The twins had barely finished celebrating their twenty-first birthday and had been kept in the background of their father’s criminal business. Old Joe had always said he was like a top football coach and would bring the boys along slowly till they were ready for the big league. They were eager enough themselves, but Danny didn’t want them cutting into the profits. He’d preferred to keep them running the odd message – low profile and nothing that would get them mentioned in dispatches. Like their sisters, the twins despised Danny for what he was, and the trouble was that Danny had known it. But as far as he’d been concerned, when old Joe popped his clogs, he would take over, and the rest of the family could either work for him or fuck off and get proper jobs.
It was the early-morning rush hour by the time they headed to the hospital, and on the way they stopped for some flowers.
‘Appearances, Pat – that’s what matters. Got to do the right thing so all those other fuckers out there know that we’re the real business.’ Eddie spoke like an older man, and in a way that’s what he was. ‘We’ve sat back long enough. The old man’s business is getting cut up under our noses while we fuck about the pubs in Leith. After we’ve seen what’s up at the hospital we need to get serious – find out what’s going on.’
Pat was less confident but knew that Eddie was smart enough for the both of them. They were isolated; Joe’s team seemed to have disappeared, and he wasn’t sure what the two of them could do in the world of men. He didn’t mind getting involved, but there were some dangerous fuckers out there who’d been doing it for years, and it was only now becoming apparent to the young brothers that they’d relied too much on Joe. Without him they were rudderless. Their father had been the one with all the contacts and he’d made the deals; he’d been reluctant to delegate responsibility because he mistrusted Danny, knowing his firstborn was as much of a danger to him as the other scumbags waiting for a turn.
The twins walked along the corridors on the lookout for their mother waving at them and apologising for the amount of sauce she’d taken the night before, but there was no sign of her, and when they arrived at the ward and asked the staff nurse for directions, she said the doctor needed to talk to them first. It was only then they began to realise the situation might be more serious than they had presumed.
The doctor arrived shortly afterwards and explained that their mother had experienced a significant mental trauma and was in a state of shock. There was no doubt that Lena had suffered an assault, and though her injuries would heal, there would have to be an assessment of her psychological condition.
Eddie was the one who asked the question, through tight lips, that had first come to mind for both of the brothers. ‘Has someone interfered with her?’
The doctor’s briefing had hit them like a good right hook. They hadn’t been ready for it, and now they realised they were facing yet another problem – as if they needed any more. Father and brother missing and now it sounded as if their mother had turned into a candidate for the chuckle wagon.
The doctor patiently explained to them that as far as they could see there were no indications that she had been sexually assaulted.
They walked into a side room, which was quiet apart from the low buzz of the machines hooked up to their mother. A uniformed policewoman was standing outside the room; she recognised the twins and nodded, but they ignored the gesture. Lena’s eyes were closed and she seemed to have aged by about twenty years. Her face was pale and covered with small marks and bruises. Nothing too bad on their own, but they knew those marks hadn’t come on their own.
‘What the fuck is this?’ Eddie hissed. His fist balled then unclenched as he tried to suppress a growing sense of rage and confusion. His brother didn’t really feel much for any other human being, but this cut him somewhere deep in his instincts. It was their mother; someone had done this to Lena, so it had been done to them. Whatever had happened would never have happened in the past. There was no one in the east side of the central belt who would have dared.
‘We’ve gone soft – fuckin’ soft as shite,’ said Eddie, running his hands over his head, and he made a silent promise that there would be a reply.
He leaned over and his nose twitched at the foul odour of his mother’s breath. She half-opened her eyes and seemed to recoil in fear at the sight of her son. Eddie took her hand, which seemed weak and frail, but she tried to pull away. Whatever she was seeing, it wasn’t her two boys.
‘It’s Eddie and Pat, Ma. You’re okay; we’re here with you and everythin’s goin’ to be okay.’ Eddie felt the lump grow in his throat and it threw him. He didn’t want to show emotion – he was a Fleming for fuck’s sake. But although he was a Fleming, he was still not much more than a boy in years.
Whatever the Fleming family was, Lena was his mother, and for all her faults she loved her sons and had always taken care of them – even Danny. She stared at him for what seemed like an age, and her lips trembled like an old woman’s. She stared wide-eyed at her son and gradually he felt her grip tighten as she tried to mouth something.
‘What happened, Ma? Did someone hurt you?’ He tried to keep his voice strong, but there was a tremor of mixed anger and fear.
Pat stood behind his brother and felt the same emotions washing through him. He took a step forward to his brother’s side, trying to make sense of what he was seeing and hearing.
Lena looked towards Pat and then back to Eddie.
‘Don’t let them hurt me again,’ she pleaded. ‘Please don’t let them hurt me again.’
‘Who hurt you, Ma?’ Eddie was trying to deal with too much frustration, and he was short of patience. He took his mother’s hand out of his own and told Pat to stay with her, went outside and against his instincts spoke to the female police officer.
‘What the fuck happened to my mother?’
The officer had worked out of Leith for nearly ten years, knew the Flemings, and Eddie recognised her. As far as she was concerned they were the dregs. She was going through a break-up, having caught her bastard of a boyfriend giving it to her best friend, and she couldn’t care less about Lena Fleming or any of her offspring. She’d heard the story that old Joe and Danny might be in heaven with the angels, and as far as she was concerned that was a result.
‘I’m sorry, sir. I don’t have any information. I was told that if any of the family arrived I was to ask you to contact DS Baxter at Leith CID. I think they’d like to take a statement.’ She barely concealed the contempt and boredom in her voice.
Eddie knew he was wasting his time, but he decided that on this occasion he might just give the filth a visit.
‘Thanks, officer. It’s good to know that you’re giving it your best.’ He tried to give an equal measure of contempt back.
‘Anytime, sir; we always like to help.’ Her face was expressionless.
Eddie decided that the exchange was getting nowhere and took solace from the fact that the officer was an ugly bitch and looked like she was incapable of being happy, so that was something.
He went back to his mother’s bedside and put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. ‘She said anything, Pat?’
His brother looked round at him and Eddie saw his eyes were red and filled up. He was shaking. ‘She said she saw Danny and the old man. She’s said it over and over again.’
Eddie looked down at his mother, who was indeed whispering it over and over. ‘I saw them in the ground. Danny and Joe. I saw them in the ground. Danny and Joe.’
Eddie took his mother’s hand and put his other hand on her brow. ‘Listen to me, Ma. Please listen. You have to help us.’
He stroked her brow until she stopped and seemed to be calm again.
‘Eddie.’ She said his name quietly, but at least it meant she was in the room with them.
He kept stroking her gently. ‘You’re okay. You’re safe, and no one’s going to hurt you now. We’ll take you home soon. Now try and tell us what happened.’
Lena could only remember fragments of the horr
or she’d endured in the wooded area outside the city. Her memories were moments of terror exploding in her mind’s eye. She would see an image of trees, then it was gone; remember the smell of earth and corruption, before it too disappeared; and then, worst of all, she would see her husband’s near-black face snarling at eternity.
What Eddie and Pat knew was that their mother had been lifted, taken somewhere and shown a nightmare. It was beyond anything they’d experienced and, as Eddie raged, Pat was frightened of whoever could go to the lengths his mother’s tormentors had.
Lena had told them enough to be sure that someone had taken her – that she’d seen the dead faces of her husband and son. She’d become incoherent after that, and a doctor, who didn’t look any older than the twins, intervened and told them enough was enough, so they decided to give up for the time being. There was a possibility that this was simply her imagination, but Eddie knew that whatever had happened to his mother had shocked her into a terrifying place, and he wondered if she would ever be able to escape the experience. If she had seen the dead faces of his brother and father, what did it mean and how should they move on it? No one from Edinburgh would have had reason to do it this way. He knew there were plenty out there happy to see them fall, but not like this. It could have been nutters from the west, because Joe Fleming had sourced his gear from the same Glasgow crew for years. They were hard core, but as far as Eddie knew there had never been a problem, and Joe had always paid on time. The Weegies were mental, no doubt about it, but they didn’t do subtle, and there would have been more warnings that something was wrong.
It was more likely to be the Belfast team, who were already the top suspects. But if this was what they were capable of, what could the twins do in response?
Eddie realised that for the first time in their lives they needed to use the police and get them onside. The obvious place to start was with what had happened on the night Lena had met her friends and then try to fill in the black hole that followed. It could mean going round the doors where his mother lived, and the truth was that the only people that might have a chance were the police.
He had the sense to admit to himself that he wasn’t ready to get into a battle when they still didn’t know for sure that their mother’s ramblings were real. And if it was the Belfast team then Pat and Eddie Fleming would need some serious fucking backup – and a plan.
‘Let’s go,’ Eddie said.
‘Go where?’ Pat scratched his arse, thinking his older brother was declaring it opening time.
‘Leith police station to see DS Grant Baxter, git that he is.’
‘Are you having a fuckin’ laugh?’ Pat stopped mid step and looked at Eddie as if he’d just come out of the closet as a secret Hearts supporter.
‘Look, Pat, we’re in no man’s fuckin’ land at the moment. The old man and Danny are probably potted; you’ve seen her ladyship and the so-called Fleming gang seem to have taken a holiday.’ Eddie faced his brother and tried to talk the blindingly obvious into his one-track brain. He’d always been convinced that in the womb they’d split everything fifty-fifty till it came to brain cells. Pat had definitely lost out there, but Eddie had always been protective of him, and whatever happened they’d share what destiny brought, or, just as likely, dumped on their heads.
‘We need answers, and I don’t think we can get them at the moment. The cops probably can, and we need to buy time. Whoever’s doing this to the family might not be finished. There’s only you and me left, Pat. Think about it – these fuckers might be on our tail right now, just waitin’ for their chance.’
Eddie watched his brother’s face gradually take in then accept what he’d just been told. Pat would have taken on a small army on a normal day, but the unknown frightened him.
Eddie carried on. ‘If it’s the Irish then as it stands we’re fucked if we try to take them on face to face. That’s just how it is, but they fuckin’ bleed just like us, and if we can get organised then maybe, just maybe, we can level the scores.’
The twins jumped into their 4x4 and headed for Leith, calling DS Baxter on the way.
Baxter thought he must have been hallucinating if a Fleming was volunteering to walk into the beautiful old police building without a battle. Like everyone else, Baxter had heard that Joe and Danny were AWOL, but so far no one had reported them missing.
He checked the rota and found that the beat cops who’d found Lena were on duty. He walked into the mess room just as the two uniforms were ripping into some black-pudding rolls, which obviously the DS was interrupting.
Baxter explained who was coming in and asked if they would speak to them then take them up to the CID office. Charlie forgave the interruption because he was interested in seeing the youngest fruit of Old Joe’s loins. No one knew about his link to the Flemings, and he wanted it to stay that way, but he’d seen with his own eyes that something terrible had happened to Lena, and she hadn’t deserved that.
He realised that he was actually feeling sorry for the Flemings, which prompted him once more to work out how long it was till his retirement date. He was definitely getting old.
The twins arrived on time and Charlie told them what he’d seen when Lena had been found in the car park. He offered them some tea and the older boy’s initial hostility seemed to calm, but Pat had been told from birth that the police were the enemy and that’s how it would stay.
He remembered as an infant in arms the drugs squad crashing the door in and basically wrecking the place, looking for the heroin that Joe was dealing in increasing quantities. Joe had been on an upward track and the squad were getting the message from their ‘squeaks’.
They’d found fuck all but as compensation they’d torn the place to shreds. Joe had steel balls in those days and had taken young Pat from his mother’s arms as she’d sobbed and wasted her time asking them to stop. Joe had just smiled, knowing that two kilos of brown had been moved from the flat just an hour before they’d arrived. He’d pointed to a detective sergeant who was built like a small truck and the boy had followed his words.
‘See them, son. They’re what you call bastards, scum, shite. They hate us, and we fuckin’ hate them. What are they, son?’
As any boy does, he’d taken his lead from his father. ‘Bastas, shite, shite, shite, shite.’ The infant Pat had laughed and had at least pronounced the word ‘shite’ correctly. He’d pointed at the DS, who’d shaken his head and carried on ripping the fireplace out.
Joe had loved it. ‘That’s my boy. Someday you’ll give that big fat cunt some Elastoplasts to cover that big fat ugly fuckin’—’
Joe hadn’t got the word ‘mug’ out; the big DS had moved at surprising speed and held Joe’s face as if he’d been in the grip of a pneumatic shovel. Although he’d played rugby like some unleashed demon, the DS had essentially been a quiet, gentle man, but Joe had waved the red rag just a bit too much. The hand that gripped his father’s face had been only inches from the boy’s. His father’s eyes had popped in fright at the grip, and his mouth had definitely been shut.
As far as young Pat had been concerned, his father’s enemy was his enemy, and he’d bitten down as hard as his small teeth could manage. The DS had yelped in surprise rather than pain, but he’d backed off, knowing he could hardly left hook a preschool-age Fleming. Old Joe had recovered from his shock and nearly pissed himself laughing. ‘That’s my boy. That’s my fuckin’ boy,’ he’d crowed.
Charlie finished telling them what he could, but it was obvious to Eddie that the old uniform didn’t have much else to add.
Charlie took them to the CID interview room after that, and the twins felt the nerves that all career criminals suffer within the four walls of a station even when they’re not under arrest. Horror stories had been passed down the generations of criminal families about what had happened inside the confines of the old Leith station. In the days when discipline had a greater margin of error, and no one had a mobile phone with a camera, summary justice would take place for special
customers. Unfortunately everyone who’d been locked up then felt they had to claim a beating after they were released. It was a badge of honour, and you weren’t worth much unless ten hairy cops had allegedly beaten all the colours out of you.
Baxter was old school, six months from his pension and still working his arse off every day because he loved it. He was one of the greatest bastards and cynics in the job, but at least he was consistent. He just didn’t like anyone, including his wife, and especially his gay son, who he believed had brought disgrace on his house. His redeeming feature was that he lived and breathed his job, and was always there when it counted. He just didn’t do friendships or political correctness. Fortunately, he wasn’t bright enough to take the jump to inspector, but it had never bothered him.
Baxter sat the twins down opposite him and wanted to shake his head at the old question of where had all that time gone? As a young officer he’d locked up their grandfather, who wasn’t a criminal, other than the fact that he’d fight his shadow on a Friday night after a hard week in the docks. He’d burst Baxter’s nose on their first encounter, so the cop always made sure to get his retaliation in first after that. The funny thing was that the old man had liked the police, and never had any hard feelings, invariably blaming himself and the drink.
Their father Joe, on the other hand, had been a pain in the arse all his life, and though Baxter had tussled with him down the years, he’d never managed to put him away for any length of time, which bugged him. Now it looked like someone had stamped old Joe’s ticket, and he waited to hear what the twins had to say. He sighed at the thought that he was dealing with the third generation, and every day that passed emphasised that his world was disappearing, and fast. The boys sitting opposite would be pissing off the constabulary when Baxter was dribbling into his soup.
Evidence of Death Page 15