Crow Bait

by Douglas Skelton

  Rab said quietly, ‘I don’t see any kind of bag. You see any kind of bag?’ Bobby shook his head, he didn’t see any kind of bag. Rab’s anger was beginning to rise. ‘Then where the fuck’s my money?’

  ‘Maybe he’s gonnae pay you by cheque,’ Bobby said and received a quick glare from Rab in return.

  Rab didn’t bother with any pleasantries as Liam and his crew drew close. He seldom did. ‘Hope you’ve got my fuckin wedge, Mulvey. If you’ve brought me all the way down here to sheep shaggin country for nothing I’ll be hyper unchuffed.’

  Mulvey simply sneered then waved a hand at the balding guy on his left and said, ‘Show him, Stringer.’

  Stringer nodded and reached behind him to produce an automatic pistol from his waistband. The two other guys to the right of Mulvey brandished similar weapons. And they were all pointed at Rab and Bobby. Bobby felt his mouth run dry and his brain told him to run, to run fast and to run far, but his frozen legs weren’t listening. All he could see were those three big black holes pointed straight at him.

  ‘See, here’s my notion,’ said Mulvey, as if he was talking about what he was planning to have for supper. ‘You’ve got the market pretty much tied up, between you and that wee Tally. No much room for a bright young entrepreneur like me to make my way. Now, old Luca, he’s still got control of the sources and the routes and all that, but you? You’re only the muscle. So, the way I see it, if we get rid of you, Luca’ll need knew muscle, know what I’m saying?’

  Rab said, ‘Luca won’t go for it. He’ll never trust you, son.’ Bobby was amazed at how calm Rab was. How the fuck could he be so calm in the face of three bloody great cannons?

  ‘Got a guy talking to him right now,’ said Mulvey, then he treated himself to a small smile. ‘Making him an offer he can’t refuse.’

  Rab nodded. ‘And who would that be?’

  Mulvey’s smile became sly. ‘You’ll never guess.’

  Bobby glanced at Rab and saw he was smiling. Smiling now? Fuck’s sake…

  ‘Okay, so the plan is you do us in, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘And then Luca takes you on instead of me? And you use these guys?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘And you can trust these boys?’

  Mulvey’s smile broadened. ‘They’re my boys.’

  Rab’s own grin widened. ‘You sure about that, son?’

  Something in Rab’s voice made Mulvey’s smile falter and he glanced first to his right, to the two men he did not really know, and saw they had lowered their weapons. He then turned to his left to find Stringer was now facing him, the gun aimed straight at his head.

  ‘Stringer, what the fuck?!’ He said.

  Rab said, ‘See, Liam old son, I’ve been one step ahead of you all the time. I mean, I didn’t get to where I am by being a stupid fuckwit of a prick, did I?’

  Bobby felt his stomach muscles loosen. Rab had told him this bloke Stringer was on side but when he saw those shooters he still felt as if he’d crap it solid in his pants.

  ‘Stringer?’ Mulvey said. He sounded hurt. He sounded betrayed. Bobby understood how he felt, but didn’t give a damn.

  ‘You’ve got ambition, so does he,’ said Rab. ‘I got word about your plans for this meeting. I just rearranged some of the pieces.’ He looked at the two men to Mulvey’s left. ‘Take this bastard away and put one in his eye.’

  Mulvey looked scared then, and with good reason. As the man closest to him grabbed his arm and began to pull him away, he shouted, ‘You can’t do this, Rab!’

  ‘Fuck I can’t. You were gonnae do it to us.’

  ‘You don’t know who it is you’re dealing with here. It’s no just me…’

  ‘I don’t care who this mystery man is, I’ll put one in his eye, too, when I get round to it.’ Rab grew impatient. ‘Get him out of my sight, make sure he’s no found. Must be places up here that people don’t go.’

  The man nodded and pushed Mulvey away. Liam appeared to stumble and in the gathering darkness no-one saw his hand sneak under his jacket. The first Bobby knew that he was armed was when he heard the report of the gun and the man nearest Mulvey pitched to the side, blood erupting from his shoulder.

  ‘Fuck!’ Rab yelled as he threw himself behind the Range Rover. ‘Did no-one check he wasn’t tooled up?’

  Bobby had thrown himself to the ground as Mulvey rounded on Stringer, loosing off a shot, but Stringer had already jerked to the side and was rolling across the grass towards the trees. The third guy was so stunned by the sudden violence that he couldn’t move and Mulvey put two rounds into him before he knew it.

  Bobby knew he was a sitting duck out here in the open so he began to rise, planning to make a break for the comparative safety of the Range Rover. He heard Mulvey scream – ‘Fuck you, McClymont!’ – and heard another shot. At first he thought someone had punched him from behind, that’s what it felt like, but then something seared its way though his body. He wanted to keep moving but his legs wouldn’t respond, they just wouldn’t play ball tonight, and he tumbled forward, his face hitting the dirt.

  Rab saw Bobby go down and he wanted to get to him but another shot banged into the Range Rover near his head and he was forced to duck back down again. Then he heard another two shots, a different gun, and he peered out again to see Stringer up on one knee, his automatic held in both hands, blasting away at Mulvey as he legged it into the woods. Rab looked again at his old friend, knowing he should stop and tend to him, but was determined that Mulvey would not get away. He moved quickly across the clearing to one of the guns dropped by Stringer’s mate.

  ‘Look after Bobby,’ Rab shouted to Stringer as he scooped up the gun without stopping.

  27

  RAB FOLLOWED A fire break into the depths of the pine plantation, stepping carefully on the lumpy ground. The conifers crowded on either side, their intertwined branches preventing any kind of access, even for a short-arse like Mulvey, so Rab knew he must have gone down this way. The earth was springy and wet and his boots squelched as he walked. He stopped and listened for the sound of his quarry thrashing about, but all he heard was the breeze singing softly through the pine needles. He tightened his grip on the butt of the automatic and moved slowly forward again, ignoring the damp sensation seeping though his shoe leather, his senses on the alert for any break in the natural rhythm of the woods. Not that he knew much about the woods. Who was he, Davy Crockett? He was a Glasgow boy and he hated being out of his comfort zone. But that bastard Mulvey was somewhere up ahead and he’d planned to put Rab down. He’d actually managed to put one in Bobby and for that alone he’d pay.

  Rab stopped again, feeling at a disadvantage. The chances were Mulvey knew these bloody woods intimately – Bobby had said he was a shooter – so he was probably up here every chance he got, blasting away at whatever moved. Rab began to regret taking off alone after him, but seeing Bobby lying there with the blood gushing from his back had pissed him off. He paused again and listened but heard nothing. Fuck it, he thought, best go back, get the bastard later. What the fuck was he doing out here like Hawkeye, tracking a man down? He didn’t know how to spot a broken blade of grass or tell if a fuckin stone had been turned over. He sighed, not liking the idea of letting Mulvey away, but turned back.

  The crack of the gun to his left was like a thunderclap and Rab swore he heard the bullet rustle through the branches above his head. He threw himself face down and rolled, his gun hand coming up and blasting off three shots in quick succession in the direction of the sound and the blink of muzzle flashes. It was more instinctive than calculated but he got lucky, for he heard a grunt and the rustle of a body crashing through pine needles. He waited for a few seconds, gun still levelled, but he heard nothing more. Cautiously he rose to his feet and edged forward.

  Liam Mulvey was on his side, reaching with a trembling hand towards his gun, which lay a few feet away. Rab kicked at the hand and retrieved the weapon himself, the automatic in his hand
aimed right at Mulvey’s face. Mulvey groaned as he rolled over on his back and Rab saw a hole seeping red on his shoulder. ‘You are one stupid bastard, you know that, Mulvey?’

  Mulvey was obviously in agony, but he managed to give Rab a sneer. ‘Never mind the talk, Rab – just get on with it.’

  Rab was impressed and nodded in agreement as he raised the gun to draw a bead on Mulvey’s face.

  ‘But see if you do, you’ll never know what I know,’ said Mulvey, his teeth gritted against the pain. ‘You’re gonnae want to know who’s really behind all this.’

  Rab lowered the gun. ‘Okay, who?’

  Mulvey shook his head, the movement making him wince. ‘Need your word you’ll no do me.’

  ‘What makes you think I’ll keep my word?’

  ‘You always do what you say, Rab. It’s one of your strengths, isn’t it? And one of your weaknesses. I mean, you didnae need to come down here tonight, did you? Obviously I was set up – fuck knows how you got to Stringer – but still, coulda gone pear-shaped dead easy. But you came…’ Mulvey broke off as a paroxysm of pain punched through him. When it passed he visibly relaxed, but there was still a tension around his eyes as he looked again at Rab. ‘So promise me you’ll no put a bullet in me and I’ll tell you everything you need to know. You’re gonnae want to hear this, believe me. You and your mate Davie.’

  Rab’s curiosity was piqued with the mention of Davie. ‘Out with it, then.’

  ‘Have I got your word?’

  ‘Aye!’ Rab snapped. ‘Now spit it out before I change my mind.’

  And so, Mulvey began to talk.

  * * *

  Danny McCall was sitting with Luca in the café when the phone call came. Luca was still uncomfortable, but he sensed no personal threat from the man and so they chatted amiably enough. What the hell, they’d been friends once. The Saturday night rush had cleared considerably and there was only one young couple in another booth, sharing a plate of chips between them, so Luca had told Enrico to go home early.

  Luca excused himself when the phone behind the counter rang. He was relieved when he heard Rab’s voice and his eyes darted towards Danny McCall, who was watching him carefully. Luca kept a smile on his face and his voice low. ‘Rab, Jesus! I’ve been shittin bricks here! You know who’s sittin right here in the café?’

  Rab’s voice was careful. ‘I’ll take a flyer and say an old friend we thought we’d never see again.’

  Luca knew his smile dropped and he couldn’t prevent the frown from slicing his brow. He turned away so Danny could not see. ‘How the hell did you know?’

  ‘Met a chum of his tonight. We had words. You heard from Davie?’

  ‘He’s with the cops, I hear.’

  ‘Need to talk to him, he’s gonnae want to hear this. Can you keep our old pal there? I’d really like to see him again.’

  ‘Sure, I…’ said Luca, turning back to face into the café again. His voice caught in his throat when he saw that Danny McCall was gone. ‘Goddamn ghost,’ he said, softly.

  * * *

  Rab hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment. So Danny McCall was with Luca. Interesting. He hadn’t forgotten what Knight had told him about Luca being in the frame for Joe’s death. Now he was getting cosy over coffee and crumpet with Davie’s dad. Something would need to be done about the wee Tally. And soon.

  The Kilmarnock street was deserted as he stepped from the call box. He could’ve called from Girvan, but he was always cautious. He was certain Luca’s line was clean, but it didn’t do any harm to be careful. He didn’t want any record of a call being placed from Girvan. Kilmarnock was still too close for comfort, but he didn’t want to delay contacting Luca any longer. Whatever alibi he arranged for tonight would have to factor in the town. Shouldn’t be a problem. His Range Rover was parked on the opposite side of the street, Stringer drove Mulvey’s vehicle with Mulvey bleeding in the back seat. Stringer’s wounded mate was in the passenger seat, the dead one folded up into the rear.

  Rab leaned into the open passenger window and said to Stringer, ‘You know how to get me when you get back to Glasgow?’ Stringer nodded. He was as taciturn as Davie McCall. Rab liked that. Knight had said he was a good man to have around and so far he was right. Rab turned his attention to Mulvey, whose flesh was bleached white through blood loss. ‘Make sure he’s no found.’

  Mulvey perked up then, his eyes widening. ‘You gave me your word. You said you wouldnae do me in!’

  Rab smiled. ‘I’m no doin you in, mate,’ he said, then jerked his head towards Stringer. ‘He is.’

  Mulvey’s mouth opened to say more, but Rab gave him a cold, dead look that told him the die was cast. Rab felt nothing as he saw Mulvey’s face ripple with conflicting emotions: first anger, then outrage, then fear and finally submission as he came to the realisation that protesting wouldn’t do him any good at all and his wound prevented any kind of physical action. At the end, Rab was telling him that he had gambled and lost. Rab stepped away from the vehicle as Stringer fired up the engine and pulled away. Through the rear window Rab saw Mulvey’s white face still watching him. He felt no guilt, he felt nothing as he crossed the street to his own vehicle. He’d need to arrange a cast-iron alibi but also find a way to implicate Stringer in the killings should the need arise. He might be a good man to have around but Rab believed in insurance.

  He climbed into the driver’s seat and looked into the rear, where Bobby was lying face down across the back seats, his back soaked with blood. ‘You okay there?’ Rab asked.

  ‘Considering I’ve been shot in the arse, I’m fine,’ Bobby said, his voice weak.

  ‘Hang in there, we’ll get you fixed up, mate,’ said Rab, turning the key. He’d been relieved when he returned to the clearing with Mulvey in tow and saw Bobby wave to him. There had been a lot of blood and Bobby had passed out from the shock, but as far as Rab could see, the bullet hadn’t hit anything vital. Even so, Mulvey had to pay. Big boy’s rules. Just as he pulled away from the kerb, Rab began to laugh.

  Bobby asked, ‘What’s so funny?’ Rab was still laughing. ‘Glad this strikes you as funny, ya bastard,’ said Bobby, although a tremble cracked his words. They both knew that the situation was not humorous, but they had come through it. One man had died, another would be dead shortly, but they had survived. Rab felt no pangs of conscience over what had occurred that night but he knew Bobby would, once the pain of his wound eased. Rab understood his old friend and knew why he wanted out of The Life. Bobby had never told him, but Rab knew Mouthy’s death weighed heavily upon his shoulders. For Rab, though, it had simply been something that had to be done to protect himself.

  He was still chuckling when he said, ‘Fucker coulda blown your brains out.’

  ‘Aye, aye, glad I could brighten your day, big guy,’ but Bobby was beginning to laugh quietly too. But then he cried out in pain. ‘Ah, fuck!’

  ‘What?’ Rab said, concerned now, his eyes shooting to the rear view.

  ‘It hurts when I laugh…’

  28

  DANNY MCCALL HAD known by the way Luca turned away from him that things hadn’t gone to plan. He didn’t need to hear Rab McClymont’s voice tell him that Liam Mulvey had screwed up. He walked swiftly along Duke Street to where he’d parked his car, silently cursing the shaven-headed little shit. He had no idea how it had played out, but he was certain the bastard had put a foot wrong somewhere. It had all been so simple – get McClymont out there with the promise of money and a way of making more, then just put him down. McCall had waited for years before he found Mulvey, thinking he was a perfect fit. He wanted back to the city, he was greedy and he wasn’t stupid. It should have worked.

  He unlocked the car and sat in the driver’s seat for a few moments. He had to get away from the city again, for a while at least. He’d been too quick in revealing himself to Luca, he knew that now. He’d grown over confident. What was it Joe used to say? Never show your hand until it’s time to take the pot. He should’
ve waited until he’d heard the outcome of the Girvan situation. He should’ve been patient, for God’s sake.

  He was driving now, the unconscious part of his mind paying attention to the road. He’d leave the city right away, he decided. Head down to the cottage he’d been using as a base for the past year or two, pick up his things and clear out. Regroup, reassess. Sometime down the line he could come back, have another go. As he thought about it, he realised he wasn’t angry or even disappointed. It had been fun while it lasted and he could have more fun in the future.

  He realised that he had turned into Sword Street, some secret part of him guiding him to his son’s close. He stopped the car and stared up at the window. There was no light, but he sensed the boy was in there.

  McCall took a deep breath. He couldn’t leave, not yet. His plan to push his way into Luca’s operation had failed but he still had other work to do. He had tipped his hand to young Davie and he knew the lad wouldn’t stop until he found him. The Law he could handle, even Joe Klein’s attempts to track him down he could predict and avoid. But young Davie was different. He was a part of him and he did not relish spending the next few years looking over his shoulder, expecting to see him at every turn.

  He had to finish this game with his son before he went travelling again. He thought about going up to the flat now, ending it right away, but he rejected that immediately. That was Davie’s territory and Danny McCall knew better than to tackle someone on their own turf. No, he had to draw the boy out somehow, face him on his own terms, do something to keep him on edge, give him an advantage. That was what all this had been about, after all – that tart in Springburn, the phone calls, the photographs, that slut in Alexandra Parade, even that junkie and the screw. All moves designed to keep young Davie off kilter until he swooped in to finish it. It had worked, too – Danny had seen the look on his son’s face the other night as he walked home. He looked haunted and he had put that look there.