Phone calls are waking a lot of people tonight; Shaun Hutton isn’t the last. Like many in the business, he’s a multiple mobile-phone owner. He’s now searching for one of his work phones. He has three. All cheap models, pay-as-you-go. Nothing smart about them. He’s always kept his work schedule to a minimum. It’s one reason why he doesn’t carry much respect in the business. People think he comes and goes when it pleases him. They don’t think he’s reliable because he’s not always available. They see him as being half in the industry, half out. That’s a dangerous thing to be. They want you all the way in. Makes them feel comfortable. He works enough to pay his bills. No more, no less. He has a nice little house, where he lives alone. He has a nice little car. He has a nice little version of all the things he wants. That’s the way it’s going to stay. No rush to riches. He has the right phone, at last.
It’s Shug Francis. At this time of night, it means there’s either a warning or a job. Hopefully the latter; a warning usually means unpredictable work with little reward.
‘Hello, Shaun speaking.’
‘Shaun, it’s Shug, how are you?’
He still doesn’t have the hang of this. Asking how a guy is when there’s probably some emergency that needs addressing. Too civil. Too much of a normal civilian, still. ‘I’m fine. What’s up?’
‘Got a job for you. Right away. You know Frank MacLeod?’
Stupid question. ‘I know of him.’
‘You know Tommy Scott?’
‘Eh, no, should I?’ he’s asking, but he sort of knows. He’s buying time while he thinks. He knows Scott is a dealer working for Shug. He’s heard that Scott’s been making a point of stepping on a lot of toes. Toes better left alone.
Shug’s explaining what happened. Hutton’s listening, taking it all in, twisting it backwards and forwards in his mind, and finding the right angle. Old Frank MacLeod. Took a long time for someone to catch him out. Kind of sad it was a punk like Scott, but that’s the way the wind blows. Kids are coming through street gangs and turning into pros. They’re hard before they even get started. Maybe Frank took him too lightly. Maybe he’s just getting too old. Young man’s game, and all that. Shug’s still prattling on. He’s given an address, and Hutton’s mechanically memorized it. Top of a tower block–well, that’s bloody brilliant. Couldn’t be worse for a removal. Two other people there as well. Two strangers that he might not be able to depend on. This just keeps getting better. Shug keeps calling one of them Clueless, which is apparently his nickname. He’s going to have to find himself a new tag. That’s not inspiring at all.
‘So, what do you think?’ Shug’s asking.
He shouldn’t be asking. He should be telling. He’s the boss. He gives the orders; the gunman follows them. Hasn’t quite got the hang of leadership yet.
‘I think the removal is going to be the hardest part. Could be a nightmare, up there. I think there’s going to be fallout from this as well. Most of it will fall on Tommy Scott.’
‘He can handle it,’ Shug’s saying.
‘Uh-huh,’ Hutton’s answering, not so sure. Scott’s going to need to learn to lie very low after this. He’s inexperienced, he and his mate. High chance of one of them making a mistake and paying for it. ‘I’ll need to go get a car; I’m not using my own. If they’ve got Frank’s gun, then I can use that when I get there. I’ll need to get some equipment as well, to get rid of the body. It’ll take me,’ Shaun’s saying, and pausing while he pretends to look at his watch, ‘the best part of an hour. That’ll be twenty past two. Can your man sit on him until then?’
‘He can. Come and see me tomorrow, when it’s done.’
‘No, better to wait longer than that. You won’t hear from me for another week, unless there’s an emergency.’
It’s three minutes since he hung up on Shug, and he’s still deciding what to do next. You pick sides in this business. You don’t have to like the politics, but doing a job for one person inevitably means pissing off another. You choose your jobs based more on who you can afford to piss off than who you want to work for. It’s okay if you’re in an organization; there’s no choice to make. You work for the organization and piss off whoever the boss wants to piss off. If you’re freelance, you have to plot a careful course. You have to make sure you leave enough friendly future employers. He’s putting the phone down and going into the cupboard in his bedroom. There’s another mobile there. Hasn’t switched it on for a couple of months. Might not have any battery power. The screen’s lighting–there’s still some power in there. One bar. That’ll do. It’ll be a short call. Dialling a number he memorized a long time ago. There’s no sense of guilt in it. This is a business. You pick your sides. You always have to make a living.
‘Hello?’ He doesn’t sound sleepy at all. That’s because John Young’s always been a night owl. He was up and about when the phone rang.
‘John, this is Shaun Hutton.’
‘Shaun, what’s up?’ There’s already a note of caution in his voice. Young knows Shaun wouldn’t call unless it was an emergency. John Young knows how this business works. He’s known Hutton for six years. Used him on a handful of jobs in that time, nothing major. Threw a few things his way because he was a useful contact to have. Put some money his way, too, just to buy a little loyalty. Then Shug started courting him to be his new gunman. That was a godsend for Young. Six years secretly cultivating a contact finally paying off. Now this late-night call from Shug’s gunman. Hutton’s wondering if Young’s already connected the call to Frank. He must know Frank’s out on a job, working against Shug. He’ll know what to expect.
‘Listen, John, you have a situation. Frank MacLeod went to hit Tommy Scott, but the kid jumped him. I got word that Frank’s knocked out in Scott’s flat. They want me round there to finish him and get rid of the body. I told them it’ll take me an hour to get a car and the tools I need. You have an hour to send someone round and get Frank. If he’s still there when I arrive, then I have to do the job. I can’t back out. You got an hour.’
He’s switching the phone off and shoving it back in the cupboard. Young’s been good to him, always kept him onside. A desirable future employer. He owes him a warning, but he doesn’t owe him any more. Backing out of the job would put his own neck on the block. He won’t do that. The first priority is keeping yourself alive. Young’s been good enough to buy himself an hour. You get a job and you go do it. If someone just happens to beat you to it, that’s too bad.