Ronan Cobb stood beneath the oak tree and watched the distant car headlights slow to a crawl and then stop. A minute later he caught glimpses of torchlight as Scott Timpson made his way up the lane towards him.
He genuinely hoped that Scott had somehow managed to get the money together.
But he doubted it.
His expectation was that his mother’s so-called Plan B would have to be put into action, and he really didn’t want that to happen.
She had surprised him with that one, all right. He hadn’t realised how well connected she still was, how she had maintained a finger on the pulse. How dangerous she was. Behind the alcohol was a woman who still commanded respect.
He wished that her recent actions could have been driven by love rather than ruthlessness. Joey was dead. She didn’t seem to realise that they would never share jokes and meals with him again. The only hole in her life was one that needed filling with money. Ronan found that disappointing and sad. He would do exactly what she told him to do – of course he would – but something about this rankled. It felt wrong.
He decided it was better not to think about it too much. There was a job to be done.
He watched the light from Scott’s torch as it arced over the stile and then glided towards him. Ronan switched on his own torch. What he saw shocked him.
Scott was practically dragging himself up the hill. He was having trouble putting weight on one of his legs, and he was clutching his side as though in agony. He looked like a wounded animal.
Jesus.
‘Okay, Scott. You can stop there.’ Ronan closed the gap himself. He shone his torch into Scott’s face and watched him recoil from the brightness. ‘What the fuck happened to you?’
‘Long story. I won’t bore you with the details.’
‘That’s fine. I can manage without the foreplay. Have you got the money?’
Scott hesitated, and Ronan knew instantly that the news would be grim. He watched as Scott withdrew an envelope from his jacket.
‘Toss it over.’
Scott did so, but grimaced with the pain of it.
Ronan turned his torch on the envelope. It was smaller than the previous one. He picked it up, hefted it in his hand. It was far too light.
‘How much, Scott?’
‘A thousand.’
Shit. One thousand. One measly thousand.
‘Why’d you even bother? This is an insult.’
‘It was the best I could do. It was this or nothing. I brought it to you because . . .’
‘Because what, Scott?’
‘Because I wanted to show good faith. Because we had an agreement.’
‘Our agreement was for you to get the rest of the twenty-five thousand. This is pitiful.’
Scott raised a finger in dispute. ‘No. What I said was that I thought I could get more money. I kept my word.’
‘Fuck’s sake, Scott. What do you think this is? You think this is some kind of game? What you’ve given me here is a fucking slap in the face.’
‘It’s not meant to be. I swear. I nearly got killed getting you that money.’
Ronan looked at the sorrowful wretch and felt a pang of sympathy.
Stop it, he told himself. Remember what he did.
‘I don’t give a shit. What’s really getting me fucking annoyed, though, is you treating me like I’m some kind of joke.’
‘I’m not. I did my best. You have to believe me.’
‘I don’t have to believe nothing. This is it, Scott. You had your chance and you screwed up.’
‘What . . . what are you going to do?’
Ronan reached to his waist and pulled out the Colt .45. He jacked a round into the chamber, saw how Scott flinched at the noise.
‘Don’t worry, Scott. I’m not going to kill you. Remember what I said last night about shooting you in the kneecap?’
Scott backed away. ‘Please. Don’t.’
‘I won’t. Not one kneecap, anyway. This time it’s both of them. You know what a gun like this can do to someone’s knees, Scott? It’s not a pretty sight. You might never walk again.’
‘Please. I—’
‘So you don’t have to pick a kneecap. Your choice is different now.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘After I shoot you, I’m going to take your phone. You’re going to have to drag yourself out of here. Even if you make it back to your car, you won’t be able to drive it with those crippled legs of yours. You’ll probably have to flag someone down, if anyone comes this way, and if they’re willing to stop. By then I’ll have paid a visit to your flat.’
‘I told you, your choice is different now, Scott. You have to decide between your wife and your son. Which one do I kill?’
Scott looked as though he’d already taken a bullet. ‘Kill? No. Why? Why do you have to kill one of them?’
‘An eye for an eye, Scott. You and your family are responsible for my brother’s death. It’s payback time. It was the money or a life, and you’ve chosen to give up a life.’
‘No. I . . . Then I choose me. Not my family. Please, not my family.’
So, Ronan thought, the man’s got some balls after all.
‘Sorry, Scott. Doesn’t work that way. Make your choice.’
‘I can’t! How can I possibly choose who you should kill?’
‘Because if you don’t, I’ll waste both of them.’
‘Please! I can’t.’
‘Then say goodbye to your legs and your family. I’m sure you’ll miss them all.’
Ronan marched forward, pointed his gun at Scott’s right knee.
‘NO! PLEASE! I’LL DO ANYTHING!’
The magic words. Plan B – subtitled ‘The Pact with the Devil’ – was in effect. Ronan almost found a smile.
‘Anything?’
‘Yes. Anything. Just . . . don’t hurt my family.’
Ronan counted to five, to give the impression he was thinking it over.
‘There might be a way.’
‘Name it. I’ll do it. Whatever it is, I’ll do it.’
Ronan relaxed his gun hand, dropping his arm back to his side. ‘It’ll be dangerous, but if you can pull it off, you should be able to pay me back with interest.’
‘I don’t care how dangerous it is. If it saves my family and gets you your money, I’ll do it.’
Ronan nodded. He was getting all the right answers.
‘There’s a guy. A drug dealer. Tomorrow afternoon, between four and five, he’ll take possession of a bag of money – a white Adidas sports bag. Thing is, he’ll only have it for a short time. It’ll be picked up from him again at seven o’clock. You’ll need to get it from him before then.’
‘Get it from him? What do you mean?’
Christ, thought Ronan. Why do I have to spell it out?
‘I mean take it. Steal it. You do whatever you have to do to get that money from him, and then you bring it here and give it to me.’
‘How much money will he have?’
‘Hard to say. Depends on how good a day it’s been. It’ll be a lot, though. Enough to cover my losses so far – the losses you caused. And, by the way, don’t get tempted to skim from the top. I’ll get accurate figures afterwards. I’ll know.’
‘I don’t want the money. I just want to put an end to this.’
‘Then you’ll do it?’
‘I . . . You said it’s dangerous. How dangerous?’
‘This guy, he’s not just going to hand over the money. You’ll need to go in hard and fast.’
‘And . . . if I fail? If I get killed trying?’
‘You can consider your debt paid. I won’t go after your family.’
Ronan watched as Scott searched the sky for guidance.
‘It’s a deal. If you can promise me that my family will be safe, whatever the outcome, it’s a deal.’
‘I guarantee it. You get me the money or you die trying. Either way, your family will never hear from me again.’
‘Okay. Who’s the guy? Who am I stealing the money from?’
‘That’s the beauty of it. He lives in the same building as you. Goes by the name of Barrington Daley.’