Fire in the Blood

by George McCartney

  Annie nodded in understanding, before observing, ‘That explains it. The nasty smell I can’t get rid of in the office. And in your car. Oh, and did I mention that when I was cleaning up in the office, I found two dead mice huddled together right underneath your chair?’

  ‘Really?’ said Jack, unconcerned. ‘It was probably a suicide pact. Apparently it happens all the time in the animal kingdom.’

  ‘Well my theory is that the poor little things were unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. They probably took a direct hit from one of your farts and it stopped them dead in their tracks.’

  Jack was genuinely embarrassed. ‘Okay, fair enough, I accept that now I have a co-worker, I maybe need to try and reduce my, ahem, carbon emissions. And I suppose I could get one of those little pine tree thingies for the car.’

  Annie remained unconvinced and said, ‘Well maybe if you soaked it in gravy and ate it … that might help. Just a Diet Coke and a buttered roll with a bag of plain crisps for me please, Auntie Peg.’

  ‘Seriously, Jack, I’ve told you this before, at your age you really need to be thinking about making some changes to your lifestyle,’ added Peggy.

  ‘It’s funny you should say that. I read an article just last night on the dangers to health of heavy drinking and some of the statistics they quoted were quite horrific, really. You know, describing the self-inflicted damage we’re all doing to our bodies, supposedly in the name of enjoyment. Anyway it definitely struck a chord with me and I decided there and then, whoa boy, that’s it for me.’

  Peggy looked surprised and pleased at the apparent change of heart from one of her regular customers. ‘Well good for you, Jack. Not before time, some might say.’

  Jack paused for effect, before adding, ‘Yeah, I’m never reading any of that health scare bullshit ever again. Get me another pint, Peggy, when you have a minute.’

  As Peggy shook her head and turned away to get Annie’s order, she paused. ‘By the way, there’s a guy been asking for you, Jack.’

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘I don’t know, but he seems respectable enough. He’s through the back, over in the corner.’

  Jack took his pint and walked to the rear of the pub, to join the stranger sitting in a corner booth.

  Once Jack was out of earshot, Peggy took the opportunity to sit down beside her favourite niece. ‘I’m really pleased you got the job, Annie. Please try and stick with this one for a wee while at least. Jack’s a decent man, but he’s had a rough time of it recently what with the divorce and then losing his driving licence. It’ll be good for him not to be working on his own all the time. He’s been drinking way too much.’

  ‘I think the job could be really interesting, I mean assuming we get on okay. But first impressions are alright, although he can be a bit weird. But for an old guy he’s quite funny with it.’

  Peggy looked at Annie and then smiled. ‘So, he’s a bit weird, but funny with it. You’ve both got something in common then.’ She then left to serve another customer as Jack returned to his seat.

  ‘So what kind of cases do you normally work on?’ asks Annie, between bites at her roll.

  ‘It’s a bit of a mixture. There’s some work on missing persons, other times I might be trying to trace money, or recover missing cars, or property of any kind. And it’s not just for private clients, there’s also occasional work from lawyers and insurance companies. In fact that’s what we’ll be working on this afternoon, a fraudulent injury claim.’

  ‘It sounds exciting.’

  ‘Believe me, it’s not. The main excitement in my life these days is when the new Argos catalogue comes out. What you have to understand, Annie, is that this business is nothing like the crime shows you see on television. I don’t do car chases or ponce around in darkened rooms with a torch. Okay, I tell a lie, there was that one time when I forgot to pay the electricity bill for the office and the power was turned off. Anyway, our work is a bit lower down the food chain than the telly detectives. It’s all basic stuff really, usually involving theft, risk taking and downright stupidity.’

  Peggy heard this explanation as she brought Jack’s heaped lunch plate to the table and chipped in with perfect timing, ‘Aye, and that’s just his tax return.’

  Ignoring Peggy’s jibe and now in full teaching mode, Jack continued, ‘Seriously, there are just three rules you need to remember Annie. First, assume everyone is lying until you can prove otherwise. Second there are no coincidences in this business and last and most important, always follow the money trail, that’s where any mystery usually begins and ends.’

  ‘I should really get a notebook and write all this stuff down. Is there anything else I need?’

  ‘Yes, you’ll need to get a permit.’

  Annie then got slightly ahead of herself and gasped, ‘Oh my God, you mean for a gun?’

  ‘No, it’s so you can use the car park in the gap site behind the office. The last permit expired weeks ago.’

  ‘So, what was the guy through the back after?’

  ‘Oh him, he had some information he offered to sell,’ Jack replied mysteriously.

  ‘If I’m being a nosey cow, just say?’

  ‘Being nosey is good in this game. But I’ll tell you about it another time, Annie, it’s a long story.’

  Chapter 6

  Later the same day, Jack and Annie were parked in a quiet suburban street discreetly observing, with a pair of powerful binoculars, a detached bungalow which had a new top of the range people carrier parked outside in the driveway.

  ‘I had a look at your CV before we left the office, Annie, and I noticed under interests that you listed kick-boxing, the environment and computer coding. That’s quite a contrast.’

  ‘That’s the idea, you know, the kick-boxing gives a good physical workout and lets me get rid of all my frustrations, and the computer stuff gives the brain a tune-up. Both of them are essential, believe me, when you’ve been doing hard time in a call centre hell-hole all day.’

  ‘What about the environment thing? What’s that all about?’

  ‘It’s no biggie. Obviously I can’t personally do much to combat global warming, but I just think that we should all take responsibility for the little things around us that we do have some control over. Like recycling our bottles, paper, beer cans, all that kind of thing. And not dropping litter or chewing gum all over the place, for somebody else to pick up. If we all did that, it would make a big difference to our own area, you know. Glasgow especially has a really terrible record on recycling, much worse than any of the other Scottish cities.’

  ‘Well good for you. I think I’ll just stick to drinking and crosswords. And speaking of crosswords, I’m stuck again,’ he said, picking up his folded newspaper.

  ‘Go on then, hit me,” said Annie, taking pity on him.

  ‘Okay, what’s that first-aid procedure called, you know, that’s used if somebody starts to choke on a piece of food.’

  ‘Oh, you mean the Heineken Manoeuvre,’ replied Annie, without hesitation.

  Jack filled in the clue, nodded and said, ‘Of course, it makes sense when you think about it. I mean, if you’re choking on something, you obviously need a drink to wash it down, right? So a nice cold beer would be perfect. Well done Annie, thanks.’

  ‘Can I ask you something, boss?’

  ‘Sure Annie, anything.’

  ‘Was I, like, the best candidate? You know, for the Internship?’

  ‘Of course, you got the job. Why do you ask?’

  Annie was clearly having a momentary lapse of confidence. ‘What I mean is, you didn’t just give me the job as a favour to Auntie Peg?’

  Jack’s response was completely positive. ‘No way Annie, you were the best candidate. By a mile, honestly.’

  Annie appeared pleased and reassured by his answer and said, ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah, the only other applicant who turned up was a guy whose CV looked pretty good at first. But when I interviewed him, he wa
nted to know if was alright to bring his mum along for the first week, if he got the job. Oh, and his only other question was if the job provided many opportunities to go through women’s laundry baskets. When I told him that I rarely had more than a couple of chances in a good month, he just got up and walked out.’

  Indignant and exasperated, Annie spluttered, ‘So it was either me or some nut job panty sniffer. Well that must have been a really tough choice for you.’

  Enjoying himself hugely at Annie’s expense, Jack replied, ‘Lighten up Annie. I mean, every man needs a hobby, right? Anyway, I think I made the right choice. Hey, come on now … you wanted to know.’

  Annie then firmly drew a line under the subject by snapping back, ‘Just forget I ever asked, okay?’

  ‘Anyway, back to business. The reason we’re here today is to check out the guy who lives in that house over there. His name’s Frankie Ross and he used to be a scaffolder. Six months ago he received a £350,000 pay out for a traffic accident, which left him on crutches for life with a serious back injury. He’ll never be able to walk properly, or work again, allegedly. His insurers strongly suspected the accident was staged, but they couldn’t prove it at the time. Anyway somebody’s now come forward who claims to have seen the bold Frankie playing five-a-side football somewhere in the city. Unfortunately the anonymous caller didn’t say where. So the insurance company wants me to check out this new information and, if it’s true, try and get evidence of the miracle cure.’

  ‘So we have to try and catch him out.’

  ‘Exactly. The brief, Annie, is to carry out close surveillance on Frankie boy, keep a log of his daily movements and, crucially, to get good clear photographs and video evidence of any physical activity, which is inconsistent with his claimed disability. So, for example, if we can get some good pictures of him in action at the footy, that’s it game over. The insurers will be over the moon and Frankie will definitely be as sick as a parrot.’

  Jack then closed his eyes and reclined the passenger seat, with Hank Snow crooning “You Pass Me By” on the car cassette player.

  ‘You’ve got the bridge, Annie. Wake me up if he comes out.’

  Five minutes later Jack was rudely woken by a sharp rap on the passenger window of the car. He fumbled to wind down the stiff side window and a small, clearly irate elderly woman immediately demanded, ‘What do you think you’re doing young man?’

  Not fully awake Jack mumbled, ‘I was trying to have a nap, why?’

  The woman was clearly unconvinced. ‘No, I mean what are you people doing sitting here with binoculars, looking at my house. I saw you earlier and you’ve been trying to spy in my bedroom window again, haven’t you? It happens to me all the time, men are all such filthy perverts.’

  Annie started to nod in agreement, but then burst out laughing and sprayed half of her cup of coffee over the inside of the windscreen, as Jack tried to placate the old woman.

  ‘No honestly, I wasn’t …’

  Still bristling with anger, she continued with her tirade. ‘Maybe I should just phone the police and let them deal with you.’

  Taking his Tesco Clubcard from an inside pocket with a flourish, Jack showed it to the woman for a split second and then adopted a confidential, official tone. ‘That really won’t be necessary, madam, we are the police. If I can take you into my confidence, we are indeed conducting surveillance of a property in this street, but it isn’t your house.’

  The elderly woman remained excited and curious. ‘So which house is it then? I bet it’s those bloody lesbian opticians at number twenty-three, isn’t it? They keep pestering me to come over for a threesome, you know.’

  Jack remained deadpan as Annie again convulsed and resorted to biting down hard on her seatbelt. ‘I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to divulge sensitive information of that kind, madam, other than to say that our investigation has a bearing on national security, but does not involve any members of the optical trade. However, I’m sure I can trust you to keep this conversation completely confidential.’

  Obviously now viewing Jack in a completely new light, the local Norah Batty simpered and placed her gloved hand lightly on Jack’s arm. ‘Oh, very well young man. I’ll be up at number twenty-two waiting, you know, if you need a cup of tea or anything else.’

  As the old dear flounced off down the street, she turned and gave Jack a conspiratorial wink and wave. Giggling, Annie clapped her hands and said, ‘That was so impressive Boss, I think you’ve just pulled.’

  ‘Yeah well, I have been told once or twice that I’m a bit of a fanny magnet. But unfortunately, it only seems to work for women of a certain age.’

  ‘I could be wrong here, boss, but I have a feeling that you were probably quite the laydeez man, you know, way back in the day. Just after the war.’

  Impervious to Annie’s sarcasm, Jack took a brief detour down memory lane. ‘Well I had my moments, I suppose, like everyone else. But when I was young free and single, I needed a good drink in me to work up the courage to make a move on a girl. I always admired those guys who had the nerve to walk straight up to a gorgeous bit of stuff in the pub, or at a disco, and give her the chat stone cold sober. Although, I usually found that if I could make a female laugh, with me that is … not at me, I was probably halfway there.’

  ‘And what if she didn’t laugh?’

  ‘Well, fortunately I always had plan B to fall back on.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Chloroform and duct tape.’

  They both laughed, before Jack continued, ‘Of course, looking back thirty odd years, that seems like a simpler, much more innocent time. I realise that it’s completely different for young people now, when teenagers seem to exchange pictures of their private parts by phone, before they even get to know each other’s last name.’

  Annie giggled, then said, ‘It’s not exactly like that, boss.’

  ‘It bloody is, I’ve read all about it in the Sunday Mail, so it must be true. All these packs of randy young women rampaging around town centres every Saturday night. Drinking like fish, with tattoos on their bums and short skirts barely covering their shaved whotsits. They all need a damn good thrashing and, if they would just form an orderly queue, I’m the man to do it. I’ll even pay.’

  Annie shook her head and, not for the first time, was amazed at some of the crazy shit that her new employer seemed to come out with on a regular basis.

  The front door of the subject’s house then opened and a man on crutches appeared. Slowly, in apparent pain, he gingerly negotiated a disabled access ramp from the door to the people carrier, parked on the neat mono block driveway, and then hauled himself into the driver’s seat.

  Chapter 7

  Suddenly all business, Jack said, ‘That must be him Annie. Okay, let him get moving and then you follow, but not too close. So try and keep a couple of cars between us, just like you’ve seen a hundred times in the movies.’

  Reasonably enough, Annie questioned the instruction. ‘Yeah, but what if there aren’t any other cars going the same way?’

  ‘Look, the rules for this type of thing aren’t absolutely set in stone,’ replied an exasperated Jack. ‘We just do our best, Annie. Whatever it takes to get the job done and, if necessary, we improvise like I just did back there with my Tesco card.’

  ‘I don’t have a Tesco card, but I can do quite a good French accent, if that would help.’

  Jack then rammed a fresh tape into the cassette player, before saying, “This one’s called “Shut Up and Drive” by Chely Wright, okay?’

  Undeterred, Annie had a follow-up question. ‘Anyway, why didn’t you just stick one of those little tracking device thingies under his car?’

  ‘Two reasons, firstly you’re supposed to be learning your trade, Annie. And this is a perfect opportunity to practice the art of tailing a suspect. So just try to do what you’re told and concentrate on following Mr Ross.’

  ‘What’s the second reason?’

  ‘I don’t have a
tracking device.’

  ‘Okay, fair enough.’

  ‘Now remember that this guy’s been pretty cute, but only up to a point. He moved house to a better area soon after he got the insurance money, and apparently he’s always careful to keep up the act around his home patch. You know, like using crutches when he’s out in the garden, or to drag his arse out to the car. But, like all of these guys who attempt insurance fraud, he’s a risk taker and he wants it all. So he also drives across the city to an area where he’s not known to still play his football. Somewhere along the way, he miraculously morphs from Stephen Hawking’s body double into Gareth Bale.’

  ‘Well we have been driving for ages, boss, maybe we passed through Lourdes.’

  ‘Anyway, always keep in mind, Annie, that he’s a big strong guy and, if he suspects that we’re following him, he might turn nasty at the thought of all that lovely money being hoovered back by the insurance company. So we’re cautious, right, and we don’t take any stupid risks. Ideally we just want to do our work without him ever seeing us.’

  They continued to follow Frankie’s car as he took a shortcut through a rundown council estate. A small feral looking group of neds, who were lounging around on a street corner, dressed in standard issue baseball caps, football tops and trackie bottoms, gave them the long hard stare as they passed by.

  Further on they drove along streets full of boarded-up houses and a children’s play area, where two abandoned cars had been burnt out. The front gardens of the few remaining occupied houses, were full of black rubbish bags and windblown litter. Annie remarked, ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been here before. It’s a bit like Baghdad with rain.’

  ‘Well you certainly don’t visit Bargumock unless you have to. It’s always been bandit country.

  I used to work beside a guy who grew up here. He said that when he was a kid it was so rough the teachers at the local primary school used to park their cars in a circle.’

  ‘Okay then, boss, I’ve got a question for you. What’s the first thing a girl from Bargumock usually says after sex?’