by Anna Smith
‘Okay,’ Kerry said, calmly. ‘I understand how angry you must be. But if you go into things in a fit of blind rage, you will get yourself killed. Both of you. So listen to me. I will have my own people look at this, and we’ll see where we go. The Turk at this end – of course he’s partly guilty, but the people who put or helped put your brother onto the truck are the people we want to get. They are taking people’s money, so they should know that a truck like that is not safe. Let me see what I can find out first.’ She looked from one to the other. ‘Now, it’s important that neither of the two of you do anything at the moment.’ She glanced at Jack. ‘Jack will take you out for a bite to eat, then take you home. We’ll be in touch.’
*
It was just after five in the morning when Frankie Martin got off the bus at Buchanan Street station, his head thumping. He buttoned up his Crombie coat against the biting wind and kept his head down as he walked quickly through the concourse and into a taxi. He could see the driver glancing suspiciously at him in his rear-view mirror, and he wasn’t surprised. He looked like shit. Unshaven, and still with some congealed blood in his hair, and his trousers and shoes muddy from traipsing through the field until he got to a village where he could get transport to the nearest place that would take him back to Glasgow. The closest was a bus station in Kendal where the city link buses stopped en route from Manchester to Glasgow. He’d sat at the back of the bus, shivering and exhausted, but with a feeling of dread in his gut. He had to get to his flat as quick as possible, get some more money, his passport and some clothes and get out of town. Kerry Casey would know by now that it was him who kidnapped Sharon, and she’d have worked out that he was spying on her. There was nothing left for him here except a bullet in the head. And he wasn’t going to allow that to happen. He’d be in Spain by tonight. He still had friends there. He could lie low, until this all blew over. Give Kerry Casey enough time to fuck up the business, then he would come back and take over. Frankie Martin wasn’t finished yet. Not by a long shot.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Danny had set up the meeting with Pat Durkin and Billy Hill, but Kerry would be running the show. She knew she didn’t have to spell that out to Danny. She could sense he had been impressed by how she was growing into her role as head of the family. But she’d left the arrangements and venue up to him. And the security. Given that Knuckles Boyle had already sent his thugs to Glasgow to murder not once but twice, Danny said you couldn’t be too careful. Durkin and Hill might say they come in peace, looking to do business, but the Caseys had to be prepared in case the bastards came out shooting. Pat Durkin Junior was a loose cannon, by all accounts, and anything could happen. He had initially invited Kerry to the Shelbourne Hotel in Dublin for the meet, and though it was a swish venue in the middle of the city, Danny had said the Irish mob would have no qualms about causing mayhem there. In the past few months, in an ongoing war between two rival families, there had been at least four very public and bloody assassinations. Durkin and Hill were told the meet would be in Glasgow – take it or leave it.
*
Kerry stood scrutinising her image in her bedroom’s full-length mirror. In her black slim-fitting suit, tight blue blouse and ankle boots, she looked as slick as she would if she were walking into any corporate meeting as the high-powered lawyer she was. But that was not who she was any more. Her cornflower blue eyes looked back at her. She was a gangster now, and about to go into a summit to offload three container-loads of cocaine to a couple of Europe’s most wanted drug kings. She was okay with that, though. She’d done her soul-searching. From her window she saw the Mercedes pull into her backyard, and Danny and Jack get out. It was time.
*
They drove into the car park of One Devonshire Gardens. Danny had chosen there because he knew the place back to front, and the staff knew who he was, so they’d be discreet and accommodating. Plus, it was better than any kind of city centre location where someone could walk into the foyer and shoot you. The meeting would be in a boardroom at the back, and Danny had armed men posted discreetly all over the car park and inside the hotel. They got out of the car, and one of his security men came forward.
‘They’re already here,’ he told Danny as they climbed the steps, pointing across the car park. ‘Three cars over there. The Range Rover and the two Mercs. Four of them have gone inside. Durkin, Hill, and two others. Not sure who they are. They’re waiting in the lounge. I’ve got two of our guys on the roof, guns pointing at the cars in case they start any stupid shit. We’re well covered here.’
Kerry waited outside as Danny went in first. She could see them all through the stained glass window of the lounge, Danny greeting the men as they stood up. Then they came out to the foyer, and headed towards the room at the end of the corridor. Kerry was waiting until they were in the boardroom, and then she would make her entrance. She stiffened her shoulders, strode up the steps into the hotel and down the corridor, her guard at her back, and turned the handle. As she walked in, all four of them stood up: Pat Durkin, thick-set, his ruddy complexion and podgy face giving him the look of an overgrown baby with bright smiling blue eyes. Billy Hill, older, sophisticated, with a shock of unkempt blond hair and a suntan that had been built up over months spent soaking up the proceeds of crime far away from his London empire. He flashed a six-grand smile, and Kerry raised her eyebrows in acknowledgement. But she was most conscious of the man on Durkin’s right, eyeing her up. A tall, lean, handsome man with a Mediterranean look about him with his designer stubble and lush black hair. A small, squat, sallow, low-browed man with blank dead eyes stood by his side. Kerry eyed Jack who stood against the wall, arms folded. He gave a slight shrug.
‘Kerry, this is Pat Durkin and Billy Hill,’ Danny said.
‘How you doing,’ Kerry said, reaching out to give a firm handshake.
‘A pleasure to meet you, Kerry,’ Hill said. ‘I’ve been looking forward to meeting the woman who brought down that fat fucker Knuckles Boyle.’ Hill’s cockney accent could have cut glass.
Kerry’s face showed nothing.
‘How you doing, Kerry.’ Pat Durkin’s hand was soft and fleshy, and a little sweaty.
‘I’m good,’ Kerry said, without a smile.
She looked in the direction of the dark-haired man. Durkin stretched his hand in an introductory gesture towards him.
‘And this is Pepe Rodriguez,’ he said. ‘He’s an associate of mine, and we work together in Spain. He’s from Colombia. We do a lot of business with the Colombians these days – supply and transport.’
Kerry didn’t shake his hand. She could sense Danny watching her as she glared at Durkin.
‘I don’t do business with the Colombians,’ she said. ‘I came here to meet you two. That’s all.’ She glared from Durkin and Hill.
The Irish man’s baby face fell as though someone had pulled the toy out of his hand. Hill looked surprised.
The Colombian’s eyes darkened. He turned to his friend and said something in Spanish, which Kerry immediately understood.
‘La dama es un tigre – exactamente como me gustan mis mujeres’ – ‘The lady is a tiger, just the way I like my women.’
Kerry immediately snapped back in Spanish.
‘Hablo español con fluidez. No seas sabihondilla.’ – ‘I speak fluent Spanish. Don’t be a smart-arse.’
The Colombian drew his lips back in a smile that was more of a warning that he wouldn’t forget this moment. Kerry could feel her heart beating hard in her chest, but she wasn’t afraid.
Durkin stepped in.
‘Okay, guys, listen. We’re not coming here to fuck about. Let’s just sit down and talk.’ He turned to Kerry. ‘You don’t have to work with the Colombians. What you are here to do is to sell your gear to us. And we’re willing to buy. Is that the set-up? Anything that happens after that, and believe me we would love to work with you, will be for later. Let’s not fall out, Kerry. We’re all reasonable people.’
Kerry moved towards th
e table. From the corner of her eye she could see Danny, looking a little amused. They all sat down.
‘So,’ Hill began, ‘anyway, as I said, we’re all grateful to have Knuckles out of the way. And by the way, Kerry, condolences for your mother’s death, sweetheart. That was a fucking scandal, that was. But it just shows you the measure of that Knuckles prick. And of course Mickey’s death. Well, that was one of those things. Mickey was a difficult man to work with, Kerry, I’m not going to lie to you. He was storing up trouble for himself all the time.’
‘Mickey was nothing like me,’ Kerry said quickly. ‘Not in any way. Things in our organisation are going to be done differently now.’
‘Yes,’ Durkin enthused. ‘I hear you’re going into the hotel business. In the Costa del Sol?’
Kerry nodded. ‘Yes. Work is about to get under way.’
Durkin shook his head and looked wistful.
‘Bastard of a place to work in, Spain, with the officials and red tape. The Spaniards are as slow as fucking treacle, and they create problems all the time. You’ll need some help to get round that. I have a lot of friends on the inside down there, Kerry, I’ll be happy to smooth the way for you.’
Kerry looked at him, deadpan.
‘Yeah? In return for what?’ she said.
‘Christ, you’re direct, aren’t you?’ Durkin made a surprised face at Hill.
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Well, me and Billy here, we have a lot of property interests in the Costa – all over Spain, and Portugal actually. Few problems after the timeshare business went tits up and some of our lads got banged up. We lost some money, but we’re coming back big time over there. We’ve got apartments, bars, restaurant interests. But a big fuck-off hotel . . . now that would really be something.’
‘Yeah. It is. And it’s something for me. It’s exclusive. I’m doing it for my organisation. Alongside other property interests I’m pursuing.’
‘Just saying, sweetheart,’ Hill piped up. ‘If you want any investors as your costs mount up.’
‘That’s taken care of. And please don’t keep calling me sweetheart.’
Hill grinned at Danny, who remained poker-faced.
‘Oh, sorry . . . swee . . .’ His voice trailed off.
Durkin was quiet but Kerry could tell he was irritated. He wouldn’t be used to this kind of blatant arrogance from a woman.
‘Well,’ Durkin said. ‘Security. You’ll want to watch the security down there. Lot of real thugs and villains, from the thieving Moroccans to the Albanians.’
Kerry was conscious that Rodriguez had been staring at her and sensed his simmering wrath.
‘And Colombians,’ he sneered. ‘But we always come in peace. To begin with.’
Stony silence. Kerry stared him out until he looked away. She could feel sweat trickle down her back.
‘Anyway,’ Durkin said. ‘That aside. You’ve got these truckloads of stuff you want off your hands pronto, Kerry. So let’s talk.’
‘It’s quite straightforward. Three containers, all offloaded and in a safe place. Here’s my price. Two million. Pounds, not euros. It’s below the market and you’re getting a good deal – given that you didn’t have to bring it in yourselves.’
Durkin looked at Hill, whose mouth turned down a little.
‘That’s a bit steep, Kerry,’ Hill said. ‘Especially if you’re keen to offload it quickly.’
Kerry clasped her hands together and sat forward.
‘You don’t want it, I can move it elsewhere.’
‘Where? I thought you wanted out of this business?’
‘As I told you,’ Kerry said, ‘my business is going to be different in future. But that doesn’t have to be today or tomorrow. It’s a plan I have. I want to move this gear on, but if you don’t want what I’ve got at this price, then I will move it elsewhere. That won’t be a problem.’
‘You know, Kerry,’ Hill said, twirling the heavy diamond ring on his finger, ‘you should take things a little easier here. I know you’re young, and you’re nothing like Mickey. He was impetuous and impatient, and quick to anger. And it didn’t make him friends. You need friends in this business. I think you could make friends if you just comply a bit.’
‘I don’t like where Mickey took my family,’ she replied. ‘I wouldn’t even be sitting here if it wasn’t for him. This is not what my father wanted.’
‘Ah, come on now,’ Hill said. ‘That’s the world we live in. Everything is business. You think all these hotels and restaurants just got there by themselves? It’s all money-laundering. We have so much money and so much flow and so much demand, you’d be a fool to turn your back on what we could do together.’
‘Spot on, Billy,’ Durkin said.
‘I hear what you’re saying, Billy, Pat. But that’s what I’m doing.’
‘It’s not just as easy as that,’ Durkin said, shifting in his seat. ‘Mickey dealt with a lot of people, and there are a great many tentacles to the organisations he was involved in. You need to be aware of that.’ He paused for effect. ‘And, also, there are debts too.’
Kerry’s gut stirred.
‘What do you mean, debts?’
‘Well, for a start, he was director in a few of our business interests. We still have an interest in your organisation.’
‘Not on any papers I’ve seen.’
‘Precisely,’ Hill said. ‘But they are on our papers.’
Kerry could feel rage inside, but she had to control it. She caught the Colombian staring at her as though she was prey.
‘Tell me about it,’ she said.
‘Your casino, saunas, your apartments in Edinburgh, and three quayside penthouses in Liverpool. They’re all part of our organisation. We have to think about that.’
‘Well then, first, I need to see these papers. Then I’ll have my lawyers look at it and we’ll work something out. But the deal will be done with the money from the cocaine sale – nothing more. Once you pay for that at a price we agree, you have no more interest in any part of my organisation. Understood?’
‘Yeah, sure. But we are interested in your hotel. We could make some job of that if we worked together.’
‘That’s not up for discussion.’ She could feel her face burning.
Silence.
‘Well,’ Hill said. ‘Not yet. Let’s go back to your lawyers and see how we go. I’m sure we can work something out in your businesses if you want to buy us out of them. And the coke. Sure. We’ll take that.’ He glanced at the Colombian. ‘You can take care of that.’
‘I told you, I don’t work with the Colombians,’ Kerry snapped.
‘Then you should be very careful, querida.’ The Colombian’s tone was cold and threatening.
Kerry glared at him. Darling. Bastard’s calling me darling.
‘¡Que te jodan!’ she snapped – ‘Go fuck yourself!’
A few minutes later, they were coming out of the building, shaking hands. This time Kerry did shake the Colombian’s hand, and when he held it too firmly, she pulled away and glared at him.
‘I hope to see you again, Kerry.’ He bared his teeth like a smiling assassin.
She didn’t answer, but she had a feeling she hadn’t seen the last of Pepe Rodriguez.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Kerry saw Vinny at the corner table in La Lanterna where they’d sat the first time they’d had lunch together. He looked up as the waiter led her over, then stood, a smile spreading across his handsome face. For a moment, as he kissed her lightly on the cheek, Kerry felt a twinge of regret that their lives were so different that nothing real and wholesome or even normal could ever come of the relationship they had embarked on over the past few weeks. She had known from the start, even before they fell into bed together for the first time, that it could never really go anywhere. But somehow the reality had got lost in all the activity going on, between her helping him nail a massive drugs bust, turn a blind eye while Sharon disappeared, then all the various mopping up Kerry’s own org
anisation had to do. Knuckles Boyle was gone now and his operation in the north of England was in tatters. Already the hoodlums were circling the spoils like hyenas, fighting over turf, but they would never be a match for the Durkins or the London mob who were picking them off one by one. Kerry didn’t want to tell him that she’d had a meet with the Durkin and Hill mobs on her own turf. She was still smarting from that, and the menacing way they slipped in the line that they still had business tied up with the Casey empire. She hadn’t expected that, and Marty was already going over the papers they had made available. At the moment, the deal with the coke was still on the table, but she hated the idea that the Colombian was anywhere near it. Pepe Rodriguez gave her the creeps, and she’d be glad when this deal was done and she was well rid of all of them. The cocaine sale would bring in a fortune, and Kerry promised herself it would be the last drug deal the Caseys would ever do. They’d made it clear they were keen for a piece of the action in her hotel plans, and the talk of security being a problem was a veiled threat from them. But she vowed they would never get their grubby hands on her hotel. However, she had to play it vague, promising to meet them on the Costa del Sol some time, once things looked like getting off the ground. But she would never be their puppet.
She was leaving tomorrow for Spain, and it was time to tell Vinny.
‘You look fantastic, Kerry,’ he said, sitting down, pouring them wine. ‘When I saw you a week ago, I thought you were tired-looking, drained.’
‘I was,’ she replied. ‘And you looked a bit knackered yourself.’ She raised her glass. ‘But it’s all over now.’
He raised his glass. ‘What will we drink to?’
‘A lot to celebrate, Vinny. For one thing, you’ll be getting promoted with your big drugs bust. You’ll end up running the show.’
‘Aye, stuff that. I like doing what I do – organising, getting my hands dirty, taking down arseholes like Knuckles Boyle.’
