The Glasgow Grin (A Stanton Brothers thriller)

by Martin Stanley

  The three men passed the tree where my brother was hiding and kept moving uphill. He waited until they were at least a hundred metres away before lowering himself from one of the branches. He dropped into a crouch at the base of the tree and waited for a reaction. Eddie and his companions kept walking.

  Stepping out of the shadows, I moved where Eddie and Micky could see me. The Karagounis brothers flanked their boss, with Anthony on the left and George on the right, pressing against him tightly. They cast glances to each side, but didn’t think about looking behind them, where my brother was moving quietly in their direction.

  When they were about fifty metres away, Eddie picked up pace and stepped away from his bodyguards. He spread his arms out wide and grinned. “Alone at last.”

  “Almost.”

  He leaned forward, put his hand over his mouth and pretended to whisper. “We are alone, aren’t we, matey?”

  I stared at the heavily bearded Karagounis twins. “It’s just us and the Taliban.”

  Anthony sneered. “Go fuck yourself.”

  Eddie chuckled. “He doesn’t have my sense of humour ‘bout all this, like.”

  “Don’t remember you having much sense of humour about it last night.”

  Eddie’s grin slipped but didn’t disappear completely. “Well, you’re here now,” he said, adding. “So where’s my money?”

  “Somewhere else.”

  “That’s a shame. Hope it’s not too far?”

  “It’s close enough.”

  In the low light, it must have looked as if I was staring at Eddie, but I was actually peering over his shoulder, at my brother creeping low and slow behind them, less than thirty metres away.

  George stepped forward until he was level with Eddie. “We owe you, Stanton.”

  “I’d say you owe my brother. I don’t remember putting a hurt on you.”

  George dropped his gun and rubbed his crooked nose, a reminder of where my brother once caught him with a hammer, then he flung the holdall aside. “But you put us in the frame for a hurt, cunt. Which kinda makes it the same thing, dunnit?”

  George put his right hand in his front jeans pocket, pulled out steel knuckles. He slipped them over the fingers of his right hand and made a fist.

  “And as your brother’s not around, that makes you liable,” he said.

  My brother was only twenty metres behind Anthony and closing fast. Clapping and laughing loudly, I drew their attention from his approach. “Oh, boo-fuckin’-hoo, Georgie boy. You interfered in our business and paid the price. Quit your fuckin’ whining. You shouldn’t have crossed our path if you didn’t wanna get hurt. It wasn’t personal first time around, but you fuckin’ made it that way when you cut Emily McGarvey.”

  Now it was George’s turn to laugh. “Fuck that little bitch.”

  His nonchalance shocked me. I’d expected some kind of regret, even if only for a moment, but it was obvious that he felt nothing of the sort. Whatever was coming his way would be fully deserved. “She’s a child, you piece of shit,” I said. “You don’t hurt kids.”

  “Now who’s whining?” George said, with another snicker. “And besides, who gives a fuck?”

  Anthony was too transfixed to notice my brother was only a few feet away. Grinning at George’s bullshit, he only noticed something was up at the last second, but by then it was too late. My brother wrapped an arm around his neck and put a knife blade to his carotid. “Mebbe I give a fuck,” my brother said, before adding, “Drop the shooter.”

  Anthony let go of the gun and allowed himself to be pulled back by my brother, who crouched down and used him as a shield. Turning on his heels, Eddie trained the gun barrel on Anthony. “Let him go now.”

  George pivoted back in the direction of his firearm, but stopped moving when I put a bullet in the ground at his feet. He raised his hands in the air and let out a sigh.

  Eddie squinted down the sight. “Hows about I put one in your brother?”

  McMaster stepped out of the shadows, his weapon level. “And how about I put one in your brain stem?” he hissed. “Reckon that’s a fair trade?”

  Eddie grinned, but didn’t lower his piece. “So you came alone?”

  “As alone as you did.”

  McMaster moved forward. “I won’t tell you again.”

  Eddie turned his head to the trees on my right and waited. When his men failed to emerge as expected, he threw the gun and holdall on the ground. His hands went in the air. “Now what?”

  “Now you find out why you’re here.”

  77. – Owden

  WHEEZING FOR breath, Bob watched everything play out from behind a hedge on the opposite side of the clearing. He’d run almost a mile in ten minutes, most of it in a crouch. His thigh muscles burned and throbbed and every breath was painful. Damp clothes clung to his skin. He felt every one of his sixty-five years.

  A glance at his companion compounded the effect; Jimmy seemed barely out of breath, and looked ready to run another mile, if necessary. Bob tried to ignore him, and concentrate on his own recovery, but this was made impossible by the fact that Jimmy nudged him constantly for information and updates.

  A man whose face he recognised stepped out from behind a tree, pointing an automatic at the back of Eddie’s head. Even from a distance, and through the green patina of night-vision, Bob knew who it was. Grinning, he handed the binoculars to Jimmy, who raised his eyebrows in question.

  “Tell us who that looks like, lad?”

  Jimmy focused the glasses. “Looks like The Master, but a lot older.”

  “Older, definitely, but it’s him.”

  “What’s he doing with the Stantons?”

  “Being naughty,” Bob said.

  Jimmy smiled. “Isn’t he just. So what do we do now?”

  “Think we should get Regan and them lads to come and crash their party.”

  “Remember, you can’t kill the Stantons,” Jimmy said.

  Bob raised his eyebrows. “Can’t?” He hadn’t fought his way from stints as a lowly nightclub bouncer to his current position a man who had police and local councillors on his payroll only to be told what he could and couldn’t do by an underling. “Don’t tell me what my options are, lad.”

  Jimmy’s body went stiff. “I’m not telling you what to do,” he said. “Only that it would be inadvisable to kill them.”

  “I should just let them run around town, doing whatever the hell they want?”

  “Course not,” Jimmy replied, shaking his head. “But that video and those pictures aren’t going away, and you know it.”

  As much as Bob hated to admit it, Jimmy was right. His options were limited to coming to some sort of arrangement with the brothers, torturing the location of the original files and copies out of them, or killing them. Each option had its risks. Bob would know what to do when the time came, but for now he consoled himself with another look through the binoculars.

  Eddie, Anthony and George huddled with their backs to each other, while the Stanton brothers and McMaster circled them with silenced weapons at the ready. Eric waved his gun at the trees beyond the clearing. Eddie turned his head in that direction and said something. Eric’s mouth moved in response and a back a forth ensued between the two men. Finally, Eddie let his head drop slightly and he moved towards the trees with the Karagounis brothers and their captors following closely behind. They disappeared into the shadows.

  Bob lowered the glasses and began thinking. His only concern at the moment was Eddie, and the hidden money. Maybe he couldn’t kill the Stantons yet, but he might be able to neutralise them through fear of his reputation and letting them slide for a two million payday was worth it. Besides, the brothers would keep. He’d find out if they had copies, wheedle the information out of them, bide his time, and act accordingly.

  A black saloon car he didn’t recognise approached from the right and pulled up on the other side of the road about two hundred yards away. Bob scrutinised the two men who exited the vehicle. He didn’
t recognise them, but judging by their shaved heads, stocky build and cautious manner he figured the men to be villains of some kind. He passed the binoculars to Jimmy. “Impressions?”

  Jimmy watched for a few seconds before giving his verdict: “Private security. Probably ex-military, judging by the way they move.” Then he made a sharp intake of breath, squeezed the binoculars and let them drop. He handed the glasses back to Bob without looking at him. “Here,” he said in a voice that was barely a whisper.

  Bob snatched the binoculars. The two men were speaking with a dark-haired woman whose lower face was obscured with bandages. It was Rose. She pointed at a path through the trees, said something, and the two men nodded. Then they walked in the direction of the path and disappeared from view.

  “What’s that lass playing at?” he said, staring at Jimmy.

  The hitman rubbed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “I dunno.”

  “She were your girlfriend. You must have an idea.”

  “If I had to guess, I’d say she’s gonna kill two birds with one stone.”

  Rose was a dose of trouble that Bob didn’t need. He knew that she was out for revenge because of her daughter, but her rage wasn’t exactly a thing of subtlety; more of the kind that would kill an entire room of people just to take out one person. She had to be stopped by any means necessary.

  “We need to cut her off before she ruins everything,” Bob said.

  Jimmy nodded.

  Both men began to rise, but dropped below the hedgeline again as another vehicle approached. The estate car pulled off the road and parked behind some tall shrubs. The two men who Bob recognised but couldn’t name got out of the car, walked over to Rose’s saloon and peered through the windows. Then they directed their attention towards the path that Rose and her bodyguards had taken. Both men pulled weapons, screwed on silencers, and took off in that direction.

  Bob turned in Jimmy’s direction. “Get Regan on the phone now.”

  78. – Stanton

  EDDIE AND the Karagounis brothers formed a three-man huddle with their backs to each other while we circled them. They studied us warily, and Eddie’s eyes explored the ten feet of grass that separated us before finally settling on the gun in my hand; working out if it was worth his while to rush me. Judging by his lack of movement, I figured he knew that it wasn’t.

  “What now?” he said.

  I pointed the gun barrel in the direction of the woods. “You walk that way.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I have a gun,” I replied. “And if you don’t walk I’ll perform a bullet transplant from this clip to your knees.”

  Eddie turned his head in the direction I was pointing. “What’s back there?”

  “Trees.”

  “Seriously, what’s back there?”

  “Lots of trees.”

  Eddie gritted his teeth and fixed his wonky gaze on my face. He was standing on the balls of his feet, ready to make a run for it. I coughed and waggled my gun for effect.

  “You wouldn’t get very far,” I said.

  “I might get further than you think.”

  “Then why don’t I just take care of you now?” I said, lining up my shot, brushing the trigger.

  Eddie’s body went loose. “You think you’re real fuckin’ clever, don’tcha?”

  “I’m not clever,” I said. “Far from it, but I’m smarter than you. And that’s all that matters at this moment in time. Now I’m done talking, so move it.”

  Hanging his head slightly, Eddie moved in the direction of the trees. Anthony and George hesitated, before finally following their boss into the trees. We stayed close behind, ready for anything.

  79. – Owden

  BOB AND JIMMY rushed along the path, looking left and right for trouble. They found it in the form of the two men from the estate car. Rose and her bodyguards had obviously been too fast or clever for them, so they had hung back to watch the clearing for signs of life. They emerged from behind some trees and blocked the path with handguns drawn.

  “Bit late for a stroll, youse two,” the bulkier and shaggier of the pair said. Both men were a good couple of inches taller than Bob, and stood on their toes to accentuate the advantage.

  Bob stepped forward. “Might say the same.”

  If they were scared, they hid it well. The second man came within arm’s reach of Bob. “Youse should listen to me mate, mucker,” he said. “‘Cause he never repeats hisself.” The man’s nasal, almost Scouse, whine was instantly recognisable. Alex McGinty, who used to work the doors for Bob before he was caught nailing a couple of waitresses at the same time in one of the toilet cubicles.

  “Alex Mac,” Bob said. “How’s tricks, lad?”

  Alex narrowed his eyes for a few seconds, studying Bob. Sudden recognition slackened his face, but he kept his fear sublimated. “Oh, you know how it is, Bob? Things keep ticking along. How’s things with you?”

  “Not so good.”

  Both gunmen shuffled. “How come?”

  Bob grinned at Jimmy. “Well, here I am, out for one of my evening constitutionals, with the lad here. And you boys are blocking that there route to the trees.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “You don’t sound sorry.”

  Alex shrugged; he was the one with the gun, after all. “Have me orders.”

  “And who gave them?”

  Alex’s mouth turned down at the edges. “I forget.”

  Bob patted Jimmy’s shoulder. “Then maybe you can forget about blocking the path for five minutes and let us on our way.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m looking for ideas. You know how it is, right? You lads never communed with nature before?”

  “Can’t say I have,” Alex said and looked at his partner. “Hows about you?”

  Curling his lip, the other man looked up at the trees. “Nature can keep it.”

  “Pity there, lads. It’s brilliant for business planning, you see. Them poets were really on to something when they walked through the woods and fields.”

  The two gunmen looked at each other, confused.

  “Poets? What poets?” Alex asked.

  “Does it matter?” Jimmy said, his voice a whisper.

  The other heavy – who Bob now recognised as Garth Kittredge – leaned in close to the hitman, saying: “It matters to me.”

  Jimmy slammed his open palm into the man’s windpipe, crushing it. Kittredge fired a silenced round into the dirt, dropped the gun, and clutched his throat as he fell to the floor.

  Alex spun in Jimmy’s direction and lined up his shot, but Bob grabbed his arm just as he squeezed the trigger. The bullet slammed harmlessly into one of the trees. Jimmy got Alex in a chokehold, wrapping his arm tightly around the man’s throat before he slammed his right knee into the crook of Alex’s knee. This knocked him off-balance and he fell forward just at the moment that Jimmy dug in his heels and pulled back with all his strength. Alex’s neck broke with a loud crack and his body went limp. Loosening his grip, Jimmy let the man drop face down on the ground.

  Jimmy picked up their weapons, walked over to the trees where they were hiding and found a holdall. He brought it back, unzipped it and looked inside: it contained heavy-duty weaponry – TEC-9s and Tavors – with ammunition and silencers, too. Jimmy threw the other guns on top.

  Bob whistled. “Eddie didn’t come here to play, did he?”

  Jimmy zipped up the bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Let’s move, boss.”

  Bob hesitated and looked down at the corpses. “What about these two?”

  Jimmy shifted his shoulders slightly. “Get Regan’s boys to carry ‘em to the van. We haven’t got time to babysit.”

  80. – Stanton

  WE MARCHED the captives into a small clearing that was about forty-feet square and consisted of flat moss-covered soil that squelched underfoot. It was far enough away from the main clearing to be completely out of view of the road and close enough that Mickey and Ted
still had us covered in case of surprises. I told the men to stop and turn around, and I shined my torch on them.

  The Karagounis brothers wore matching worried expressions and blinked against the light. Eddie’s scarred face was set firmly in a Billy Idol sneer, he glanced at his surroundings.

  “Why’re we here?” he said. “What’ve youse got planned?”

  “You’ll see.”

  I texted the location to Rose and hoped that she had enough signal. I knew that Mickey would give me advance warning if she had any surprises in store.

  Eddie noticed the phone and nodded at it. “‘Ere, I asked you a question: What’re youse planning?”

  “A surprise guest.”

  “For me? Don’t go to any trouble on my account.”

  “No trouble.”

  Mickey’s voice came through the earpiece. “Rose coming in on your right, from the path. She’s got two uninvited guests with her. Ex-military types. Packing heat. Look ready to use ‘em, too. You want me to take ‘em out?”

  I texted him back: No. Let them through. Let them think they’ve got the upper hand. Surprise them on my signal.

  I just about returned the phone to my hip pocket when Rose appeared from the right. There was no sign of her men. I smiled at her. She returned a brief nod.

  Eddie followed my gaze and his jaw went slack. Surprise and fear registered on his face for the first time and then his body stiffened, readying itself for fight or flight. His eyes turned from Rose towards a gap between the woman and my brother.

  He made a run for it.

  My brother saw the play before I did, moved to narrow the gap and swung his gun arm across. The handle smashed against Eddie’s jaw and sent him staggering a few steps until he came to rest upright against a tree. Using the ensuing confusion to their advantage, the Karagounis brothers made their move.

  Anthony sprinted for the gap between Rose and McMaster, but the safecracker was wise to it and spun on his heels, popping off several low shots as he turned. Some of the rounds slammed in Anthony’s knees and upper thighs and he wailed as he collapsed to the ground.