by Anna Smith
‘Some cunt called Cal. Used to work in the car wash and did drops for us. He was all right. Then we decided to send him down on this, to make it look like a couple of lads just travelling.’
Frankie shook his head. ‘Fuck’s sake. So where’s he from?’
‘Cranhill. His ma lives there, but there’s been nobody at the house since this happened. So they must have moved in case we get him.’
‘You must be shitting it in case he spills his guts to the cops.’
‘He doesn’t know much. That’s how it was. Unless that prick Denny talked about everything on the way down on the train. Maybe he did. We’ll never know until we get the fucking knock on the door from the cops.’
‘The boy will be crapping himself. I wouldn’t worry. If he’s already been doing drops for you, he’s not about to run in and report it all to the cops.’
‘Aye. Well, we’ve taken a bit of insurance out on that anyway.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We’ve got his sister stashed away, in case he talks. His ma’s been told.’
‘What? Fucking kidnapping? Christ’s sake, man. What age is she?’
‘She’s no’ a kid. She’s a fucking junkie whore,’ McCann said. ‘Heroin addict. We’ve got her in a flat and told her ma that if the boy opens his gub to the cops then she’s getting her throat cut.’
‘Christ.’
‘So far, so good.’
‘How long do you think you can keep a junkie for?’
‘She’s paying her way. Don’t worry about that. We’ll keep her till it dies down, then dump her some time, unless we get a smell that the wee fucker is talking to the cops. Then she’s getting it, and so is he.’
Frankie smiled. ‘You’ll need to find him first, will you not?’
Rab shrugged. ‘Aye. Well. We’ll find him.’
Frankie finished his drink and signalled the waitress to bring the same again. He half listened while Rab and McCann talked to him about how things were changing in the city now, and that the Caseys were ripe for the taking. If Frankie came onto their side, he said, they could make some good business together, especially with Frankie’s connections. Frankie nodded at all the right moments, but his mind was on other things. Where was this boy Cal, and why had Marty Kane gone to Manchester to bring him back? He knew there wasn’t much point in putting feelers out, because nobody in the organisation would discuss it. But if Marty Kane was involved, then Kerry had to have something to do with it . . . The name rang a bell somewhere. Then he remembered. He could recall an old schoolfriend of Kerry’s when she was a kid who was called Maria, but she’d married a soldier and left Glasgow years ago. Then she’d come back and she had a boy called Cal. He’d not seen her for years, until the funeral last week when he’d asked someone who the woman was that was sitting with Kerry.
Chapter Twenty-One
Kerry waited in her study for Frankie to come in for a coffee as they’d arranged. She hadn’t seen him since their last meeting, and that was how she wanted to play it. Since talking to Sharon she was more convinced than ever that Frankie was a traitor. She’d felt it from the first time she sat around the table with him and the rest of the boys, but Sharon’s information had convinced her – even though there was no clear evidence. He’d been swanning around with Knuckles without Mickey being there, and it was no coincidence that this was weeks before her brother was gunned down. She was braced for her meeting with him, and had wanted to casually grill him over his relationship with Knuckles Boyle. But she decided it was too early yet, and she didn’t want to arouse his suspicion that she was onto him. Frankie called her this morning to say he had some information she might be interested in, so she had no option but to agree to meet. She sat in the big armchair and heard a door open and voices coming down the hall. Then the knock at the study door.
‘Frankie.’ She stood up, smiling. ‘How you doing?’
Frankie shrugged, smoothed his tie and his immaculate white shirt then stuck his hands in the pockets of his dark blue jeans.
‘Keeping busy, Kerry. You know what it’s like. The bookies are doing well. By the way, I was looking at a couple of places – old family betting shops where the owner has died, and was thinking we should buy them over. They’re in a good spot. One bang on the Southside and one up at the edge of the city. Rates might be a bit high in the city one, but worth a look.’
‘Great. Might be a good idea. Get a costing for me and see what we’d be looking at.’ She gestured at the cups on the table. ‘Coffee? Tea?’
‘Tea would be good. Just black.’
‘Sit down, Frankie.’
‘How you doing, Kerry, yourself?’ He looked concerned. ‘I keep thinking about you, about the old days, growing up. Jesus! It all seemed a bit innocent then – even though I suppose it wasn’t. We weren’t in the middle of a lot of shit though, the way it is these days.’
Kerry looked at him, but kept her expression flat. They were in the middle of a lot of shit that he probably caused, she thought. She half smiled.
‘Well, that’s the business we are in, Frankie. It wouldn’t have been my choice – or my dad’s. But it was Mickey who took us into a lot of the shit we are picking up the pieces for.’ She poured tea and handed him a cup. ‘But things are going to change. That’s for sure.’
Frankie nodded but said nothing and they sat in silence for a moment. Then he ventured, ‘I’d be happy to help you any way I can, Kerry. To be honest, I feel as if running the bookies – it’s good craic and stuff – but I’m away from the day-to-day things these days. I miss that. You know, being around here. I feel I can be more useful to you.’
‘We’ll see,’ Kerry said flatly. ‘Anyway, you wanted to have a chat, so here we are. I’ve got a meeting in half an hour.’
He looked a little crestfallen with the brush-off, but Kerry didn’t care.
‘Kerry, I keep my ear to the ground a lot – it’s how I’ve always been. And I picked some information up the other day that you might be interested in.’
‘What kind of information?’
‘Well, I mean, I’m not really hearing everything that’s close to you right now, but a name came up and I kind of made a connection.’
‘What name?’
‘Cal.’
Kerry knew he was watching her for a reaction. She hoped her expression gave nothing away. What was he playing at?
‘Cal?’ Kerry said, throwing it right back at him.
‘Yeah. Word on the street, well, not exactly on the street, but coming to me is that Cal is the wee guy who was on a drop in Manchester for Rab Pollock’s mob. They were buying heroin from Knuckles Boyle, but the whole thing got busted by cops at the meet in the café.’
Kerry raised her eyebrows a little to show interest but said nothing, waited for him to go on. She knew he would. He was bursting to tell her something.
‘Did you hear about the cops busting the drop at Manchester?’
‘Course I did,’ she said. ‘Talk of the steamie. Somebody called Denny Thomson appears to have done a runner. Don’t know him. Or Pollock.’
‘Pollock’s an arsehole. It was him who sent the boy down with Denny. And I hear the boy got arrested. This Cal laddie.’
Kerry stayed silent, sipped her tea. Frankie appeared a little uncomfortable with the lack of response he was getting.
‘Tell you what, Kerry. I heard that Marty Kane was down and got him in Manchester – brought him back to Glasgow. Then I remembered something. It just came to me. You had a pal called Maria who had a laddie called Cal, did you not? Unusual name.’
Kerry rolled her eyes. ‘Frankie, I wish you’d get to the point. This is not a bloody interview.’
He tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace.
‘Sorry. Anyway, word is that the boy is in danger, and that his ma was told. But what I also hear is this mob have got his sister. Jenny. She’s a heroin addict.’
Kerry looked at him. ‘What do you mean, “got her”? They’ve
kidnapped her or something?’
‘Yeah. I know where she is. I thought that might be of interest to you.’ He paused. ‘Look, Kerry, I’m not trying to get information out of you – I mean, why would I do that? All I’m doing is telling you something, because I get the feeling that Maria, your pal, who was at your ma’s funeral last week, is Cal’s ma. And I don’t want to know what the connection is with him and Rab Pollock, or her and Rab Pollock. But if she’s your mate, and she wants to know where her daughter is, then I can help.’
Kerry waited a long moment. ‘Okay, Frankie. I appreciate you coming. You’re bang on with everything you say. I hope you understand that I haven’t been having any kind of group meetings about this. Know what I mean? This is personal and it’s about a good friend of mine whose family is in trouble. I’m helping her out. You’re right. Cal is her boy. I’ve taken care of them. But I know they are in danger. Cal isn’t talking to cops and he won’t be. But Maria is frantic because she can’t get Jenny, and these bastards who took her, whoever they are, have told her that her daughter will get her throat cut if Cal speaks. So, if you know where they are, then tell me now.’
‘Of course I’m going to tell you. Why did you think I came here?’
‘Well, you were being a bit bloody cagey in the beginning, if you don’t mind me saying so. Let’s hear it. Who’s got her?’
‘Rab Pollock’s mob. Well, not just him. But McCann. The little shit you pistol-whipped.’
‘Christ! That little bastard! Where is he?’ She found herself on her feet, rage rising in her.
‘Let me handle this. Could you just leave it with me? I know how to do this. I can get the girl and bring her to her ma. And I can sort out Pollock and McCann once and for all. They’re a couple of wasters anyway.’
Kerry looked down at him, and for a moment she was going to tell him to butt out. But maybe he was being sincere. Perhaps she had got it wrong, freezing him out. Maybe it was time to bring him in, test him out. If he could bring Jenny back to Maria, then that would be a start.
‘How will you do it?’
Frankie stood up, and took a step towards her.
‘Are you going to leave it to me? If you are, then it’s my shout how I do it. But I guarantee no harm will come to Jenny, and McCann will be out of your hair for ever. By the way, he went straight over to Pollock’s team when you kicked him out of the Paradise Club, so he will do anything to get back at you. I’m pretty sure neither he nor Pollock know the connection of Maria and Cal to you, and it will stay that way. But I’ll bring the girl back to her family.’
‘What do you need in the way of back-up?’
He put his hand up. ‘I’ll sort that, if you just say the word.’
Kerry stood looking at him for a moment.
‘Okay. Go ahead.’ She paused. ‘But do not come back to me and tell me something bad has happened to Jenny because of the way you’ve handled it.’
Kerry could see by the look in his eye that Frankie was stung by the remark, but he took it well. He gave her a mock salute then turned on his heels and left.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sharon was glad that, as promised, she now had three mobile phones to work with, and a laptop. The mobiles were all untraceable, so she was safe enough to call her contacts in Spain and Amsterdam. She’d had only a few hours’ sleep last night, as her mind was buzzing with the plan to get the shipment out of Amsterdam and well away from Knuckles Boyle. This could not go wrong. The consequences of that didn’t even bear thinking about. Over the years of going out to Amsterdam, setting the operation up, and looking after everyone who was involved in it, Sharon had built up contacts she could trust. The ones she dealt with were mainly Dutch and ex-pat English, and the fact was that none of them were particularly interested in where the shipment went once it was out of their hands. The plan she and Kerry had drawn up was that it would leave the warehouse as arranged, in three lorries, and head for the various destinations. The risk was that she had to get to the drivers she’d assigned to the job and ask them to stand down and walk away at some stage in the journey, so Kerry could get her own drivers to take over. Sharon knew that by making a call like that to any of these drivers, she could be sealing her fate. If any of them decided not to take her lucrative offer to walk away, then the next call they would make would be to someone in Knuckles Boyle’s organisation. Even if they agreed to take her offer, they could still do that, double-cross her, if they wanted. It was a risk she had to take. The drivers either just took the offer and walked away, or Kerry would arrange for the trucks to be hijacked en route, which would present all sorts of problems on any motorway or road that could bring police from all over the place. No. It had to be a deal she made with the drivers, and she just had to pray it would stick. She had considered going over to Amsterdam to make the deal herself, but she’d be too exposed, and if it all went nasty, then she was away from any protection. The main man she dealt with was Jan, the big Dutch driver she’d got to know over the past few years, and who she trusted more than any of them. Whatever set-up they had over there, Jan was at the forefront and organising who would be the best men for certain journeys. She would tell Jan the arrangements, and leave it up to him to inform each of the drivers what was to be done once they left the warehouse. She knew they wouldn’t question Jan’s authority. All of them had been driving trucks with dodgy cargo, mostly drugs, for years, and they knew it didn’t pay to ask questions. Kerry had already sent a team over to Amsterdam, who were in place in a hotel a few miles from the warehouse, and who were ready to track the shipment from the moment it left. Sharon picked up one of the mobile phones and keyed in a number, her stomach knotting as it answered after two rings.
‘Jan? It’s Sharon. How are you?’
‘Ah, Sharon! I’m very well thanks. But no name came up and I don’t see a number.’
‘I know. It’s a different phone, Jan.’
There was a moment’s silence, and Sharon knew Jan would be a little suspicious. He’d been smuggling drugs into the UK and all across Europe for more than twelve years, and everything had to be very precise. Any sudden change in phone numbers or arrangements flagged up danger to him.
‘Is everything all right, Sharon?’
He sounded guarded.
‘Yes. Of course.’ She paused. ‘I wanted to talk to you about a little change we have to the plan for later this week.’
‘I see. Are you coming over to talk?’
‘No. I have things to do here, so I need to rearrange matters a little.’ Sharon took a breath. ‘Jan, I want you and your other drivers to take the trucks as normal at the arranged time, but after that, well, that is where I want to talk to you about the change of plan.’
Again the silence.
‘Is the shipment going to another place? Not for the ferry to UK?’
‘Yes. Head in that direction, as planned. But then there is a place I want you to pull into. You’ll know it.’ She reeled off the name of the transport café on the motorway. ‘That is when I want you to leave the truck for other drivers to take over.’
‘What? Other drivers?’
‘Yes. Someone else will take over from there.’
‘But I don’t understand. Is there something I have done wrong? I work with you for years, Sharon. You can trust me always, you know that, don’t you?’
‘Of course, Jan. I trust you with my life. I’ve got to know you very well over the years, that is why I want to make this arrangement with you now. You will be paid a lot of money to do as I ask. More than you would for the journey itself. Almost twice as much.’
She knew the last few words would be uppermost in Jan’s mind. He’d made a fortune from moving shipments around for years, but you would never have seen any signs of wealth from him. He lived in a humble apartment and kept a low profile. He’d often told Sharon over drinks and dinners in Amsterdam that when the time came to give all this up and he had made enough money, then he would retire to the Bahamas where he would buy a
bar near the beach, and a flat, and live the rest of his life away from all this.
‘I see,’ Jan said. ‘Sharon, you know I am very fond of you, and if you are in some sort trouble I would help you. Are you sure you are all right? I don’t want to ask about the change of plan much, because that is up to you what you want to do. My job is to do what you ask. Always. What happens after I leave the truck is not my business. Always.’
‘Jan. I’m fine. Honest. No need to worry. One day soon, we’ll have dinner and a bottle of tequila in the Bahamas and we can talk about some good old days. But you’re right. We trust each other. And the reason I am asking you to do this for me is that I know I can trust you. You must never speak to anyone about the arrangement we have made. Ever. When you make the handover to the other drivers, they will give you the money, and then it would be best if you disappear for a while. Do you understand?’
‘Yes. I understand. I will do as you ask. And please, do not worry about trusting me. You must know that I would never betray you. Whatever your plan is, I know you have a reason. We will talk soon.’
He hung up, and Sharon sat holding the phone, staring at the print on the wall which was of a Glasgow tenement where behind each window there was a little image of a life unfolding. It underlined the desolation she felt, so far away from her son, so far away from the life she had, and now totally alone.
*
Kerry had kept the fact that she had given refuge to Sharon Potter on a strictly need to know basis. The only people she judged that needed to know were Uncle Danny, Jack Reilly and Marty Kane. As predicted, all three of them were sceptical, raising questions that it may all be a set-up to lob another grenade into their organisation, but Danny did concede that Knuckles Boyle didn’t have the wit to do that. Plus, from what he’d heard through the grapevine, Knuckles had another woman on the go, so it looked like Sharon’s days were numbered. They were all surprised at the extent to which Sharon organised most of what went on in the drug smuggling, and they were surprised that Knuckles had relied on her so heavily. It just wasn’t done. But once Kerry had shown them the evidence of Knuckles’ financial dealings and movements on the jump drive Sharon had stolen, they believed it. However, giving Sharon refuge was one thing – stealing a three million pound shipment of the Boyle mob’s cocaine was an entirely different matter. Not even Mickey would have the balls to do that, Danny had said. Marty advised against it completely as it had the potential to blow up in their faces. Jack was pragmatic, and said that with the right men on the job and proper planning it could work. Sure, it was risky as hell, but it was a lot of money, and too good an opportunity to miss, was his opinion.
