EIGHTEEN

‘Mandrax.’

‘What?’ said Cooper, still peering down at the map on his knee.

‘You sell it?’ asked McCoy.

‘Naw, hard to get a hold of and no that popular any more. No worth the bother. Why?’

‘Where’d I get some?’

‘Oh aye,’ said Cooper, looking up. ‘Fancy a big night, do you? You and that wee bird? She looked the type, mind you. Bit of a raver, I’d say.’

McCoy sighed, put the windscreen wipers back on. Snow had started falling again, thick flakes whirling in the light of the headlamps of the big Austin. ‘Not for me. Where would Connolly get a hold of it? Scobie was full of it, and so was Charlie Jackson as it turns out. He must have given it to them before he . . . you know.’

‘What? Carved them up?’ Cooper pointed through the windscreen. ‘Turn right at the next crossing.’

‘Aye, you know what Mandrax is like, knocks you skelly. Would make them easier to control, less likely to resist.’ He looked up ahead. ‘Right? You sure? Sign says Strathblane is to the left.’

Cooper folded up the map, chucked it into the back seat. ‘I don’t fucking know. I cannae even drive. How the fuck would I know how to read a map?’

He leant forward, switched the radio on, twiddled the knob, looking for the football. Eventually found it. Heard the score. Swore. Switched it back off again.

‘How many cars have you got?’ asked McCoy.

‘Besides this one?’

McCoy nodded.

‘Two.’

‘What? Three cars, and you can’t even bloody drive?’

‘Don’t need to,’ said Cooper. ‘There’s always some arse to drive me about.’ He grinned, glanced at McCoy.

They were deep in the countryside now, hedges at the sides of the road, fields beyond white with snow, stretching off into the distance. Cooper looked out the window as they passed a sign for Helensburgh.

‘Were we no in a place round here?’ he asked.

‘St Andrew’s Home,’ said McCoy, pointed left. ‘It’s about twenty miles that way, I think.’

The car was silent, just the noise of the windscreen wipers. Cooper lit up. ‘My front teeth got knocked out in that shithole. Was that the place with that cunt, Brother Benedict?’

McCoy nodded. ‘I think Joe was in there too.’

‘Was he? I cannae remember. Too many places like that, too many cunts like Uncle Kenny and Brother Benedict. All started to blur together after a while. How much longer till we get there?’

‘Ten minutes or so,’ said McCoy. ‘As long as this bloody snow doesn’t get any worse.’

Strathblane was a pretty wee village, red sandstone houses, church on the left. Even prettier now with the snow making it look like a Christmas card. They drove up the high street, almost back out the other side. McCoy turned off, parked the car beside the back of a scout hall.

‘You got the address?’ asked Cooper.

‘First right after Blainfield House. Not far, we should walk. Don’t want anyone remembering the car.’

Cooper nodded. Reached round and picked up the Umbro sports bag sitting on the back seat, opened it and handed McCoy a balaclava and a thick woollen sock with two billiard balls in it. ‘Put them in your pocket until we get to the house.’

Cooper did the same with his own set, put a length of clothes line in his pocket too. Turned to McCoy. ‘Ready?’

McCoy nodded.

‘Good. Let’s go and get the cunt then.’

*

The village was silent, streets deserted under the falling snow. They caught a glimpse of an occasional TV through a window, football on. Looked like England’s slaughter of Scotland was still going on. They walked in silence, both of them thinking about what they were about to do. McCoy had the feeling he was about to cross a line he shouldn’t be crossing. Maybe he should have left it to Cooper – he wouldn’t have minded doing it alone – but he’d let him do his dirty work too many times. He needed to be in on this one.

They walked past Blainfield House. The road was bordered by the long wall of an estate on one side, fields on the other. They turned right and walked up through a field towards the house, avoiding the driveway in case any safety lights came on. The house was a large stone villa, sloped roof running off to the side, smoke from a chimney snaking up into the cold air.

‘Done well for himself has old Uncle Kenny,’ said Cooper.

A TV was on in the front room, the glow visible through the thin curtains. Lights on in the hall, dining room and one of the upstairs bedrooms too.

‘Listen to me,’ said Cooper, suddenly serious, businesslike. ‘We don’t talk at all. If we have to, don’t use our names. You get the wife tied up in the other room and I’ll deal with Uncle Kenny until you come back. Right?’

McCoy nodded, tried not to think about how he was going to tie up some crying woman.

Cooper held up his sock with the balls in it. ‘Try not to hit his head too much, these billiard balls can crack your fucking skull easy. Go for the joints. The knees, elbows, hit as hard as you can, it’ll hurt like fuck. If you kick him, kick him in the balls and stomach. I’m going to break his fat greasy fingers one by bloody one. Okay?’

McCoy nodded again. Was starting to feel a bit sick. Reality of what they were doing kicking in. They put their gloves and their balaclavas on and headed down the hill towards the house. They were halfway down when McCoy stopped, held up his hand.

‘What’s that?’ he asked, sure he could hear something.

‘What?’ said Cooper.

Lights suddenly illuminated the driveway and a car appeared round the corner.

‘Fuck!’ said McCoy, dragging Cooper to the ground.

As the car approached the house a middle-aged woman opened the door, peered out, then shouted back into the hall, ‘Kenneth!’

The car pulled up, and they watched as the passenger door opened and a girl in her mid twenties got out. She’d a fur hat on, multicoloured scarf, long coat.

‘Hello, Mum!’

The older woman embraced her, looked amazed. ‘Caroline? What are you doing here?’

The shape of a man appeared in the doorway and McCoy’s stomach did a flip. He was dressed in slacks, patterned jumper.

‘Caroline?’ he asked.

‘It’s us, Dad! Jamie got a few days off so we thought we’d surprise you.’

‘Fuck,’ said Cooper under his breath. ‘Fuck.’

‘Let me see if His Majesty is awake,’ said Caroline, opening the back door as a man in a car coat and suit got out the driver’s seat and embraced Uncle Kenny’s wife.

Uncle Kenny padded round the car in his slippers in time to take the sleeping boy off Caroline as she lifted him out the back seat. He kissed the toddler on the top of his head, got his arm under his bum, laid his neck into his shoulder.

‘Better get him in quick, Dad,’ said Caroline. ‘He’s only got his jammies on.’

They watched as the car was unloaded, the lights went on all over the house and the snow started to fall again.

‘No point waiting here,’ said Cooper, pulling his balaclava off. ‘Let’s go.’

They walked back into town, found a pub that was open. Dirty look from the landlord as they ordered two whiskies. Not locals. Glasgow accents too pronounced. They sat down by the fire, tried to get some heat into their bones. McCoy could feel the weight of the billiard balls in his pocket.

‘Did you know he had a daughter?’ asked Cooper.

McCoy nodded. ‘It’s in the file. She lives in Yorkshire, didn’t think it would matter.’

‘Trust us to pick the bloody night she comes home for a surprise visit.’ Cooper shook his head. ‘Fuck it, just have to try again another night. We know where he lives, fucker’s not going anywhere.’

‘Did you see the way he picked up that wee boy?’ asked McCoy.

Cooper nodded.

‘That’s the way he picked me up,’ said McCoy. ‘The night I had to fight Tommy Dunn. I was exhausted, I thought that was it, it was all over. I thought he was carrying me upstairs to put me to bed.’

‘No point in going over it,’ said Cooper. ‘What’s done’s done. He’s going to pay.’

‘Let’s do it fast,’ said McCoy. He looked at Cooper. ‘Before he has a chance with that wee boy.’

Cooper nodded. Threw over his whisky. ‘I’ll get you another one.’

*

There was a note pinned to Susan’s door when he got back.

IN VICTORIA BAR WITH CLAIRE. COME JOIN!! XX

Just what he didn’t need. He sighed, took the note off the door and put it in his pocket.

The Victoria was in Dumbarton Road, just across from Partick Station, nearer his flat than hers. He walked past the library, was tempted to just turn right, go up the hill, go home. Suddenly, all he really wanted to do was go to bed, put the covers over his head and sleep. To stop thinking about Uncle Kenny, St Andrew’s, all of it. But he didn’t. He kept walking, trying to avoid the slush piling up on the pavement, trying to put a smile on his face.

‘Harry!’

He waved, walked over to the table in the corner where Susan and Claire were sitting. She kissed him as he sat down, the two of them already a few drinks in.

‘You remember Claire, don’t you?’ she asked.

He nodded. Unfortunately he did. A total pain-in-the-arse friend of Susan’s from the university. Another graduate student, another person who liked to refer to people like him as pigs.

She smiled at him, almost managing to hide the contempt on her face. ‘Well, if it isn’t our friendly local policeman.’

‘Got you a whisky in,’ said Susan, pushing it across the table at him. ‘Where have you been?’

‘Nowhere. The usual. Trying to catch up with paperwork at the shop.’

‘Did you ask him?’ she asked expectantly.

‘Shit! I forgot.’

‘Aw, Harry! You promised.’

‘I’ll ask him tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Honest.’

Susan turned to Claire. ‘One of Harry’s friends came to the flat the other day looking for him. Turns out he’s a bit of a bad guy. Involved in the vice trade. I’ve asked Harry if he can set up a meeting between us, for my thesis.’

‘And he forgot,’ said Claire.

‘Yep,’ said McCoy, standing up. ‘Just another of my many faults. Another?’

He ordered an extra pint at the bar and stood there drinking it, trying to make it last as long as possible. Didn’t feel up to Susan and Claire; wasn’t really their fault, just didn’t feel up to talking to anyone. He was wound so tight he knew Claire would say something that would set him off, they’d have a fight and he’d spend the next day apologising to Susan.

He tried to take his mind off Uncle Kenny and think about what he was paid to think about. Connolly. If he’d killed Elaine’s boyfriend, got rid of the reason that was stopping them being together and killed Jake for turfing him out into the wilderness, then maybe that was that. The end of it.

He could see the reflection of Susan and Claire in the mirror above the gantry. Laughing, enjoying themselves. What he should be doing.

Maybe Connolly’d done what he needed to do. Mission over. Somehow he didn’t think so. Connolly had burned too many bridges to settle back into normal life. Something big was going to have to happen to finish this, and he had the horrible feeling that whatever that was it was going to involve Elaine.

‘Penny for them?’

He turned and Susan was standing beside him. ‘What’s up? Could tell something was wrong the minute you came in.’

‘Nothing,’ he said.

She sighed. ‘The West of Scotland Man speaks. Nothing’s ever wrong, at least nothing you can’t drink your way out of.’

He smiled despite himself. ‘Where’s Claire?’

‘Toilets. Not your favourite, is she?’

‘Do you blame me? She called me a pig last time I saw her. Seems I’m single-handedly responsible for most of the world’s ills. “A capitalist lackey enforcing a corrupt system”, no less.’

She kissed him. ‘Well, that’s true but you’re my capitalist lackey. That’s what matters.’

She picked up the drinks. ‘Go home, Harry. I’ll be back soon. There’s a quarter of Red Leb in the cigar box. Sean came round this afternoon. I’ll drink this, get rid of Claire, be back as soon as I can. Go on.’

He nodded, kissed her and left the pub.

*

He lay there as she got ready in the bathroom, could hear her brushing her teeth. He was sleepy, pleasantly stoned. He’d been asleep on the couch when Susan had got back, half-smoked joint between his fingers, run-off track of side two of Sticky Fingers going round and round. Last thing he remembered was singing along to ‘Midnight Mile’.

Uncle Kenny and Strathblane seemed a long way away now. Susan was going to appear in a minute, sit at the edge of the bed, put her glass of water down, set the alarm for uni the next day, just like she always did. He listened to her singing softy as she went to the kitchen to get her glass of water. Shut his eyes for a minute . . .