The Betrayal

by Linda Tweedie

  “Cut it out. Remember, I’m here on a mission and the quicker it’s over the better.”

  “Bobby, Bobby . . .”

  But Bobby had heard enough. It was time for him to meet up with those two idiots, his cousins. The trip was worth it just to spend time with them. Bobby Mack had never come across two more delinquent half-wits in his life. They were unbelievable, thick as two short planks and a total fashion abomination. They dressed exactly the same, like some kind of freakish child-twins, and always in Burberry. No-one had told them they were at least two years out of date and that knock-offs didn’t really hack it anymore.

  They swanked around town, in whatever top of the range car they had nicked that morning and were convinced they were the real thing.

  Both young lads desperately wanted to join a crew; it was their life’s ambition. In fact, if it hadn’t been for this family feud, they would willingly each have given a testicle to join up with the Coyles. That didn’t look like it was going to happen. But having had his jaw broken by the Big Man was kudos enough for John.

  The story had now reached epic proportions, with the two lads now having taken on all three brothers in their cousin’s defence and of course no-one could expect to walk away from a scrum without a few battle scars.

  Bobby could hear the music from a couple of streets away. Several pedestrians were aware of the racket and were looking for the source. One couple, at the top of the steps of the Hilton Hotel, were particularly noticeable. They looked a bit worse for wear this early in the day and were certainly very striking. She was a tall, supermodel blonde and he was tall, dark and handsome. He was also his child’s grandfather.

  Well, well, that was a turn up for the books.

  Sean’s Song

  For once in his miserable young life Billy Riley actually had something to smile about. He couldn’t believe his luck. This was probably going to be one of the best days of his life. He had the chance to make some real money and he sure as fuck wasn’t going to screw it up.

  Situated on the corner of Glebe Street and Church Street, definitely one of the best pitches on the turf, Billy had a clear view of his empire from the top to the bottom of both thoroughfares. The lad could spot potential customers from afar, but more to the point, he could spot the polis from the same distance. The beat cops seldom walked these streets, knowing full well there was a distinct possibility they might not get out of the estate alive. And undercover CID stuck out like two sore thumbs. They were a joke, with their highly polished shoes and neat, well-trimmed hair. But if by chance they did happen to appear, Billy’s pride and joy, his black and silver Chopper, was his trusty getaway vehicle.

  Yes, this was a fantastic spot and he was going to make some decent mullah, thanks to his elder brother, Tommy. Well, actually, it was really thanks to their mother and her abominable kitchen skills that he was strutting his stuff and lording it over his two best mates.

  Tommy Riley was well known in the area and had built up an extensive and regular customer base from all walks of life. He had respectable businessmen, single mums, who, finding life difficult, were not bright enough to realise it had just got a whole load harder. And of course, his hard-core junkies who needed a fix, twenty-four-seven.

  He had worked his pitch for over a year and had miraculously survived numerous takeover bids. Despite having been stabbed, shot at and beaten up, Tommy had clung on with great tenacity. Ridiculously, he’d been trumped by a plate of his mother’s mince and tatties, the ubiquitous staple diet of every Glaswegian.

  Mary Riley, mother of Tommy and Billy had, the previous day, been struck with an attack of conscience after the consumption of a two litre bottle of electric soup. Somehow, and she had no recollection whatsoever of how, she had acquired a quantity of minced beef and potatoes. Her cooking skills left much to be desired, but it had been some time since the boys had had what they termed a ‘proper meal’. Billy ate his straight from the pot and came to no harm.

  Tommy on the other hand, hadn’t returned home till the wee small hours, and the ‘proper meal’ had been subject to various temperature changes and contamination by numerous flies crawling all over the food. He devoured the lot. Eight hours to the minute, botulism had reared its ugly head and Tommy was due to spend the next few days on the lav.

  The brothers knew that if Tommy failed to secure his pitch for even one day, it would be gone and there was no way he’d get it back, even with Paddy Coyle’s protection. So it was down to the youngest Riley to take over.

  Billy’s first transaction of the day was to an old brass. Twigging how green young Billy was, she turned on the charm and got the wrap in her hands before parting with the money. For an old bugger she could surely move. Big mistake, he wouldn’t do that again. Apart from a few arguments with customers chancing their luck, the rest of the morning was good, business was brisk and he was having the time of his life.

  He was just finalising a deal when a black Range Rover pulled alongside the young entrepreneur and the imposing figure of Sean Coyle emerged. Panicking that he’d be chased off the pitch, Billy didn’t know how to play this situation.

  “Who the fuck are you?” snarled Sean Coyle.

  “I’m Billy Riley, Mr Coyle. Tommy’s brother.”

  “Where’s Tommy?”

  “He’s sick, sir. I’m just covering for him.”

  Immediately Sean saw an opening. Okay, he had enough cash to pay for what he wanted, but so what?

  “A couple of your punters have been complaining you’re dealing shit. What have you got to say to that?”

  “It’s good stuff, Mr Coyle. Here, try it for yourself.”

  “Try it for myself, you cheeky wee cunt. Are you trying to make out I’m some kind of smackhead?” Sean roared at the young boy.

  “No, sir! Honestly, it’s what Tommy always sells.”

  “Well, it will be fucking shit, then. How much is left, boy? Hand it over.”

  Billy didn’t know what to do. If he didn’t do what Sean Coyle said, Tommy might lose his pitch. If he did hand over the gear, his brother would surely kill him.

  “I’ve only got a couple of wraps left. Here, look.” He produced a few small paper wraps from his jeans pocket, hoping Sean Coyle would believe him. But he knew that anyone in the game would know a dealer never kept his stash on him, but close by.

  Sean grabbed the boy by his ear. “Are you making a cunt out of me, sonny? Get the rest of the gear now,” Sean hissed in the lad’s face. He delivered a hefty blow to the side of Billy’s head and the kid went down like a ton of bricks. Sean, busy picking up the few wraps that had fallen, gave Billy a lethal kick to get him moving, but the young dealer was deathly still.

  “For fuck’s sake, what a fucking day. Is everybody out to get me?” he muttered to himself. “That’s all I need, another fucker messing with my day. If this little bastard’s playing possum he’ll wish he was dead when I’ve finished with him.” Slinging the inert body of Billy Riley into the boot of Michael’s four by four, Sean Coyle drove off with only one thing on his mind and it wasn’t Billy Riley.

  Culprit

  Bobby jumped into the cousins’ latest acquisition, a bright red Audi, and told them to go round the square again. He wanted to double check; it couldn’t be him, could it? But yes, there he was, no mistaking him. In glorious technicolour, Mr Happy Families himself, Paddy Coyle. And by the way he was clinging onto Miss Supermodel, they were definitely good friends. He blasted the horn to attract their attention and Paddy Coyle looked decidedly pissed off when he realised who was making all the commotion.

  “Need a lift anywhere, Mr Coyle?” Bobby shouted at the top of his voice for the entire world to hear. “We’re definitely going your way.”

  The three guys who were blasting the horn and turning the music up even louder were certainly drawing attention to the guilty couple.

  “Naw, you’re alright, sonny, but you could maybe do me a favour,” answered Coyle.

  Expecting a plea for his
silence, Bobby was somewhat taken aback by Paddy’s request.

  “Aye, son. You could tell my wife and daughter I won’t be home for dinner tonight. In fact, not for the foreseeable future,” sneered the Big Man.

  There was no way that trio of morons were getting one over on Paddy Coyle, and taking his companion by the arm, they walked away from the parked car.

  “Yes!” laughed Bobby, punching the air. “Head for home, boys, and don’t spare the horses.”

  They arrived at Chez Coyle in record time.

  “Wait outside the gates, lads. She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m taking Erin to register the chav, so I shouldn’t be long.” Bobby told his chauffeurs. “And not a word about that old wanker not coming home soon, I’m not sure how I’ll break that news to her.”

  “No problem, we’ll keep schtum. And take your time, cuz, no hurry, we’re free all day. This little beauty won’t be missed till late on this afternoon,” John, the oldest cousin, assured him.

  Erin opened the door as Bobby was walking up the drive.

  “Obviously been looking out for me,” Bobby smirked at her. And boy, for someone who had just given birth a few days ago, she certainly looked a knockout.

  “Morning, you’re looking good,” he complimented her. “Ready for a trip into town, make the little man legal? Surely your mum will look after him for a couple of hours?”

  “I’m not sure, my dad’s been on the missing list since yesterday’s fiasco and she’s a bit upset.”

  “He’s okay. We just met him and he sent a message home too.”

  “You met him and you’re still standing?” the girl was dumbfounded.

  “Oh, we were in the car. Anyway, he says he’s not coming home for dinner.”

  “What do you mean he’s not coming home for dinner?” Erin was beginning to panic. “What kind of message is that?”

  “I don’t know, he just said ‘Tell my wife and daughter I won’t be home for dinner tonight.’ Maybe he’s got a job on or something?”

  “Where did you meet him?”

  “He was coming out of the Hilton with his secretary.” Christ, she was so gullible, thought Bobby.

  “He hasn’t got a secretary,” snapped Erin.

  “Whoa, don’t shoot the messenger. I just bumped into him and offered him a lift,” Bobby shot back at her.

  “What did this woman look like, was she young, old, what?”

  “Erin, it was a bird. I didn’t pay much attention. She was tall, blonde, maybe mid-twenties, but as I said, I didn’t pay that much attention.” Bobby knew exactly how to pull her strings, and she was visibly distressed.

  “Look, why don’t we go into town, sort out our business and then see if we can find him?” Bobby suggested.

  Erin disappeared into the house and returned a few minutes later with a face like thunder.

  Erin

  “For God’s sake, slow down,” Erin yelled from the back seat of the car. “You’ll get us all killed!” But none of the others, especially the driver, paid the slightest bit of attention to her.

  Christ, it wouldn’t be her son’s birth being registered, but four death certificates if they didn’t stop their stupid joy-riding. She was terrified. So, when they pulled up to the traffic lights, she was amazed they hadn’t run them but had actually stopped, and she opened the passenger door and fled across the road.

  “Don’t be stupid, get back in,” Bobby shouted to her. “Get in, he’ll drive slower, we were only having a bit of a laugh. Honest, he’ll behave. I promise.”

  Shaking like a leaf, Erin crossed the road and flagged down a passing taxi. “No chance. I’m not getting back in there with those fucking idiots. If you want to register your son, come with me, otherwise forget it.”

  “Okay, hold on. Wait a minute. Sorry, boys, catch you later, I’ve got to keep her sweet.”

  “That’s okay,” said John, “we’ll meet you at the registry office.”

  “No, listen, you could do me a big favour and have a quick look around and see if you can spot Coyle. He had the look of a man on a mission, and I’ll bet anything he and the tart hit the first pub they came to and might well still be there.”

  “Will do, but we might need to dump this beauty if we’re hanging about the town, keep you posted.” The car vanished into the distance.

  “Why in God’s name, Bobby, are you hanging about with those two imbeciles?”

  “They’re family, Erin. They’re okay, just a bit exuberant, and don’t you forget I came over here, right into the lion’s den with no backup, nothing. So give it a rest, or I’ll be back on the next flight out of here.”

  “Please yourself, I’m sure as hell not holding you back. Let’s face it, there’s been nothing but aggravation since you arrived. So if you want to go back to Marbella, be my guest. I’ll tell you something, though, you can forget seeing your son and I’ll be damned if he’ll have the McClelland name.”

  Wow, the worm had certainly turned. Erin had even surprised herself. She was no mug, and despite her mother’s endeavours to keep her well away from the family business, Erin had seen and heard far too much over the years for some of it not to have rubbed off on her.

  So, much as she wanted him back in her life, there was no way she was being dictated to by anyone, much less Bobby Mack.

  As the taxi pulled up outside the registry office, Erin was having second thoughts. What was the rush? They had plenty of time to do this. The baby was less than a week old and the fact that neither her mum nor dad were with her just didn’t seem right. Her dad had never been away from home like this before, and she had never known her mother to fret over him like she was doing now. But more to the point, why was she giving in to pressure from Bobby? No. Stuff it, she wasn’t ready to do this and she certainly wasn’t going to play along just to keep the peace.

  Standing outside the grey, sombre building on a wet dismal day, Erin Coyle told the love of her life to do one. “Sorry, Bobby, but we’ll have to do this another time. I want my mum and dad here with me, so we’ll just have to come back when they’re both here.”

  “Don’t hold your breath, darlin’, you could have a long wait.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just what I said, you’ll have a long wait.”

  “Shut up! What do you know about us?”

  “I know your dad’s shacked up with some brass and he has no intention of coming back in the near future.”

  “Don’t talk rubbish. My mum and dad have never been apart for more than a few days at most, and the last person on earth he would send a message home with is you.”

  “Believe what you want, I don’t give a fuck. Your father categorically informed me, and half the population of this city, that he had no intention of returning home in the foreseeable future. So, if you don’t mind, let’s not waste any more time and get this over with.”

  Bobby marched into the registry office leaving her standing alone on the pavement, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Marie

  What in God’s name was happening to her family? Two of her three brothers had gone absolutely fucking doolally, to say the least. Completely lost their marbles, and behaving like fucking teenagers. Gone off the rails was putting it mildly, and the third had his head so far up his arse he could probably see daylight.

  Sean was careering round town beating people up for little or no reason, running up enormous debts, stealing from his own family, and for most of the time he was completely off his head on a cocktail of booze and drugs. He was way out of control and if something wasn’t done to curb his behaviour soon, it could be too late. He’d pissed off some serious people, people who wouldn’t back down simply because he was a Coyle. And the most worrying thing was that she seemed to be the only one who recognised the situation.

  To make matters worse, if they could be any worse, the other brother had apparently dumped his wife, gone on the trot and was shacking up with some two bit whore. The gossip about him was just as bad: boo
ze, drugs and sex, and God help anyone who crossed Paddy. Like Sean, he had left a trail of broken bones over the past week.

  Neither had checked in with her or Michael for days. Anything could be happening in their business and they would be oblivious. Word was out on the street that the Coyles had problems. As far as Marie was concerned, the word on the street was right, the Coyles did have problems and they were all of their own making.

  She had tried to enlist Michael’s help with Sean. She’d been to him on three separate occasions, only to be told that she was somehow at fault. He’d implied she couldn’t do her job and when he got round to it, he’d have a word. Have a word? If they didn’t act soon they’d be doing it through fucking Psychic Sally. The vultures were beginning to circle.

  “Michael, it’s me. Any word?” He could hear the concern in her voice, but that only aggravated and irritated him even more. He was definitely going to have a serious word with Paddy about their sister when he eventually deigned to put in an appearance.

  “No, nothing, and if you’re phoning to tell me how hard done by you are, you can piss off. I’m up to my neck in work, so you’ll have to sort out your own shit. I’ve got more than enough to deal with myself.”

  “Listen, for Christ’s sake! We have to get them back on track, Michael. Things are beginning to fall apart.”

  “Don’t talk fucking nonsense, girl. Are you trying to tell me that if Paddy went off on his jollies to Benidorm for a week the businesses would fall apart?”

  “Of course not, but the fact is that Paddy has been seen about town, pissed out of his box, hanging out with a young brass, and obviously not taking care of business. And the other brother is on some kind of wrecking spree, way out of control. Sean’s been upsetting more than a few major players in town and tongues are beginning to wag. So yes, we’re ripe for the picking and there are certainly plenty who would chance their luck, don’t you think?”