But Meechan’s attention was wandering from business matters and he had to admit he could hardly keep his eyes off his business manager, for today Celine dazzled. The Afro curls in her brown hair appeared to have a new crispness to them, but still there was something unruly there. The scarlet jacket of her two-piece Chanel suit was cut to reveal a silk camisole top. As usual, Celine used a minimum of make-up; with skin which resembled the colouring of his favourite morning latte and was as smooth as silk, she needed none.
Seeing the smile on Meechan’s face, Celine asked, “So, Declan, where are you taking us for lunch?”
“The Rogano. The table is booked for one o’clock. That’ll give us time for a wee toast. Eh, Charlie? To a job well done!”
“Nothing would give me more pleasure, Declan,” agreed the lawyer.
Holding his upturned palm out in no particular direction, Meechan added,
“Now, since the rain seems to have stopped, let’s walk over to Royal Exchange Square. You could do with the exercise, Charlie, to be sure. What do you say, Celine?” asked Meechan.
The trio began to make their way across the road to the inner pavement that rings the very heart of George Square. Minds lingering on the first bottle of champagne, and a lunch that was bound to include the renowned lobster thermidor, not even Meechan paid any attention to the private hire cab hovering on the other side of the road until he heard the first bang. The whistle of the bullet and the rush of the air accompanying it missed Meechan by a matter of inches, embedding itself fifteen feet past him in the rear of a black hack dropping passengers just outside the Chambers.
“Down Celine, Charlie, get the fuck down,” ordered Meechan as the second bullet skimmed off the pavement and pierced the rear tyre of the black hack. Its passengers, an elderly couple of American tourists, let out a scream.
The private hire was now crossing towards the pavement onto which Meechan and his colleagues had dived flat, as certain death closed in.
At that point Lady Luck saved Declan Meechan. With all his focus on getting off a third shot and this time hitting his target, the driver failed to check his rear view and sight the approaching open-top double-decker tourist bus. The Mondeo passenger pointed his barrel straight at Meechan, less than ten feet away, and the crimelord saw the sneer of delight on the shooter’s face as the flash from the barrel took light, just as the impact of the bus threw the private hire into a forty-five degree skid and onto the pavement it had just pulled away from. The driver desperately tried to regain control of the steering wheel while the shooter tried to gain an upright position in an attempt to get a final shot off.
The badly dented Mondeo was soon straightened, but with the double-decker providing a busload of witnesses and a twenty-foot obstacle between the would-be assassins and Meechan, the driver thought better of it and accelerated straight through a red light as he bid to get out of George Square as quickly as possible. Self-preservation rather than a successful hit was now top of his agenda.
A moment later the maroon Mondeo was gone from sight and Meechan helped Celine to her feet.
“You okay, Celine? What about you, Charlie?” asked the crime boss.
Celine, the ever-present mask of her composure momentarily gone, was first to respond.
“What the hell is going on Declan? You don’t pay me enough to get involved in this kind of stuff!”
Coyle, his cheek grazed from his headlong dive onto the pavement, was also badly shaken.
“For pity’s sake Declan, I’m just a lawyer, no more. My brief doesn’t include drive-by shootings. It’s a bloody miracle none of us was shot. What’s it all about?”
Meechan lied and did so with conviction. His face seemed to take on an icy glaze and the slate-grey eyes hardened.
“I don’t know, I just don’t know, but that will not be the case for much longer. I’m sorry you both got involved in this but believe me, it’s something that won’t happen again. Now we can wait for the polis or we can go and have that drink ’cos if anything, I think we now have double cause for a celebration!”
Coyle’s eyes had taken on a wild look as his body trembled in fear caused by his brush with death. A fear which made him forget who his master was. Before he knew it, Coyle blurted out:
“For fuck’s sake, you’re unbelievable, Meechan! We’ve just had one of your rivals try and gun us down outside the City Chambers in the middle of Glasgow and you want to go and have a bottle of bubbly to celebrate the fact we’re still walking about. What if the Rogano is being watched and there’s someone tailing us and this time they don’t fuck up? No, Meechan, I’ve had enough of your company for today. I have a wife and kids and I want to see them at the end of my working day.”
Before Coyle could blurt out more, Meechan had him by the lapels of his Crombie and pinned against the back of the black hack that had taken two of the three bullets intended for Meechan.
“You listen to me, Coyle. Your wife’s health club, your yacht, the private school for your kids and your fancy house in Bearsden; you would have sweet fuck all if it wasn’t for me and Jimmy Gray. Do you want to lose that and go back to your two-bit lawyer’s shop off Partick Cross at the foot of some manky tenement with your only customers the junkies and the drunks? ’Cos you can get back to that midden tomorrow if I say so.”
Meechan rattled Coyle off the back of the cab for a second time. The taxi driver, who had been standing open-mouthed next to his unbelieving American customers, advanced on the pair. Meechan turned to his left.
“Listen, friend, this is some private business so keep your fuckin’ distance or your ability to continue making a living will cease. Comprendy?”
The sheer menace in Meechan’s delivery was enough to stop the taxi driver in his tracks, and Meechan turned his attention back to Coyle. Brushing the trembling lawyer’s coat lapels in an extravagant placatory gesture, Meechan released his grip.
“Now listen, Charlie, I think we all need a drink to help us calm down.” And with a smile, Meechan added: “On reflection, a brandy might be more appropriate. We’ve been together for a long time and everybody reacts differently to situations like the one we have just been through.”
Putting his arm around the lawyer, Meechan nodded toward the astonished Celine and then continued to guide his employee across the road in the direction of St Vincent Street just as the first sirens began to howl.
Chapter 9
Turning into Royal Exchange Square, they entered the cocktail bar of the Rogano seafood restaurant, Glasgow’s finest art deco eatery.
Meechan selected one of the comfortable booths opposite the bar and, with his companions both seated, turned and raised one finger in the air, in the direction of the manager. The silence round the table was all-embracing. Meechan appeared to have a change of heart as he jumped up and headed for the bar, returning with three glasses loaded with the finest Remy Martin cognac.
“Celine, Charlie, here. Drink these and it will help drive the chill from your insides and stop the shivering on your outside.”
Raising the glass, Meechan added: “Feel the warmth!” and downed his cognac in one swift gulp before slapping the glass down on the table.
Looking at Celine first, then Coyle, with an air of expectancy, he raised both his hands and turned them palm up as if to say what are you waiting for?
Celine immediately followed Meechan’s example and belatedly, Coyle did likewise. The waiter appeared at the table just as Coyle’s glass came back to its resting place on the gleaming mahogany surface of the table.
“Bollinger ’53 as requested, Mr Meechan?” enquired the waiter.
“As always, Marcel.”
Uncorking the champagne, the waiter proceeded to pour before leaving, almost in the same instant. Once again Meechan raised his glass and beckoned his companions to do likewise.
“To winning.”
Meechan took another sip of his champagne and, looking into the glass, continued
“Look at all these tiny bubble
s. Sometimes I think that’s exactly what human beings are all like. Rushing about to what purpose before bursting, and no one would know we’ve even been on the planet. For as long as I can remember I wanted to be different, wanted to be better, and by Jesus I will.”
All of a sudden a fire burned in those slate-grey eyes, and the anger in Meechan’s voice raged.
“But in order to succeed sometimes you have to take a risk or two, and in dealing with people who have no scruples or qualms you need to beat them at their own game. The only way you can do so is by being more ruthless, showing no remorse and no weakness, whoever these people may be.”
Meechan took another break for a third mouthful of Bollinger. In the ensuing pause Celine shot Charlie Coyle a quick glance and saw from his features that the lawyer was taking little reassurance from Meechan’s words. Turning her gaze back to the crime boss, Celine ventured a question:
“What do you mean by all this, Declan? It sounds like you’re involving us all in some kind of war.”
Meechan, sitting opposite Celine, leaned forward and ran the fingers of his right hand down her left wrist before saying:
“A war is when two roughly matched sides go at it. What the people who were behind what has just happened to us in George Square don’t know, is that they are not remotely on the same level as Declan Meechan. They had one chance and that has gone. All I want to say is, hang on for the ride because the good times are about to roll. Now, are either of you hungry?”
Charles Coyle finished his glass of champagne and, having finally recovered some degree of self-composure, he broke the silence he had kept since his outburst back in George Square.
“Declan, I do apologise for my, well, indelicate remarks after the incident. Obviously I was in shock and not in control of my emotions or my mouth. Please forgive me. You have, without fail, my continuing and unquestioning loyalty, but I don’t think I’ll be much good as company over the lunch table. So if you don’t mind, I’ll take a raincheck and head back to the office and get on with my paperwork. The planning permission for the club may have been granted, but there’s still much to process and I’d like to head into the weekend with my decks cleared. The brandy was just what I needed, and the Bollinger most welcome,” he concluded.
“Ah, Charlie, glad to see the drink has had a calming effect on you. That’s, fine old friend, I understand completely. Unless there’s anything urgent we’ll speak on Monday morning as usual.” Almost as an afterthought, Meechan added,
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you and Fiona are off to Paris for the weekend for her birthday? Please give your lovely wife my best and have a great time.”
The colour in Coyle’s nondescript face heightened considerably as Meechan underlined the point made earlier about the lawyer’s lavish lifestyle. Rising from the table and placing his Crombie over his arm, Coyle knew better than to bite.
“That’s nice of you, Declan, I certainly will. Enjoy your lunch.”
“So Celine, you ready to eat?” asked Meechan as he refilled her glass and then his own.
“Yeah, you could say my appetite is beginning to return, Declan,” she admitted, one hand, Meechan couldn’t help notice, playfully entwined in those unruly brown tresses. Their eyes locked and Celine was first to avert her gaze. An uneasy silence developed, and then Meechan stretched his right hand across the table and took Celine’s left in his grasp.
“Look Celine, I know that was scary stuff out there, but you’ve known me for nearly ten years and never seen anything like that. The stakes have been raised a helluva lot higher, and as a result so has the danger.”
His gaze never wavering as he held Celine’s eyes, Meechan continued:
“You remember when I first met you, when I was on the door at the Volcano back in ’95 and you’d come off your shift at the Riverboat Casino? Now nothing seems as straightforward as it did then.” He paused for a while to let her appreciate where his words were leading.
“The minute I saw you, I knew you were the one for me. I don’t know what happened but here we are, ten years down the line, and can you honestly say you are happy with the way your life has worked out?” Meechan asked.
“I don’t know, Declan. What do you mean by that? My professional life has come a long way from flashing a pretty smile round the crap tables on the boat, wouldn’t you say?” she responded.
“That’s not what I mean, as you know full well, Celine. Where did it all go wrong for us all those years back? Do you know how hard it has been, watching you develop and grow in our organisation, and yet you shut me out—that is, except for that night after Jimmy Gray’s do.
“But that was just a one-night stand, and would I be right in thinking you did that to punish me? What I want now more than ever is the chance to try again. Will you give me that opportunity? We all make mistakes and yes, I made a big one, but have you ever felt what we had between us with someone else?”
Celine’s brown eyes seemed to become molten as they watered in the dimmed light of the cocktail bar. She took another sip of champagne in an attempt to steady her feelings and keep the wave of emotion engulfing her firmly dammed, before she could once again trust herself to speech. Setting her glass down once again, she seemed to be lost as she looked into the tiny exploding bubbles of the Bollinger, but eventually, much to Meechan’s relief, her lips moved.
“I know what went before has gone, Declan, but you hurt me. We’re both different people now in our thirties, and I don’t have time to make the same mistakes in my personal life that you learn from when you’re a kid. That night after the party was no strings and you know it. If you feel I was punishing you, then who is that down to, Declan? I just don’t want someone to control my life again the way you did. I certainly don’t want to be worrying every time a guy comes with twenty yards of me that he’ll end up in the GRI. How can you prove to me that if I let you back into my life you won’t do that all over again?”
Meechan’s face tautened with tension as he considered her words.
“You’re talking about Thoroughgood, aren’t you Celine? I know you blamed me for his accident, but where’s the proof I was behind it? What would I have had to gain from something that was only going to make you suspicious of me? He wasn’t right for you then, now or never.” concluded Meechan.
“But the point is, Declan, are you?” asked Celine.
Their eyes met and locked, and this time it was Meechan whose gaze was broken first. The interruption was caused by the arrival of a third party wearing a uniform.
“Mr Meechan?” asked the police constable.
“That’s right, officer. How can I help?” offered Meechan.
“We’ve had a report of an incident outside the City Chambers, and the description of the persons involved matches both yourself and the young lady here. We believe there was also a third older gentleman wearing a Crombie involved, and that all of you were the subject of an attempted shooting?” revealed the officer.
“Well, well, officer. It’s now one-thirty and the incident happened almost an hour and a quarter back. Myself and my companion found ourselves in need of some medicinal refreshment around the corner here, and you have just found us. But I can save you a lot of time because I’m afraid there is nothing I, or the young lady here, can help you with. So if I’m not mistaken, I can sign your police notebook to that effect and we will be done,” suggested Meechan.
“I’m sorry, sir, but the seriousness of the incident and the fact that members of the public were involved means that I’ll need to contact CID. If you would excuse me for a moment, I’ll have to radio in and inform control.”
Taking a step backwards, the cop began to speak into his radio handset. Meechan gave Celine an exasperated look and rolled his eyes heavenward, then groaned.
“Inevitable, I suppose, but still dammed inconvenient. Wouldn’t you agree, Celine?”
“Yeah, you could say the officer’s timing was less than perfect, but I guess he is only doing his job,” she soo
thed, with a hint of a smile at the sides of her mouth, but Meechan was well aware the moment had been lost.
“Sorry to interrupt Miss, Mr Meechan, CID have arrived outside and are on their way in to see you. Just to let you know, sir.”
“Thanks officer …” Meechan started to say then stopped in midsentence.
His slate-grey eyes narrowed for a moment at the approach of the two CID officers.
“Good afternoon, Mr Meechan, I came as soon as I heard you’d been involved in a shooting, but oh dear, they fucked up!” said Detective Sergeant Gus Thoroughgood.
Meechan vaulted out of the booth and shoved his face in the detective’s.
“You jumped-up fuckin’ plod, are you the best Strathclyde police can offer? What hope is there when there are now shootings in the middle of Glasgow in broad daylight?”
Thoroughgood smiled. “Terrible, isn’t it? Just as well DC Hardie and I were detained on duty and able to come to your rescue.”
But Thoroughgood’s attention had wandered from Meechan to his beautiful companion. Fully aware of the powder keg situation fast developing in the cocktail bar, Kenny Hardie took charge immediately. Inserting both hands between the two males, he prized them apart.
“Gaffer, just back off a minute would you? Let me deal with this,” suggested Hardie.
Turning to Meechan, Hardie continued his bid to calm the situation.
“Look, Mr Meechan, I can appreciate you’ve had a bit of a jolt with this incident, but I’m sure that with both your lives, and those of the public, having been put in jeopardy, you won’t mind furnishing us with a brief statement?”
“Nicely put, Detective Harvey isn’t it? I don’t know what I can help you with, as I haven’t got a description or a number plate. But both myself and I’m sure, my lady friend,” this said with a gloating look over Hardie’s shoulder to the bristling features of Thoroughgood, “will do everything that we can to help you with your enquiries. As I’m sure you appreciate, I am a busy man. If it’s possible, can we do so here, as it’s not going to take long?” suggested Meechan.
Parallel Lines Page 6