The Betrayal

by Linda Tweedie

  Sean arrived at the scrapyard and parked the car round the back, out of sight. It was most unlikely anyone would think it strange or poke around, but he had no inclination to bump into either Michael or Paddy until the deed was done.

  He had arranged for a taxi to pick him up a couple of streets from the yard and take him into town. A few drinks were in order, then home to get his head down for some much needed kip.

  Standing at the bar, minding his own business, Sean reflected on the morning’s incidents. Christ, he’d had a couple of near misses, but the job was almost done, he smirked to himself. All he had to do now was wait a couple of hours, get back to the yard and do the deed.

  “What you smirking at?” the words broke into Sean’s thoughts.

  “You talking to me, ya bampot?” answered Sean. Then blackness descended.

  “For fuck’s sake, somebody call an ambulance,” screamed one of the more sober customers.

  “Get him out of here first. If he’s done for, it’s fuck all to do with us,” replied the barman as he and a couple of customers dragged an unconscious Sean outside to the alleyway next to the pub.

  For the second time that day he heard his mother’s voice, off in the distance.

  Bobby

  “Where the bloody hell is she?” said Bobby, striding up and down George Square. There was no sign of her. She wouldn’t have gone off and left him, no way. No-one dumped Bobby Mack, well not usually. He was fed up with the whole bloody fiasco.

  His intention had been to come to Glasgow, despite the fact that he hadn’t been in the city since he was a nipper, meet up with the Coyles, charm Erin, sort out the birth certificate and piss off back to Spain, all in the shortest possible time.

  Well, that plan sure as hell wasn’t working. So far, he’d acquired a broken jaw (which was giving him gyp by the way), collected two idiotic relatives who were sure to land him in jail and the mother of his baby had buggered off and left him stranded. Now he was freezing his nuts off in the pouring rain, in what passed for summer in Scotland. No wonder his parents had left.

  Bobby was positive that Erin would have headed for home and if he wanted to sort this mess out once and for all and get back to his home, he’d better get there, pronto. The last thing he wanted was her having a long heart-to-heart with her mother, who would definitely talk her out of returning to Spain with him. To be fair, he knew there was little or no chance of that happening, but he had to convince Erin that that was what he wanted and if not now, then in the very near future.

  He was surprised to find no-one at home when he arrived at the house. Testament to Paddy’s reputation, the house was unlocked.

  “Is there anyone home?” Bobby called, entering the silent hallway. What should he do? Well, a cup of coffee wouldn’t go amiss and with Paddy out of the way, he was sure neither woman would object to his waiting inside.

  Through in the lounge, he settled down to watch the sports channel and wait for Erin. Within five minutes he was dozing comfortably, oblivious to the world.

  Bobby shot off the sofa, “What the fuck?” For a few seconds he had no idea where he was or who had grabbed him.

  “Precisely. What the fuck?” snarled Paddy Coyle. “What the fuck are you doing in my home on your own?” he glowered at the intruder.

  “I lost Erin in town and came back to wait for her, but there was no-one home.”

  “So you took it upon yourself to break in?”

  “The door was open,” Bobby was beginning to realise just how much danger he might be in. This was probably the most vicious man he’d ever meet. The man who had cold-bloodedly murdered his father. And who would think nothing of snuffing out his life in a puff. And there would be no witnesses. He could have been a burglar caught in the act.

  A similar thought was passing through Paddy’s head. It would solve everything. But no, this was his home and no matter how bad things were between him and the family, he wouldn’t contaminate it. Marching out of the lounge and taking the stairs two at a time, Paddy left a gobsmacked Bobby slumped on the sofa, thankful he was still breathing.

  Should he make a quick getaway or chance his luck and wait for someone to return? His dilemma was solved immediately, as Bridget, carrying baby Ryan, stormed into the house. Having seen Paddy’s car in the drive, she was ready for battle. She was extremely surprised to find Bobby in her sitting room and not Paddy.

  “What are you doing in here?” she snapped at him.

  “Look, I’ve already been through this with your old man. He’s upstairs, by the way, and not in the best of moods.”

  Bridget practically threw the baby into Bobby’s arms and she too ran up the stairs.

  “What the . . .?” He had no idea what to do with the child, but judging by the noise emanating from the upper floor, he certainly wasn’t going to interrupt the antagonists to ask what he should do.

  Saved again. A taxi cab pulled into the drive and the errant mother alighted.

  “Thank God,” Bobby shoved the baby into Erin’s outstretched arms. “I’m off,” and the young guy bolted out of the house and into the taxi. “Fuck, that was good timing. Head for town,” he instructed the driver, but not quickly enough.

  Erin appeared from the house waving frantically. “Hold on, Bobby. Wait, we need to talk!”

  “Ignore her,” Bobby told the driver, but knowing full well who the house belonged to, the driver reversed back up to the front door.

  “Get out, mate.”

  “Just hang on until I see what she wants,” he ordered as he got out of the cab. The driver, without hesitation, drove away, leaving Bobby stranded.

  “Talk? We’ve done nothing but talk and got nowhere. Erin, your dad’s a bloody maniac, listen to him. He and your mum are going at it hammer and tongs and believe me, I was lucky to get away without serious injury earlier. I’m so out of here.”

  “He won’t bother you anymore, I promise. And I’m sorry about the registry office. I just got cold feet. It felt wrong without my folks being there.”

  “Even ones battling like those two? Real happy families.”

  “I’m telling you again, you don’t know anything about my family so don’t go making judgements.”

  “I couldn’t give a fuck if he’s with a different woman every night, or if he worships the ground your mother walks on. I’m here for you and my son and nobody else, but this is going nowhere.”

  “What did you expect? Did you think I was going to swoon at your feet because you took a cheap flight from Spain and bought me some flowers? Dream on, Bobby, step into the real world.” Erin turned on her heel and walked back into the house to answer the phone.

  “Hi, Gran. What’s up? Oh, my, God. Calm down, wait and I’ll get my dad.”

  Erin battered on the door of her parents’ room and eventually made herself heard. No matter how angry Bridget and Paddy were with each other, this was urgent, her gran was in a terrible state and Erin had been hard pushed to understand her.

  “Dad, listen, I’ve got Granny on the phone and she’s saying something about Uncle Sean. I can’t make out what’s wrong.”

  Taking the receiver from his daughter Paddy listened stony-faced.

  “Okay, I’ll leave now and pick you up in twenty minutes.” He replaced the receiver.

  “Sean’s been attacked. He’s in ICU at the Royal and it’s not looking too good. We have to go.”

  Immediately Bridget put their feud aside and got ready to go with Paddy. It was family and Lizzie needed them.

  Bobby saw his chance to escape and called the cousins to come and collect him. This was no concern of his. Maybe the uncle would die and that would mean one less Coyle to deal with.

  The family made the journey to Lizzie’s in silence. Bridget was still reeling from the row with Paddy.

  Who did he think he was, laying down rules like she was some kind of muppet and not his wife of almost twenty years? He’d still be a bloody gas meter bandit if it wasn’t for her. Playing the big man at hom
e and telling her to mind her own business. Well, he’d keep. There were more important fish to fry at the moment, but he certainly hadn’t heard the end of this. Not by a long chalk.

  The Blackness

  Police are investigating what they think was a vicious gangland attack in the East side of the city yesterday. An attack which left Sean Coyle, younger brother of Patrick Coyle, the well-known head of the Coyle family, fighting for his life in a Glasgow hospital. The victim is in a stable but critical condition. The attack took place in the late afternoon outside the Square Rigg in the Provanhall district. Police are appealing for witnesses. Anyone with information should contact the incident room . . . The newsreader continued.

  There was nothing of further of interest to Gerald Fairnie so he turned the television to mute and with a grin mouthed ‘Cheers’ to the battered old set in the corner. He was still elated over the previous day’s events. It was the first piece of good luck he’d had in God knows when.

  It was fate, that’s what it was, or karma (as they called it now) that had taken him into that particular boozer yesterday. Having been out of circulation for eight years, it was one of the few places he recognised. Inside it was as though time had stood still; the same barman slouched behind the same bar reading the paper, the same décor and definitely the same losers nursing the previous night’s hangovers. Nothing unusual in that, until the door opened and in he walked. Gerry almost choked on his pint. The cliché ‘Of all the gin joints in all the towns’ sprung immediately to mind. Fuck, this was unbelievable. He’d probably never get a chance like this again.

  Having vowed for years that he would ‘do’ Sean Coyle if he ever saw him again, Gerry had spent countless sleepless nights picturing Sean’s demise. How he’d make him pay and pay in full for what the bastard had taken from him. It was that vow that had got him through the darkness that had become his life.

  Gerald John Paul Fairnie was a small-time crook, stealing from his own, which was the most despicable crime in any community. He took from those who had little or nothing to begin with. He only just managed to scrape a living for his beloved wife and kids.

  Gerry had somehow, and he never understood how, managed to capture the best-looking bird for miles around. Moira Grey was a local lass with the face and nature of an angel. She was a real stunner and Gerry knew he was punching way above his weight. Okay, she wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, and so gullible it was a crime, but she loved ‘her Gerry’ and their two kids with a passion and would hear nothing untoward said about her husband. She knew he was doing the best he could and she believed, like him, he would one day get a break and life would be better.

  Well, the break came in the way of Paddy Coyle, a different type of fish altogether to his scumbag brother. During the ‘Ice Cream Wars’ era, vacancies for roundsmen came up frequently and as luck would have it, Gerry was in the right place at the right time. Or, maybe the wrong place at the wrong time. Whatever. On his first week on the job he was raided by the Serious Crime Squad and despite every effort made by Paddy, his lawyers and the vast amounts paid to ensure that his drivers never got a pull, Gerry went down for a ten stretch. The authorities were making a stand and poor Gerald Fairnie got much more than they all had bargained for.

  He was promised that his wife and kids would be taken care of if he kept his mouth shut and did his bird with no fuss. They were, but not in the way Gerry had envisaged. Had he known what was ahead, he would have sung like a canary and fuck the consequences. Things certainly couldn’t have got any worse.

  At the beginning of Gerry’s sentence, his wife received regular sums of cash and the money made the difference between the family existing or not. Moira was so grateful, and when Sean enlisted her help with a couple of deliveries she saw no harm in it − the extra money certainly came in useful.

  Over the months the poke got less and less which meant Moira, out of necessity, became a regular courier. The young mum with two children, one of whom was in a buggy, traversed the city with her packages unnoticed, or so it seemed. She’d had a bad feeling that fateful morning and against her gut instinct made her way to the address and the pick-up went ahead as planned.

  With the consignment stashed in the buggy under her son’s blankets, she set off for home. It was a miserable rainy Glasgow day and in her hurry to get home, Moira bumped down off the pavement into a particularly deep puddle and the wheel came off the pushchair. Child, blankets and package scattered. In the confusion she became aware of two police officers who had appeared on the scene. Despite Moira’s efforts to recover the situation, she knew the game was up when the older of the two officers picked up the package. She was still in Maryhill Police Station six hours later.

  The world stopped that day for the Fairnies. The children were taken into care and their mother was charged with drug-dealing and sentenced to eighteen months. Moira lasted four weeks before she was found hanging in her cell. All this, thanks to Sean Coyle. Gerald Fairnie had sworn he would get him if it was the last thing he ever did.

  And now there he was, large as life; the fates had delivered him, tucked up good and proper. The situation was made even more satisfactory when it became clear that Sean hadn’t a clue who Gerry was, before he caved his head in. With a bit more luck Sean wouldn’t remember who he was after such a blow.

  A decent shave and haircut made Gerry doubly sure no-one in the pub that day would recognise him. There was no way he even remotely resembled the supposed gangland assassin of years gone by. He grinned like a Cheshire cat, maybe things were on the turn. He couldn’t have planned it better, and to top it all off he had a meet with Paddy Coyle the next day to sort him out an earn. Gerry had done his bird, kept schtum and now he was going to collect what was due, but not necessarily in cash.

  The Hospital

  “Dear God, Paddy, look at him,” Lizzie sobbed as she almost collapsed at her son’s bedside. Sean was deathly white and wired up to God knows how many machines. “Who could have done this to my boy?” she whimpered.

  Neither Bridget nor Paddy answered the old woman, but both were thinking similar thoughts. Half of the Glasgow underworld was baying for Sean’s blood although there were few who would challenge the Coyles’ position.

  “Hello, I’m Doctor McLeod. I’m the senior registrar in charge of Mr Coyle’s case. Can I ask who his next of kin is?”

  “His mother,” answered Paddy, “but she’s in no fit state to deal with any questions, so talk to me, I’m his oldest brother.” There was no sign yet of either Marie or Michael. “First, I want the top man on his case and move him to a private room,” demanded Paddy.

  “Mr Coyle, as I said, I am the senior registrar. If you were to go private you would simply get the same staff and a whopping great bill. Your second request is not possible either because we cannot move your brother at the moment. He’s in a critical condition and requires dedicated nursing and constant observation. That’s not possible on a private ward. We are doing our very best to stabilize him. He has sustained serious injuries to his head and a knife wound which has caused severe internal bleeding.

  “He will be all right though, doctor?” challenged Paddy.

  “I can’t tell you that at the moment, Mr Coyle. As I said, your brother is in a critical condition and the next few hours are crucial. It is possible we may have to operate to relieve the pressure on his brain and I need you to sign the permission form.”

  “You didn’t understand me, Doctor, that wasn’t a question.” Paddy was almost nose to nose with the young man.

  “Are you threatening me?” the medic faced up to his aggressor.

  “No, laddie, I’m stating a fact. He’ll be all right.”

  Dr McLeod stepped back and looked Paddy square in the eye. “Mr Coyle, I have no intention of standing here being subjected to your ridiculous threats, wasting precious time, when I could be attending to your brother. So, if you’ll excuse me. And by the way, the answer to your question is, pray, sir, pray. That’s probably
your brother’s best chance.” The medic walked off.

  Despite himself Paddy was impressed with the young man’s nous. There were few men who would stand up to him, especially under such stressful conditions.

  Catching the end of the conversation Bridget rounded on Paddy. “Dear God, man, you’ve not been threatening the medical staff, have you? Who do you think you are? Your brother’s lying in there, probably dying and you’re off on some ego trip. Jesus, Paddy, I really don’t know you at all nowadays. Go and sit with your mam, she’s the only one still impressed with you, and while you are at it, ask yourself what that idiot brother of yours was up to that landed him here. It wasn’t for anything done on your instructions, was it?”

  Fuck, he couldn’t do right for doing wrong with his wife these days. She just refused to see that he only wanted what was best for the family, as he had always done. It wasn’t unreasonable to make sure his brother had the best medical attention money could buy. After all, a huge proportion of what Bridget spent, and boy could she spend, was earned by this man. As for why he was in that particular area, God alone knew. Sean was a maverick; he went wherever the wind blew. He could have been on the prowl and upset a boyfriend or husband, or chasing a debt; they would only find out when he came to, not if, and he would come to, of that Paddy was sure.

  Michael and Marie arrived. The brother and sister had travelled together, giving them the opportunity to discuss the events of the past few days. Neither were surprised at the situation in the least, and both, given Sean’s behaviour over the past few months, were only surprised that it had not happened before.

  It was telling their eldest brother about the patient’s escapades that was sure to cause ructions. They had wondered whether they should wait a bit, until they saw how Sean’s condition was, before upsetting either Lizzie or Paddy further. Either way, the shit would hit the fan and they were in for a rough time.