“And listen big chap, come on yer ain or you’ll no’ see me.”
“Oh I’ll be there on my own Kats. I widnae miss this wee meetin’ for the world.”
Chapter 18
He drove slowly past the swing park to check it out after having made several circuits of the nearby streets just to make sure there were no backup vans or cars full of hoodies. Big Davie said he’d come alone, but it was always best to be sure.
The park was empty as usual, except for a bunch of teenagers goofing about by the old roundabout, smoking, drinking Buckfast, and probably sniffing glue, even at this time of the morning. It was what passed for a hobby in the East End.
It was neds like these that kept the mothers and toddlers away and ensured there would be no prying eyes when he met with Big Davie. He kept driving until he got to the main gate. A large bollard prevented him from getting the van into the park, but he was still able to back it up to the railings. He stopped and opened the rear doors.
“Time gentlemen, please.”
Boots looked at him and tried to get to his feet. “How am I supposed tae walk then?”
“Yer no’ walkin’ anywhere – you’re just gonnae sit here and wait with him.” He dragged the still inert John-Jo to the edge of the van and fireman lifted him over to the railings, propping him up against them.
“Your turn Boots. Ye can hop out or I’ll do the same as I did with him.”
Boots elected to hop.
“Okay. You and John-Jo sit there like a couple a jaikies and in the next ten minutes or so yer gaffer will be here tae let you go. Nae hard feelings Boots.”
“Don’t you fuckin’ bet on it Kats. The next we meet you’d best be watchin’ out for yersel.”
Kats nodded and got back in the van, parking it round the corner out of sight. As he walked past Boots and John-Jo going back into the park he flicked them a 10p coin. “There ye go Boots. Use that tae phone someone who gives a fuck about your threats.”
He made his way into the park and waited at the swings, well away from the neds who had moved to the climbing frame and were trying to set fire to the tyre swings.
He saw Big Davie come in from the other side, his slow ambling pace and swinging shoulders giving him away even from a distance. He had a hard man walk, something he had taken time and trouble to cultivate. The neds saw him at the same time and they stopped what they were doing, staring in curiosity.
Big Davie looked them over and Kats saw him jerk behind him with his thumb. They grabbed their bottles of Buckie and headed for the exit as Big Davie continued to walk leisurely towards him without a backward glance.
“Awrite son,” he said as he approached. “Ye’ve fairly gave us all a wee runabout haven’t ye?”
“Awrite boss.” Kats felt it wiser to give him at least some deference. “It wasn’t on my agenda but that’s the way it worked out. What happened? I thought we had a deal?”
“Uh-huh. There are deals and deals, Kats. So, where’s Boots and John-Jo?”
“Ower there,” Kats jerked his head over his shoulder. “John-Jo’s no’ so good though. He got a bit of a clunk in the battle, he’s gonnae need a doctor.”
Big Davie looked over at the two figures he could now see by the gate and sucked his teeth.
“Uh-huh. So whit’s this wee tet-a-tet about then Kats? Ye didnae ask tae see me just tae be the delivery boy?”
“I want tae sort this out boss. I’m no’ keen on living my life lookin’ over ma shoulder and am guessin’ your no’ keen on any more of yer guys getting’ smacked about.”
Big Davie raised one eyebrow, “And whit’s the most likely outcome then Kats? Ye surely don’t think ye can fight me tae a standstill do ye? Ye might have got Boots on a bad day but he’s a long way from being out of action, and even if he was, there’s plenty more where he came from.”
Kats knew the truth of this. His position was weak but he had to at least try if he was to have any kind of normality return to his life. And there was Isa to think about as well.
“So what’s the deal then boss? How do I get out from under this, even though I didnae start it, but I can see that you’ve a mind tae finish it.”
“The way I read it Kats yer in even more debt now than ye were afore. Boots over there is ma main man and John-Jo was a great earner.”
“How do you mean am in debt?”
“Oh, everythin’ has a price tag Kats. Tae me it looks like you’ve just added tae yer bill.”
“An’ just whit is on this bill of mine then boss?”
“Well, for a start there is DJ’s legals, then there is the bribes that have gone tae certain folk tae make it all go away, one of DJ’s posse is taking the rap so he’s a man down for that and that will hurt his income, now we have John-Jo out of action as well. It’s gonnae be a fair auld tally Kats.”
“Yer no’ serious!”
“What did ye expect Kats? That you’d just roll back up here, bring me back ma boys, have a wee confab with me and then we’d all be havin’ a Bromance? This has cost me plenty son, and I aim tae get ma money back. And if I canny get my money back then it’s gonnae go hard wi’ you Kats. I’m telling ye tae yer face so that there’s nae misunderstandin’s later: if ye don’t pay me back you’re fuckin’ dead. You and yer family. There’s nowhere ye can go where I’ll no’ find ye. There’s no amount of time that will pass when I’ll forget it. Ye pay me ma money or you’re fucked.”
“Ah might have somethin’ tae say about that.”
Big Davie shrugged his shoulders at the bravado and smiled, both men knew the reality of the situation. Kats’ mind raced, but wasn’t this the reason he had come back in the first place? To make some kind of deal?
“So how much are we talkin’ then?”
“Let’s call it an even three big ones.”
“Well I don’t have that on me but I can get it the ‘morra.” He had some ready cash stashed and some more in the bank, a quick rough calculation reassured him he could come up with it. “I can get the three grand together and bring it to you, no sweat.”
“Mmhmm. You’ve been out of it a while haven’t ye Kats. A big one is a hundred. Call it inflation. Three hundred grand Kats. That’s yer tally.”
Big Davie smiled; he’d enjoyed the gag.
“Whit? Are ye mental? And how am I gonnae get ma hands on somethin’ like that?”
“Well, that’s really up tae you Kats. Ye should have thought of that afore ye started smackin’ ma team about shouldn’t ye? Of course, there might be ways we can reduce the numbers. You know me Kats, I’m always happy to look at ways of helping folk meet their commitments. Ye might have somethin’ that I want. DJ has already told ye as much: I need some contacts over where you were.”
“Not this contacts shit again, I don’t know anybody out there any more boss.”
“Aye, so you say, but I’m bettin’ that you know folk who know folk.”
Kats couldn’t deny that. Everyone knew someone who was involved in the drug business in Iraq, and even more so in Afghanistan. It wouldn’t be hard to find the people Davie wanted.
“What would that be worth then?”
“Fur the right contacts we could probably say half.”
“That still leaves me, according tae you, still owin’ a hundred and fifty grand.”
“That’s right enough Kats.”
“And how do I pay the rest off?”
“You’ll come up with something Kats; you’re a bright boy after all. Ye look like you’re gonnae need a wee bit of time tae think about this so tell ye whit, geez a wee phone the morra and let me know. I’ll away and get ma boys now and then Mary will have ma lunch ready. Be seein’ ye soon Kats, one way or another,” and with that he walked past him to the gate and bent over to speak to Boots.
Chapter 19
“Look at the state a youse.” He was almost jovial, paternal even as he looked down at the two of them.
Boots looked up but said nothing. There was nothing to say.
“I think I might huv hired the wrong guy tae be my enforcer, eh Boots?”
He reached into his pocket and removed a knife, swiftly cutting the cable ties on Boots’ wrists and ankles. Boots let out a slow breath and rubbed at where his bonds had bitten in.
“Boss, I’m gonnae kill that bastard for this,” getting to his feet and immediately going to the railings to urinate. “Ah was fuckin’ desperate, he widnae even let us have a pish.”
“Aye? Well ye might want tae just hang back on the revenge attacks till ah say so first Boots. I’ve still got plans for Kats ye know, and although you and John-Jo here seem tae have been hammered, at least ye achieved one thing for me.”
“Whit was that?”
“Ye got Kats back up here where I can keep my eyes on him. He knows what he needs to do to sort this shit out, he’s no’ daft. One way or another I’ll git whit I want from him.”
“So yer no’ mad at us then?”
“Oh I widnae say that Boots, after all it would have been a bit more satisfying tae have had Kats tied up and delivered tae me the way youse were, but sometimes ye just have tae make the best of a bad job. Now, whit are we gonnae do about Sleepin’ Beauty here?”
“He’s in a really bad way boss, that cripple hit him wi’ a lamp or somethin’. He went down and didnae get back up. D'ye think Mary could patch him up?”
“Ah dunno, let’s get him round there and see whit she says.”
He took his mobile out and called his driver who was waiting a few blocks away. The car arrived in minutes and they loaded John-Jo into the back.
“Mind keep the blood aff ma leather.”
Mary came out to meet them when they arrived at his door but after a quick look at John-Jo she wasn’t hopeful.
“He’s in a right bad way Davie, whit happened?”
“He fell Mary, whit do ye think happened.”
“Aye, well, let’s get him in and we’ll take a better look but am no’ a miracle worker.”
They carried John-Jo into the house and laid him on the couch where Mary started to clean up his head wound.
“Right Boots, you an’ me, in the kitchen.”
He picked up a bottle of Johnny Walker and poured two glasses out while Boots sat down and waited to see what was coming next.
Big Davie downed his dram in one but Boots picked the other one up, saying, “Ye got any cola or Irn Bru, I cannae drink this stuff neat.”
“Yer common as muck Boots, ye know that? That’s a waste of a good dram,” but he fetched a can of Irn Bru from the fridge anyway and tossed it to him.
“Tell me whit happened, and leave out the shite that ye were jumped by his gang, Boots. I want tae know everything, awrite?”
Boots went through the entire story, leaving nothing out.
“Ah’m sorry boss,” he said when he finished. “He got lucky that was aw. If that cripple hadnae lamped John-Jo he’d never have got the better of us.”
“Mibbe Boots, but we’ll never know will we?”
“Where is he now then? Whit’s tae happen next with him?”
“I made him a wee offer and told him tae go away and think about it.”
“Ye no’ think he’ll just do a runner again?”
“Where tae? Where’s he gonnae go? He already tried tae do a runner and we found him. He knows fine that if he tries it again we’ll find him eventually and I made a point of spellin’ out whit would happen next time. He knows the score now; he’ll have tae play along.”
“Boss, I have tae be honest, if I see the wee fucker again I’m gonnae have a hard time no’ tae jump him there and then. Look at ma face? He canny get away with this boss.”
“Aye, I kinda thought ye might be thinkin’ like that. Tae be honest Boots, once I get whit I want from him then I’m no’ in the least bit bothered whit happens tae him. In fact, it would be doin’ me a big favour if he was just tae disappear completely. Guys like that are nothin’ but trouble. So ye can have him and if DJ’s out by then am guessin’ he’ll be wantin’ a piece a him as well. But yer tae leave him well alone until I say so. Am a clear about that?”
“How long will it take him tae get whit ye want boss?”
“It will take as long as I say it will take Boots. Until then you can just stay out of his way. Ye’ll no’ exactly want tae be out and about wi’ yer coupon lookin’ like that anyway. So just think of this as a wee holiday for ye.”
Big Davie was surprised himself at the level of bonhomie and forgiveness he was showing to Boots, but he was feeling generous because he knew Kats had no options.
Mary popped her head round the kitchen door. “Davie, he’s too bad for me tae do anythin’ with. He needs tae go tae the hospital. He’s completely unconscious and I’m worried that he might no’ wake up. If he dies here…”
Big Davie knew exactly what that would mean.
“Right Mary, we’ll get him out the now. Boots, phone Squeak and get him round here. I want John-Jo dropped off at the Royal’s casualty door, naw, make it The Southern General ‘cos it’s further away and less likely tae make connections with us. Lie up someplace and do it about two in the morning and take the plates off the motor afore ye drive by. Just get tae the door, get him out and leave him on the pavement. Make sure youse don’t look up at the CCTV cameras and get yer hoodies pulled right up. They’ll look after him and we’ll see how he goes. Tell his brother Paul whit’s happened so he can talk tae the hospital. He can tell them he knew John-Jo was in a fight but doesn’t know who with. When he wakes up, Paul is tae call you right away and you get in there and keep his story right in case the polis’ are askin’ questions awrite? Mary, is ma grub ready yet?”
He was looking forward to his plate of steak and chips; it was grand to have a good feed after a productive morning's work.
Chapter 20
“So, you’re telling me you believe Mrs Patrick was deliberately killed in a staged accident for this book… this journal as you call it?” said DI Mitchell.
I thought I’d heard it all but this is plain cuckoo.
It was the second time he’d spoken to this lady since the accident but this part of the story was completely new to him. The last time she’d just kept asking if they had found a book amongst the deceased’s personal effects. It was a curious enough case anyway without all of this, a poor old dear broken down on the motorway and killed in a RTA caused by a gangster car chase.
He looked again at the report on his desk and then back at the woman before him. Perhaps she was making the whole thing up but he had to admit she wasn’t coming across like your typical nutbar.
Who knows what goes on in people’s minds, especially when sudden and unexpected death strikes? It’s only natural to need a reason, an explanation, for why a loved one didn’t come home one day and even the most improbable and unlikely scenarios can take root when they’re fertilised by grief. He’d seen it all before, though never with such a far out plot.
Mind you, you only have to look at Al Fayed and his conspiracy theories over his son and Lady Diana’s death. It’s a funny old thing right enough, grief.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I think,” said Brenda, breaking his reverie. “But I can see from the look on your face that you don’t believe me.”
“Well, the main problem that I have with all of it is that if you’re going to kill someone, I can think of a number of methods that would have more predictable outcomes,” he was counting them off on his fingers, “would be less likely to draw the undivided attention of all of the Police forces in the country, and last but not least, would give those involved a better chance of getting away with it.”
She looked perplexed by his logic but remained unshaken in her belief, like a Southern State Creationist faced with the faith-shaking evidence of a coherent fossil record for the first time.
“But one of them did get away, I saw it in the news, and it was the one who actually killed her, wasn’t it?”
She had him there, but he was unable to giv
e any ground no matter how tenuous.
“In our view her death was the unhappy consequence of a gangland feud over a stolen load of whisky. I can’t see any plausible way in which it could be construed as a professional hit on an innocent old lady. What exactly was in this book that was so important that it could lead to someone committing murder for it?”
Brenda winced when the policeman had called Maureen an “old lady”. She had never minded the obvious age gap; in fact it had comforted her that she was with an older person. It was nice to be with someone who was centred; someone who wasn’t jealous and who wasn’t likely to leave her for someone else. Most of all, Maureen wasn’t ever going to raise her fists to her. Not like a man would.
When they’d first met at the book club it had felt like fate. There was just a sort of… chemistry… between them, and Brenda immediately felt she could say anything to Maureen and Maureen would not judge her, unlike all of the other women she’d confided in.
Oh they would tut-tut and sympathise with her right enough, but she always knew they were wondering why she had let herself be abused like that; not her, not an intelligent, professional, outwardly successful woman. She hadn’t known Maureen had suffered in the same way when they’d met, and she had ranted on and on about how badly she’d been treated in her relationship. She was still firmly in the All-Men-Are-Bastards camp at that time, and thought her experience both unique and worthy of sympathy from everyone she met.
It had been quite a while later, however, before Maureen had opened up and told Brenda of her own past. She had felt more than a little ashamed at so selfishly unburdening herself to Maureen without trying to find out more about her.
She’d been so wrapped up in herself, in her own tale of woe, that she had simply failed to realise that everyone has a story. From that moment on she’d felt totally at one with Maureen. The relationship hadn’t been sexual, obviously, but there was a safety and security between them that had filled all of their needs.
If anything, Maureen seemed to have had it worse than she had. Maureen’s tormentor, her soon to be ex husband Norman, had dominated her life for more than two decades before he’d finally left her for another woman.
Waging War To Shake The Cold Page 11
