For Those Who Know the Ending

by Mackay, Malcolm

  He had to give her ten minutes. Hang around in this empty building and wait for her to get away before he let himself be seen on the street. It was the polite thing to do, the professional thing. It was that sense of professionalism that Aiden was determined to develop. They’d respect him then. But ten minutes, on your own, in a completely empty building, worrying about the police barging in, that’s tough. Hard to persuade yourself that nobody saw you coming in and called the cops because they thought you were a vandal or a thief. So he started trying to work out how long it would take the police to get there if someone was smart enough to think he was suspicious. Two minutes? Three? He glanced at his watch. Twenty-one minutes past five. Three minutes since she left. Another seven to wait. Okay, let’s say five, round it down. No reason for Aiden to give her the full ten minutes when eight would serve the same purpose.

  Aiden put the rucksack down on the floor again and unzipped it. Might as well have a look at the money for five minutes. It would be a fun and reassuring use of time. Good to see the success in paper form, hold it and smell it. There couldn’t be many in the industry who managed to arrange and carry off a deal this big. This would always be on his CV, the man who brought Chris Argyle and the Allens together. He opened one of the paper bags and took out a couple of small bundles of cash, just revelling in the weight of wealth. He thought about pocketing one. No, they’d notice a whole bundle missing and they wouldn’t react well to someone screwing them. Maybe slip a few notes out of a couple of bundles, make it look like the Allens miscounted. Was it worth it? It would make it look like the Allens weren’t careful when they were paying their money, and that would piss off Argyle, maybe even jeopardize the deal. No, a hundred quid in his pocket wasn’t worth that. He needed this deal to be a complete success. That would be worth a hell of a lot more than a hundred quid to him.

  He heard a vehicle on the road outside and paused. Could be the police, or Sarah again. The door scraped behind him as someone carefully pushed it open. Must be Sarah coming back with the bag. Shit, must be something wrong with the gear, he thought. Might be time to work some damage-limitation on the pretty blonde. He stuffed the money back into the rucksack and zipped it shut in a hurry. Didn’t want her realizing that he’d been thinking of pocketing some, even if he’d decided against it. He spun round and stood up in one movement, getting a smile on his face for her, ready to smooth over whatever complaint she had. But it wasn’t Sarah McFall. It was two young men, their faces showing. The white one, he was shorter, and he was pointing a gun at Aiden.

  It wasn’t hard to keep everyone in view. The key was getting access to a building across the street from the handover spot. They had minutes to get in, get a good view of events developing. Usman had texted Gully with a location, told him that Comrie was already there but hadn’t gone in yet. Nate and Gully rushed down in a transit van designed to fit right into this area. They knew that the business would have started by the time they got there, but the start didn’t matter.

  ‘There, that’s the building,’ Gully said.

  Nate slowed down. There was very little traffic, hardly any cars parked at the side of the road. This was a place people came to work, and very few of them came to work here on a Sunday.

  ‘There’s a van up there,’ Gully said, looking up the adjoining street. ‘Arse facing us, can’t see if anyone’s in it.’

  Nate kept going straight and steady, not accelerating much as they moved down the street.

  ‘There,’ Gully said from the passenger seat. ‘Left-hand side, gaggle of pricks in a car.’

  Nate drove past, neither him nor Gully looking down at Liam Duffy and the muscle he had sitting in the back of his car. Didn’t want to alert them yet. Then they turned into the yard of another big building much further down the street. They were just about out of view of Duffy, but it didn’t take much effort for Nate and Gully to get a look at the back of Duffy’s car.

  ‘Must have started the job by now,’ Gully said casually.

  Nate didn’t say anything. Should have started the job by now wasn’t the same as must have. The van on the adjoining street could have belonged to anyone. Could have been the Allens’ people, or it could have been Usman. None of that mattered. What mattered was Usman and his pal getting their end of the job done properly. If they did, then Nate could make this a very bad day indeed for Chris Argyle. That’s why they were watching Duffy, waiting for him to catch on to the fact that his pal wasn’t coming back out of that building with the cash.

  ‘I’ll be taking that,’ Usman said to Aiden, striding across and pulling the rucksack from his grasp. Aiden didn’t do anything to stop him. ‘Come on,’ he said, shoving Aiden towards the door Sarah had used.

  ‘What is this? Hold on, no, hold on,’ Aiden said, trying to resist.

  Martin moved a step closer, the gun pointing at Aiden’s head.

  ‘Whoa, all right, come on, fuck’s sake. What is this, huh? What is this, guys?’

  ‘Don’t sweat it,’ Usman told him, moving across to the door and pulling it open. He seemed casual, talking in a friendly tone. ‘This is just business, you know how it is. Business. We’ll be done in half an hour.’

  Aiden nodded at the word business. Sure, business, he was all about business these days. He couldn’t work out what sort of business these guys had though. Were they working for the Allens? They weren’t the two from the back of the car but that didn’t mean they weren’t working for Argyle either. Maybe they were going to count the money with him before it went to Duffy. But why the gun? That intense-looking little guy with the shaved head, still pointing the gun at him.

  ‘Who are you guys with? Is it . . . ? Who?’

  Usman stopped and looked at him. He was starting to lose patience; he wanted Comrie out of here by now. Look at this mug, desperate to believe the best of the situation he was in. Not smart enough to see the worst-case scenario standing right in front of him. He could be spun a story.

  ‘We’re working for Don Park. You know of Don Park?’

  Aiden paused. It was hard to think fast under the pressure of a pointed gun. Don Park. He knew who Don Park was, of course he fucking did. He was the guy Argyle was working with on this. Hell, he was bigger than Argyle.

  ‘Will I meet him?’ Aiden asked hopefully.

  Usman smiled. ‘Not if you’re just going to stand there. We need to be quick here, Aiden.’

  Aiden nodded, obviously trying to play this right. Looked like a man wanting to make a good impression on Don Park, boost his standing. He walked to the door, Usman ahead of him and Martin slipping in behind, lowering his gun but keeping the same focused look. Usman looked past Aiden briefly, got a slightly stunned shake of the head from Martin. This person was a clown. That didn’t deserve a shake of the head in Usman’s opinion; clowns were the very best people to steal from.

  Usman stuck his head out the door, looked down to the corner on the left. If Comrie’s backup were going to approach, that’s the way they would have to come. There was nobody there. The light blue Mercedes van Usman had borrowed for the day was parked at the kerb in front of them. Usman stepped out and slid the large side door of the van open, smiling to Aiden as the dealer stepped past him and into the back. Martin followed Aiden, still shaking his head slightly. Usman closed the door.

  Another look up and down the street before he got in the front of the van. Still nobody there. They were going to pull it off. They were actually going to get out of here with the cash. This was working. Maybe the dirtiest part was still to come, but this was the obstacle they were most likely to trip over. He jumped into the driver’s seat and threw the rucksack into the foot-well on the passenger side. He started the van and pulled away, watching his mirrors constantly as he went, trying to make sure he drove at a speed that drew no attention. Looking for threats, and looking for allies as well. He didn’t want either coming into view.

  They were out of the van, at the edge of the yard, looking back up the street at Duffy’s car. It
was schoolboy stuff, sneaking around like this, trying to catch a glimpse of the enemy. Nate looked at his watch. Jesus, what was taking this long? That wouldn’t have been Sarah McFall’s van parked on the other side of the building. She would have used a car, made sure she had something that didn’t in any way stand out wherever it was she was taking the drugs, rather than picking a vehicle for this location. That big van had to be what Usman was using. Get Comrie into the back of it, out of view of the passing world, and get away.

  That meant they should be out by now. The time it took Nate and Gully to get down to this yard, turn the van to face the exit and then stand here gawping back up the street like a couple of old women was time enough to get Comrie out. Then it became a question of how long Duffy was prepared to wait before he went looking for awkward truths. A couple more minutes, at the most.

  ‘If they let him go,’ Gully said, ‘this whole thing is fucked anyway.’

  ‘They won’t.’ Nate spoke quietly.

  ‘I don’t know, that boy’s a bit wishy-washy. He’s only in it for the cash.’

  ‘He’ll do it,’ Nate said. ‘Not for the cash, it’s about having to explain to you and me why he let Comrie walk away . . . There, they’re getting out of the car.’

  Gully looked up the street, saw the driver’s door and the two back doors of Duffy’s car opening. Nate was already round to the driver’s side of the van. They waited about ten seconds, long enough for the three men to approach the door of the building, and pulled out of the yard. Shit, they were already inside, young men moving faster than these old men expected. Nate raced the van along the street and screeched to a halt outside the door of the building. Then they were out – and into the building in seconds, just quick enough to cut Duffy off.

  Nate and Gully more than filled the doorway, both standing expressionless. Duffy stopped still, his breathing becoming heavier as his mind and heart raced. Nate and Gully didn’t need to act threatening, didn’t need to introduce themselves upon arrival. If you knew who they were then you knew what this meant, and Duffy clearly knew. His muscle did not. One of them started laughing at the older men blocking the exit. The other one pulled a knife from his trousers.

  Gully, still expressionless, opened his thin jacket and took out a small handgun. He wasn’t going to use it, not even as a last resort. He wasn’t a gunman, never would be. He ruined lives, he didn’t end them. Hated guns as well, they spoiled a good fight and got you into more trouble than you could handle. These kids didn’t know any of that though, they couldn’t see past the gun to the reluctance of the holder. The one with the knife dropped it with a clatter.

  ‘Nate, right,’ Duffy said. He was nervous, obviously, but holding it together. Talking with an authority he clearly found natural.

  Nate nodded very slightly. ‘Liam Duffy. How is Mr Argyle these days?’

  ‘Always looking for good help.’

  A good answer. Nate laughed. ‘I’m sure he is. He could certainly use it. Fancy sending one of my guys in here with a big bag full of drugs to collect a big bag full of cash. Not the sort of thing a good employee would allow to happen.’

  Duffy smiled, but it was a shoddy attempt at covering his nerves. His stomach was churning, failure punching him in the gut. Aiden Comrie, working for Peter Jamieson. His first instinct was that it wasn’t plausible. That brainless nobody, working a scam this effective for a man as serious as Nate Colgan. No, that couldn’t be right. But the evidence was looming over him. Comrie gone and neither the drugs nor the cash left behind. Nate Colgan and Gully Fitzgerald, standing in the doorway, gloating. The evidence was too much to argue with.

  ‘So Comrie’s with you, huh?’ Duffy said. He could feel the nerves radiating off the muscle standing behind him. They were in a spot where they might get shot, and that scared the crap out of them. Best-case scenario, they were about to be associated with an embarrassing failure. This was, if they were lucky, a very bad career move.

  Nate just smiled at the question. Stood there and smiled. Don’t go into detail when detail could expose your lies. He wanted Duffy to think that Comrie had gone of his own free will, that they’d failed to spot the traitor in their midst. Never tell the world you killed a man if the world is willing to believe something else. It was too late for them to get him back now anyway, but Nate wanted to make this failure as big as possible. Make it as dispiriting and damaging as he could. It would make the deal between Argyle and the Allens shaky. The Allens get their produce but Argyle loses his money and won’t get it back. The Allens get annoyed about being so close to a publicly botched job and begin to question the wisdom of working with Chris Argyle. But the big one, the one that matters most, is the unrepresented man, Don Park. He sees Argyle making a spectacular bollocks of a relatively simple job, finds out he hired a man who was working against him and got himself set up. That was going to damage the relationship between Park and Argyle, maybe irreparably.

  ‘So, uh, what now, huh?’ Duffy’s asking. Showing weakness, giving all the power over the situation to the other side.

  Nate shrugged. ‘I think we’re just about done here, don’t you? Unless you boys have anything else you’d like to say, hm? Any message you’d like us to take back to our bosses. You already know the message you have to take back to yours.’

  Duffy scoffed, a belated attempt to downplay the situation that fooled no one.

  ‘Right then,’ Nate said with a smile. ‘Thanks for the cash, boys; you have yourselves a safe journey home.’

  Nate and Gully turned and left. They made it look as casual a departure as possible, but both of them were alert for an attack. Not from Duffy, he knew better than to try and rescue a lost situation. One of the muscle might have been stupid enough to try their luck once they saw a back turned towards them. They didn’t. Nate and Gully got into the van and drove away.

  This had been Nate’s gig. If there was someone to report to, to claim glory from, then he could do it himself. Gully was happy to be dropped off at home.

  ‘Make sure you get rid of that gun,’ was the last thing he had said as he got out of the van. He had put the small handgun into the glovebox, Nate assuring him that he was going to get rid of it before he did anything else. Guns were treacherous little bastards; Gully couldn’t remind Nate of that often enough.

  Usman drove for a couple of minutes, all three in the van sitting in silence. Nobody was following them, they were clear. He relaxed, took a quick look over his shoulder at the two men in the back of the van.

  ‘Won’t be long now, Aiden,’ Usman said with a broad smile. ‘We’ll get this done as quick as possible; no point making life any more awkward than it has to be. Just business, you know.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, business, good,’ Aiden said, and he smiled.

  He was a businessman now. Thinking about meeting with Don Park. What would he say to a man that senior? It was a chance to make a better first impression. This was a clean slate. Tell Park how much he’d like to work for him without coming across as a crawler, that was the challenge. He had another chance to impress a senior man, and his heart was starting to beat fast. First the Allens, then Argyle and now Park. Those kind of connections made him senior, too.

  ‘Is this going to take long?’ he asked the little guy with the gun, sitting in the back of the van with him.

  The skinhead shrugged, like he didn’t know and he didn’t care. Another one who thought he was above talking to people like Aiden. Aye, fine, be like that, but his attitude would change when he was taking orders from Aiden, probably not long from now. That was a great thought.

  Lisa was in the kitchen, sitting at the table with her laptop open. A short woman with short blonde hair, a brittle look. Gully touched her shoulder as he walked past, went over to the fridge and took out a carton of orange juice. He wouldn’t be hungry; they’d had a big lunch. That was traditional, a big Sunday lunch. Lisa spent all morning cooking it. Get the family sitting down round the table for a roast dinner. Of course, the family jus
t meant the two of them now, but they kept to the routine, all the family habits they’d developed with Sally over the years. It was a little part of clinging on to her.

  ‘You weren’t long,’ Lisa said.

  Gully was filling a glass. ‘No, not long,’ he said, which was as much as he planned to tell her about his working day.

  She watched him walk over and sit at the table, that forceful look he got when he knew he wasn’t entirely welcome. He was just getting in her way, annoying her, but he seemed to consider it a necessary evil. They needed to talk more, Lisa knew it. It went in cycles, sometimes they had a normal, functioning marriage in which they spoke to each other often and seemed to get along. Then there were the other times. Times that could last for weeks or months when they hardly spoke and everything they said seemed to annoy the other. At least this time they both knew what had sparked the fresh hostility, it was him going back to work. Lisa had told him so, and didn’t think she should have to tell him again.

  ‘Anything doing?’ she asked him. There wasn’t a hint of interest in her tone, but that didn’t matter. Him sitting there had forced her to say something.

  ‘Not really, no,’ he said. He wasn’t going to tell her that he’d been pointing a gun at a bunch of drug dealers, pissing off the sort of people who were stupid and violent enough to come looking for revenge. Lisa had no interest in the things that he did. ‘What about you?’

  Lisa looked at him with a frown. ‘I’ve been sitting here doing nothing. You’re the one who went running off God knows where.’

  He nodded. ‘It was nothing really. Just making sure of security somewhere. Done now. Good to get a wee bit more cash in the pocket. I was thinking, maybe we should look at booking a holiday for this summer. Don’t want to leave it any later than this. We can afford it this year.’

  She glanced at him and then back at the screen, reluctant to show any enthusiasm. She was thinking about Sally. Thinking about holidays they took with her and thinking it was wrong for them to enjoy a holiday without her. The last one they’d been on, the only one since Sally died, had been miserable, guilt smashing any enjoyment.