Doing the rounds. Nothing special, just putting in an appearance. It matters. People need to see that you’re active, that you’re keeping an eye on them. Puts a little pressure on. John Young’s had one meeting already this morning. Went to see one of their two main suppliers. Had to be particularly careful with that one. Suppliers are a tetchy bunch. They need to be wary, fair enough. Police operations against the big importers tend to be better funded, better run. The better funded and run they’ve become, the harder suppliers have become to deal with. This was a casual meeting. A little business, mostly just getting a subtle message across. Young’s heard rumours about people that matter switching suppliers. People falling out like bloody school kids. That’s dangerous for everyone. He’s a little more reassured now. Supplier says it’s small stuff. Contained. A couple of people squabbling over money. Won’t turn violent. Isn’t contagious.
First little concern calmed. Now on to the next one. There are always plenty. This one’s closer to the business. People really aren’t very bright. It surprises Young every day how stupid people can be. People who really should know better. It’s money that does it, you know. Greed makes people stupid. Stupid to a point where they’re willing to risk vastly more than they stand to gain. Marty Jones runs a dirty little operation that makes money. He’s basically a pimp. Nobody likes him much, but he does a job and he makes money. He cuts the organization in, and in exchange gets the benefits of being part of the Jamieson group. Marty supplies a product that people want to use, and he makes good money. But that’s never enough for people like Marty. They can’t just be happy with what they’ve got. Not until they learn.
Young’s had Marty watched this morning. Just got a call that he’s gone to the nightclub that his brother runs. Perfect. The scene of the crime. Young’s pulling up outside the club and getting out of the car. Huffing and puffing. Could do with losing some weight, he’s realizing. Into the club. Unfamiliar. Asking a woman mopping the floor in the foyer where he can find the manager. She’s pointing along a corridor. He would laugh at the lack of security, if it didn’t remind him of their own. Along the corridor, finding a door with ‘Manager’ written on it. Not knocking, just going in. Poky little place. Grim. Marty sitting on a chair in front of the desk, his brother Adam in the chair behind it. They’re both looking at Young and neither knows what to say. Just the start he wanted.
There’s an old chair at the side of the room. Young’s taking his place in it.
‘I think you both know why I’m here,’ he’s saying. No smile, no jokes, no playing the smartarse. This is business and they need to understand how serious it is.
‘I’m not sure…’ Marty’s saying, and stopping. He’s not sure what to say.
‘I know that you two have been running private parties out of this place. I know that you’ve been using merchandise provided by us. I know that you’ve been making a tidy profit from it, and not passing that profit on. I’m not going to tell you to stop the parties. I’ve come here alone, as a gesture of my goodwill. You’re making money. Good. You cut us in. You’re making connections with other organizations through these parties. Good. We can all benefit from that.’ He’s looking at Marty now. ‘In the next couple of days you’re going to come round to the club and show me the books on these parties. You’re going to provide the back-pay of our cut. We’re going to make an agreement that works for both of us. If not, I’ll come round here again and I won’t be alone.’
He’s getting up and leaving. Neither of them says a word. They’ve been caught red-handed. Marty’s just smart enough to know that he has to play this straight. He’ll cut them in. He knows what the price will be, if he doesn’t. The threats were all a little clichéd, but it’s what they understand. Young isn’t the sort to go in and be violent from the start. That would ruin any prospect of profiting from this. On the other hand, you can’t be too subtle with them. They need to understand what will happen if they don’t clean up the mess they’ve made. The money isn’t huge, but it was worth Young making the appearance himself. They need to know they can’t ignore the organization. Everyone needs to know that. But it’s more than that. These parties have potential. It was when he found out who was attending that he became most interested. People with important roles in some big organizations. People it would pay to be close to. People with information–Young’s favourite weapon.
One quick meeting before lunch and then back to the club. This one matters most. No role is more important than defending themselves from their enemies. Only way to do that is to find out what your enemies are up to. He’s at a flat he uses a lot. Small place, but secure and neatly positioned to make it impossible for an observer to see who’s coming and going from which flats. Good place to meet people that you don’t wish to be seen meeting. He has been using it for a while, though. He’s already keeping his eye open for a suitable alternative. His contact is there before him. Long-term contact, not entirely reliable. That’s why he has to do the waiting. Young will be last in and first out. The contact will wait for him to arrive and give him time to get away before leaving.
‘So you’re working nights,’ Young’s saying, taking a seat at the kitchen table. It’s a sparsely furnished flat, always cold.
‘This week and next,’ Greig’s nodding. PC Paul Greig. Rather too enthusiastic a contact. Young’s known him for years. A cop in his late thirties destined never to rise from the bottom of the heap. Seems to have talent as a cop. Also has a reputation. So bent that even the criminals can’t trust him. But occasionally he delivers.
‘Tell me what I need to know,’ Young’s saying.
‘I think the Lewis Winter investigation is almost as dead as he is. Pretty much only Fisher working on it now, and even he has other things to do these days. People have lost interest.’
Young’s nodding along. Trying to make it look like he doesn’t already know this. Just let the contact talk. Don’t annoy or scare him.
‘Fisher’s problem is that he can’t put the pieces together,’ Greig’s saying now. He’s experienced. He knows what Young wants. ‘He has all the names that matter, just can’t put them in order. He knows there’s something between Shug and Jamieson. He knows Glen Davidson was involved and that he’s disappeared. He knows Lewis Winter was involved and he’s dead. He knows Davidson called this guy MacLean just before he disappeared. He knows MacLean moved house the day after. Doesn’t take much of a genius to piece it together, but you need evidence. I don’t think he’ll find any, either. Too many professionals involved.’
Young’s looking at him. The mention of Calum is always a worry. They’ve tried to keep him off the radar for as long as possible, but it was never going to last. That’s the business.
‘So Fisher’s putting all these pieces together, is he?’ Young’s asking. Making it seem like he doesn’t much care. Fooling no one.
Greig’s shrugging. ‘He’s got the pieces, but it would take one hell of a leap to make a case with them. Maybe a better cop could. Get one of those bolts of inspiration. Fisher ain’t that kind of cop. He won’t let go, sure, but he won’t go anywhere with it.’ Another shrug.
Young’s nodding, not believing. Fisher’s dangerous enough. Takes an idiot to underestimate someone so tenacious. Respect your enemy.
Into the car and driving through the city. Heading back to the club, but taking a detour. Fisher’s house is twenty minutes out of his way. A journey worth taking. Not to do anything. You don’t do anything to a cop. But you need to know what they’re up to. You find out about them and their family. Find out about their friends. Their lifestyle. Any little detail that might have value later on. All for defensive purposes, not attack. He doesn’t need to drive past the house, but he finds it easier to work things out with a clear picture before him. See the house–imagine the man inside. No family worth speaking of. Few friends. There has to be a weakness. Has to be. They’ve checked his emails and phone, but found nothing. There are other things they can do. Get a key to the house. Have a poke about inside. Check his browser history. Information. If you find nothing of value, create it. That’s last-resort territory. However much a pain Fisher is, he’s still a cop. And you don’t provoke a cop.