him to ask. She’s too smart to be offended by the question. Too smart to make a scene.
‘And where did you get all this information?’
She’s looking at him and she’s smiling. ‘From a friend. Someone in the business. Someone who knows. I can’t say more than that.’
He’s nodding. ‘I can’t do anything with that information if I don’t know it’s credible. You know that. I need to know where it came from.’
She’s smiling. She knew he would say it. And she knows that he doesn’t expect an answer. Just going through the routine.
She’s getting up and walking out, leaving him behind. He’s glancing round to watch her go. Much more confident than any of their previous encounters. Something’s changed. Only been a week, but she seems like a different person. Confident, relaxed. Someone’s responsible. Jesus, they don’t take long to move on. Shouldn’t judge her. You live her life, and you have to be able to move on quickly. You have a life with someone in the criminal business, and there’s a chance it can all come crashing down in a heartbeat. There’s something admirable about her. The strength it takes to move on. Fisher was married. Divorced. Life moved on, but it left a scar. Takes real strength to shrug it off and move straight along. Looking for your next opportunity. Ready for the chance to put the past behind you. Must be nice to live that way. To be able to. The past walks beside Fisher, walks beside most people.
If Deana Burke is naming Des Collins, then it won’t be long before others are. It’ll become the talk on the street. People will wonder why the police aren’t doing something about it. They need to get Collins. For the sake of publicity, they need Collins, but he doesn’t really matter. Not to Fisher. You put Collins away for fifteen, and someone else steps up to replace him. It might scare a few people around MacArthur, but time will quell that. The one who matters is Shug. He can get Shug. Will get him. Has to make it just right. Don’t overreach. Don’t charge him with things you can’t be certain of. Play safe. Get him sent down. And when he’s stewing away inside, you have all the time you need to nail down the other charges. Many people have fallen by the wayside in the last few months. People connected to Shug and Peter Jamieson. Lewis Winter was murdered because of his work in the drug trade. Glen Davidson too. Tommy Scott. Andy McClure. Maybe even Frank MacLeod. Must be possible to find the evidence for one or two of those.
40
It was a long night. Feels like it’s going to be a long day. Young’s been searching for info from just about every contact he has and keeps coming up short. Nobody knows. Hard to ask the right questions. They can’t give anything away. Can’t let people know that Calum’s running, and that they’re running after him. Once word gets out, people will begin to question Jamieson. Question the grip he has over his own people. Doesn’t matter what he does to Shug. People will shrug it off. So what, you took down Shug, but you can’t even hold on to the people you’ve got. What kind of leader does that make you? So Young’s asking vague questions. Mostly trying to find George Daly. Find him, and he finds Calum. He’s phoned George repeatedly through the night, but his phone’s switched off.
He’s almost convinced now that George is helping Calum. Either that or he’s been killed by him. Helping seems more likely. Should have done it the other way round. He knows that now. Send George to deliver the beating, and Hutton to watch Calum. Too late. Young was just so pissed off with the brother. And he trusted George so little. Didn’t think George would deliver much of a punishment. Still doesn’t think so, but doesn’t care any more. The brother was never the priority. Shouldn’t have been the priority anyway. Should have focused on Calum. That’s what Jamieson is thinking. Young knows it. Spoke to him on the phone about an hour ago. Told him he was still trying to find information. Jamieson was short with him. Didn’t say anything aggressive; nothing that would let Young know how annoyed he is. But Young knows from the tone. The subtle change. The exasperation.
He spoke to Greig. Couldn’t find Higgins. Either asleep or at work. Greig will have to do. Asked him if he knew anything about George Daly. Whether he was arrested in the night. ‘Didn’t hear about it, if he was. Whole station’s gearing up for a raid on Shug Francis. Fisher’s close. Going after him and Des Collins. Didn’t hear about anyone else.’
So George hasn’t been arrested. His name didn’t show up on any hospital checks, either. Now Young’s making his way back into the office at the club. Jamieson’s sitting behind his desk, looking up at Young walking into the room. Eyebrows raised.
‘Nothing,’ Young’s saying. Slumping into the couch at the side of the room. Jamieson won’t say anything. Doesn’t need to. This has been a balls-up. Young knows it, and nobody’s going to be harder on him than himself.
He doesn’t make many mistakes. Any mistake at this level is a big mistake. They can all come back to haunt you. It’s about how well you clean up after it. And, of course, making sure you never repeat it. These are areas where Young’s record is exemplary. Always cleans up well, never repeats a mistake. Except this time. This time he’s not cleaning up well. He’s lost sight of the target, and the man tracking the target. That’s a double failure. Could turn it around. Jamieson expects that he will. They’ll sort this out, and they’ll nail Shug, and things will work out in the end. That’s what he thinks will happen. But there will still be consequences. People will know that Calum nearly slipped through their fingers. That George helped him. Most of all, they’ll know that Jamieson and Young had two men working for them who unsettled their entire operation. That’ll make them look weak. Which means having to do something strong in response. Strong and fast.
‘We need to accelerate moves against MacArthur,’ Jamieson’s saying. ‘As soon as the Shug thing is done, we make a move.’ MacArthur still seems to think that their deal to isolate and destroy Shug is genuine. That Jamieson will live up to his end of the bargain. Nope. Being able to connect MacArthur to Shug gives Jamieson the false justification he needs to go after MacArthur next.
Young’s nodding. Grateful for the chance to talk about something that isn’t Calum. ‘I’m hearing that they’ll be arresting Shug in the next day or two. If we want to make the Fizzy angle work for us, you need to call Shug up real soon. Try to get him aboard. We probably have less than twenty-four hours for that. Still, worst-case scenario, he gets locked up and we can use Fizzy to muscle in on the car-ring.’
Jamieson’s nodding. The car-ring doesn’t matter much to him. Getting rid of Shug matters. Having Shug as an excuse to attack MacArthur–that matters. Makes MacArthur look bad. MacArthur had a connection with Shug, and must be punished for it. Gives Jamieson the chance to look strong. Something his instincts tell him he needs right now.
Young’s phone is ringing. He’s looking at the screen, frowning slightly. ‘It’s Greig,’ he’s saying. Not long since he spoke to the cop. Not thrilled about an unexpected phone call. He’s answering it there in the office. Nothing to hide from Jamieson. ‘Hello.’
‘Hi, John, listen, is now a good time to talk?’ Sounding so casual. Sounding like he’s Young’s best mate.
‘Now’s fine. What’s up?’
‘I know you’re looking for George Daly. I heard something when I got to the station a wee while ago.’
‘Go on.’
‘Last night there was a report of a guy called William MacLean being battered in the garage he owns. He was taken to hospital. Died early this morning.’
Jamieson’s only hearing half the conversation, but he can se
e the grimace that’s just spread over Young’s face. This isn’t good news. Must be something to do with Calum. Couldn’t reasonably be anything else. Jamieson’s sitting in silence, tapping his forefinger on the top of his desk. Watching and listening. Wondering what’s happened now that could make matters any worse. It’s that grimace from Young. So unlike him. Usually so reserved, so confident in everything he does. That’s because he’s usually in control. There’s an uncomfortable feeling spreading through Peter Jamieson. All his working life he’s had John Young at his side, and Young’s never let him down. Always had the skill for it. Always had the organizational nous. Maybe things have got too big for Young. Maybe the organization is outgrowing him.
‘You’re sure?’ Young’s asking.
‘Yeah, certain,’ Greig’s saying. ‘Listen. There were two people with MacLean at the hospital. The detective who went there spoke to them. One was MacLean’s brother, Calum. The other one was George Daly. They had nothing interesting to say. Just that they found him and called the ambulance. Said they had no idea what the beating was all about.’
‘Okay, fine,’ Young’s saying. His tone suggests that it’s not fine, but there you go–people say these things. Just trying to wrap up the phone call so he can work out where this puts them.
‘Listen, there’s something else,’ Greig’s saying. ‘When word went round about William MacLean dying, well, most people didn’t care. Hadn’t heard of him. Just another investigation. Then Fisher heard about it. He’s adding it to his investigations. Says it’s connected. Wants to find the brother, Calum. Seems to think he might be connected to you.’
Young’s grimacing again. Not a good look. ‘Does anyone know where they are now?’ he’s asking Greig.
‘No. They sent someone to the hospital. The two witnesses were gone. Just found the dead boy’s mother. Said that her other son was gone and that he wasn’t coming back. She wasn’t making a lot of sense, apparently. Traumatized, I suppose.’ Greig’s beginning to sound rather bored. He’s done his bit, reporting this to Young. It’s up to Young to try and rescue whatever crisis this is.
‘How close is Fisher to making arrests?’ Young’s demanding.
‘I don’t know,’ Greig’s saying with a sigh, ‘I’m not in on the investigation. He keeps me at arm’s length. Won’t be today. He’s being held back by people above him. Probably tomorrow. Evening would be my guess. I don’t know, though–just a guess. Usually a guy who takes his time with these things, wants to get it just right. Seems like he’s trying to rush this one, though, so, you know, might be sooner than expected.’
Young’s hanging up the phone. Looking down at the screen, taking his time before he talks to Jamieson, picking the right words. Hard to come up with any version of events that isn’t his fault, though. He sent Hutton to do the beating. A gunman to do muscle-work. Like most people who encounter Shaun Hutton professionally, William MacLean has ended up dead. Hutton will take some of the blame. He was warned not to kill the boy. But it’s ultimately Young’s responsibility. Should have seen this coming.
‘William MacLean is dead,’ Young’s saying quietly. Leaning forward on the couch, phone still in his hands, looking down at the floor.
‘Dead?’ Jamieson’s saying. ‘How can he be dead?’
A little sigh. ‘I sent Hutton to do the beating. He went too far, obviously.’
‘Hutton? Why did you send Hutton after the brother?’ Then a dismissive swipe of the hand. ‘Never mind. What do the police know?’
The possible saving grace. ‘They don’t know where Calum and George are. They spoke to both of them at the hospital,’ Young’s saying.
‘Both of them?’
‘George was there with Calum. I don’t know why. I can guess, but I don’t know. Police spoke to them, didn’t think anything of it. It was only when Fisher found out that William had died; he put two and two together. He knows who Calum is. Or thinks he does. They’ll be searching for Calum and George. Calum especially. So, we have to find them first.’ Looking over at Jamieson, waiting for a reaction. He can see the anger boiling in his friend. Jamieson’s about to say something when Young’s phone rings again. Young’s looking at the screen. ‘It’s George,’ he’s saying, as he answers.
‘Hello?’ It’s a cautious hello from Young. Unsure what to expect from a man he doesn’t trust.
‘Hello, John, it’s me, George.’ Whispering, sounding breathless. ‘I can’t speak for long. Just to report in. Listen, I picked up Calum when he left his brother’s house yesterday. Took him to his brother’s garage. Found the brother dying. So I had to go to the hospital, stay with him, keep up the pretence. He’s left the hospital now. William died this morning. You were right. He’s running. Leaving the city. But I don’t know what he’s going to do now. Now that his brother’s dead. I think he’s looking for someone. He’s armed, John, he’s armed. I’m following him. On foot. Can’t let him catch me, because I can’t explain it if he does.’ Then a pause, just the sound of someone walking, George breathing. ‘Jesus,’ he’s whispering. ‘Shit!’ And the phone’s gone dead.
41
The first and last thing he needs is a gun. He hoped it wouldn’t come to this. Hoped that the last time he had held a gun would be the last time he held a gun. When he killed Kenny. That would have been the case, if all had gone well. All has not gone well, Calum’s reflecting. A change in strategy. The dream of a smooth departure dead. The fake ID useless. Other things matter now. Like making people pay a high price for their actions. He’s sitting in the back of a taxi, being driven through the city. He knows which taxi firms can be trusted and which can’t. Some are very close to the criminal business. You have to avoid the ones that might report your journey. He knows which are clean. Or thinks he does, anyway. These things change quickly and often. Doesn’t matter a whole lot. Calum’s going to move fast now.
The taxi’s pulling up outside the address Calum gave the driver.
‘Wait here,’ he’s saying. Getting out of the back of the car and glancing left and right. No other cars on the street. Nobody watching him. Walking in through the front garden and up to the front door. It’s his usual supplier. He thought about going to someone else. Someone who wouldn’t recognize him. If word’s been going round for the last twelve hours that Calum’s wanted by Jamieson, then the supplier might know. Might report Calum as soon as he leaves the house. Go to someone who doesn’t know you–they have nothing to report. All they know is your name, not your face. But going to someone you don’t know brings its own risks. No guarantee that they won’t recognize him. No guarantee that they’re reliable. No guarantee that they’ll be willing to do business. His own supplier might not have heard that Calum’s persona non grata. Might not care if he is. People in the gun trade are good at keeping their mouths shut.
A whole industry built on the principles of a blind eye and a deaf ear. Calum’s relying on that now. People for whom silence is intuitive. Ringing the doorbell and waiting. There’s a routine to this. Do nothing that upsets that routine. This will go somewhat beyond the routine. Nine days since he was last here, buying the gun he used to kill Hardy and Kenny. The dealer will have expected that gun to be returned. Calum’s a returner–that’s the routine. Not this time. He chucked that gun. Thought he would never need another one. And now he’s back on the doorstep, looking for another gun. So soon after the last job. Paying the going rate. Cash in his bag. The door opening. The seller looking at him. A short little man in his later years. Nodding for Calum to come in. Nothing to say, not yet.
Inside the house. Warm in here. The seller won’t mention the previous gun. The fact that it wasn’t returned. Fine by him. Means he gets to keep the whole fee. Calum’s a reliable client. He knows he can rely on the boy to say nothing about it. To expect no money back, if he’s not able to return the weapon. Some people do make a fuss. Clients who somehow think they’re special. Think they can get some of their money back without returning the gun. Morons–they’re the ones w
ho never last. The ones who think they can rewrite the rule book to suit themselves. The reliable ones, like Calum, are the good clients. They last because they understand. Shape themselves to fit the business, not the other way round.
‘Single piece, small?’ the old man’s asking him.
‘Single piece, small,’ Calum’s nodding. And that’s all they’ll say to one another.
The old man’s gone upstairs. Going to his loft to get the gun for Calum. Leaving the younger man standing by himself just inside the front door. Old man could be doing anything. Gone up there to call Peter Jamieson and tell him to get someone round here quick. Would he do that? It would end his career if people found out he’d been so disloyal to a client. You have to be able to trust your supplier. That’s rule one. Maybe he would call Jamieson if he thought nobody would ever find out. Everyone, no matter how experienced, is capable of convincing themselves that they can get away with things other people can’t. Everyone likes to believe they’re special. But honest or not, he’s a businessman, so he will sell the gun. Never refuse a sale. So he’ll go and get the gun. And he’ll sell it to Calum, and he’ll take the risk that comes from that. It could be the gun used to attack Jamieson or Young. That’s the risk you run as a dealer.
He’s back downstairs. A small handgun, wrapped in a cloth and placed in a thick plastic bag. Handing it across to Calum. Calum reaching into his pocket and paying the man. Seems like the right thing to do. He’ll never be back. What’s going to happen next means that he’ll never need another gun from this man again. He knows this. He could just walk out. Tell the old man to stick his money. Nothing the old man could do about it. But he’s not going to do that. The old man’s always played straight with Calum, so Calum’s going to play straight with him. He’s paying the man. Taking the wad of cash from his pocket, paying up. The old man nodding and opening the door for his client, as he always does. Calum’s nodding goodbye and walking out.
The Sudden Arrival of Violence Page 21