‘So she’s safe?’
I nodded. The old man, in the passenger seat, seemed happy with that answer.
‘She’s with people I trust.’
‘Then I trust them.’ No doubt in his voice. If I even thought about betraying him, I knew the consequences. So he trusted me. Because I would have to be stupid to try and pull the wool over his eyes.
Lucky he didn’t know me as well as he thought he did.
‘He’s a slippery little bastard,’ Burns said. Meaning Craig Nairn. ‘No one seems to know where the fuck he is.’
‘Our new friend might.’
‘You might be right, son. Even a fucked clock’s right twice a day, eh?’
We pulled up outside the old hotel. City centre location. Across from the rail station, prime views of the river. The building was closed. Had been empty for over a decade before that. When it reopened, the plan was for it to be a premier destination for the new Dundee. There was talk of the city applying for City of Culture status for 2017. The hotel was part of the planning stage. With the V&A coming to the city and a virtual regeneration of the waterfront already underway, the new Dundee was to be an aspirational and shining beacon for Scotland’s future.
But the foundations were only just being laid.
And as with any foundation, there were bound to be a few bodies hidden in the darker recesses.
Burns had a skeleton key for the building. He’d called ahead, turned off the security cameras. There would be no record of what happened.
Inside, you could see something of what the building had once been: the grand sweeping staircase, the expansive lobby, and the chandelier fittings in the high ceiling. But there was a sense of abandonment, too. The dust motes that danced in the light of torches. The odd stillness punctuated by the occasional creak from contracting old boards.
We climbed the staircase to the third floor. I thought of The Shining. The long and endless corridors of the Overlook. The sense that suddenly something might just appear before you; a horrific image that might just send you out of your mind.
But the only ghosts were the ones I brought with me.
As is the case for everyone.
Room 305.
Inside, the big bastard raised his head to look at us. His face was bloodied. His nose was pulped and cauliflowered across his face. Can’t say it made him any more or less ugly. The fact that he wasn’t wearing any clothes didn’t help matters.
He looked at me as I walked in. His lips parted. He might have snarled. He knew who I was.
I didn’t look at him. Not directly.
He had been my price. My negotiating tool. The cops who raided the house would say he was the one who got away. But they had no idea where he was. They thought I just wanted to talk to him. They didn’t know that the old man was involved. That the bruiser might not see the morning.
Malone was leaning on the cricket bat in the same way that Patrick MacNee would lean on his umbrella during the glory days of The Avengers. He smiled as we entered the room. ‘A good workout,’ he said. ‘Nothing like it.’
Burns said nothing. He crouched before the naked man and looked into his eyes. The two men stared at each other. The big bastard was defiant. He was in pain, but remained resolute in his silence.
Burns said, ‘You know who I am?’
The man spat. His phlegm was red.
Burns smiled.
I stood near the door. Watched. Remained impassive as I could.
‘No one can hear us,’ Burns said.
‘I think he’s worked that one out,’ Malone said. Smug. He stepped away. Bowed his head towards Burns. An invitation.
The old man rarely got his hands dirty. Only in the most extreme of situations. Like the year before when he personally took it upon himself to murder a child killer. His morals so offended that he didn’t want anyone else to have the pleasure. Some things you have to do yourself.
Burns got in close to the other man. ‘Whatever you tell me, it remains here. Between us. No one will know you talked. And if they do find out, no one will blame you. My friend here, the cricketer, he can be … persuasive.’
‘He’s a fucking pussy.’ Spitting out the words. Real effort to talk.
Burns said, ‘Would you like some water?’
‘Fuck … you.’
‘A little food? I can send one of my pals here for a pizza. Or a kebab. You look like a kebab man. A few pints and a doner? Can’t blame you.’
Silence.
Burns said, ‘Oh, I can’t touch you, can I? You’re a hard man.’ He stood up. ‘Oh, yes, Mr White. You’re a hard man. I know all about you. About your wife. Divorced, of course. She didn’t like the idea of you doing what you do. She thought you were a security guard. A night watchman. That all you did was hang around empty building sites – much like this one – and maybe listen to some music. Read magazines. She wouldn’t even have minded if they were dirty magazines. After all, books require too much thought, don’t they? And you’re not big on thinking. I know why she divorced you. I know the reasons on the papers and the reasons that no one ever fucking talked about. Especially you. Because you think she exaggerated the truth. Maybe I should ask her one day. You wouldn’t mind me talking to her? Or maybe one of my associates?’ He talked calmly. Conversationally. The words tripped lightly from his lips. This was how he got before the real violence began. The snake ceasing its rattling.
I wondered when he had the time to learn about this man’s life.
There were resources he had that amazed me. He understood the power not just of physical strength, but of knowledge.
White continued his defiant stare, although he knew better than to try and stand. In this place, he was without power. All he could was stay down and stay quiet. Hope the end came quick.
I had promised Susan that no one would die.
Had she known I was lying?
Had I?
Burns said, ‘Maybe that doesn’t upset you. And maybe she wouldn’t tell me the truth, anyway. There must be someone else we could talk to? Maybe … your daughter?’
That did it. White roared and clambered to his feet. Halfway up when Malone swung that bat, caught the big bastard in the stomach. White roared, doubled and collapsed again.
Burns said, ‘Are you ready to talk now, Mr White? We don’t have to talk about you at all. Just a friend of yours. Craig Nairn. Tell me where he is, no one will hurt you again. I promise. And no one will need to talk to your daughter. How old is she now? Thirteen? How long since you last saw her?’
The big bastard’s head dipped. For a moment, I could see his eyes and see the defiance fade. Every man has a weak spot. And it’s not always physical. Watch enough movies, you start to think that every conflict can be resolved by fisticuffs. But most men are stopped by their emotions. Even the ones they refuse to talk about.
Burns hunkered down again. He said, ‘Just an address. That’s all.’
White talked.
When he was done, Burns nodded. He stood up. ‘I said no one would ever hurt you again. That’s almost true.’ He nodded at Malone. Malone grabbed the defeated man’s head and pulled it back. In his free hand, he had a knife. He plunged the blade through the man’s eye and into his brain. The man struggled for a moment and then went limp.
The smell of shit and piss filled the room. Tickled at the nostrils, made you want to vomit.
I tried not to react but my legs started to give way. I swallowed a sour taste.
As we left the room, Burns put his arm around me. ‘If they want to ignore the rules then we have to do the same. Except we have to be even worse than they are. You don’t win a gunfight armed with a fucking cricket bat. They think I’m a tired old fucker resting on his reputation. They’re going to learn the fucking truth.’