29
Back in Edinburgh, the Fleming twins were having a drink at the foot of Leith Walk. It was their territory and the old pub was safe ground for them. Everyone knew everyone, and if you supported anyone but the Hibees then you could fuck right off, and you didn’t mention the Jambos unless it was to slag the bastards off. There was something almost poetic that the great Edinburgh rivals were relegated together, but the supporters didn’t quite see it that way. Pat Fleming was still shaken up by the events on Tyneside and he was convinced that either Crazy Horse or the Newcastle team were coming for them. His marginally older sibling tried hard to lighten the conversation, with no success. Pat looked like he was starting to lose it.
‘Well it can’t be fuckin’ Brenda, the state she’s in.’ Eddie had tried for a bit of humour but it dropped like a lead weight.
Pat looked sideways at his brother and threw back his third pint of the night. He’d always admired Eddie as the one with the brains and the answers, but the elder twin was coming up with fuck all but stupid cracks about The Bitch when some nutter might burst through the door at any minute and shotgun their brains over the walls. ‘I’m tellin’ you we need to act, brother, or we’re fucked.’
Although Eddie didn’t like to admit it, Pat was probably right for once.
The pub door opened and they both spun round, but it let in nothing worse than a wave of fresh air mixed with car fumes, plus Drew, who they’d arranged to meet so they could talk over their options. He ordered a round for the three of them, knowing they were under strain, and as far as he was concerned they had every right to be. In military terms they were caught between horrible bastards on all sides and were making the worst mistake of all – endless talk but no moves – because they just didn’t know whether to escalate or hold the line. That kind of inaction could cost a life or two.
‘The worst thing you can do is nothing.’ Drew paused and sipped his Guinness for dramatic effect. ‘Any action is better than no action in this particular case.’
Eddie took a moment and sucked up a mouthful of his fresh pint. He was nervous and admitted to himself that he’d wobbled on what the fuck to do next. Drew was absolutely right, and he was pleased he’d brought the older head into the team, although he’d had his doubts along the way.
He banged the base of his pint glass onto the bar, slopping some of the lager onto the stained surface, which was no big deal in this place.
‘You’re right, and we’ve already worked out a plan to take that grassin’ wee cunt, so why not now?’ He looked to his brother first, who shrugged and nodded in agreement.
‘I’m in. Billy’s absofuckinlutely right, we can fanny around forever, wait for somebody else to make the moves or man up and get into the bastards. Let’s fuckin’ do it.’
‘What about you, Billy? We ready to go tonight?’ Eddie was energised by the thought of action, and if the plan worked they would at least have some cred back in the bank.
Drew took a moment, pleased the twins had taken his suggestion. It was exactly what he’d wanted from them and he’d been ready to go before he’d even entered the boozer. ‘Good for me, and I say we stick to the original plan?’ He threw the ball back to Eddie, who thought he was in charge.
‘Absolutely. We’ll run through it one more time, right? Billy and me do the eyes on the sauna. Pat, you go up and watch for the bastard gettin’ back home. We’ll give you plenty warning when he locks up and is on his way there. When he arrives and the Bonnars fuck off home to the zoo, you give us a call. Right so far?’ They nodded; they had the plan off by heart. ‘We give him ten minutes then Billy makes the call that he’s local polis and the sauna’s alarm’s gone off. He thinks it’s been screwed. Ricky’s the key holder and has to come down to check. Pat, you follow him back and when he gets there we nab the bastard, tape him up and stick him in the boot of the car.’ He saw the look on their faces; the scent of blood always got them high and the thought of torturing Swan tickled their nerve endings. The sauna owner was a bottler and they guessed that he’d scream like a fuckin’ cat when they started to cut him up. It just didn’t get better than that.
‘We got all the tools ready for the job?’ Eddie asked the question but there was no need. They’d prepared it well and were ready apart from the fact that Pat might have gone a bit easier on the booze, but that was nothing new.
‘The sawn-off’s ready to go, the boiler suits and other gear’s all checked and bagged.’ Drew said it like the professional he was, all calm and matter of fact as if they were going out to pick up some females for a party.
‘You sure we need a shooter? I mean, it’s fuckin’ Ricky Swan we’re talkin’ about here.
‘Always have a backup plan. We shouldn’t need it, but just in case . . .’ Drew tapped the side of his nose and hoped the twins didn’t make an issue with the sawn-off. He needed it for the job.
Eddie shrugged and let it be. ‘Right, there’s time yet. He never leaves the sauna till eleven at the earliest so let’s finish up here and meet up again at half ten down at The Shore.’
When they stepped out of the boozer Pat headed for his flat to change clothes and his brother took the chance to pull Drew aside. ‘Wee bonus for you. My ex-CID rat who’s been doing the phones has come up with an answer. Barclay does call and though he had the mobile it wasn’t tying the bastard down. Turns out he gets pissed almost every other night and a few of the calls come from a pub near Inverness. The rat took it further, travelled up there and eyeballed the bastard. Says he looks a fucking mess, but there’s an address for you.’
Eddie handed the scrap of paper to Drew, who stared at it as if he’d just won the lottery. He looked back up at Eddie and grinned – but there was something in his expression that the twin really didn’t like. ‘Cheers. I won’t forget this one.’ He put his hand on the younger man’s shoulder and squeezed his thanks.
‘One last thing, Billy. Story is that his daughter’s topped herself. Even though she couldn’t stand her old man the whole mess was too much and she strung herself up, poor cow. Anyway give him a dig for me when the time comes, and I’ll see you on The Shore before we cover the sauna.’
Eddie walked away from the pub and felt a brief moment of pity for Jonathon Barclay, who was going to meet his worst nightmare in the form of mad Billy Drew.
30
Ingrid Richter’s parents had booked them all into a hotel suite with a panoramic view over the city and castle. She’d refused food, had hardly spoken a word since they’d arrived, but had promised that she was okay and they were not to worry. When they were in the restaurant having dinner she sat at the window of their sitting room and stared over the city nightscape. There was a full moon hanging over the castle, bathing the old fortress and town in cold white light that made the city seem to glow with dark energy. She was in a trance; it was as if she was back in her native Prague and childhood, where she’d loved her father to read about old castles and faraway places where fairy tales actually happened.
When her parents returned she hadn’t moved from the chair and didn’t even turn when they came into the room. Her mother put her hand on Richter’s shoulder and bit her lip when she saw the expression on her daughter’s face. She was smiling, but her eyes were looking at something only she could see. Her father said her name softly and knelt down in front of his daughter. After a few moments she broke out of her thoughts and noticed her parents were in the room with her. She told them she was fine – she just wanted peace. They decided to call the hospital first thing in the morning, recognising that her recovery was a long way off.
They helped her undress and put her into the bedroom next to theirs, where she fell asleep in moments. Her father told his wife to go to bed; he would join her when he’d finished the nightcap he’d ordered from room service.
He stared out of the window, watching the traffic flow past and wondering what the future held for the daughter who meant so much to him.
One of the cars that glided past Mr Ric
hter’s view was driven by Billy Drew, who’d picked up the sawn-off and gear for the job from a storage unit on the west side of the city. Things were moving fast and he was happy with that – he’d hated inaction since he’d lost his wife to cancer, and as far as possible he avoided sitting on his arse and thinking about what his life meant.
For the best part of half an hour before he picked the gear up he checked his rear view for a follow. He was methodical about making sure he wasn’t the subject of some pig’s surveillance operation and knew that the day he didn’t check would be the day the bastards were up his arse. He was sure he was clean and had gone through his full repertoire of manoeuvres to try to draw out any watchers. What they had planned was a tricky job, and there was always the chance of some nosey fucking plod wandering past when he should have been mumping a free drink off one of the local taxpayers.
The Flemings had tasked some of the best men in their team to get out on the street and create a bit of havoc to keep the pigs occupied while they were kidnapping Ricky the Rat. During the late evening the crew set off fires at a couple of good schools and paid a dozen junkies in the powder of their choice to set off alarms, steal cars and basically run amok, which included committing a series of unprovoked assaults on whoever happened to be in reach at the time. Anonymous calls were made to stick it in some dealers who were moving gear the same night. As the chaos and pressure mounted, Police Scotland in Edinburgh were run ragged and had to call in assistance from other parts of the force.
Drew watched the blue lights flashing past him every few minutes on the way back to Leith; the diversion was working almost perfectly and his lips briefly formed a satisfied smile – a rare event for a man who struggled to find anything pleasurable these days. Crime was all he had left, everything else of meaning in his life having long disappeared. He’d lost his army career and his wife, there were no kids, and his idiot brother had taken off because Drew would have killed him for fucking up on a job that nearly cost them a lifer. The only thing that still gave him a buzz was violent crime, which was a major high, but like any other drug there was always the crash on the other side of the hill. He’d worked for years on his own or with a small team, but that meant he’d never made the big bucks that the organised gangsters raked up in shitloads. Drew had seen the opportunity that Eddie Fleming had offered him as soon as it was dangled under his nose, only he saw a slightly different deal to the one that Fleming thought he was laying on the table.
He looked in the mirror and thought he looked not too bad for his years and exactly what he was – a right hard bastard.
‘It’s all good, Billy. It’s all fucking good.’ He said it quietly and felt the buzz hitting his system at the thought of what was about to happen.
*
Drew met the twins down at The Shore as the late drinkers started to drift off into the night shadows. ‘We all good then?’ Eddie said, rubbing his hands together to ease the nervous tension he always felt before a job. He had as much bottle as any other villain but he always felt a rush of adrenalin before a piece of work that involved violence. The fact that Drew seemed completely chilled worried him – it just didn’t seem natural – but then the man was a killer, so maybe he was just plain fucking mad.
Drew and Pat nodded; they’d rehearsed it over and over again and there was no need for a rerun.
‘You get up to his place, Pat, and make sure you have a good view of his front door. Stay as far back as you can and there’s no way he should tipple you. Gimme a shout when you’re in place.’ He slapped the open palm of his brother’s hand and headed for his car.
Drew jumped into the driver’s seat of the stolen car he’d rigged up with plates that would pass muster for the few hours they needed. Eddie climbed in beside him and they headed for the sauna. They parked in almost the same spot Brenda McMartin had occupied before her failed attempt on Swan. It was a natural vantage point for a watch, tucked nicely into the shadows, and gave a perfect view of the front door to the sauna.
The old lady who’d enjoyed Big Brenda’s attack on Swan so much was back at her window and had enjoyed her second medicinal brandy of the evening. The battle she’d witnessed between Cue Ball and the Glasgow crew had been one of the best nights she’d had in years, and like an addictive drug she wanted more, so she made sure she was in her window seat every night, just in case. She didn’t think it could happen again, but she lived in hope. If things had turned out just a bit differently that night she would have had her wish; events, however, were running out of control, though none of the players had realised it yet . . .
The lights were on in the sauna and they watched a couple of punters exit the place, collars up, moving quickly to get away from the evidence of their sin and head home for a late cup of tea or a blether with the wife. Pat had texted that he was in place at Swan’s and the house was in darkness, as it should have been.
Eddie slid down in the passenger seat, feeling a bit more relaxed now that they were in place and the job was running. Drew offered a cigarette and he nodded. They lit up and sat quietly, both imagining a variety of scenarios for what might happen next. Neither of them got it right.
About halfway through the smoke Eddie’s phone buzzed.
‘Pat, I thought I said no calls from you till we give you the word he’s on his way.’ He was fucking annoyed and wished Pat had avoided the extra drink he’d guzzled in the boozer earlier on.
‘You won’t believe who’s here.’
‘What the fuck you on about? We don’t have time for this.’
‘It’s Crazy Horse! He’s here, and he’s only fuckin’ creepin’ round Swanny’s place.’
Eddie pulled up out of his slouch and pressed the phone closer to his ear. ‘Say it again, Pat, and this better be fuckin’ right.’ He snarled it through clenched teeth, sure that Pat was just hyper or had stuffed some powder up his hooter.
‘You heard it right the first time. That mad cunt is here and must have the same idea as us. What do we do now?’
Eddie told him to put the phone down and he’d call him back. He clicked the phone off and looked at Drew for a moment or two before telling him what had happened. There was no plan for this. Drew calmly took an extra long draw on his smoke as he realised this wasn’t a crisis – it was an opportunity that had fallen right into his lap.
‘We change course but stay on the job. We’re not letting that psycho operate in our territory. If he does the business with Ricky then you’re a dead man walking, credibility down the swanny. He’s mad but he can’t take the Bonnars on as well without making a fucking racket. He must be planning to wait till they wave ta-ta and then make his move. We’ll follow Ricky up there and see what happens next.’
After another fifteen minutes Swan left the sauna with the Bonnars and locked up before heading for his wheels. He drove off with his minders in the car behind him.
‘That’s him on his way, Pat,’ Eddie said into the phone. ‘Hopefully no detours and he goes straight home. Can you still see Crazy Horse?’
‘He’s settled down in some shrubs a few feet from the door so he must be going to take Swanny there.’ There was tension in Pat’s voice, but Eddie knew that if there was going to be a violent situation then his brother was reliable. They’d need to be on their game if they were going to take on Crazy Horse, but there was no option, and having Drew and his sawn-off suddenly seemed like a blessing.
They waited till they saw the lights of the Bonnars’ car turn left into Leith Walk then pulled away from the kerb to follow them. There wasn’t too much traffic apart from blue lights steaming past them or in the opposite direction every couple of minutes.
The old lady at the window was disappointed once again as Swan got into his car and drove away without incident. Another car pulled out of the shadows a minute later but she made no connection. She sighed, feeling a deep sense of depression that this was all her life amounted to, finished her drink and went to bed to dream about better days.
When Pat
called to say that Swan and the Bonnars had just passed him and parked up outside The Corral, Drew pulled over into a side street to wait.
‘We’ll leave the car here and come to you. Let us know when the Godzilla brothers are on the way towards us so we can get our heads down.’
Pat was in a good position with a clear view of Swan’s door and garden. He was well back in a small cul-de-sac that looked across the road to the front of The Corral and there was little chance of being spotted by any nosey neighbours. He watched Swan lean in the window of the Bonnars’ car then straighten up, giving them a wave as they pulled away slowly. They passed Pat’s line of vision and he made the call, his brother and Drew slipping behind a garden wall till the lights of the minders’ car drifted past them and out of sight. When they were clear, they jogged the short distance to get to The Corral where they could find out what the fuck Crazy Horse was up to.
Swan, remarkably sober, felt a real thrill of pleasure at the thought of getting into a fresh bottle of vodka and maybe a bit of late-night porn. He was knackered and had good reason to be. Things had been bad, but he was sure they couldn’t get any worse, and he was going to figure out a plan to dig himself out of the problems he faced. Thankfully, more by luck than anything else, he hadn’t been due to take any of the women who were being brought in by the Brighter Dawn so there was no reason he should take a hit from the police on that one. What nagged at him was that he was up to his arse in other deals that involved trafficked women, and he was one of the main fixers in Scotland for the trade. It was a rare stroke of good fortune that he hadn’t needed or had one on order from the last Brighter Dawn shipment. All he could do was hope that the threat of disclosing the dirt he’d recorded would keep the forces of law and order at bay. That had seemed reasonable till Macallan had arrived at his door. He just didn’t like the way the detective did business. As far as he was concerned she had no idea how mutual backscratching worked. What the fuck did they expect putting women in these positions anyway? He muttered the word ‘bitch’, pulled the keys out of his pocket and was pushing them in the direction of the lock when the voice behind him made him whimper with fright. He froze and dropped his keys onto the step.
Shores of Death Page 22
