by Katy Jordan
“And if they’re successful drug traffickers, then they could probably afford Bearsden,” Gecko said, trailing off as he went deep into thought. “Do me a favour, will you? Do a search and see how much houses in Bearsden go for.”
“Why?” Youth pried.
“Just… work with me here.”
Youth began typing on the keyboard. He loaded up a search engine for house hunters and scrolled down.
“Okay… a smaller house there going for one eighty-five…”
“Use the filters, they’d be using something that had a lot of rooms; one, maybe two for their drug storage, and then the others to house gang members. There’d probably be a garage, or a shed. Driveway.”
Youth zig-zagged his mouse across the mat viciously, clicking and typing as he took in Gecko’s instructions.
“Cheapest one is three forty-five now.”
“What area are those ones in?”
“Hang on, I’ll do a frequency search with the postcodes,” Youth said, typing frantically again, catching on to what Gecko was trying to do.
“Seems to be the south-east side of Bearsden.”
“Is there anything in the middle of it all? Like a famous bar, or a hotel or something?”
“No… but, there is a golf club. It’s called Douglas Park Golf Club.”
“I bet you anything that’s where they meet their clients, get orders, discuss business…”
“Let’s see what the club’s firewall is like,” Youth suggested, beginning to type away on the keyboard while Gecko started pacing, rubbing the back of his tense neck.
Even if the golf club proved a dead-end, Gecko was pretty certain he had a place to start sniffing around for someone who was a member of the Lion’s Den, or at least an associate.
“Okay, got their client list,” Youth announced.
“Already?” asked Gecko, flabbergasted.
“I’m born for this, my friend,” he sniggered playfully. “Okay… do any of these names look familiar?”
“Jeez, there’s a lot of them,” Gecko observed, “are they in order of the date they signed up?”
“No, alphabetical, but I can look at the date that they joined. Why, what you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that it would take the gang a bit of time to get things up and running, get a steady flow of income… maybe a year.”
“Okay dokey, loading up everyone who joined in 2013 onwards,” Youth declared, smacking a couple of keys, still beaming from Gecko’s comment about how fast he worked.
Youth loved to impress everyone.
“No. Way,” Gecko said.
“What? What?” Youth snapped out of his daze.
“There,” Gecko replied, pointing to the monitor. “Kevin Watt joined the club in August 2013. Can we see his activity?”
“I should be able to dig that out,” Youth informed him, trying to be humble about his skills.
“Joined in 2013, opted for the premium membership, visits once a week… never plays a game of golf, always sits in the clubhouse ordering food and drink,” Youth read out.
“And that’s a lot of food and drink for one person to eat all on his lonesome,” Gecko noticed. “Six whiskeys, two steak lunches, one chicken en croute, and a bottle of house red for the table.”
“That’s what most of his order history looks like.”
“He’s wining and dining people.”
“And it seems he’s related to Andrew and David Watt.”
“Well, that would be a massive coincidence if he wasn’t.”
Gecko and Youth continued to stare at the screen with no intention of looking for anything else, satisfied with their speedy and efficient work.
“Good job, man,” Youth said, holding up his hand.
“Right back at ya, buddy,” Gecko replied, giving him an epic high five with glee that they got another lead.
“Yellow Youth to The Spectrum, we have something. Will we come to you or will you come to us?”
“The Spectrum to Youth, I’m on my way. This better be good.”
“Youth to The Spectrum… it is, sir. Believe me. You’re going to be pleased.”
Youth started to do research on Kevin Watt as Gecko slumped into a spare seat, relieved and proud of his efforts.
If they could take down an entire gang as well as Neon… that would be a pretty wonderful day.
Bullet would have nothing to worry about, and she could concentrate solely on her recovery.
At the end of the day, that was all everyone wanted.
Chapter Thirty
The Spectrum walked in without announcing himself and sat down by Youth and Gecko.
“Talk to me.”
“This is Kevin Watt. He’s a cousin of David and Andrew, both of whom are now dead,” Youth began.
“He lives on Boclair Road in Bearsden, and has an account with Douglas Park Golf Club, but he’s never played a game in his life,” Gecko continued.
“That’s a shame. A man with integrity is a man who plays golf,” The Spectrum stated. “Keep going.”
“Being a cousin, we believe him to be part of the gang, but also because he’s listed as receiving unemployment benefits, yet he can afford to live in a house in one of the wealthiest streets in Scotland,” Youth said. “We believe that the two brothers were running the whole shindig, but now that they’re dead, Kevin is the man in charge. I checked his phone records; once a week he called a mobile number that isn’t listed to any name in particular. I cross referenced that with Jack’s numbers, and it’s a match to the one that Neon supplied him with.”
“So, Neon is in constant contact with this gentleman?”
“Yes, sir,” Gecko confirmed.
“However,” Youth jumped in, “considering David Watt was murdered and no one knows who did it or how on earth he ended up on top of a monument, and Gecko is certain that Andrew Watt’s body was in the lower bunker when he went with Bullet to rescue Jack, the common denominator is Neon. We can’t state solidly if he’s arranged for him to contact him to exchange business discussions or because he’s fallen victim to his threats.”
“That doesn’t matter. You found a link. That’s exactly what we’re looking for. You said you have his address?”
“Yes, sir,” Youth affirmed.
“Gecko, you’re up, son. Rocket will take you. Visit Mr Watt in your Prismatic uniform, tell him you work for Neon and that he sent you. I want to see his reaction to Neon’s name, find out if he’s scared of him or admires him.”
“What will I say when we find out which way he swings?” Gecko checked.
“May I?” Youth offered.
“By all means, m’boy,” The Spectrum welcomed Youth’s input.
“If he admires him, tell him that the Lion’s Den’s biggest rival went after him and set fire to the warehouse; that way, we can find out if they have any competition in the drug trafficking world. If he says they don’t have one, then just say that’s what Neon told you to say, and that he’d understand the message. Put him on the spot both ways,” Youth offered.
“Good man,” The Spectrum approved, “and if he flinches at Neon’s name?”
“At this point, sir, I’m out. Sorry,” Youth recoiled in embarrassment.
“No need for apologies. Gecko?”
“He could say that he overheard Neon talking about him and how he had him under his control,” Rocket chimed in, leaning in the doorway, “and he considered the possibility that he’d like to join some of Neon’s workers in the planned revolt against him. Offer him a way out. If he accepts, then we bring him back here.”
“Yes, I do like the sound of that,” The Spectrum considered, “but, if he doesn’t accept?”
“Then I tell him to swear he won’t say anything, and if he agrees, then there won’t be an anonymous phone call to the police and we’ll leave him alone,” Gecko offered.
“Good. Well done, gentlemen. Efficient work, done quickly, and thoroughly checked out. Now, go. Rocket, I take it Sparrow and
the girls have left already?”
“Yes, sir. Around twenty minutes ago,” Rocket replied.
“Good. Well, we haven’t heard anything on the earpieces so no news is good news. Off you go.”
“Righty-ho!” Gecko said, getting up and heading for the spiral staircase to go to his room and get his things. Rocket was right at his back, planning to head downstairs.
“The car is already round the front, meet you outside in ten?” Rocket offered.
“Yeah,” Gecko accepted, “but, do me a favour? Wear that ridiculous red cap you sometimes put on. And your leather jacket. I need you to look like a henchman.”
“What? Am I not waiting in the car?”
“A big, strong man like you? Of course not! If things go pear-shaped, I want you in there with me. You fight better than I do.”
“Yeah, I can’t deny that,” Rocket laughed.
“Aye, very good,” Gecko batted back as they went their separate ways on the spiral staircase.
Just as Rocket swung the driver door open to get in, Gecko was walking out of the building with his bag. He flung it in the back before climbing in the passenger seat, Rocket taking off before his door had even closed.
“You could at least wait until I put my seatbelt on,” Gecko scoffed at him.
“Or I could go now and get a head start.”
“Oh, that whole thirty seconds, if that, makes all the difference, eh?”
“Sometimes it does, actually. Take Bullet for instance.”
Gecko instantly went quiet.
“If I had driven any slower, she probably would’ve died.”
Gecko picked at his nails feeling very guilty and not knowing how to deal with it. He looked up at Rocket who was paying attention to the road.
“You did good, Rocket.”
“Not good enough,” he claimed.
“She’s going to be okay.”
“You really think so?”
“I don’t really know what to think, to be honest. I’m just choosing to believe that she’s going to be okay. No other outcome sits well with me,” Gecko admitted.
He revealed a side of himself that Rocket had never seen before.
One that was prepared to fight to the death for Bullet.
He knew that his comment about ‘Bullet not making it wouldn’t sit well with him’ was kind of a threat to anyone who worked with Neon.
Rocket reckoned Gecko was probably one of those silent but deadly types. Seemed like the loveliest guy on the planet that wouldn’t harm a fly, but if you crossed him, it would turn into a whole other story.
“How long until we get there?” Gecko interrupted his train of thought.
“Umm… probably about three hours. Get comfy,” Rocket replied.
“What music do you have in here?” Gecko asked, turning on his CD player.
A rock band blasted out of the speakers.
“You call this music!” he shouted over the noise.
“It’s the Foo Fighters! They’re class!” Rocket defended.
“What else do you have?”
Gecko took the CD holder from the slot in the door and started to thumb through it.
“Oh, now, this’ll do.”
He pushed a disc into the player and put the ejected one in the now available slot in the case.
“What’re you putting… Oh, come on! Really?”
“You can’t argue with Blondie, my friend. Why are you moaning? It’s in your collection!”
“Yeah, Tide put it there,” Rocket admitted.
“Oh, she did, did she?” Gecko teased. “How’s all that going?”
“How’s all what going?”
Rocket put up a wall.
“Aw, come on,” Gecko pushed, “you’re always with her. Sparks fly constantly. Whenever something goes wrong she runs to you. The first time you ever cried was in her arms. Rocket, no one’s judging you, we’re all happy for you both.”
Rocket remained silent, navigating his way down the winding, twisting roads through the Cairngorms.
“We all know you’ve been seeing each other since, like, the week after The Spectrum brought her into Colour Coded. And you’ve changed since.”
“What?” Rocket finally piped up. “How?”
“You’re not all, you know, ‘check me out with my big, bulging biceps’ kinda guy anymore.”
“Aw, piss off!” Rocket dismissed him.
“Look, you’re a good-looking guy. I’m the first one to admit it, believe me. I get why she’s with you. You is a fine piece’a ass!” he laughed, putting on an accent and lightening the mood.
It worked.
Rocket burst out laughing.
“But, you have to admit… you know you are. Any reflective surface and you were admiring yourself in it. You loved yourself more than anything. And then you met Tide; it was like you found something that you love even more.”
Rocket’s expression was one that clearly agreed with him.
“I do love everyone more than myself though.”
“Yeah, now you do,” Gecko ridiculed him devilishly.
“No, no, come on. I always have.”
“Well… you had a funny way of showing it, darling,” he teased him.
“Hey, I’ll crash this car and make sure your side gets it,” Rocket warned him jokingly.
“Well, aren’t you just a big ray of sunshine.”
The pair laughed as they continued down the road, Blondie playing in the background.
Hours passed by, and Rocket turned the car on to Boclair Road in Bearsden.
The evening traffic had not long fizzled out into nothing. At the back of eight p.m., everyone was settling down to all their TV shows or soap operas, ready to see the night in before bed.
“Where about is it?” Rocket asked.
“Should be somewhere on the left,” Gecko replied, looking out at all the houses, checking their numbers. “I think it’s this one here.”
“What, that one?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, just stop here,”
Rocket pulled in to the side of the road just down from the house.
“Right, buddy boy. Get changed in the back,” Rocket told him.
“Yeah, I’m going,” Gecko scoffed, climbing through into the back and flinging himself on to the seat. “No peeking, now. I’ll tell Tide.”
“Aw, damn, you figured out my ulterior motive,” Rocket announced sarcastically as Gecko slipped into the one piece suit he made for Prismatic.
He lifted out his bright green binoculars and leaned on the edge of the passenger seat to steady his visual as he held his eyes up to the scopes and peered at Watt’s house.
“See anything?”
“Lights flickering through that window at the front. He’s watching TV,” Gecko said, “you ready, henchman?”
Rocket slipped on his cap.
“Ready.”
Gecko and Rocket got out of the car and walked along the pavement until they reached the gate that would lead them up to Watt’s house.
The white wall had a black metal fence positioned on top of it. The mono-blocked driveway was large with an Audi TT residing at the end of it.
In comparison to the rest of the houses down this stretch of road, this little white one with black framed windows was rather small. However, in the great scheme of things, it was still a big house, which really just spoke volumes for Watt’s neighbours.
By the built-in double garage, the front garden was elegant and tidy, with a different array of flowers planted and beginning to wither in the autumn weather. When they got to the door, Gecko took a breath before battering on it.
The wait seemed like forever.
Rocket looked at the window where the TV was shining through, and suddenly, the blind flicked shut.
Someone was eyeing them.
Several minutes later, the door opened to reveal a man in his late thirties, a receding hairline atop his head and a scar down his face, standing in the hall.
“Yeh?”
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“Kevin Watt?” Gecko asked.
“Aye, whit ye wantin’?” Watt asked, his Glaswegian accent extremely prominent.
“Neon sent us,” Gecko lied, pulling back his jacket to show the logo on the uniform he made.
Watt leaned out of the door, looking up and down the street as far as he could see before stepping back to let them through.
He didn’t look pleased. But, he didn’t look scared either.
He did, however, look incredibly angry.
The living room was large and rather pleasantly decorated.
A feature wall that had gold leaves on a stone grey background covered one side, while the rest of the walls were a light shade of cream. The white fluffy rug in the middle of the room complimented the black leather couches against the dark hardwood floor. It was clean and very well maintained; not what you’d expect from the gangster that just opened the door.
Rocket stood with his hands stuffed deep into his pockets, aiming his head down but keeping his eyes on Watt.
Even Gecko considered the fact that he looked rather formidable.
“Whit’s he wantin’?” Watt growled.
“He told me to tell you that your biggest rival against the Lion’s Den just attacked him. They set the warehouse on fire.”
Watt’s eyes widened in horror.
“The drugs? Where eh they?”
“Gone. All of it.”
“Shite.”
Watt’s eyes darted about the place frantically, his mind racing as he wondered what to do.
“Is… is he angry?”
“What do you think?” Gecko threatened him.
Watt started pacing, looking as though he was going to burst into tears.
“Has he heard fae Andy yit? ‘Cause ah’ve no. An’ he wis meant tae be hame b’noo.”
“Are you… are you kidding?” Gecko pried.
Watt looked at him, confusion filling his face slowly as he shook his head slightly, not having a clue what Gecko was asking about.
“Watt… Andy’s dead. I saw his body. Neon broke his neck.”
“Whit the…” Watt stumbled over his words. “Naw… naw, yer fuckin’ lyin’, ya prick!”
