The Betrayal

by Linda Tweedie

  “For fuck’s sake, Marie, you’re supposed to be running the club. If you can’t deal with the girls or the punters, then maybe it’s time you considered a change of career.”

  “Don’t you dare suggest I can’t run my club. I deal with heavier situations every night, but I certainly don’t expect this kind of hag from my fucking brother. You know he’s the talk of the town? No? Maybe you and the Big Man should climb down from your ivory tower and find out what’s going on in the real world.”

  “What are you on about? Why is he the talk of the town?”

  “He owes, Michael. He owes everybody and there are a few who are not willing to wait. Being a Coyle is not all it’s cracked up to be nowadays, and something needs doing, and fast.”

  “Fuck! How did all this come about? What the hell is the matter with him?”

  “He’s always been like this, you just couldn’t see it. I can understand that, you being his twin. But your big brother hasn’t got that excuse. It suited him to ignore Sean’s behaviour. He knows what a conniving bastard he is. He’d sell his granny if the price was right.”

  “Look, let me sort this. I’ll send him away for a bit if I have to, but please keep this to yourself, just for now.”

  “A week, Michael, then I’m going to Paddy, so you better do something quick.”

  The crunch of tyres on gravel signalled the arrival of the Big Man. Paddy Coyle was pleasantly surprised to see his younger sister’s car parked outside the portacabin. It was unusual for her to come to the yard; she preferred the comfort of her plush office at the back of their flagship club, Fantasy.

  He hoped there was nothing amiss, their mother seemed fine and the businesses were all doing well so maybe it was just a social call?

  “Hi, titch, what brings you here? Didn’t think this was posh enough for you,” Paddy teased his younger sister.

  “It’s a secret, I promised not to let you know we’re planning a party for you. Oops, I’ve gone and done it now,” she laughed.

  “No party for me, thanks,” said Paddy.

  “I was just passing and took a chance that one of you would be about to buy me lunch. It seems Michael here is too busy. What about you?”

  “Sorry, but Bridget’s got me on a leash, no can do.”

  Marie gave Michael a very knowing look which Paddy didn’t miss and waved them goodbye.

  “Okay, what was that all about?” he questioned Michael.

  “What was what about?”

  “There was no way she was just passing. What’s the problem? Is she having trouble at the club?”

  “If you must know, she’s thinking about moving in with this guy she’s been seeing and she wanted my opinion.”

  Never in her life had Marie asked for anyone’s opinion, and certainly not from her brothers. Either this was a pile of bullshit, or at long last his little sister was growing up. Paddy knew which option his money was on.

  Problems

  The news of Canon O’Farrell’s disappearance had just reached the ears of his parishioners. Most, quite frankly, couldn’t give a damn. He was a surly, miserable old sod most of the time, but it had hit one in particular, hard. Not for his clerical devotions, or his ministrations to his parish, but his input to Sean Coyle’s income.

  How could that stupid old fool go missing? What the fuck had he been up to, going swimming at his age? He must have been well into his seventies, maybe even eighty-odd and he, Sean, was supposed to be taken in by some tale about the old bastard being swept out to sea. Rubbish.

  Sean didn’t believe for one minute that the illustrious Canon Francis O’Farrell was dead. He knew deep down that O’ Farrell was out there somewhere, avoiding him, on the missing list just to cause him problems. Why he would be avoiding Sean was neither here nor there. Like most addicts, not only was Sean paranoid, but everything, absolutely everything, was centred on him and his needs.

  Whatever had happened to the canon, it was making life extremely difficult for Sean Coyle. Not only had O’Farrell’s disappearance cut off his supply, it had ended a nice little earner which proved impossible to replace without giving the game away. Nobody, especially his brothers, would ever believe he had been in cahoots with the canon for the past few years. Their partnership had worked like a dream.

  Like most successful enterprises, it was simplicity itself. Sean acquired a shipment of drugs and the ‘Micks’ boarding at St. Jude’s would sell them on. There was a cut to the Irishmen, a decent cut to the canon and an even better cut to Sean. That, and any amount of the white stuff he could handle, had created a very expensive habit which he could now not afford.

  With the disappearance of the canon, St. Jude’s had no ‘student’ residents, depriving Sean of his chain of pushers, but worse still, almost every dealer in the city was out looking for him. He owed, big time, and frankly, he couldn’t see any way out. It was the name Coyle that had saved him up until now. There were few brave hearts who would tackle a Coyle brother about a debt, but it was becoming obvious that Sean was just taking the piss and, Coyle or no Coyle, a few aimed to have their money, or a piece of him.

  “Are you ready?” Sean called to his mate, Johnno. “I thought we’d go out of town tonight, maybe Paisley. See what’s happening. Eh? What do you think?”

  Johnno knew exactly why the posse would be heading out of town: it would be safer for Sean. But the boys were Weegies and not welcome outside their own territory. So whether they ventured out of town or stayed on home turf, it looked like there was going to be a scrum and Johnno, like most of his mates, was getting a bit hacked off with Sean and his problems. He was always on the tap, never had any dosh, and expected them to carry him. The fact that he had been the banker for years was only to be expected, he was a Coyle and everybody knew they were loaded.

  “Sorry, Sean, no can do. I’ve got to meet Susie. I promised her I’d take her out for a meal and a few drinks. Sorry, pal, you know what she’s like if she doesn’t get her own way.”

  Sean could be heard muttering to himself on the way out, “Fuckin’ birds. Imagine picking a bird over the boys.”

  The truth was Johnno had had enough.

  Sean called round for Malky, only to find an empty flat and his calls going to voicemail. Sean was becoming more and more aggravated; he knew that the brothers, Scott and wee Peem, were both out of action today. They were on their way back from Ireland after attending their granny’s, or auntie’s, funeral, so it looked like he was on his own.

  Money. If he was on a loner, he needed some dosh. Looking at his watch, he reckoned it would be unlikely Marie would be on duty yet, so, making for the Fantasy, he planned how to finance his evening’s pleasure. He’d already had a run in with his little sister the last time he’d helped himself, but she could go fuck herself. He was a partner, unlike her, and it was his due, he told himself.

  The club was, as he suspected, pretty quiet at this time of the day. Waving to Stella, the head girl, he made his way to the bar.

  “Jackie D and coke, luv,” he smiled to the barmaid. “Bring it into the office for me.”

  “The office is locked, Sean. Marie took the keys with her, sorry.”

  “I need to get in. I’ve to collect some paperwork for Paddy and there will be fucking murder if I don’t get it. When is she due back?” he asked the nervous girl.

  The staff had been instructed that under no circumstances was this brother to be allowed into the office or behind the bar.

  “I don’t know, probably about eight. I could ring her.”

  “Yes, you do that.” Sean faced up to the girl, knowing full well that Marie was more than likely to have her phone turned off so that she could have some time with their ma and Errol. If she did happen to answer, he’d bluff it, but he was right.

  “Sorry it’s just going to voicemail, Sean.” The girl was visibly shaking. He looked like he was ready to kick off.

  “Are you telling me there is only one key to this office? No way. I’ll kick the fucking thing
open if I have to.”

  Seeing that trouble was brewing, Stella walked over to the bar. “Sean, what’s up? Why are you having a go at Pattie? She’s only the bartender. Speak to your sister, she’s the one giving out the orders.”

  The expression on Sean’s face changed “Orders, what orders?”

  “Look, there is only one key on the premises and Marie takes it with her when she leaves. We don’t have access to the office. She should have told you herself. We’re not allowed to let you behind the bar or into the office. That’s why she takes the key.”

  Stella had worked clubs and bars for years and could spot a move before it happened, but she wasn’t quite quick enough for Sean. In a fury which surprised even himself, he grabbed both women by the hair and smashed their heads, face down, on the granite bar top. There was blood everywhere.

  He emptied the till and left the club with only one thought in his head – where to score – without a vestige of regret or guilt for the mess he’d just left behind. It was Marie’s club and if she was going to treat him like a cunt then she could clear up the mess. It was fuck all to do with him.

  Stand Off

  God almighty, she had been away precisely thirty minutes. After a quick trip to the chemist for a colic preparation for the baby, she came back to this? Having waited until Paddy had gone off to meet Michael, and Carol had arrived to sit with Erin, Bridget hadn’t foreseen any problems. She certainly hadn’t expected to find Paddy and Bobby squaring up to each other on the driveway.

  And whose was the black sports car? Doors wide open and blaring music so loud she couldn’t hear herself think. There was one comatose youth and another who was likely to end up the same if he didn’t shut that blasted music off. Her home was turning into a bloody three ring circus and she’d just about had enough.

  “For the love of God, what’s going on?” She barged between Bobby and Paddy. “You,” she pointed to Bobby, “I can understand. You’re only a bloody kid, but you,” she turned to her husband. “You’re behaving like a damned five-year-old, and I’m telling you, Paddy, I’ve truly come to the end of my tether.”

  “It wasn’t me who started this,” Paddy sulked.

  “Well, it certainly wasn’t me. I was with Erin when this madman –” Bobby stood his ground.

  “I don’t care who the hell started anything, enough is enough.” Turning to Bobby she spat, “Get that pair of neds out of here and shift this stolen car off our property. You can come and visit with Erin this afternoon on your own. You will not, I repeat, not, discuss our business or make any remarks concerning my family with anyone. If you do, you will have me to deal with. Now get moving, and take these idiots with you.”

  A sheepish Bobby collected his backup and screeched off in the hot car, music once again blaring.

  Paddy was pacing back and forth in the hallway, ready to kick off. “How could you embarrass me like that in front of those fucking arseholes?”

  “Me embarrass you? You managed that all by yourself, you stupid fool. And I’ll tell you something now, Mr Big-Shot-Paddy-Coyle, I’ll do more than embarrass you. If I have to put up with any more of your moronic behaviour, you’ll be out on your ear, do you understand me? I’ve had enough. For the past six months I’ve put up with the way you’ve treated my daughter like she was some kind of tramp you employ in one of your clubs. You’ve snubbed her, had nothing to do with her and made her feel cheap and worthless. But now you’re playing the fucking doting grandfather?

  “The whole of Glasgow thinks you’re some kind of hero, delivering the baby single-handed. What the whole of Glasgow doesn’t know, Mr Big-Shot, is that you had your daughter in such a state that she almost lost him. So think on, Paddy, just think what you might be about to lose. And while I’m at it, for however long that lad is in Glasgow, he’ll be welcome in my house to visit with his son.”

  Paddy and Erin stood open-mouthed watching Bridget march through the house to check on her grandson.

  Only once before had her husband witnessed the full force of her wrath, and that had been on the night of her father’s murder, almost twenty years ago. Fortunately, then it had not been directed at him, but this, well, he was damned if he was putting up with her bloody menopausal tantrums. He would show her what she was about to lose. So, for the second time that morning the building shook to the foundations as Paddy Coyle left his home.

  The Family

  “Hello, Michael, it’s me. You need to get over here, pronto. Your beloved twin brother has caused fucking mayhem yet again,” Marie snarled down the phone line.

  “For fuck’s sake, Marie, what’s he supposed to have done this time?”

  “Supposed to have done? What do you mean supposed to have done? You better get on over here and see for yourself before I do something we’ll all regret.”

  “C’mon, Marie, taking a few pennies out the sweetie jar or having a bit of a dust up with some leery punter doesn’t exactly make him public enemy number one.”

  “You don’t think so? Well, he’s gone one better this time. He’s only put two of my best girls in hospital because they wouldn’t give him the key to the office.”

  “Why wouldn’t they give him the key?”

  “Because they didn’t have it, I had it with me. The bastard is thieving from us, and I wasn’t having it.”

  “I told you to cut him a bit of slack till I got it sorted.”

  “Piss off, Michael. I warned you just three days ago I didn’t want him anywhere near. He was to stay away, him and his mates, and you promised me you would sort it. Have you even spoken to him?” Marie quizzed her older brother.

  “I haven’t been able to catch up with him, and bad though it is, Marie, if he didn’t know you’d barred him, he would think that the girls were taking the piss. I would do the same if some tart told me I couldn’t go behind the bar or get something out of the office.”

  “Don’t talk bollocks, Michael. You’d understand immediately if one of the staff even intimated something like that. You’d go howling for my blood, not the wee lassie pouring you a sherry. So don’t talk shit, and don’t insult me by thinking I’ll swallow it.”

  “So what exactly has he done to upset you?”

  “Upset me? He’s done more than upset me. He’s put Stella and one of the bartenders in hospital. He smashed their faces beyond recognition and walked out with almost a grand from the till. But tell you what, it seems you’re too busy to deal with my little problem, so sorry to disturb you. I’ll just see what Paddy has to say about it,” and with that Marie hung up.

  “Fuck,” Michael swore to himself. He’d had a shit day already because of Sean, but his antics at the club were just the tip of the iceberg. Joe Malloy, an old associate of the Coyles, had paid a call on Michael earlier that day.

  “Look, Michael, I’m vexed that it’s me having to do this. We go back a long way, so you know I wouldn’t dig you up unless it was serious. But the pressure’s on me to sort Sean out.”

  “Old mate or not, Joe, you better have a damned good reason for dissing my brother.”

  “He owes money right, left and centre, Michael. And a few of the boys are wondering if the Coyles have cash flow problems. You know if one of the brothers can’t or won’t pay their debts, rumours get about.”

  “You are having a laugh. A cash flow problem? Fuck off, Joe.”

  “That’s the word out on the street, Michael.”

  “How much are we talking?”

  “About ten thousand.”

  “How much?” spluttered Michael.

  “It’s been building up over the past few months. No-one really bothered at first. C’mon, he’s Paddy Coyle’s brother, and he’s surely going to be good for the dosh. But he’s taking the piss big time, and now he’s down to beating up the odd street peddler to score. He’s got a serious and expensive habit, Michael, and my advice is he needs sorting.”

  Michael had opened the office safe and handed a bundle to the man. “Count it. And thanks, but t
he Coyles don’t take advice from anyone.”

  “Sorry, Michael. Sorry I didn’t let on sooner, but you know how it is.”

  Michael spent most of the day trying to trace his brother. He left messages at all his known haunts and watering holes. He left God knew how many voicemails, to no avail. Sean had gone underground and would resurface when he was good and ready, or when the heat was off.

  His problem was how to cover the bundle he had handed over to Joe Malloy. It wasn’t exactly petty cash and now he had Marie on his back, screaming for blood. So much for a pleasant night in with Margee. He’d fucking swing for him when he eventually caught up with him.

  Sean was well aware his twin brother was on the hunt for him, and he was pretty sure he knew why. Over the past couple of weeks he’d lost count of the number of threatening messages he’d had from dealers around the city. Who the fuck did they think they were, threatening him? Sean Coyle wasn’t some no-mark junkie that they could put the frighteners on. He’d pay them, they’d get their money when it suited him, but it did look like a few were getting impatient and it was becoming harder to score these days.

  What about that cunt of a sister of his? Telling a couple of brasses that he was barred from the club? Him barred? What a fucking liberty. Well, he’d soon put them right and as for the cash, she could consider it as being an advance on his wages. He, Sean Coyle, answered to no-one. And sister or no, Marie was due a proper right-hander. Who the fuck did she think she was?

  No doubt she’d go running to Paddy, Mr Big Man himself. Let him say anything and he’d soon find out who the hard man was. It was about time his brothers gave him a bit of respect. He was sick of the way they treated him like he was some kind of errand boy. He was nothing more than a gofer. Well, not for long. They might be in for a bit of a shock. But first he had to score.