Blood Feud

by Anna Smith

  Now Frankie’s head was beginning to clear, he remembered everything. Of course, he’d brought that bitch Sharon here, because he knew the landscape well, and how easily accessible it was from the M6. But when he’d woken a few moments ago, he hadn’t a clue where he was or how he got there. That was scary. He felt in his pocket for his mobile. But it was gone. Along with the van. No gun in his jacket pocket either. He pulled out a packet of cigarettes and lit one, his hands trembling with cold and shock. He looked at the road down the motorway. He couldn’t go there, because as sure as shit some cop car on routine patrol would stop and pick him up. He took a long drag of his cigarette, feeling it burn all the way to his lungs. He looked at the path towards the thicket, and slowly picked his way, heading down to wherever it led.

  *

  Cal and Tahir sat in a café across from the Turkish barber shop, watching the people going in and out. It was Cal’s idea to keep a discreet eye on the place, because so far the Turk hadn’t called Tahir to say exactly what time his brother and his family would arrive, and he knew Tahir was getting more and more edgy, the longer he waited with no word. Cal had wanted to go right back in and rattle the Turk’s cage and ask what his game was, but Tahir was afraid to get his back up in case he pulled the plug on the operation. Tahir said that the Turk’s sidekick had told him that people-smuggling was a major business, and that his family weren’t the only people who were down on the list to be shipped out this week. There were people going all over the place, he was told. Some could end up anywhere – from France, to Italy, to Greece. It just depended on the circumstances. If it was people who had families paying for them on the other side, then they almost always got priority and were sent to where their families were. But other people – many from North Africa and the Middle East – had no family abroad and a lot of them were young men looking for a better life. As long as they had enough money to pay for their passage, they could be dropped anywhere. It didn’t matter to them, as long as they were in Europe. They could then disappear into the black economy once they linked up with a gangmaster who could make them invisible, as they worked illegally in the various restaurants or labouring jobs. Tahir was told his family would be protected, because he had paid up front, and the people on the other side knew he had to come to Scotland. So why hadn’t the Turk got in touch to say they were on their way? Cal had insisted, as the time went on, that they should just be close by the Turk’s place and wait out the rest of the day, and perhaps then Tahir should call into the shop and ask if there was any update.

  ‘Seems to be more activity there than we saw the last time we were in,’ Cal said. ‘But from what I see, there is no queue of people waiting for a shave or a haircut. I can see people going in and then disappearing behind the curtain.’

  ‘I know. Maybe the Turk does a lot of other business. I wouldn’t be surprised.’

  ‘Are you kidding?’ Cal looked at him. ‘You don’t think for a moment he’s just some Turkish barber who decided to do a wee sideline of smuggling illegal immigrants, do you?’

  Tahir didn’t answer, but Cal could see he looked a bit hurt. He gave him a playful nudge.

  ‘Sorry, mate. I’m not trying to be a smart-arse. I know you’ve not been in the country all that long, but anything I ever heard from people is that so many of these Turkish barber shops are a front for drug dealers. Same as the tanning salons and stuff. All drugs. Dirty money being cleaned up.’

  Tahir shrugged. ‘I suppose you are right. I am maybe a bit stupid for not knowing things like that. I know there are lots of gangsters in this city and drug dealers, but I don’t know how it works. Well, apart from doing the drops that I have to do, like you did.’ He sighed. ‘I’m not going to do any more of them though, once my family arrive. We are going to look for serious work. I know it won’t be easy. But there are labouring jobs in the fruit farms and factories. We will get something in time. My brother will have some money saved. We are getting a new start. There is always jobs for cleaning and stuff like that. But no more drops for me. I just want my family here so we can start again.’ He smiled. ‘I am very excited to see them.’ He looked across the road to the barber’s again.

  Cal watched as three men went in.

  ‘Look,’ he said. ‘These guys who just went in. They’re locals. They’re not in for a haircut. I can see them go right through the back. They could be cops. Or criminals. Hard to know. But most of the people we’ve seen going in there in the last two hours, and before when we came here, they were all foreigners – probably people paying to get relatives across. But these guys, they look different.’

  Cal wished there was a way he could get more information. But there wasn’t. They had to sit tight. The guys who’d just walked in looked to him more like gangsters than cops, so that told him that Glasgow mobsters were also somehow behind the trafficking. He couldn’t help feeling sorry for his friend who had thrown in all his hopes and his money with this mob, because he had nowhere else to go. He was alone in a foreign land with nobody, and all he wanted to do was bring his family over. Cal’s compassion was slowly turning to anger when he thought about the heavies who had just gone in and were still inside the shop. People like Tahir would never be able to take guys like this on, ask questions, make demands. Perhaps his imagination was running riot, but it seemed to him that the Turk was nothing but a go-between for the gangsters here who trafficked people and the foreign traffickers who picked people up and took their money off them, leaving them for weeks in ports and towns from Syria across Turkey while they waited for promised transport into places like France and the UK. Everyone was making money out of these poor people, and maybe the gangsters in Glasgow were the ones who made the most money. He wondered if the Casey organisation was involved in trafficking. He didn’t think so, because big Jack and any of the men he’d come across did not seem the kind of guys who’d be involved in something as low as that. Sure, he knew they dealt in drugs – large amounts of heroin and coke came through them and onto the street. But that’s what gangsters did. He had only met this Kerry Casey woman once, when he’d been brought home by the lawyer after that shit happened in Manchester. His mother had told him later that Kerry was not like the other mobsters he may have seen or heard of around Glasgow. She told him Kerry was cleaning things up, that in a few years’ time they would be a legitimate big business, and all the drugs and shit would be behind them. How the Caseys had made their fortune hadn’t mattered to him – he was just impressed by where they sat now, top of the heap. Kerry had stepped in and saved his mum and also saved his sister Jenny, who would be out of rehab in the next week and be back in her family. Since all this had happened, he had looked at the Casey family, listened to big Jack during their chats over cups of tea, and he knew where he wanted to go in life. He would work for them. They would see in time what he was capable of, and that he was loyal and fearless.

  After their third cup of tea, Cal checked his mobile.

  ‘It’s nearly five o’clock, Tahir. I think we should pay the Turk a visit.’

  Tahir looked worried.

  ‘I don’t know, Cal.’

  ‘Listen. We can just go over there, and you can be all trusting and nice to him, and say you are just a bit concerned that you haven’t heard anything. It’ll be fine.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Cal stood up and went to the counter to pay the bill. He came back as Tahir was pulling on his jacket.

  ‘Let’s go,’ Cal said, and they walked out of the door and crossed the street.

  They pushed open the door and the bell pinged, heralding their arrival. The barber, who was working a clipper on the back of some guy’s neckline, turned towards them. He raised his chin, but didn’t speak.

  ‘I’d like to speak with Hamid,’ Tahir said, a little sheepish.

  The barber put the clipper down and went across and stuck his head through the curtains and said something in Turkish. He came back out and jerked his head for them to go in. Cal was surprised, as he hadn’t se
en the other men come out, so the Turk had company. Tahir went in first and Cal behind him. Inside, the Turk sat behind his desk as two of the men sat opposite him. The third, the same fat, shaven-headed guy with a thick neck, sat on a chair at the side with his back to the wall. Cal stayed a step behind Tahir and watched. The Turk looked pale and was smoking furiously. The other men looked irritated at the interruption.

  ‘What do you want, boy?’ the Turk said. ‘I told you I would phone you when things move.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Tahir said. ‘It’s . . . You said they would be here in a couple days, but I have heard nothing. I am worried.’

  The Turk glanced at the two men in front of him, and Cal watched as the guys sitting on the seat stared straight ahead. Cal recognised him from one of the drugs drops he’d done a while ago. He was almost certain the fat guy had been in the back of the car when the package was handed to him for delivery. He made a mental note to talk to big Jack about it. These guys were in here either to launder drug money or because they were part of the smuggling racket. Or maybe both.

  The Turk stubbed out his cigarette and Cal could see his hand tremble.

  ‘I will call you when I am ready. Now go away. Don’t come here again.’

  ‘But I am worried.’

  One of the guys turned around with a bored look on his face.

  ‘Look, son. Fuck off. You’ve been told. Don’t want my boy having to throw the pair of you out of here. You heard the man, now fuck off before you get hurt.’ He was well dressed, but his accent was rough Glasgow.

  Cal saw Tahir’s shoulders slump, and when he turned around there were tears in his eyes. Before Cal could stop himself he squared up.

  ‘You fucking took his money. So can you not give him some solid information? It’s his family.’

  Before the Turk got a chance to answer, the Glasgow guy glanced at the fat man. He was on his feet and across to Cal in an instant. And now he had him by the throat and slapped his face so hard Cal could feel his cheekbone bruise almost immediately. Then he slapped him again, and this time Cal’s legs buckled a little and the fat guy let go of his neck. He dropped to the floor but got up immediately.

  ‘Get to fuck out of here. Before you get hurt,’ the well-dressed man said. ‘And who are you anyway, you little cunt?’

  Cal’s legs shook as Tahir grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the curtain. But before he left he looked at the fat guy, his face burning with rage and resentment.

  ‘You’ll be fucking sorry you did that, you fat bastard.’

  Tahir dragged him out, and by the time they were at the door they could hear the bastards guffawing behind the curtain.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Kerry was driven out towards the area of Manchester where Knuckles’ warehouse was, and where the truck carrying the shipment of drugs would arrive. She would be well out of the way. Danny had done a thorough recce of the area earlier, and told her if things worked out, Sharon could be brought to her and the two of them would get away safely. This was the closest Kerry had been to any serious action since she took over. Sure, she’d pored over documents and papers and accounts and planned for the future. She’d dealt with that bastard at the sauna straight off, and she’d ordered the hits on her brother’s killers and the gunmen at his funeral. But she had never been right on top of the action. She was surprised by how unfazed she was. Part of her wanted to be with Danny and the boys, wherever they were. She knew they’d be planning to take Knuckles out of the game, and deep down, she wanted to be the one who pulled the trigger. That wasn’t a new feeling for Kerry. Since her mother died in her arms, an anger and a ruthlessness had come over her. She had told herself that never again would she be under threat from people like Knuckles Boyle – or any of the rest of the big shots, from London to Dublin. She didn’t want to go to war with them right now, but if it came to it in time, then she wouldn’t shy away from that. She knew that on the outside her family may have looked weak because they had lost Mickey, and he’d been replaced by his sister, but nobody was going to mess with the Caseys ever again. Her mobile rang and she saw it was Danny.

  ‘Danny,’ she said. ‘How are things?’

  ‘We’ve clocked the truck. It’s about four miles away from its destination. Our boys are following it, but they’ll pull back once it gets off the main road and onto the backroad.’

  ‘Okay. Be careful,’ Kerry said.

  Danny didn’t answer and the line went dead.

  She looked at Eddie, her driver.

  ‘Shouldn’t be long now. One way or another, we’ll know what’s happened within the next hour, I think.’

  The driver nodded. ‘Are you okay, Kerry?’

  ‘Yeah. Sure I am. I could have left it all to the cops, I suppose. But Danny wanted to be there. I can see why, and I let him have his head on this. I think it’s what my father would have wanted.’

  He nodded slowly, looking reflective.

  ‘I think so. Your father was not a violent man, Kerry. I mean, he took care of things, and he wasn’t a stranger to violence – that’s the world we lived in and that’s how it was. But anything he did was done for the right reasons and to protect the people around him. But he believed in an eye for an eye. Danny is right. Knuckles can get fifteen years in jail and that’s good, but it’s not enough for what he did. For what happened to your mother.’

  Kerry didn’t answer. She pictured her mother the night before the funeral, the quiet time they had had in the house, drinking tea and talking. Her words rang in her ears, and not for the first time.

  I wish you weren’t going away tomorrow . . . Could you not stay a while longer?

  Kerry swallowed hard and stared out of the windscreen.

  *

  In her earpiece, Sharon caught Vinny’s voice.

  ‘Can you hear me okay, Sharon? Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I can hear you.’

  ‘Okay, as we went over in the drill. You won’t be speaking at any time once you go into the situation at the yard, but we will be able to hear everything that is going on. So if you do say anything to Knuckles or anyone else, just be careful that you are not conscious that you know we are listening to it. Sometimes people’s conversation is guarded or different when they know they’re wired up, so you must try to forget you’re wearing a wire. I don’t want him to be suspicious of anything, and I don’t think he will be. Just stay calm.’

  ‘Okay. I’m trying.’

  ‘Good. Now I can tell you that the truck is only a few minutes away. Have you heard anything from Knuckles yet?’

  ‘No. Not so far. I told him I was in my hired car and I would head to the yard. But I’m waiting for his call.’

  ‘Okay. But just remember when you get in there, we are with you all the way. I have people close by. I know you are worried and I know it is dangerous. But we will have your back at all times. Trust me, Sharon.’

  ‘Okay,’ Sharon said, knowing her voice was trembling a little.

  Then her spare mobile rang.

  ‘My phone is going now. I have to go.’

  ‘Okay.’

  He hung up and she pressed the answer key on the mobile. She heard Tony’s voice.

  ‘Mum. Are you okay?’

  Sharon took a breath and swallowed hard.

  ‘Of course I am, darling. Are you okay?’

  ‘Yes. Are you coming home?’

  ‘Yes. I’m coming to see you soon. Is Dad there?’

  ‘Yes. He’s here. He just wanted me to get you on the phone. I’m out at the yard. I’ll see you soon.’

  Her stomach lurched. Bastard Knuckles had brought Tony to the yard as insurance that she’d turn up. He was obviously suspicious of something, maybe he even already knew she was in with the cops. Surely to Christ he wouldn’t do anything to her in front of their son. Then she heard Knuckles.

  ‘Sharon. Sweetheart. Where have you been?’

  She felt sick. His voice was like a snake wrapping itself around her, stran
gling her. She tried to speak but her mouth was dry as a stick.

  ‘Joe. Please. Is Tony all right?’

  ‘Of course, pet. We had some good father and son time last night. There’s a lot this lad could learn from his old dad.’

  ‘Joe, send him home to the house, please. Don’t have him in the yard when you’ve got a shipment coming in. I don’t want him to see that. Get him out of there, please.’

  His tone was cold, rasping, whispering. ‘Listen, you thieving fucking bitch. You don’t tell me what to do with my son. I’m bringing him up my way now. So you get over here and get things sorted out. You have a lot of explaining to do.’

  She felt her throat tighten.

  ‘Joe. I never wanted this—’

  ‘Shut up and get here. Where are you?’

  ‘I’m about five minutes away.’

  ‘So get moving. The shipment is due here any minute.’