Tyler was in the front seat, Barry tailing Kelly in the Audi up ahead, both of them at thirty, slowing for speed bumps and stopping for lights. Tyler wanted to scream. He felt the woman staring at him from the floor, eyes empty. While Barry drove, Tyler got out the woman’s phone. It wasn’t locked. He went to settings, disabled the geolocation function, then switched it off. They were at Cameron Toll, so that would be the last traceable location until it went on again. They headed out to Craigmillar, went past the turn-off for Niddrie, they were heading to Wee Sam’s in Pinkie round the back of Musselburgh.
‘That’s a beauty,’ Barry said, nodding at the car in front. ‘That’ll get us a fair few quid.’
‘Fucking hell, Barry.’
Barry’s hands tightened on the wheel. His teeth were clenched and he swallowed hard. He drove in silence until they stopped at a red light at the Fort. He put the car out of gear, pulled on the handbrake and grabbed Tyler by the throat, thrusting him back against the seatbelt support and choking him. Tyler scrabbled at Barry’s hand with his fingers, tried to prise his neck free, but couldn’t get any purchase. His windpipe was blocked and he wheezed, tried to suck in air.
‘Nothing happened back at the house,’ Barry said softly. ‘Do you understand?’
Tyler tried to speak but just spluttered.
Barry leaned across the space between them, still gripping Tyler’s throat. ‘Do you?’
Tyler was dizzy, sparks flashing in the corners of his vision. He tried to swallow but couldn’t. His nose made a noise, a gag reflex in his throat. He nodded as much as he could with Barry’s fingers digging under the joint of his jaw.
A car horn sounded behind them. Barry loosened his grip but still held on. Tyler sucked in air. Barry turned to look behind them. A guy in a Toyota was pointing past them at the lights, which had turned green. Kelly was already away through the junction.
Barry stared at the man in the car behind for a long beat, then let go of Tyler’s neck. Tyler gasped and brought his hands up, touching the skin there, as Barry put the car in gear and drove off. He held a hand up to the guy behind, a gesture of apology, and accelerated to catch up with Kelly. He stared in the rear-view mirror at the car behind.
‘Fucking cunt,’ he said under his breath.
Tyler blinked long and slow, tried to get rid of the spots dancing across his eyes. He stared ahead at the Audi’s number plate, MH 100. A private plate on a top-of-the-range Audi, the posh house, the woman on the floor. A drawer full of iPhones and designer watches, a sawn-off shotgun under the bed. None of this was good.
The Skoda sat outside a row of low concrete garages, doors closed but light seeping out from under the corrugated iron. Faded blue-and-red lettering across the doors that Tyler couldn’t read. There were no streetlights, and Tyler noticed the moon for the first time tonight, blurry behind strips of cloud. The smell of engine oil lingered in the air. Kelly stepped out from one of the doors, grinning as she walked. Barry turned to Tyler.
‘Shift.’
Tyler got out of the passenger seat and climbed into the back as Kelly sat in the seat in front.
‘Fifteen hundred,’ she said, waving a roll of twenties.
Barry smiled. ‘Fucking A.’
They circled back through Musselburgh and Fisherrow then west past Newcraighall. Tyler looked at the clock on the dashboard. Thirty-five minutes since they left the house in St Margaret’s Road. He pictured the look on her face, the darkness of the blood, much darker than he expected, darker than fake Halloween stuff. He imagined this was an elaborate scam, Barry and Kelly setting him up, ready to turn round any minute and shout ‘gotcha!’, reveal the hidden cameras. You thought we killed someone but it was all a joke, she was in on the whole thing.
How else to explain their behaviour in front? Kelly was chopping out lines on her knee, Barry humming along to some blues guy on the radio singing about going to church. As if anyone did that anymore. Kelly looked up from the coke and smiled at Barry, reached out and stroked the back of his neck.
Tyler looked out of the window. Past the Wisp turnoff and the Jack Kane Centre then they were on home turf, turning along Greendykes Road. They pulled up outside Greendykes House and Tyler thought of Bean at the top, asleep and dreaming.
They sat in the shadow of the tower, engine idling.
‘We’re heading out,’ Barry said. That meant the casino on Ocean Way in Leith, where they could drink until six in the morning and piss as much of the money away as possible.
Barry nodded at the stolen stuff next to Tyler on the backseat. ‘Did you get any cash?’
Tyler remembered the money clip. He delved into the pillowcase and handed it over, thinking about the notes he’d hidden in his pants.
Barry looked at the clip and whistled. ‘Cunt was loaded, eh?’
Tyler shrugged.
‘Take the rest upstairs,’ Barry said. ‘We’ll sort it tomorrow and get it over to Fluff.’
Tyler sat there for a moment.
‘Chop-chop, prick, off you trot.’
Tyler got out and dragged the bags with him.
Barry called after him. ‘Sleep tight, bitch.’
Tyler closed the door and watched as Barry revved the engine and shot away with a squeal of tyres.
He looked up at Greendykes House, dizzy at the height of it so close. He imagined being able to fly to the top, soaring on thermals and swooping onto the roof.
He took the woman’s phone out of his pocket. With geolocation off, the phone was only traceable when it was on, Tyler knew all about it from the phones they boosted on jobs.
He stashed the stolen gear behind the bins and began walking away from the tower block, through the park at the back and across the football pitches for ten minutes until he was at the back of the ice-cream factory at The Wisp. There was no CCTV. He switched the phone on and dialled 999.
‘Ambulance, please.’
He waited. Wondered if it was too late.
‘Yes, there’s a woman with a life-threatening knife injury. She’s at number four St Margaret’s Road. Number four, OK?’
He ended the call and switched the phone off, then trudged back towards home.