by A D Evans
‘Do you fancy coming down to my local and meet some real Lenzie snobs?’
‘I don't think so; in my line off business I meet enough of them as it is.’
‘What kind of items do you actually buy and sell? You never tell me’.
‘All kinds off things, from the proverbial needle upwards’
‘Well what will we do tonight then?’
‘Let's stay in and open a bottle or two of wine, send for a carry out meal and listen to some music’
‘Okay darling if that's what you want; I’ll go down to the cellar and pick some nice bottles’
‘Sounds good to me’
FIFTYSEVEN
Ritchie was listening intently to their conversation as he had been since his objects arrival. He was totally convinced that Marion knew nothing of Paul’s business dealings. A large smile was on his handsome face. He thought of the devastating effect he could have on his bitter enemy when he told her the truth about him.
Lynch would be shattered when she dumped him. He was positive that she would react in just the way he had predicted. He could only imagine how Lynch would take the news. He would maybe even have a go at him when he found out who had given her the information. His mouth watered at the prospect of lynch losing control, and making a fatal mistake, but tinged with that was a bit of anxiety.
He decided to go home early and get good nights sleep. On the way home as he listened to some music in his car he began to plan the demise of Paul Lynch.
FIFTYEIGHT
New Years Eve dawned cold and dark. At seven thirty A.M., Paul was opening the door off the unit to Alistair Orr, who was coming out of a taxi.
‘Good morning Alistair how are you?’
‘Better once I get rid of this money’
‘It's safe for the moment, but it will have to be packaged properly ready for the transfer’
‘When are you going to attend to that?’
‘It will be done later today. Willie has all the necessary gear with him’.
‘Have you rented a van yet?’
‘Yes I have it at a friend’s house for the moment’
‘Good, I will pick it up tomorrow then come to your lock-up to collect the money. Okay?’
‘Yes but please make it sooner rather than later. This money is making me nervous’
‘You worry too much Alistair, The money is safe there. The money is kept in an underground garage that has twenty-four hour surveillance at the entrance, and security men patrolling round the perimeter, and even more frightening is a heavily armed big Willie is sleeping on top of it. The place has a locked steel door that only you have access to, so chill man. It's safe, even if Willie wanted to get out there is no way to open the doors. Relax man.
‘You're right, but I'm just nervous’
‘Tomorrow night it will be off your hands and the following morning on its way down south. How would you like to have the responsibility for that?’
‘Okay your right; let's get on with today's business’
‘The total left for you after my percentage is £191,000 plus some gold and silver jewellery, and of course the money you already received from Jack.’
The Maryhill boss smiled at the thought of how this was going to change his whole out-look on life.
‘Would you like a coffee Alistair?’
‘No thanks, once all the paperwork is finished I'm going to slip over to'McDs' for a breakfast and phone a taxi home’
‘Okay suit yourself, but let's get this over with, then I’ll contact Willie about tomorrow’
When Alistair Orr went to the Burger bar, he made two phone calls, one for a taxi home, and the other to Walter Bain.
As New years morning dawned Frankie Sutherland was as nervous as a virgin in a whorehouse.
'What the fuck is keeping him?’ he muttered. He looked at his watch for the umpteenth time, as he paced back and forward in his hotel room. He reached for the phone on the bedside cabinet then thought the better of it.
'Do not be so impatient’ he told himself. He poured another large vodka from the well stocked bar, and sat down in a seat by the window. He sat looking out at the dark windswept sky. He glanced down to the main road that was directly below him. The traffic on New Years morning was almost zero. He was beginning to feel as if he was all alone on the planet when the phone began to ring. He let it ring four or five times before he answered.
‘Hello’
‘Happy New Year Frankie, how are you?’
‘Happy New Year to you as well Paul, and I'm in the pink and raring to go’
‘Good man. Listen pal this is the plan for today. First, I'll pick up Willie and then meet you at your hotel room. So stay relaxed and I'll see you in an hour okay?’
‘Okay mate see you soon bye’
When his call was complete, Frankie dialled his contact number in Manchester. The call was answered immediately by a rough deep voice.
‘Hello its Frankie, is Carl there?’
‘He's not available at this time but he requested that you give your message to me. You know me, my name is Herman I'm Mister Carl's driver’
‘Okay Herman you can tell the boss that everything is going perfectly to plan and there are no problems at this end of the deal’
‘Thank you, good day to you sir’.
The phone connection was broken and he stood looking at the handset of the instrument as if it was something alien to him.
‘Fuck you Herman. ‘Driver’? Aye so you are. Fuckin assassin more like, you fuckin wanker’
He moved over to the bar, sat on the plush couch, and put his feet up. As he sipped his replenished drink, he was contemplating how he would get rid off Herman in a nasty way once he was 'The Man’
He was still in his dream world when the buzzer sounded on the phone and the receptionist was announcing that he had visitors.
‘Send them straight up hen’
‘Paul, Steff good to see you both and you’re lookin' so well’
‘Are you going off your fuckin' head? We only saw you yesterday. Paul you have a very strange choice of friends’
‘Aye I know Steff, just look at you’
The three men sat down and Frankie stretched over to the bar and offered them a drink.
‘No thanks, it's too dangerous at this time of year, drinking and driving. Steff drives bad enough sober never mind with a drink in him,’ Laughed Paul.
Room service provided some food. The trio sat planning the next days transfer from Glasgow to Manchester. Two hours passed before they had completed all the details and were ready for their early morning departure.
‘Okay, let’s go to work and once the money is sorted we better try and get some kip. It's a big day for us all tomorrow,’ said Paul
When they left the hotel, the three headed for the underground garage and prepared the money for transit. Their task complete they headed for bed.
FIFTYNINE
Marion woke to the sound of her doorbell ringing. The bed still felt warm on Paul’s side. The maid knocked her bedroom door and put her curler-covered head round the frame.
‘Sorry to disturb you so early miss, but there's a policeman downstairs asking for you. He said his name is Ritchie, he also said not to panic but he has to speak to you urgently.
‘Thank you Jane, tell him I shall be down in a few moments. Oh, and put some coffee on thanks’
The maid left the room.
‘What can be so urgent that he is visiting at this time on New Years Day? Well only one way to find out’
Marion pulled on a heavy towelling housecoat and descended the stairs.
As she entered the room, she saw a good-looking man coming towards her with his hand stretched out in greeting.
‘Good morning Miss Cunningham. Sorry to trouble you at this time of day, but it is a matter of urgency.
My name is Chief inspector Charles Ritchie and I work with the Serious Crime and Drug Squad’
‘The crime and drug squad? Chief Inspector I
maybe smoked a few joints at university. But nothing serious enough to expect to meet someone like you’.
Charles Ritchie smiled.
‘No Miss it's not you I have come about but it does concern an acquaintance of yours a Mister Paul Lynch’.
‘Paul is not just an acquaintance Mister Ritchie. He happens to be my fiancée’.
‘Yes Miss, we are aware of that fact. In light of that what I am about to tell you this may shock you’
‘Shock me? In what way will it shock me?’
‘Miss Cunningham I'm afraid you have been badly deceived by Mister Lynch. I know you think of him as a legitimate businessman, but he is in fact a notorious drug dealer and gangster. He is well known to the police and has been the subject of many investigations including several for murder.’
‘No, this cant be true. Paul is in the import export trade. He owns pubs and clubs. No! I refuse to believe this fantasy of yours’
‘Miss would you mind if I bring in one of my colleagues, she can show you evidence which will prove what I'm telling you is true’.
Marion nodded her head and Ritchie went to the front door. A few seconds later Detective Sergeant Angela Tate entered after being introduced she proceeded to show the shattered woman, dossier after dossier on Mister Paul Lynch. Ruthless gangster and drug dealer.
The tears flowed down her lovely face as she realised the truth about her lover.
When the police had gone, she sat and stared at the lights of the beautiful Christmas tree, which her and Paul had chosen and decorated together. She looked at the engagement ring on her finger. She violently pulled off the ring cutting her finger in the process, and hurled it across the room. Her athletic frame was contorted and wracked by the sobs from deep in her heart.
The police had suggested that she work with them to trap Paul, but she had dismissed their idea immediately. Marion Cunningham was not the type for revenge; she would tell him what she knew and then dismiss him from her life entirely. She would survive this but would Paul. She went and poured herself a drink and settled down to wait for the rat that had broken her heart.
SIXTY
Paul had dropped Steff and Frankie off at their respective abodes and was now heading for Marion’s house. He drove carefully to avoid any hassle with the police. He was half listening to the radio but his mind was doing overtime thinking about the following day. He glanced in his rear-view mirror to check for any police tails, and nearly jumped out off his skin. For a split second, he had been sure there was someone sitting in the back seat. The person had looked like his grandfather. He pulled in to the side of the road just as he passed Lowmoss prison. The road was dark and after checking the back seat, he sat for a few seconds to regain his composure. He could not shake off the vision he had experienced. The hairs on his arms and the nape of his neck were still tingling. It must have been a trick of the light because he had been thinking of his grandparents. He had imagined the whole thing. He had a smile to himself and carried on driving. Marion would get a good laugh when he told her about it. He had experienced similar things in the past but had always managed to come up with some plausible explanation for them. This time it had been so real, as if he really had seen his grandfather. Was the vision a warning of some sort? He didn't know and was too tired to really care about the outcome. As he approached Marion’s house he was filled with a feeling of foreboding, and could not understand why. He thought it was probably his strange event in the car that was spooking him.
He approached the door and tried to open it with his key, but the lock would not turn. That’s funny he thought. What can be wrong? He pressed the bell and heard a movement inside.
Marion opened the door looking rather unkempt and slightly drunk.
‘Well if it’s not the master returning,’ she slurred through a snarl. ‘Have you brought me some drugs to sell, or have you sold it already to the children on the streets’
‘What are you talking about Marion? What's wrong with you?’
‘What's wrong? Well I was ready to marry a gangster and an insidiously filthy drug dealer. You have the nerve to ask what's wrong.’
‘Marion let me explain a few things to you’
‘No Paul. Or should I call you Mister Lynch? Charles Ritchie explained enough to me. In fact, he told me your complete sordid life story. I do want to ask your advice about something. I know you have great experience in this field. How would I go about hiring a hit man to have a low life lying bastard done away with?’
He had gone rigid at the sound of Ritchie’s name.
‘What's wrong Paul, cat got your tongue. Or are you thinking of how you can get rid off me.’
‘Listen I'm sorry, I was going to tell you’
‘Yes dear I’m sure you were going to tell me. Do me a big favour, fuck off and don't ever come back or try to contact me again? If you do, I may just take Mister Ritchie’s offer and set you up. Good-bye and good riddance.’
The large door was closed without a sound. He stood there rooted to the spot by the events of the last few minutes. He was stunned, but slowly a dark anger started to build inside him.
‘Ritchie, that bastard will die by my hand. Slowly very fuckin slowly,’ He whispered to the cold night air.
He drove home unable to come to terms with what had taken place. He thought about cancelling tomorrow's job, but realised that if he did he would be signing his own death warrant. He knew that he needed rest so went immediately to bed. Through years of practice, he was able to go to sleep almost instantaneously.
SIXTYONE
His alarm wakened him at six o'clock and he was up and ready to go twenty minutes later. The telephone began to ring. He answered it half hoping it would be Marion, but no such luck. Willies rough voice boomed in his ear.
‘Are you up boss? I phoned Marion’s number and she said she didn’t know anybody called Paul. Have you fallen out with her?’
‘Don't ask Willie I’ll tell you all about it later’
‘Are you picking me up soon boss? I’m bored to fuck with just this money for company’
‘Aye in about an hour or so we will be there mate, so be ready. Phone and make sure everyone knows when and where we are meeting. I will get them, and then come for you. Is all the money packaged and ready to go?’
‘Aye boss all ready and waiting for you’.
Okay Willie I will see you shortly’.
He hung up the phone without waiting for any good-bye.
‘Well the dyes cast’ he thought with a rue smile, ‘so here goes for retirement’.
After picking up some of his crew, he accessed the van, and then went to get Willie. Once the van was packed, he headed for a factory warehouse that was safe from police surveillance. The van was driven in and the steel shutters firmly closed at its back.
The group were quieter than would have been normal; it was as if they sensed that today was to be like no other that had gone before. They had moved the packed money from the van into the four-wheel drive vehicle, and put some gear into Frankie’s car. They all sat around a large desk sipping their coffee and waiting for their boss to start the day in his usual way. A few looked at their watches as Paul was sitting reading some document. At last, he broke the tense silence and began to speak.
‘Good morning, well you all know why we’re here. (Paul was talking in his polite voice and the gang realised that when he did this he was being very serious). This is a very important day for us and if we can pull this off who knows were it would lead. You know what to do and how to do it. So all I will say is, we will be moving out in about fifteen minutes, as you know I wont be coming with you but Willie will be there in my place. He is in full charge so do what he tells you. If you can all finish your coffee next door Willie and I will have a wee private chat’
Once the others had moved out off the office, he turned to his old mate.
‘Well old pal, how are you?’
‘Fine boss, I'm okay’
‘I know you find it hard to
do this job. Especially because the others don’t know the real script. We can’t tell them the truth mate, you understand that don't you?’
‘Aye, I understand’
‘You’ll be rich beyond anything you ever dreamed off’
‘Aye I know that, but I’m worried about this boss, there's something not right about the whole set up. I can’t put my finger on it but it's just not kosher’
‘Willie I trust Frankie, and with you and Steff about if there is anything dodgy you two can sort it’
‘Aye your right boss, sorry’
‘Its okay pal now just gets into that car and go and make our fortune’
The two old friends rejoined the others and five minutes later, the group were all ready to move.
‘What about the van we used to transport the dough?’ Asked Willie.
‘Leave that to me, I’ll get it moved once you lot are on your way’
‘Well boss we're on our way then. See you tomorrow’
The two vehicles reversed out of the warehouse and without any further ado drove away in the direction of Cowcaddens and the motorway south.
Paul sat at his desk drinking coffee, and planning how to kill Charles Ritchie.
The warehouse seemed very quiet. He was feeling a bit spooked and decided to head back to his own unit in Maryhill. It was only a few minutes’ drive from where he was. He phoned one of the drivers and told him to pick up the van at Maryhill.
He arrived at the unit and immediately missed the usual banter that went on. He was used to the gang laughing and arguing over whose turn it was to make the coffee or go for a carry out meal. He sat there in solitude wondering how the gang were getting on’.
He heard the buzzer going and looked at the monitor. It was Ian Cameron one of the drivers that the gang used. He went and let him in. Without any meaningful conversation, he gave him the keys to the van and sent him on his way. Five minutes later, the buzzer again sounded and he thought to himself,
‘What has Ian forgot’.
Framed in the monitors screen was the face of the man he hated above all others Detective Inspector Charles Ritchie.
