Devil's Knock

by Douglas Skelton

  Bastard had looked so much like McCall.

  Same hair, same build. Even had the same blue eyes, when Jerry Jarvis got closer.

  But it wasn’t him.

  Jarvis pounded down the stairs, eager to put space between him and the guy bleeding on the second floor landing. He looked familiar, though, but in his panic Jarvis couldn’t put a name to him.

  He’d waited for over an hour on the landing between the second and third floors. He’d smoked ten fags in that time, just as an excuse for being there. Anyone came up or down, he’d make them think he was just outside for a smoke because he wasn’t allowed to do it in the house. That’d satisfy them. And if it didn’t then they could take a flying fuck. He’d not seen hide nor hair of anyone since he’d arrived, though, which was good. He’d rattled McCall’s door when he arrived but there was no answer, so he’d taken up his position on the landing. His plan was to do him as he unlocked his door, just blast away with the pistol. Wouldn’t give him the chance to do anything.

  But it was the wrong fucking guy.

  He’d been too nervous, that’s what it was. Too eager. He should’ve made sure before he let loose. But the nerves got the better of him. Killing Kid Snot had been easy, but this guy, Davie McCall, he was something else again. He’d shown that in the church. I mean, who the hell would’ve pushed that fuckin beam over like that? Could’ve brought the whole place down on them, but he didn’t give a fuck. That was McCall all over. That was why he had to go down, just like Rab would. Had to be out of the picture because you just never knew what he was going to do. Anyway, Jerry owed the bastard. He’d made a fool of him in the church, him and his pals. He’d get them all, sooner or later.

  He stopped briefly on the first floor, the fag butts he’d left strewn on the landing suddenly hitting his mind like a thunderflash. He should’ve picked them up. They had his prints on them, his DNA. Fuck! He thought about going back, but then he heard the sound of heavy footsteps heading his way and a huge figure loomed into view on the halfway landing. Big bastard, looked like a fuckin raven or something in that coat. The guy stopped when he saw him and Jerry put a bullet in him. It was like second nature now, pulling this trigger. Jerry saw the bullet hit high on his right shoulder and the puff of blood, but the guy barely flinched and kept coming up the stairs towards him. Jerry backed away, fired again but this one went wild. The guy was still moving and Jerry knew he had to put him down fast. He stilled, steadied his aim with his other hand and fired. It caught the big fella square on the chest and would have stopped any other man but this guy was a fucking bear. He kept coming.

  The big guy was on him before he could fire again, a meaty paw wrapped round his throat and throwing him up against the wall. Jarvis tried to pull free, but he could barely move. All he could do was flail as the guy tightened his fingers round his neck, cutting off the air supply, lifting him clear of the floor. Jarvis kicked his legs, hoping to strike something vital but it was a vain hope. He jerked at the man’s hand to dislodge his grip, but it was a waste of time, the fingers crushed his windpipe like it was paper.

  Jerry Jarvis died staring into the face of a man he didn’t know. And as he died, a name came into his head, the last name he expected to think of.

  Michael Lassiter. It was Michael Lassiter he’d killed up there.

  Fuck me, he thought.

  Bernadette was glad to see Rab so happy but she, too, thought his elation was premature. Yes, Maw Jarvis was out of the picture, but she did not underestimate Jerry Jarvis. He had a trick or two up his sleeve, she knew it, and she urged Rab to continue to exercise caution.

  ‘Believe me, darling,’ he said, putting his arm around her. ‘He’s done. Those two polis raids hit them hard, two of the brothers are out the game, Scrapper’s no use. We’ll keep an eye on him but he’ll no do nothing the now. His maw’s just about gone. He’ll maybe pull something somewhere down the line, but not now.’

  She wished she could be as certain. Her view was that they should move in, finish it for once and for all. A clean sweep. Either let the law do it or Stringer, it didn’t matter to her. All that mattered was that Rab and her family were safe.

  ‘Davie’s no sure, either,’ said Rab. That didn’t surprise her, for Davie McCall was always sharp.

  ‘Does he know it wasn’t Jarvis who sent those men?’

  Rab shook his head. ‘Nah, still thinks they came after him.’

  Sending Edinburgh muscle had been Bernadette’s idea, of course, but she made Rab think it was his. Her visit was an attempt to avoid using them, but she knew she’d failed, which both surprised and delighted her. She was surprised because she thought he was a sucker for a woman’s charms, delighted because it showed strength of will. So as she left, she nodded to the two men who waited in their car. The attack on Davie not only kept him in the game, it also served as a wake-up call for the others. If they would go after McCall, then none of them would be safe. She hadn’t expected that old lag to enter the picture, though. If she’d known that, perhaps the ruse wouldn’t have been necessary. Still, that’s life, she supposed.

  She plucked the keys of Rab’s Range Rover from the top of the desk. ‘You sure you won’t need it today?’ She was taking Lucia to Edinburgh Zoo and she felt safer driving in the big four-wheel drive rather than her own Vauxhall. Joseph had decided he didn’t want to go, so Rab would have him for the day.

  He shook his head. ‘I had Choccie take it down the road this morning and got it a right good clean and a hoover at the valet place. It’s got a full tank of petrol, oil’s been checked, tyre pressure, so you don’t need to worry. Joe and me’ll have a great time. I’ll take him somewhere, pictures maybe. Your motor’ll be fine for anything we do.’

  She reached up with one hand, touched his cheek and he leaned down to kiss her. He rubbed her barely blossoming belly with his palm and she laid her hand over his. ‘You take care of this wee one,’ he said. ‘No jumping around with the monkeys.’

  She laughed. ‘Which ones – the ones in the zoo or the one I’m taking with me?’

  He smiled, kissed her again. ‘We’re gonnae be okay, love, you know that?’

  She crooked her arm around his neck, pulled his face into her neck. ‘As long as we’re together, we can handle anything.’

  They held each other for a moment. She loved this man so much it sometimes felt unreal. She could not believe how deep her passion was and how ferocious she could be in defending him and her children. Of course, there was Davie, who both attracted and terrified her. She didn’t know what that was all about, but she’d deal with it.

  She broke away and said, ‘Right, this isn’t getting us to Edinburgh. Lucia’s been singing “Mamma’s taking us to the zoo tomorrow” for days.’

  ‘I’m sorry you ever taught her that bloody song.’

  ‘You only heard it for an hour or so at night – I’ve had it all day long! It’s like a broken record.’

  They were leaving the small office now and Lucia jumped up as soon as she saw them, sending her colouring books and crayons flying. Fat Boy tried to catch them, but he was not the most agile of men and they ended up on the floor.

  ‘Are we going now, mum? Are we? Are we?’ The little girl vibrated with excitement as she ran across the pub floor.

  Bernadette laughed. ‘Yes, darling, we’re going now. We’re going to take Daddy’s Range Rover, won’t that be fun?’

  Davie, watching from his table by the window, saw Choccie look up at that. Bernadette’s gaze flicked towards Davie and she gave him a little smile. He felt a stab of discomfort, but that was all. Something was different and he wasn’t sure what it was. Bernadette had changed as far as he was concerned.

  Rab caught Lucia with both arms and hoisted her over his shoulder. She giggled. ‘Let’s get you settled in, then.’

  Lucia’s legs kicked and her little girl giggles built as he hefted her across the pub floor. Sunlight flooded the gloomy interior as he pulled open the double doors. Bernadette took youn
g Joseph’s hands and murmured something to him as they followed. Davie couldn’t make out what it was but presumed he was being warned to be a good boy for his dad. The boy nodded, but didn’t say a word.

  Davie stood up and craned to see through the clear glass at the top of the window beside him. Rab crossed the street to where his blue Range Rover gleamed in the winter sunshine and strapped little Lucia into the rear seats. He kissed Bernadette. Davie felt the worm of guilt squirm in his chest, but seeing them kiss also made him think of Vari. Bobby was right – he did miss her. She brought something into his life that he was lacking, something he’d never thought he’d have. There was a time he wanted it with Audrey, but deep down he knew it would never have worked out between them. He and Audrey had been too different, whereas Vari understood him.

  Bernadette climbed into the driver’s seat. She waved at Rab, Lucia did the same. The little girl was smiling. She was happy. Rab crossed the street and stood beside his son, one arm draped over the boy’s shoulder. Davie envied their happiness and wondered if he would ever find anything close to it. Bernadette smiled at her husband through the window and twisted the ignition.

  The world slowed down when the Range Rover exploded.

  The vehicle itself lifted slightly then crashed down again, a bubble of flame erupting from underneath, engulfing the interior. Davie and Sammy ducked as glass imploded around them while windows shattered on the tenement opposite and nearby cars. A murder of crows flapped skyward from a rooftop, startled by the explosion. Car alarms sounded, people screamed and yelled. Davie hauled himself to his feet, saw Sammy appeared unhurt, then glanced under the table to where the dog cowered, terrified by the blast. He told him to stay and darted outside. Rab was on the ground, Joseph underneath him, but was beginning to rise again. He looked groggy but unscathed, even though he’d obviously shielded his son from the blast. Davie moved across the road to the burning Range Rover, but the flames were so intense he only made it halfway. He shielded his face from the scorching heat with his arm and peered into the inferno. He thought he saw a figure slumped in the front and a smaller one in the rear but there was no movement. There wouldn’t be. There was no way either of them could have survived.

  He took a few steps back from the heat and looked round. Rab was on his feet and stumbling towards the burning vehicle but Davie grabbed him, pushed him away.

  ‘Fuck off,’ Rab snarled, ‘Bernadette’s in there!’

  Rab tried to move forward again, but Davie blocked him, both hands on his shoulders. ‘My wee lassie!’ Rab began, but when he looked at the flames licking out of the broken windows Davie saw something die. ‘Bernadette…’

  Davie felt his friend wilt and his legs buckle. He tried to hold him, but he was too heavy. Rab landed hard on his knees, but he didn’t notice. Davie stayed with him, holding him tight, feeling his friend’s huge body quake with sobs. He’d never seen Rab cry before and when he heard a howl grow from deep inside his old mate, he felt his own heart break. He looked over Rab’s shoulder and saw young Joseph staring at the fire, his face blank, but his eyes wide and dark. The boy shouldn’t see this. Not this, Davie thought. No-one should see this.

  Choccie came out of the pub and paused at the door, taking in the scene. ‘Choccie,’ Davie shouted, ‘get Joseph away!’

  But Choccie didn’t even look at the child. He watched the flames licking out of the Range Rover for a moment, then gave Davie a frightened look before he ran off down the street. In that moment, Davie knew – Choccie had planted the bomb, Choccie had told the Jarvises where they would find Kid Snot, Choccie had been working with them all along. He watched the man merge with the crowd forming at the corner and then vanish.

  It was Sammy who took young Joseph in both arms and carried him back into the pub, the boy’s expressionless face still watching the flames over Sammy’s shoulder. Despite the heat, Davie felt something icy breathe on the back of his neck.

  Another massive sob burst from Rab and Davie held his friend tightly, as the flames crackled behind them and black smoke curled up into the winter sky. He held his friend, feeling his huge body shake and tremble as the tears flowed and he said his wife’s name over and over again.

  MONDAY

  Donovan was drunk when he fronted Knight, otherwise he wouldn’t have ended up on his arse. At least, that’s what he told himself, even though deep down he knew he wasn’t a match for the big bastard.

  He’d intercepted him outside Pitt Street. Donovan had spent the afternoon in the Griffin Bar on the corner of Bath Street, drinking whisky with money he should have used to pay bills. Didn’t matter much now, right enough, way things were. He was well screwed. Marie hadn’t taken it well, no reason why she should’ve. He’d finally told her everything – the gambling, the debt, the arrears, the job. It had turned into a screaming match, which was always on the cards considering. It only ended when their daughter came into the room and begged them to stop, her voice choked with tears and fears. The pair of them fell silent as if someone had hit a mute button somewhere. Donovan had looked at his wife with shame but saw only fury and revulsion. He couldn’t blame her. He wasn’t even top of his own Christmas card list.

  So he’d left, hadn’t been home since. He’d taken a room in a cheap hotel in Garnethill, bought a bottle of cheap whisky, tried to find solace in a drunken stupor. He’d hit the Griffin around 5pm, knew he had a couple of hours before Knight was due to leave Pitt Street. Downed a few more, fuck the money, and then set out to face him. This was it, he told himself, showdown. Been a long time coming.

  Knight didn’t seem surprised when Donovan stepped in front of him, making him wonder if he’d expected him.

  ‘Frankie boy,’ said Knight, softly.

  ‘Bastard,’ said Donovan. He hadn’t thought about what he would say and it was the first thing that came into his head. It sounded a bit lame, now he heard it. It needed emphasis. ‘Dirty, grassing bastard.’

  ‘Careful, Frankie, you might say something hurtful.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, bastard – did I offend you with the truth?’

  Knight shook his head, tried to step around. ‘Go home, son, sleep it off.’

  Donovan blocked his way. ‘You and me, bastard. Here.’ He adopted a crouch, his fists waist high. Knight smiled. He found this funny and that pissed Donovan off even more.

  ‘Frankie, boy – I get the impression you blame me for your fuck up.’

  ‘Who else would’ve told the bosses? Eh? Who else has the contacts to know how much I owe and who I owe it to?’

  Knight shook his head. ‘Wasn’t me, son.’

  ‘Aye – right.’

  That was when Donovan threw his punch. He thought he’d been stealthy. He thought he’d catch Knight off-guard. He thought wrong. Knight easily dodged the lunge and planted one of his own squarely on Donovan’s jaw. Donovan’s feet slipped on the snow and he tried desperately to remain standing but he went down, landing squarely on his backside. He tried to get up, but he found it impossible. He couldn’t look at Knight, who he knew was looking down at him with a mixture of disgust and pity. The disgust he could handle, he was growing used to that, but the pity was too much for him. He couldn’t take that, not from the Black Knight.

  ‘Look at yourself, man,’ said Knight. ‘Look at the state of you. Jesus, you’re a mess.’

  Donovan had to agree. He sat in the wet snow, his eyes down­cast. Mess only just began to describe him. Then he was aware of banknotes dropping between his legs.

  ‘Take this,’ said Knight, ‘go get yourself truly rat-arsed. Drink yourself into oblivion, mate, because that’s all that’s left for you.’

  Donovan tried to think of a pithy comeback but nothing came. Knight was gone anyway. He’d stepped over him and was swaggering down the street. Donovan looked at the five £20 notes lying in the snow between his legs. It was Knight’s money. Dirty money, probably.

  He picked it up anyway.

  Knight leaned against a black Ford in the car pa
rk, smoking a cigarillo and letting the world roll on its merry way. His encounter with Donovan had set him thinking. He under­stood why Frankie boy thought he’d grassed him up, but he hadn’t. But he knew who had. He didn’t blame Donovan for suspecting him, he was never the brightest bulb in the box, after all, but he didn’t know what Knight knew.

  He saw DCI Scott Bolton’s step falter when he caught sight of him. The car was his. Knight was waiting for him. Time to clear some things up.

  ‘What the fuck do you want?’ Bolton said, not winning any prizes for courtesy.

  ‘A wee word, Scotty,’ said Knight.

  Bolton unlocked the car door, opened it. When Knight didn’t move, he said, ‘You’re going to look stupid flat on your back when I drive off.’

  Knight took the cigarillo from his mouth and studied the glowing tip. ‘Been thinking about Frank Donovan.’

  Bolton took off his coat, threw it into the back seat. ‘What about him?’

  ‘It’s funny the Jarvises buying over his debt, just when we were sniffing around. Convenient.’

  ‘Who says they bought it over? The way the Complaints heard it, he owed them all along, that’s why he fed them intelligence.’

  ‘The Rubberheels are wrong.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  Knight smiled. ‘I know lots of things, Scotty. For instance, I know there was a copper up ‘C’ Division with a taste for young girls. Very young girls. He wasn’t married at the time, this copper, though he did get hitched later. But he still had this taste in his mouth for fresh meat. You never grow out of it. And the wrong people heard about it – Maw Jarvis, matter of fact. Funny how things turn out, isn’t it? She started providing this copper with the lassies he craved so much. And he, like the dildo that he is, took them without thinking it through. There’s photos, I hear. Nasty stuff.’

  Bolton kept his face impassive as he listened, then he shook his head. ‘Fairy tales, Knight.’

  ‘Maybe so, but if that copper is real then he’s feeling relief beyond belief right now, with Jerry Jarvis and Maw both gone to meet their maker.’ Bolton’s mouth opened slightly. ‘You not hear? She died a couple of hours ago.’ Knight watched Bolton’s face and was certain he saw some relief there. ‘So this guy, if he exists, might think he’s in the clear. But here’s the thing – he doesn’t know who might have those photos now.’