by Anna Smith
‘What do you mean?’
‘Rodriguez is taking everything from her. Everything. The hotel in Spain. The property investments along the coasts, the bars and restaurants in Glasgow. He’s taking the lot. By doing what you need to do to your enemies here in Dublin. By wiping the Caseys out.’ Frankie paused. ‘That’s where he wants your help.’
Joe Boy and Felix shot each other a glance and sat back. They said nothing.
‘There’s a big prize here, if we all pitch in together. You take the Monaghans and the Caseys out of the game, and you throw in with the Colombians in Spain, everything opens up to you.’ He spread his hands. ‘And by the way, Rodriguez’s mob is closing down everything in distribution in Spain. Anyone you dealt with in the past might not be dealing with you in the future. Or, if you deal with them, you’ll find it’s Rodriguez’s guys at the other end of the phone. He’s cleaning up over there, I’m telling you. Why do you think I’m there?’
‘I thought you were there because the Caseys will shoot the fuck out of you if you ever set foot back in Glasgow,’ Felix said, his voice laced with sarcasm.
‘Aye, right,’ Frankie said. ‘I’m in Spain because I can see the big picture, and I can see who’s going to be in that picture. And the Caseys are not in it. They’ll be history by the time this is finished.’
‘And what about us? Can you see us in this big picture?’
‘Of course,’ Frankie said. ‘If we work together. We can run the whole fucking show from here to London to Spain. We can be bigger than ever.’
Joe Boy nodded slowly. Frankie knew he had laid it out on the table for them. At the end of the day, it wasn’t really negotiable. Joe Boy and Felix knew the Colombians were bigger than any of them, or all of them put together. Only stupid people like Kerry Casey thought she could take them on and win. But the Irish weren’t that daft. They knew that the man who had come to see them today was making them an offer they couldn’t really refuse.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Kerry wasn’t sure if she was doing the right thing, but the thought had been niggling away at her for the past few days, so she’d decided she wanted to run it past Danny and Jack. The way things were going in Spain with the firebombing of the bars and near-demolition of the hotel site – the cost of the damage running to hundreds of thousands of pounds – had made her wonder if her dreams were just that – dreams. The Caseys were criminals. Even if she didn’t want to remember her beloved father as a criminal, she knew that’s what he was. She’d always known, growing up – nobody else in the housing scheme where she grew up was living like they were. But being sent away and living abroad, she’d always felt detached enough from it, and even though she’d been educated and lived off the wealth her father created as his criminal empire grew, it had been easy for her to not think about it. But all that had been a very long time ago. And if she was ever in any doubt that the Caseys were deep in the criminal underworld, it was never more clear to her than at the bloodbath at Mickey’s funeral. It had only been weeks ago, but it seemed longer somehow, and so much had happened so fast. Acquiring the hotel site and having Sharon on board had seemed like they were headed in a direction where she really could do just one last bit of business and then look to buying property and a legitimate future for the Caseys. Danny and Jack were happy to go in whatever direction the Casey family went. They’d been there most of their lives, and they knew Kerry was carrying on her father’s dream of being a legit business empire. But it was slipping from her grasp now. She’d been thinking of Vinny’s proposal that they should work with them and the criminal intelligence force and bring down the Colombians. Of course she knew he was right, but was that really who she was? Deep down, she knew she had it in her to deal with the cops – which in most criminals’ eyes would make her a grass. But she didn’t see it like that. She saw it as a means to an end. She did have the fight in her to take the Colombians all the way, but at what cost? Could she really stomach it if the bodies seriously started piling up, and she was the head of the family who was sending people to their death on a daily basis? Her niggling conscience wasn’t how criminals thought, she told herself, and even though she continually pushed those thoughts away, they kept creeping up on her. She knew they would never be forgiven in the criminal world for working with the cops, and nobody would ever trust a Casey again. But what if all that was left after the war with the Colombians was over was the house she was standing in? In order to be honest with herself, she’d decided just to sound out Danny and Jack, to share her thoughts with them and see how they would react. Now she heard the door of the study and their voices outside, then the door opened and she beckoned them in.
‘Danny, Jack,’ Kerry said as they entered the room. ‘How’s it going? You know, I’m almost afraid to ask these days.’ She managed a half smile and they both nodded in agreement.
‘Aye,’ Danny said. ‘It’s beginning to look like World War fucking Three. Especially over in Spain. We’ve been beefing things up there, but these Colombian bastards have got a lot of bodies on the ground, Kerry. They’re everywhere. And what we’re hearing is this Rodriguez bastard is bringing other players into his mob – other dealers and traffickers who’ve been working for years with various gangs from here to London and Dublin, are now moving over to him.’
‘But what’s going on? How come they’re just buckling like that? There must be some hard bastards over there who have been years getting themselves established. Why are they rolling over?’
Jack sighed. ‘The way I hear it, they’re being offered big deals, better distribution than they already have, so it’s cheaper to bring their stuff into the UK. And also, the Colombian is promising them the purest coke, so it can be cut up more, giving them more profit. That’s what the talk is anyway.’
‘But they’re giving up their independence. Selling out.’
Danny shrugged. ‘Maybe a question of not selling out, but more a matter of no option. The word is well out on how they dealt with O’Driscoll, and the cold execution of Pat Durkin. That will send messages across the board that anyone is fair game. Durkin and his mob have been massive in Spain for a generation, then just like that, bang, he’s out of the game. I’ve heard that Durkin’s extended crew are raging, but I also heard something else, last night.’ He paused, looked at Kerry and Jack. ‘I didn’t want to phone you about it, Kerry, because I wanted to verify it first. And I have. About an hour ago.’
‘What?’ Kerry asked.
‘That fucker Frankie. He’s over in Dublin, tapping up Durkin’s boys to come over to his side.’
‘Christ!’ Kerry said. ‘Will that happen?’
Danny nodded. ‘Oh, aye. It’ll happen. There’s a lot of bad feeling about Durkin among his boys and closest associates. He was a big player with a lot of people in his organisation. But they won’t all want to take on the Colombians. If Frankie is offering them a deal to join up with them, then I’ll be surprised if they don’t.’
‘And what about the other family in Dublin?’ Kerry asked. ‘The Monaghans. What happens with them?’
‘Well,’ Danny said, ‘if Durkin’s mob join with Frankie and the Colombians, then the Monaghans will be history before too long.’
Kerry shook her head. ‘So what do we do about that?’ She looked at both of them. ‘Can we get the Monaghans to join with us?’ She felt seriously out of her depth.
They sat for a moment, then Jack spoke. ‘Too early to approach them, I’d say. But we might have to look at that. We’ve never had any bad blood with the Monaghans. In old man Durkin’s day it was accepted that people dealt with whoever they wanted, and we chose to work with them and not the Monaghans. But it was amicable. We never did them any harm and they never bothered us. They did their business and we did ours – kind of mutual respect.’
‘Okay,’ Kerry said. ‘Worth thinking about.’ She took a long breath and they sat for a moment as she worked out how to pick her words.
‘I wanted to speak to you, Danny and J
ack, to run some thoughts past you.’
They looked at her, interested, but said nothing.
‘It’s about Vinny. He came to me recently – I told you, during the kidnap. And he seemed to be well informed about the Colombians’ every step and assumed I knew what was going on. Of course I said nothing to him, and we resolved the kidnapping by ourselves. But he was planting the seed about us coming in with the cops – I mean the whole criminal intelligence mob across Europe and the DEA – and working with them. He was making all sorts of promises that we would be allowed to operate after it was over, but that we could bring down the Colombians. He said that once we got Rodriguez out of the way, we would be allowed to carry on until our goal of going legit. He even said we would be protected by their people over in Spain.’
Danny and Jack looked at each other, eyebrows raised.
‘Sounds like a right bag of shite to be wading into though – then you can’t get back out. I mean how the fuck can we trust cops?’ Danny puffed. ‘And apart from that, who the fuck would ever trust us again after that if it came out that we were working with cops?’
Kerry shrugged a little. ‘Well we did trust the cops before – with Knuckles. And we got through it, lived to tell the tale.’
‘But this is different,’ Danny said. ‘This is the Colombians, who might well get the whole of the crews across Spain and Dublin in with them, and we’re the only ones they’re fighting. Except we’re with cops. That would get out, Kerry. We’d get lynched one by one.’
‘I know,’ Kerry conceded. ‘That’s one of the things I’d be afraid of. One of many . . .’
‘Too true,’ Jack said.
‘It’s just a thought I wanted to put to you. What do you think? Would it be worth even having a further talk with Vinny? All three of us? Nothing guaranteed, by any means. Just a talk? We don’t give anything away. Though, to be honest, I sometimes think he knows more about what we’re doing than I do.’
Jack and Danny looked at each other, then after a few beats, Danny spread his hands.
‘Nothing wrong with having a chat with the cops. Or with Vinny. But just him. I quite liked the guy, and he was good as his word the last time. But this is a much bigger deal. We’re not talking about taking out a dick like Knuckles Boyle. This is the Colombians. But there’s nothing to be lost by just having a chat with him.’
‘Okay,’ Kerry said. She didn’t know if she was pleased about it or terrified. ‘I’ll give him a call. See if we can have a meet. In here, so we can be private.’
After they left, Kerry stood at the window, watching them talking to a couple of the security men, as though they were issuing instructions or getting information. Then they got into their cars and drove out of the steel gates. She crossed the room and picked up her mobile and held it in her hand for a moment, staring at the screen. It was over a week since Vinny had spoken to her, and deep down, she thought he would have been back in touch, not to ask about a deal, but on a personal level. She chided herself for feeling that, because what they’d had was over, and she’d been convincing herself of that every day. Or trying to. She steeled herself for the call. She would be friendly and to the point. She’d tell him she wanted to meet him for a chat along with a couple of her most trusted men. No doubt he’d be over like a shot. She’d never really got the impression that Vinny was ambitious in his career. If he had been, he would probably have risen higher up the ranks by now, in London or wherever he wanted to be. He probably could have gone right to the top. But he’d told her he was driven to do the right thing, to get his hands dirty, because of some of the things he’d seen done to innocent people through drugs, especially when he worked in Colombia. Part of her was afraid to get involved with him because of his passion to bring down the cartels. The Caseys would be getting used by the police, and they would want their pound of flesh. How did she know they could even trust the cops not to throw her people to the wolves in their own quest to destroy the cartels? She didn’t want her people to be cannon fodder. But she had to test the water. She scrolled down and hit the key for Vinny’s mobile. It didn’t ring. Just what sounded like a network voice saying, ‘This number is no longer in use.’ She tried it again. Same voice. That’s strange, she thought. People like Vinny never changed their mobile number. Too many people you knew had your number for you to start again with a new one. Her gut told her there was something odd about it. Before she could stop herself, she had looked up the number for Glasgow Police HQ, and asked to be put through to the specialist squad where she knew he worked. The phone rang a few times, then a male voice answered.
‘Crime Intelligence.’
She felt a little flustered, but quickly calmed herself.
‘Hello. Er. Sorry to bother you. I’m looking for DI Burns. DI Vincent Burns. Is he available at the moment?’
Silence. Kerry held her breath.
‘Hello?’ she said.
‘Hold on a moment please. Who is this calling?’
‘My name is Kerry Casey.’ She knew he would recognise the name.
‘Hold on please.’
Something wasn’t right. She stood, the phone pressed to her ear, listening for any noise she could hear in the background. Then a different male voice came on the line.
‘Hello. Can I help you?’
‘Hello. I’m looking for DI Vincent Burns. Is he available?’
‘Who’s this please?’
Kerry was getting irritated.
‘It’s Kerry Casey. I just told your colleague. I wanted to speak to DI Burns.’
‘Can I help you at all, Miss Casey? DI Burns is not here.’
‘Do you know when he’ll be back? I tried his mobile. We spoke recently, and I had his mobile number, but it’s saying it’s no longer in use.’
Silence. Kerry waited but there was no response.
‘Could you possibly give me his new mobile?’
‘No. Sorry. I don’t have that.’
‘Could you get a message to him? Ask him to give me a call when he has a moment.’
‘Can I help you at all?’
‘Christ!’ Kerry said under her breath. ‘No. You can’t. I wanted to speak to DI Burns. Will he be back in later?’
Silence.
‘No, Miss Casey. DI Burns won’t be back. He doesn’t work here any more.’
Kerry felt as though someone had punched her in the stomach. Had Vinny just completely gone? Had he disappeared, decided for his own good it would be better if they got out of each other’s lives? There was no sign the last time they spoke that he was going to leave Glasgow. But maybe he had decided there was nothing more to stay for.
‘Okay, thanks,’ Kerry said. ‘Has he gone back down to the Met? I know you can’t tell me that, but if he has, perhaps you could get in touch with him and ask him to call me some time. There’s a business matter I wanted to discuss.’
Silence.
‘I don’t know where he works now. I’m sorry, I can’t help you. But if you have something to discuss with the police, I’m happy to get someone to come along and see you.’
‘No, thanks. It’s all right. That’s fine. Thanks for your help.’
She hoped whoever was on the phone didn’t catch the tremor in her voice. She was more shocked and devastated than she would have believed possible. Vinny was gone. Just like that. He’d walked into her life, then walked straight back out. Just as he’d done all those years ago.
Chapter Thirty
Sharon was on her way to a crisis meeting with the four closest associates of the Casey family on the Costa del Sol. Two more bars had been torched last night, and an estate agents’ office they operated down near Estepona was ransacked, with computer files and disks stolen. The attack on the estate agent could be hugely damaging. Although she was told that everything they’d stolen was backed up on files centrally, the fact that they’d been in there and got hold of files and clients’ accounts, maybe even bank accounts, could cause all sorts of chaos, even sabotage potential deals that were i
n the making. The bars would be refurbished, and customers would filter back, but all this shit was bringing more and more police scrutiny on the Costa and that was the last thing they needed at the moment.
She’d called Kerry this morning to tell her the bad news, and thought she’d sounded more down than she had been in recent days. Probably the hormones, she thought. But when Kerry told her that Vinny seemed to have disappeared, Sharon guessed that was the root of the problem. Kerry always gave the impression that whatever she’d had with Vinny was dead and buried – despite being pregnant with his child – but that didn’t fool Sharon.
But Vinny was gone now, and with everything falling down around them, the only thing to do was fight on. Kerry had told her of her meeting with Danny and Jack where they’d discussed Vinny’s proposal to come onside with the cops. She told Kerry that if she’d been at the meeting, she’d have suggested they think seriously about getting into bed with the cops. Sure, it went against everything she’d done, and the life of crime she’d lived with Knuckles Boyle, but this was now about survival. And the way it was looking, they were being pummelled from every angle. Especially now, with that spineless bastard Frankie Martin pitching in with Durkin’s mob in Dublin. That could only mean trouble for Kerry wherever she operated. But with Vinny Burns going off the radar, throwing in with the cops might well be off the table as an option now. Vinny she trusted, but she couldn’t be sure of anyone else. They were all just going to have to dig in and fight their way out of this.
Sharon’s driver took the slip road off the motorway and into the small town of San Pedro, where the meet had been arranged. The former fishing village had grown and spread out over the years and was a favourite haunt for ex-pats who wanted to stay away from places like Fuengirola and Torremolinos where there were hordes of tourists all year round. The four-by-fours pulled up outside the small restaurant, and two of Sharon’s bodyguards got out first and did a quick scan of the area before one of them opened the car door for her. She got out and walked into the restaurant and headed for the back of the room where she could see four of the Caseys’ men already sitting. Big Phil McCann, whom she’d met when she first got down here, was first on his feet to welcome her. He was from Glasgow but had been based down here for the past eight years looking after several bars and expanding the Caseys’ property empire. With his cropped salt-and-pepper hair and smart clothes he looked like a well-heeled executive, but Danny had told her Phil had made his reputation by the age of fifteen in Glasgow when he walked into a bar and shot dead the two hardened criminals who had murdered his big brother in cold blood in front of his wife and family. By the time he was twenty Phil had a few other scalps under his belt, and his path in life was well and truly settled. Now in his forties, he was wealthy, being allowed by the Caseys to run his own show over on the Costa on what was considered their turf but with a huge pay-off for himself and his organisation.
