Waging War To Shake The Cold

by Wild Wolf Publishing

  Pete was looking under pressure but Kats knew his training would have kicked in and he’d be waiting on his lead. There were no easy angles, everything was a risk now and there would only be fractions of a second to get it right. He glanced at Pete and blinked slowly to let him know something was about to happen; get ready.

  Sensing John-Jo making his move, he knew it was now or never and lunged forward. Boots immediately reacted to the implied threat by removing the knife from Pete’s throat to cover him.

  Pete grabbed his chance and pushed the wheelchair forward with a violent surge. The temporary switch of the blade had been enough to divert Boots’ aim away from a fatal thrust to Pete’s throat, but Kats saw with dismay the blade of the knife sink into his shoulder as Boots slashed back at him in fury. Boots wrenched the knife out in a gout of blood, Pete grunted in pain and threw his head back, but he kept going and stopped his chair beside the cabinet leaving the floor clear for the coming fight.

  Kats felt his neck grabbed from behind and he dropped to one knee as John-Jo’s momentum carried him forward relentlessly. He waited until John-Jo’s body was half-way over his shoulder before lunging up and sideways catapulting him towards Pete, his head striking the footrest of Pete’s chair. John-Jo let out a loud yelp and grabbed his scalp in pain.

  Pete, despite his wound, immediately picked up the CRAP award from its shelf, lifted it above his head and smacked it down on John-Jo’s skull with a dull thump. When he raised it back up to brandish at Boots as a defence it was smeared with blood and a clump of hair was stuck to its heavy wooden edge.

  “Looks like it’s me and you then Kats,” said Boots, flicking the knife between his hands in a show of gallus bravado.

  Things had escalated now; someone was going to get seriously hurt. Maybe even killed.

  Kats was grinning his combat face as he sized Boots’ position up. The knife was the main problem of course and that had to be neutralised at all costs. Kats had seen Boots in action lots of times so he wasn’t worried unduly. The main thing was to stay in control and not to get stuck accidentally by a wild swipe.

  Boots made a few feints, grinning maniacally all the time, whilst Kats adopted the classic defensive arms-wide-open-so-ye-don’t-know-where-tae-stab-me pose used in a million street fights, and he waited for the real attack. He didn’t have to wait long before Boots came at him with murderous intent, the blade held back in readiness for the killer thrust, all the while leading with a strong left hook aimed at the head.

  Kats’ close combat experience had taught him to instinctively roll with the punch and use its momentum. He was already moving to the right therefore when he felt the fist connect in a glancing blow to the back of his head, all the time watching as the blade hand started its deadly trajectory towards his torso. Using his left forearm he tried to push the knife away and was only partially successful as he felt the skin on his arm being sliced open.

  But the force of the thrust was diminished and the knife then went harmlessly over his left shoulder. As they closed, Kats brought his right fist up full force into Boots’ throat. Boots went down, heaving for breath, and Pete ran his wheel over his knife hand. Kats immediately dived on him and started pummelling his face with methodical, professional violence.

  “Ye done him man, ye done him… you can stop now.” Pete’s voice came through the anger haze slowly, and he stopped. Boots was under him, his face a mass of blood and snot, body limp in unconsciousness.

  Chapter 16

  Cable ties. He needed cable ties. Drawers were hauled out and the contents crashed about.

  “Where did ye say they were Pete?”

  “They’re at the back of dat drawer in the kitchen by the stove, I told you twice man!”

  Kats scrabbled about again and eventually found them. He went back to the sitting room, quickly rolled Boots and John-Jo over and cable-tied their hands behind their backs, doing the same with their feet.

  “There, that will keep them from getting up to any more mischief even if they come round, not that it looks likely, they’re out cold.”

  The scream brought him fully back to reality. Carole was home.

  “Pete! Pete! What’s happened? Are you okay? Pete, speak to me.”

  Pete’s head was back and he was clearly still in pain and losing blood. Kats stepped forward to help him but Carole flew at him in a rage and stood between them.

  “Gerroff him, gerroff. This is all your fault. Nothing like this would ever have happened if you hadn’t come here.”

  She was slapping and scratching at Kat’s face. He just held his hands helplessly at his side, blood from his own knife wound dripping onto the carpet. Kats didn’t hit women.

  “Babe,” groaned Pete. “Babe, stop that. You gotta ler Kats help me. He can stop the bleeding. Ler him be.”

  “Stop the bleeding? You need an ambulance!” She had her mobile out and was about to call 999.

  “No!” said Pete with substantial force, despite his injury.

  “Wot do you mean no? Look at you!”

  “I said no Carole. If you call an ambulance they will call the bizzies and if they come then it’s all going to get complicated. We’ll never explain all of this to them and Kats will get nicked.”

  “I don’t care about him. I hope that they do nick him, look at this place, look at you! He’s nothing but trouble Pete, I told yer.”

  “No Carole. He saved my life, I owe him.” She had no answer to that and slumped down on the chair, hot tears of anger and frustration coming easily.

  “Look love, I’m going to be fine. It looks worse than it is. It hurts like a bastard but I know that he never hit anything serious inside. Kats can patch me up. Why don’t you get him the first aid kit, he’ll know what to do, he’s done it often enough before.”

  Wordlessly she got up and went to the kitchen to get the kit.

  “Thanks for that mate,” said Kats. “I didn’t know what to do then.”

  “Yeah, well, the bizzies won’t exactly help the situation now will dey?”

  When she came back, Kats carefully removed Pete’s t-shirt to get a look at the wound. The blade had gone straight in and then been wrenched out so there was a messy exit, but Pete seemed to be right; it hadn’t gone deep and hadn’t hit anything major. They were lucky, but Pete had lost a fair bit of blood. He worked with the minimal materials in the home first aid kit to staunch the blood flow and patch up the wound.

  When he’d finished, Carole said, “Ler me look at that,” pointing at the slash mark on his arm. He held it out while Carole cleaned it and tacked it together with butterfly plasters, finishing it off with a tight bandage.

  “That’s the best I can do.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What now den?” said Pete.

  “Looks like I’d better be away a wee bit before I planned Pete.”

  “Worrabout these two?”

  “They’re comin’ with me, don’t worry.”

  “But worrya gonna do with dem?”

  “How the fuck do I know?!”

  “O’rite Kats, o’rite, calm down. I’m only askin’ man.”

  Kats sighed, the adrenaline was still flowing and he was edgy and tense. He kicked the prone figure of Boots in the stomach again in frustration.

  “Look, it’s almost dark. If we wait ten minutes I can get these two bags of shite into the back of the van. I’ll ferry them out in your wheelchair, in the dark it won’t look too suspicious if anyone’s looking. Then I’ll head off. There’s nae problems for me here Pete, but whit about you two?”

  “Worrabout us?” asked Carole.

  “Kats is right love, we can’t stay here now. That’s twice there’s been trouble here.”

  “Twice?” she squeaked.

  “…and things could get serious now.”

  “Pete’s right Carole, you guys need tae get out of here for at least a wee while.”

  “Worrabout yer mum’s babe? We could go there until this dies down. You can still get to
yer work from there and dey won’t know where to find us. She’s all on the one level so as long as you can get me up the stairs at the front door I’ll be sound.”

  “These guys here were after me.” Kats pointed at the prone figures. “It’s that pusher though. He’s the one tae worry about. Are ye sure ye’ll be okay at her mam’s?”

  “Yer yer, there won’t be any problem der man. It’s on the other side of town and der’s no way they would ever make any connections. Besides, I don’t owe them any money and I didn’t do anything to their guy. If I keep a low profile for a few weeks it will all blow over. Trust me.”

  Carole was looking incredulously at the exchange.

  “Would yer listen to you both? Yer sound like yer talkin’ about a car boot sale that’s gone wrong. This is serious shit here!”

  Kats and Pete looked at one another and burst out laughing.

  “I’m sorry babes,” said Pete through the giggles. “It’s just the tension; we’re not laughing at you.”

  “I should bloody hope not. I’m scared Pete. This friggin’ macho man here has ruined everything we had going here. We were gettin’ by fine and now this…”

  “I know babe, I know, but we got no choice. We gorra get out of here for a bit and yer mam is the perfect choice. Go and call her, she’ll be fine about it. She loves me don’t she?” Pete said it with a smile just for her, and Carole, eyes rolling and muttering, left the room to make the necessary call.

  “Right Pete, let’s get these bags a shite intae the van. Can you get out of yer chair for a bit man?”

  Pete swung expertly out of the wheelchair onto the sofa and Kats lifted John-Jo into the vacant seat.

  “He looks in a bad way Pete, how hard did ye hit him?”

  “Ah just hit him as hard as I needed to man. You think he’ll be okay?”

  “No’ sure, but he’s going in the van anyway. He can’t stay here so he’ll just have to take his chances.”

  Kats wheeled him to the door, left the chair there and went out to start the van and back it up as close to the wheelchair ramp as he could. He left the engine running and opened the rear doors before going back inside, and with a quick check to make sure no-one was watching, he wheeled John-Jo out and dragged him into the back. He did the same with Boots who was vaguely regaining consciousness, and then he locked the van up and took the wheelchair back in to Pete.

  “Where you gonna go?”

  “I’m going back up there as planned. This is no’ gonnae go away, especially now. That guy in there, the one called Boots; he’s Big Davie’s second in command. Now that I’ve managed tae not only put the boss’s son in jail but also smacked about his enforcer, I don’t think anywhere will be completely safe from now on. It will have to get sorted out one way or the other now Pete.”

  “Dat’s a real risk Kats.”

  “Yeah, I know. But I don’t really see a choice. One thing’s for sure, if they want tae have themselves a wee war they’ve picked the right fuckin’ boy for it!”

  Pete laughed dutifully but still looked concerned.

  “Yer, maybe Kats, but dis is fookin’ serious man. If you go back up there on yer own you know yourself how things could go. You got any local backup? Worrabout Badger? Isn’t he up there somewhere?”

  “Aye, I forgot about Badger. I never thought to call him. D’ye know if he’s out or what?”

  “I dunno mate but I‘ve gorra number for him,” he fished out his mobile, wincing at the sudden movement as it pulled his wound, and passed the phone to Kats who quickly copied the number into his own phone.

  “Thanks mate, if he’s about that will be a real help. Right, am gonnae get a quick bite to eat and get goin’. By the time I get up there it will be the early hours of the mornin’ now. Ye sure ye’ll be fine?”

  “Yeah mate, we’ll be just fine like.”

  “Thanks Pete and… sorry about this shit. Say cheerio to Carole for me and… well, am sorry again.”

  “Yer o’rite Kats. You take it easy now eh? Stay away from the bizzies and give those other bastards some hell.” He grinned and shook Kats by the hand, making a fist as they parted.

  Chapter 17

  “You are fuckin’ dead, ye know that don’t ye?”

  The words were thick and slurred but the menace was unmistakable. Kats glanced in his rear view mirror and saw Boots had worked himself up to a sitting position and was glaring defiantly at his reflection.

  “D’ye think? You’ll no’ be the one tae do the killin’ tho Bootsy boy. Every time ye look in the mirror you’ll get a reminder of whit happened the last time ye tried it.”

  It was true: Boots had taken a real beating to his face. His eyes were mere slits in a purple sea of bruising, his lips and nose were swollen and bloody, and his hair was matted and lank. It would be a while before the swelling would go down, increasing the humiliation: Big Davie’s top enforcer had been smacked about like a wean and the evidence was plain to see.

  “It’ll no’ matter whether it’s me that does it or not, but you can bet I’ll be in the audience cheerin’ them on ya smart-arse bastard. The Big Man is gonnae rip your balls off and feed them tae ye afore he cuts yer throat for this.”

  “Wooo… am scared.”

  “Ye fuckin’ better be ya wank. You just wait till we get ye in Glesga.”

  “You havenae a clue have ye Boots? Big Davie will do a deal with me. Unlike you and yer other ned pals, Davie has at least half a brain. He knows fine well that none of this was ma doin’. He’s no’ gonnae want any more trouble. Trouble brings the polis’ and the polis’ is bad for business.”

  “Ye surely don’t think that getting his son in the jail and then beating up and kidnapping two of his soldiers is gonnae get ye a pat on the back do ye?”

  “Kidnappin’? Who said ye were getting’ kidnapped Boots?”

  “Well whit the fuck is this then? Where are we goin’ trussed up like this?”

  “Ah’m just takin’ ye home Boots mah man. Ye said ye wanted tae get me in Glesga didn’t ye? We’re on the M74. You’ve had a great wee beauty sleep in the back there wi’ yer pal John-Jo. You just relax now, we’ll be there in about two hours and then we’ll see whit’s whit.”

  “Yer fuckin’ mental Kats. But I’ll give ye this, you’ve got balls. Pity yer gonnae be chokin’ on them soon.”

  “Aye, so ye said Boots. How’s the other one?”

  Boots prodded the prone John-Jo with his boot. There was no response.

  “He’s in a bad way.”

  “Is he breathing?” Kats was a little alarmed. He knew that Pete had hit him hard and the CRAP award, despite its name, was a weighty piece of hardware.

  “How the fuck do I know?”

  “Christ jeezus,” said Kats. If John-Jo died then that would be a whole new ball game and he knew it. The dawn light was just filtering through as he saw a sign: services 5m. He’d have to pull off the motorway and check him, even though he ran the risk of CCTV picking them up.

  “I’ll pull off at the next junction and take a look at him.”

  “Good ‘cos I need a pish.”

  “Aye? Go Ahead and pish yersel’ then. If ye think I’m takin’ the cable ties off ye yer dreamin’, and as for holding yer knob...”

  “Cunt.”

  He came off at a roundabout and found, with some relief, that it did not lead directly into the services. It was actually part of the old A74 dual carriageway with the services themselves a few miles along it.

  He slowed and looked for a quiet place to pull over. There was a farm track leading through the trees on the other side of the empty road. Kats hit the brakes and crossed the central strip, reversing the van as far back as he could into the farm track.

  He opened the back door of the van and dragged the inert body of John-Jo to the edge feeling for vital signs. With some relief he found a pulse. It was slower than he would have liked but at least it was there. His breathing was shallow, but rhythmic.

  The clunk on the head h
ad obviously done some serious damage to the man, perhaps permanent damage. Nedism was a risky business and Kats couldn’t see John-Jo getting a veterans war pension for his injury on the front line. Like Pete, he was a spent force.

  “He needs a doctor,” said Boots.

  “I can see that ya fanny. Geez yer phone.”

  Kats jumped into the back of the van and rummaged through Boots’ pockets until he found his mobile. He scrolled through the address book until he found Big Davie’s number. As he suspected, the number was different from the one he had been given by the Big Man.

  This number was the one he used for his troops; the one he would answer, whereas the one Kats had was just the business number which he would choose to answer as he pleased. Kats reckoned he would have taken a call from him anyway but he wanted to be certain, so it would be best to call from Boots’ phone.

  Besides, he wanted to hear his voice when he thought Boots was calling him to report back the results of the pre-emptive strike. He punched the number and smiled.

  “Whit ye got for me?” came the gravel voice on answer.

  “Well, I’ve got Boots and John-Jo for ye, that’s a start eh Davie?”

  “Who the fuck is this?”

  “Who the fuck do do ye think?”

  Silence.

  “How did you get this phone Kats?”

  “Ye might want tae ask Boots that?”

  He pushed the phone to Boots’ ear, “Boss, John-Jo’s in a bad way. They jumped us, we couldnae do nuthin’ about it…”

  Kats took the phone away. “Aye Davie, we jumped them awrite. Me and ma mate, the one that’s in a wheelchair. Yer boys are really good, hard as nails they are.”

  “Whit the fuck are you playin’ at Kats? Ye think this is a game?”

  “Naw Davie, I know it’s no’ a game. But I think it’s went far enough don’t you? I want a meetin’ with you and I want it this mornin’.”

  “Okay. Where?”

  “The swingpark at Brandon Street. I’ll be there at eleven, and ye can take away these two bags a shite when I get there.”

  “Okay.”