The details. He remembered them all, everything Gully had told him. He remembered the instructions and little else, because little else mattered. In through the alleyway, through a metal gate, across a small yard and in through the back door of the pub. Up the stairs on your left, and they’ll be in the room opposite waiting for him.
They were sitting there, ready for him. Probably annoyed with how late he was, but relieved that he hadn’t botched it. They took him down to their own van, and they all made their way back to Martin.
1.44 a.m.
Now they’re in that silver van, Nate driving and Usman squashed between them. The boy looks twitchy, moving around in his seat. Gully can see him watching the clock on the dashboard, like he can’t quite believe how much time has passed. Wouldn’t have realized how long his drive had taken under pressure. Now he’s too aware of the seconds ticking past, too aware of how long it’s taking to get back to the gunman.
‘Take your time,’ Gully’s saying again, sensing the growing nerves from the kid beside him.
Usman’s nodding. ‘And then afterwards?’
‘Afterwards me and Nate take care of the body; you don’t have to worry about that. We do all that work. We’ll drop you off back home, or wherever you want to go. You just have to do the deed, leave the donkey work to us old nags.’ Gully’s doing his best to keep that understanding tone in his voice, trying to sound like the only friend Usman has in the world right now. Hard to do, when the kid’s so nervous and keeps going back to the same questions, hugging the same fears.
‘And then I’ll be in,’ Usman’s saying, quietly enough to have spoken only to himself.
Gully’s glancing at him, nodding but not saying anything back. The boy’s looking out to that happy future, convincing himself that what he’s doing is worth it because there will be a reward he’s long dreamed of. He’ll be in the Jamieson organization, working his own jobs and everything he’s about to do will be the reason why. Gully knows different. Gully knows that you don’t just kill a man and move on from it because you’re making money out of the deal. That isn’t how it works, not for normal people. He’s seen enough gunmen in his time, knows they’re not normal people. For men like him, like Nate, and like Usman, killing a man is a step out of the life you know, and there’s no turning back.
Nate’s slowing the van down, knowing they’re near the warehouse now. Time to be wary, to watch out for parked police cars or people peeking out of doorways. The nature of the job, leaving the target alone, anything could have happened. Some nosey bastard drives past as Usman is leaving, realizes that Usman shouldn’t have been there. He goes in to check for trouble and finds the gunman tied to the chair. Maybe someone who works there turns up for no good reason, left something behind during the day. Things go wrong, frequently. People get involved who shouldn’t, or someone makes a stupid mistake. Keeping distant from the initial event was as much of a precaution as they could take.
‘Not seeing anyone,’ Nate’s saying quietly, talking to Gully. He’s treating Usman like he’s not there.
‘Take a run past and circle back,’ Gully’s saying, stating the obvious. No way a man of Nate’s experience is going to turn the van into the warehouse yard without scouting the area first.
Usman is pinching his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, trying to fight down his frustration. If they had been nearby, they could be finished by now. The gunman would be in the ground and he would be back home. Wouldn’t need to worry about people finding Martin. Wouldn’t need to make all these time-consuming defensive manoeuvres. They had to do it differently though, keep themselves as far away as possible from the warehouse when the job was going down. Only turning up now, when they felt they could control the risk. This is their fault, and if anyone’s found Martin then they will have to take the blame. No way Usman’s accepting it. No fucking way.
Nate’s driving past the warehouse, all three of them looking into the yard as they go. No sign of anyone there. No vehicles that weren’t there already, no lights on in any buildings. They’re carrying on down the road and round the corner, along the next street. Looking for police cars, someone sitting in a car in the dark, that sort of thing. Anyone that might be trying to park out of view of the warehouse, waiting to jump on them when they return.
‘If there’s anyone around,’ Gully’s saying, ‘they’re doing a damn impressive job of hiding it.’
Nate’s nodding his head. Finding a place he can turn the van so that they can go back. It looks safe. Might look it, but they’ll still be keeping their eyes open; it could be that someone is better at hiding than they are at looking. It happens, and they need to be prepared for it happening to them.
Back round the corner and along the road, keeping eyes open for anything that might have changed since they were last on the street a minute ago. Looking for people who have come out of their hiding places when you went past the first time, thinking you wouldn’t be back so soon. Nobody. Seems like there’s nothing to be concerned about.
Turning left into the yard, swinging the van round and reversing up to the loading-bay doors. Lights off as quickly as possible. That’s one thing that’s going to stand out if anyone drives past. They’ll see a van in a yard and think nothing of it; this is a natural home for it. They see a van with its lights on and they’ll think it’s odd that someone’s working this late at night. So lights off, engine off.
Gully’s the first to get out, slipping down off the seat. Usman’s quickly out after him, obviously grateful for the fresh air, for the room to move his arms and legs. He’s breathing deep, not caring if the other two see that he’s terrified of this. What does he care anyway? Let them see it, let them understand how difficult this is for him. Should be difficult for anyone. Okay for them, they’re not the ones that have to do the shooting, that have to kill a man they know. Neither of them ever has, in all likelihood. Both muscle, both guys who get to avoid the worst of it. Not true in Nate’s case, but Usman doesn’t know that. He just knows that men like them always have the option of pressuring people like him into doing the killing for them.
Gully’s reaching out, putting a hand on the young man’s shoulder. ‘You ready for this?’ he’s asking him quietly.
Usman’s nodding, trying to get a hard look on his face. The sort of look that Nate Colgan has on his face all the time. It fits this occasion.
‘Remember what I said,’ Gully’s telling him, ‘take your time. Get things right in your own head before you do it. Don’t let the size of the job push you around, you know what I mean?’ Looking Usman in the eye, concern on his face.
Usman nodding again, his lips shut tight, breathing in heavily through his nose. Nate’s out of the van, walking round to join them, fiddling with something in his coat.
‘We ready?’ he’s saying.
‘Aye,’ Gully’s nodding. ‘I’ll wait in the van. Second it’s done, you open the bay door, I reverse in and we get the body into the van. Get out of here as quickly as possible.’ Talking low, just in case.
Usman’s looking to Gully, then at Nate. Doesn’t like that it’ll be Nate going in with him and Gully staying outside. He has something like a connection with Gully, a trust, because Gully’s a likeable person who’s at least tried to make this as painless as possible. Nate, he’s just been distant and unpleasant throughout. Making it clear that he doesn’t care how Usman feels, how hard this is for him. Colgan’s a man who doesn’t care about the struggles of others and doesn’t understand why he should.
‘I don’t have a gun,’ Usman’s saying.
Nate’s frowning a little, like he shouldn’t have to explain this. ‘I’ve got it. I’ll give it to you inside, not out here.’
Gully’s nodding to Usman, making eye contact, one last look to make sure that he’s as ready as he’ll ever be. He’s turning and walking round to the driver’s side of the van, leaving Nate to take control of this.
‘Come on,’ Nate’s saying, gesturing towards the door of the wareho
use. Not asking if he’s ready, not asking if there’s anything he wants to say or do first. Walking up to the door and opening it, standing in the doorway to make Usman go in first.
He’s doing as he’s instructed, walking inside. It’s darker in here now, or maybe it just seems that way. There’s only the light of the moon coming in through the windows, but even before his eyes adjust to the difference, he can see that everything’s as he left it. The box on the floor where Martin fell. The chair in the middle, Martin in it. Looks like he’s moved slightly, his legs more stretched out than they were. Usman can see the crowbar on the floor behind the chair. Shouldn’t have left it there, Martin might have been able to get to it.
He’s conscious. That’s the thing that Usman’s noticing, looking across the room and making eye contact with him. Martin looking back at him, obviously alert and aware of what’s going to happen next, but not saying anything. Just staring, silent and angry. There’s blood down the side of his face, but the thump on the head doesn’t seem to have done anything more than cosmetic damage. This would be easier if it had, if he was still unconscious. Fuck’s sake, they should have let him do the shooting right away, get it done quick and not have to look Martin in the eye now. This is punishment, not promotion.
Nate’s closing the door behind them, letting the other two stare each other out. Usman’s looking down at the floor, not wanting to say anything, hoping that Martin won’t open his mouth either. He just can’t look at him any more, not when he knows he’s about to put a bullet through that head. He’s walking slowly towards Martin, eyes cast down, walking past him. Martin watching him the whole way, keeping his gaze firmly on Usman until he’s past him and out of sight.
Now he’s behind Martin, no danger of eye contact. This is where he’ll do it. He’ll shoot him in the back of the head, because, fuck it, all that stuff about looking a man in the eye is bullshit. Why should he torture himself with that? Doesn’t make you tough, just drives you nuts trying to look good in front of a bastard like Nate Colgan. He’ll do this on his terms, he’s earned that. Like Gully said, you do it in a way that lets you get your mind right first.
Usman’s looking at the back of Martin’s head. Martin seems to be looking over towards the door, where Nate is still standing, watching the more easily visible threat. Just glad he’s not looking round, trying to get a view of Usman, glad that he’s staying silent throughout this. That was always his nature, Usman’s thinking. Always the quiet guy, always the guy who didn’t want to give away a single thought or feeling. Thank fuck he’s sticking to that, all the way to the bitter end. Others would be screaming and shouting, throwing abuse or pleading for mercy, but not Martin. He’ll never utter another word.
Nate’s starting to move, walking slowly towards them. Martin’s tensed, Usman spotted it. Worried that Nate’s going to be the one to kill him, Usman just there as a witness. He’ll be thinking it was Usman’s job to get him there for a proper killer to finish the job. Convinced, probably, that the big guy with the big reputation is the one he should be afraid of. Yeah, most people would jump to that conclusion. Assume that if Nate Colgan’s in the room, he’s the one that’s going to hurt you. Maybe that’ll make it easier, Usman’s thinking. Nate will step behind Martin and hand Usman the gun, Usman will shoot Martin and Martin will think it was Nate. Die thinking that.
One more intake of breath, trying to do it quietly. Turning away from Martin and Nate, looking across at the office door. One squeeze of the trigger. How hard can that be? Forget that it’s Martin, forget that you’re killing a familiar face or even a living person. Squeeze the trigger and go home. After that, a good life. A better life. Working with a big organization to take home some serious money. All those dream jobs that have been rattling round in the back of your head, now made possible by the resources of the organization. This is the price you pay, and it’s worth it. He heard Nate walking towards him, heard him stop. A deep breath, shutting his eyes tight and opening them, then starting to turn around.
1.51 a.m.
His hands have started to go numb, and wiggling his fingers and clenching his fists isn’t helping much. Wish they would hurry up. No reason why they’re taking this long, no reason at all. When he holds his breath, Martin can just hear passing vehicles on the road outside the warehouse. Not many of them at this hour, and none that have stopped.
Fighting the lethargy, the urge to fall asleep, to rest his body and mind. He knows if he falls asleep, he might not wake up, even if they come clattering in here. It wouldn’t be sleep, it would just be unconsciousness. It would be passing out and staying out forever more. Shaking his head hard, but that’s just giving him a headache so he’s stopping. His throat is bone dry, his eyes are getting sore. Martin’s failing the physical challenge of being tied to a chair and that’s making him angry. He’s flagging, and he knows that’s going to make what comes next a hundred times more difficult.
Now he’s hearing a vehicle outside, and everything’s changing. His mind is clearing; he’s able to ignore the pain and numbness. This is it. A heavy vehicle, at least a large van, turning out in the yard, its engine straining as it reverses back to the door and then stops. Two doors closing, and then nothing for a couple of minutes. They must be out there, whispering among themselves, planning how they’re going to work this. Martin’s making the effort to make his face hard, expressionless. Clear the pain and discomfort from it, don’t let them see anything when they look at him.
The door’s opening, there’s a pause of a few seconds before anyone steps in. It’s Usman first. Walking in and seeming like he’s struggling with the darkness. Looking around and then looking at Martin. There’s eye contact, Martin staring at him. Trying to make him feel uncomfortable, make this as difficult for him as possible. Coming here to kill a man who’s only ever been a worthwhile colleague and never once a threat. Make him suffer every little pain and humiliation you can. This isn’t supposed to be easy, and Usman’s going to understand that.
Usman’s looking away, down at the floor. He looks like a guilty man, a coward who can’t spend a few seconds looking at the thing he’s about to destroy. Nate Colgan has walked in behind him and he’s pushing the door shut. Just the three of them in the large room. Two of them in control, knowing what’s going to happen, and the third man the victim. Martin’s glancing past Usman, looking at Nate Colgan, making eye contact with a man who feels no need to look away. Usman’s still looking at the floor as he walks towards Martin. Martin’s watching him, looking right at him as he walks on past and stands behind him.
Nate’s walking across towards Martin. He looks calm, expressionless as always, a man in command of the situation. Martin can see Nate glance behind him at Usman. Something’s prompted him to move more quickly. This is the moment. Nate silent, crouching, a flash of metal suddenly in his hand. A small, sharp knife slicing the metal strip tying Martin’s ankles. Leaning in close to him without a sound and slicing the strap holding his wrists together, too. Martin’s pulling his hands round in front of him, flexing them silently.
Nate’s straightened up and he’s reaching quietly into his coat, taking out a small handgun. He’s passing it down to Martin. The gunman has pins and needles in his hands, but the feeling is coming back to them, and the touch of the heavy gun is the reassurance he’s been praying for. This could have gone the other way, the set-up could have been flipped round to work against him, but it seems Nate Colgan will be as good as his word.
The same day Gully had gone to Usman with the plan for this job, Nate had paid a visit to Martin. Turned up at the house, knowing Martin’s girlfriend was fussing around in the bookshop she owned with her sister.
‘You and me need to talk,’ Nate had said to him when Martin opened the door.
It was a risk for Nate, turning up on the doorstep of a gunman like that. A man who had good reason to fear him, and when a gunman has reason to fear you he has reason to kill you. Martin let him in, they sat down in the living room and he wai
ted for Nate to talk.
‘Well?’ Martin said. He didn’t know this man, but he knew his sort. Tough and sure of himself. Confident that there was nobody in this world who could break his complacent superiority. Martin knew he had been at the bookies, knew he had reason to punish him if that’s what he was here for.
‘You know who I am?’
‘I remember you.’
Nate nodded. ‘You know that your friend, Usman Kassar, has been talking to us for months now?’
Martin said nothing, didn’t move. Just looked at Nate, waiting for him to give more information than this.
‘That job you did on the dealer, the guy working for Chris Argyle. We knew all about that, helped to make it happen. You think it was luck that kept Argyle’s men away from you that day? You think they didn’t go chasing after you because they were too lazy, or because they didn’t care about all that money? Nothing they care about more. They didn’t chase you because we made sure they thought it was us behind it. We stood between you and them, gave you cover.’
Martin looked at Nate for a few seconds, expressionless, then said, ‘Thank you.’
Nate chuckled, a rare show of genuine mirth. ‘Aye, you’re welcome. You did us a favour that day, made up for what you did to Donny Gregor. It was that job you did on Comrie though, that’s what I want to talk to you about.’
For Those Who Know the Ending Page 24
