Waging War To Shake The Cold

by Wild Wolf Publishing

  Best to do it somewhere remote. He picked up his phone from the table, scrolled through the numbers, and started dialling. It was time to call in a few more favours.

  Chapter 31

  The doors of the elevator swished closed. Nick let out a long sigh and punched the button for the 6th floor. Life was becoming more complicated by the minute. Only four more days, that’s it, and then he would be home free.

  He still had moments when he thought he should have gone sooner, but the impending FSA meeting tomorrow screwed things up. If he failed to show up for that they would be on to him for sure, and then he might even be stopped and picked up at the airport. There weren’t any direct flights to Cayman any sooner anyway. He’d just have to wait it out.

  The elevator doors opened and he headed along the corridor to his office. As soon as he got to his desk he logged into the system.

  Starting with the emails, he began systematically deleting folders. First the personal files went and then the client folders, one by one he consigned them to the trash. It would take a while but he had set aside enough time this morning. His mobile buzzed and then rang.

  “Shit,” he recognised the number. “Hello Davie, how’s fings?” he said, his cockney accent coming through stronger, as it always did in times of stress.

  “Howzit gaun Nicky boy,” said Big Davie in his raspy growl. “Ye’ll remember that wee favour ah dun ye a couple a weeks ago?”

  “Yeah, what of it? I still got a few weeks to square you away ain’t I?”

  “Well, no’ quite,” said Big Davie. “Ye see, somethin’ has come up and ah need it back a wee bit early.”

  “Wot, all of it?”

  “Aye. All of it.”

  “But… but… you said you weren’t in a hurry.”

  He was having a feeling of déjà vu. The last time Big Davie pulled a stunt like that on him a club had gone up in flames. What was coming this time.

  “Aye. Ah wisnae in a hurry when I leant ye it, but now I need it back. Ye know how it can go Nick, yer a businessman yersel’. Sometimes things come up unexpectedly.”

  “Okay. But this is a bit sudden and I don’t ‘ave it all together yet. I can get it by, oh, say next Monday at the earliest. Will that be okay?”

  “I’d prefer it today, but mibbe ah can hold off tae next week, ‘cos ah trust ye like. It means I’ll have tae git a wee loan masel’, just tae cover things till you square me up, so yer interest will have tae go up a wee bit tae pay me back for that.”

  “Sure, sure, no problem Davie. How much will it go up?”

  “I’ll need another five grand tae sort it,” said Big Davie.

  “No problem. I can get it all in cash on Monday. I’ll bring it over to your office.”

  “Aye – bring it roon at six. See ye then,” and with that he hung up.

  Nick smiled as he closed the phone and slipped it into his pocket. Every cloud has a silver lining. By Monday he’d be long gone and Davie could sing for his cash. Some folk are just too stupid for their own good.

  He smiled and went back to deleting files. It was going to be a fun day after all.

  Chapter 32

  Now he knew for certain. The fat shite was getting set to fuck off without paying up.

  There was no way that whiny bastard would have agreed to repay the loan early, never mind the additional five grand on top without an argument, unless he knew he would be untouchable. I wonder if he knows the cops are sniffing about him. Whatever he was into it had to be big time, guys like him, in his position, didn’t piss about with small stuff.

  For over a year now Big Davie had received healthy returns on the cash he’d invested with Nick, and it was as handy a place as any to park the dosh, seeing as how it couldn’t really be stuck in the RBS without questions being asked, and there was no return for having it under the mattress.

  Anyhow, since he had his hooks into Nick for loans and bail outs on top of that it was a nice way to keep an eye on everything. Sort of like keeping it all in the family.

  He wondered if he’d pushed Nick too hard when he handed over the photos of his girlfriend cheating on him. Word was he had gone straight round to her flat and knocked her about a bit, not that something like that concerned Big Davie one iota, he was not above giving Mary the odd hiding when she needed it.

  Maybe he shouldn’t have let Boots and Squeak in on the gag, but he couldn’t resist. Rich pricks like Crossan definitely needed putting in their place, and it helped his standing with the lads that they got to see their boss get one over on him.

  The story had gone round like wildfire, Boots and Squeak couldn’t resist telling their mates either. Even DJ had heard in the Bar-L.

  It’s the little things, he thought contentedly.

  He wondered again what it was Crossan was up to. The tip off he’d had from one of his tame coppers was too sketchy to give him much to go on, although he’d been back to every source he had to fish for more details.

  The SFO just wasn’t an area of the force he had any direct influence in, something he would clearly have to rectify, and his usual tipsters couldn’t get anything concrete either.

  He’d spent years building up his little hierarchy of bribable cops and other officials. It spanned all stratas too; from the tickets for major entertainment events to persuade unbelievers he was an okay guy, all the way up to major cash pay-offs in return for direct favours or blind-eyes being turned.

  It would be stretching things to suggest the police were in his pocket, things don’t really work like that anymore, but he knew enough people to be sure that when he made a move in a certain direction at a certain time he wouldn’t have any trouble come back to his door.

  And if trouble there was to be, well he had also been good enough to drop a few unwanted and unneeded villains right into the waiting arms of the boys in blue, so he generally knew well ahead of time that trouble was coming and who it was coming for. It was a win:win for all concerned.

  That’s what pissed him off so much with what DJ had done. An unplanned event he was having to call in favours for galore from people he’d rather have kept in his pocket, and also making promises to do other favours back for them; all just to try extricate DJ from a mess of his own making.

  Well, the truth was, he was really using up his stock to limit the damage to his own standing because everyone knew who DJ was.

  He knew most folk thought his son was next to useless. He knew as well that DJ wasn’t exactly a chip off the old block. But he was still his son, and what his flesh and blood did impacted on what he did or could do.

  DJ had his uses. If he could control his temper he was a very effective intimidator. Trouble was he generally went a wee bit too far, but he was young and daft, and Big Davie had hopes he could settle him down soon enough.

  At least the gun wasn’t found on him: Ferret knew enough to take the rap for that. They’d plead that DJ was in the back of the car stupid drunk and didn’t know what was going on; Ferret had over-reacted and fired the gun off as a warning to the lorry driver. His lawyer would run up a good enough story to mitigate the sentences.

  The police had breathalysed them all anyway as a matter of course and DJ’s blood alcohol level would have stopped a charging rhino, so it was as good a defence as they could make under the circumstances. They must have used up all the dope because none was found on them. Stupid bastards.

  His lawyer called earlier and told him DJ was to get bail pending the full hearing. He’d need to wear a tag and surrender his passport but at least he was coming out. Ferret wasn't so lucky, but he’d be looked after in time.

  Mary was relieved about DJ coming out, but Davie couldn’t quantify his feelings. When he’d gone to the jail to talk to DJ’s compadres in crime, and to tell them who was taking the blame for the driving and who for the shooting so DJ could possibly walk, he’d also asked them what actually happened.

  They’d both confirmed, more or less, Kats’ version of the story. Maybe he should just be done w
ith it and let DJ do a stretch, keep him out of the way for a while. It was a right fuck-up, and the death of that old biddy just made it even more complicated. And now the thing was turning full circle with Crossan somehow connected to her.

  It’s a funny old life right enough.

  “Boots! Git in here!” he shouted.

  “Aye boss?”

  “DJ’s gettin’ out on bail the day, I want you to go and pick him up.”

  “That’s great boss. What time?”

  “I dunno yet, they said they’d call me. I have a job for youse both. Keep youse out of nonsense until I get all of this nailed doon. I want that wanker Crossan tailed. I want tae know what he’s doin’ and who he meets; when, where, for how long. Everythin’, awrite?”

  “Sure boss. Should we put the frighteners on him?”

  “Nah. Keep it on the QT for now. I don’t want him tae know yer about. I’m not sure what he’s intae yet but one thing, if ye see him leavin’ his flat wi’ a suitcase or anythin’ an’ headin’ for either the train station or the airport, I want him nabbed. Same if he hits the M74. I don’t want any mistakes Boots. This is important okay?”

  “Ye can count on me boss,” said Boots.

  “Ah doubt that…” he muttered as Boots left the room.

  His mobile buzzed in his pocket and he took it out and looked at the display.

  “Well fuck me, this should be good.”

  Chapter 33

  “Awrite son, where are ye?”

  “Am safe enough boss,” said Kats.

  He was actually still in the Internet café, but he wasn’t about to tell Big Davie that.

  “Mmm-hmm. Afghanistan nice this time a year then is it?”

  “I took yer advice on that boss, and turns out I don’t need to go in person. I made the call like you said to, though.”

  “Oh aye?”

  “Ye can be in business in a matter of weeks.”

  “Come on Kats, dye think my heid buttons up the back? How can it be that easy?”

  “Oh it’s no’ easy boss if you have to start from scratch, but this guy is already supplying big time down South. You would just be an extra customer and his only one in Scotland at that. The entire network is already in place. The guy’s a fuckin’ warlord oot there you know, whatever he says happens.”

  “Tell me more son ‘cos this just seems to be too good to be true.”

  “It mibbe is boss, it’s not for me tae say. All I can tell you is what I’ve been told. I called him up and he pointed me at a guy I already knew of who is in the forces, a Tommy like I used tae be. I did some checking on him and this guy handles all of the warlord’s business affairs with the UK. It took a bit of chat back and forth, and I know from my sources the guy did some checking oan me tae make sure I was clean, but he eventually called me back wi’ the sketch. For my part I did what I could to verify everything by talkin’ tae some of ma pals who are still out there, and they say he is the man.”

  Kats was winging it totally, but he knew Big Davie had no way of checking up and as long as he kept it plausible then he would have the edge. He’d run over the script meticulously with Badger so he felt confident, but that didn’t stop his mouth drying up and a trickle of sweat running down the inside of his shirt from his armpit to his waist.

  “So whit’s next then?”

  “They want to test your bona fides.”

  “Ma whit?”

  “To see if you’re genuine boss.”

  “How is that gonnae work then?”

  “Whit I need to do is deposit an amount of cash in an offshore account they have access to. They gave me the account number and stuff. Then I have to transfer the same amount to your account. After that they will call me to check the amounts. They have to match to the penny so they can verify the accounts are true. Then you transfer the money for how much you want to buy, to me, and I transfer it into their account. It’s all electronic and offshore. They will then be in direct contact with you tae set up the delivery. No dosh, no deal, no dope.”

  “How come I canny just put the money into their account myself then, Kats?” there was more than a hint of suspicion in Big Davie’s voice.

  Badger had coached him in his reply as he’d predicted the scepticism.

  “It has to go through me boss, he doesn’t know you and he only deals with forces or ex-forces guys. He knows he can get to them see?”

  “You’re askin’ a lot on trust Kats.”

  “I’m askin’ nothin’ boss, I’m just the messenger. It’s up tae you, but if you want me to put it together I need yer bank details tae make the transfer.”

  There was a long silence.

  Kats thought quickly, “I’m thinkin’ that a man in your position is bound to have more than one bank account. Why not give me the details of one you’ve cleared out of all the money and stuff. All I need is the account number and sort code, that’s it. I can then transfer the dosh through that electronically. If it doesn’t go to plan by the end of next week, ye can close the account and then I’ll take whit’s comin’, if ye eventually find me. Once the deal is all done ye can close that account so I cannae access it again and we can call it even. Think about it boss – whit’s tae lose, and why would I risk makin’ things worse.”

  Big Davie wasn’t stupid and he knew neither was Kats. He considered the proposal. Kats was bang on with his guess - he did have several bank accounts, some of them already offshore that Crossan had set up for him, and one in particular he only used for emergency funds like when he had to buy a load of hash from Turkey once. It was expendable, and if the need arose, he could always open another one.

  “Right Kats, you’ve got a deal, but I want it done and dusted by Friday awrite, and I want exclusive on Scotland. They don’t sell to anyone else up here understood? Nae mistakes, an’ if ye screw this one up, God fuckin’ help ye son.”

  “Right boss – I hear you loud and clear,” said Kats, exhaling slowly so Big Davie couldn’t hear the relief. “I can’t say anythin’ about the exclusive bit, but I will tell them that’s the deal you’re after.”

  “Ah’ll text ye the account number and details later,” said Big Davie, and hung up.

  Kats smiled. One down.

  He logged on to the PC again and found the First Commercial Bank website, quickly scanning the home page till he found what he was looking for, New Client Online Application Form, and loaded up the details, following the prompts, amazed at how simple it was to complete the process. He balked at entering a valid UK address but there was no way round that: he needed to put an address in order to get the PIN FedEx’d out to him next day.

  The final screen gave him detailed instructions on how to use the new password and user name he’d been assigned for his online account. The account would not fully activate until he transferred funds into it and he had to do so within seven days or it would be deleted from the system. At least, since he wasn’t opening a business account, he wouldn’t need one of those Codemaster things.

  Two down.

  He picked up his mobile and scrolled through the list of numbers.

  “Pete… how’s it goin’ mate… yeah am fine… listen man… There’s a package coming for me tomorrow by FedEx and when you get it just open it, inside will be a PIN number… Aye, can ye text it to me?... thanks… oh… and one last thing… I need your bank details… never mind why… just trust me…”

  And that made the hat-trick. He looked up from the booth, hoping to see the pretty barista, thinking maybe he would ask for her number anyway since he was on such a roll, but she had been replaced at the desk by a spotty youth.

  “Pity.”

  Chapter 34

  “Look at the state of your coupon man, whit the fuck happened tae ye?”

  It was a semi-rhetorical question because DJ already knew fine. Boots managed to look sheepish and defiant at the same time.

  “Awrite DJ, awrite. He got the better of me but it was mostly luck. I tell you what, that won’t happen the
next time I see him.”

  DJ climbed into the passenger seat and slung his small bag of belongings into the back as Boots took off into the traffic and away from the gates of the Bar-L.

  “Fuckin’ rainin’ again. How can ma da’ no’ fuckin’ move tae Marbella like everybody else in his game? So Bootsy boy, ye gonnae tell me whit the fuck happened then?”

  “Ach ye know well enough what happened DJ, don’t gimme that pish. He got lucky like I said; the fuckin’ cripple gubbed John-Jo so he was out of it. I had nae backup and Kats just got lucky.”

  “So yer sayin’ it was one on one then? Just you and Kats like?”

  Boots squirmed uncomfortably. “Aye.”

  “I heard you had a knife as well, whit wiz he tooled up with?”

  DJ had a knack of making things as awkward as possible, especially when he smelled blood.

  “Eh, like I said DJ, he got lucky right? Ye canny get lucky every time though and I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  DJ shook his head in mock mirth. “Boots, Boots yer a good man and I know you’d do anythin’ for ma da’, but you were the one that brought that piece of worthless shite into the business. I told ye, didn’t I? I fuckin’ warned ye he wiz trouble and noo look at where we all are. He should be fuckin’ dead by now.”

  “Aye... well... yer da’ says he’s no’ tae be touched DJ. He wants tae deal with him personally, for now anyway. Whit happens later is anybody’s guess. But I tell ye somethin’ DJ, the minute the boss says Kats is on his own he’s fuckin’ gettin’ the good news.”

  “There’s a queue Boots. Yer forgettin’ I have a few scores to settle with him as well. Ye’ll no’ be makin’ any moves on him before me. Mibbe we should take this on together, after all ye didnae have much luck on yer own...” he tailed off into a provocative high-pitched giggle.

  Boots bridled, he didn’t normally tolerate being laughed at by anyone, but he knew there was a limit to what he could do or say around DJ. The man was a prick, everyone knew that, but he was Davie’s boy and that was that.