They’ve been sitting looking at each other for the last ten minutes. Every now and then William will shake his head. Sometimes he’ll ask Calum to repeat himself. Then another shake of the head. Calum got here early. Waited for William to come home from work. That was lunchtime. Calum’s given William a brief rundown of what he wants to do. The bullet points, if you’ll pardon the pun.
‘Okay, fine, give me the details then,’ William’s saying.
And Calum’s smiling, because he knew his brother would say that. He’s asking a lot of William, and he knows it, but he also knows his big brother won’t let him down. Just by asking for the detail William’s committing himself to this. As Calum knew he would. It’s dangerous for William, but he’s always wanted his brother to get out of the business. He’ll accept the risk.
It was the one thing in all of this that Calum agonized over. Sure, he regrets that he won’t see his mother again, but there’s no danger for her in that. It’s the risks William will take on his behalf that made Calum stop and think. Is there a way of doing this that doesn’t put his brother in danger? Short answer is no. In a perfect world Calum would have had everything prepared months ago. It’s not a perfect world, rather obviously. He could prepare things like the clothes, but for the fake identity and the bank accounts he had to wait. Do those things months before your escape opportunity comes along and you’re asking for trouble. Someone finds out you’ve purchased the ID and wants to know why. Only reason you need the ID is to do a runner. You can’t explain it away. A good gunman doesn’t do business with counterfeiters. You do no business with any criminal you don’t absolutely have to. So that had to wait.
‘I needed to wait until I had a job,’ Calum’s telling William. ‘I had one last night.’
William’s grimacing, slightly raising a hand. ‘Don’t tell me what I don’t need to hear.’ It’s one thing to know what your little brother does for a living. Quite another to hear him describe it. William already knew there was a job. He didn’t want to know more when he lent Calum the car; doesn’t want to know more now.
‘So I had a job. I know that Peter Jamieson and John Young won’t expect to hear from me or see me for as much as a week. They won’t get pissy if they don’t hear from me for a fortnight. So I maybe have that long to get away. Put some distance between me and them.’
‘Good,’ William’s saying, nodding his head. He knows what this is. This is the good news before the work starts. The little hook to convince him it’s all going to work out, before Calum reveals the mountain of preparation and risk. ‘I’m guessing you’ve worked out the detail then,’ William continues. ‘Tell me what we need to do, in order.’
Calum’s nodding. This would be so much harder if William didn’t know the business. If he was too stupid to work out what happens next. Calum’s always thought of himself as the more intelligent of the two. The more cerebral. That doesn’t make William dumb. William went to work in a garage when he was eighteen. By twenty-four he had a share in the business. A small one, but he made it work for him. Now, at thirty-two, he runs the place. Owns most of it, although not quite all. Yes, he’s occasionally sidestepped legality in pursuit of profit, but he’s always been smart enough to get away with it. Smart enough to make no enemies. That’s been key. That ends today. If Jamieson finds out that William helped Calum escape, then William makes one big enemy.
‘First thing we need to do is get rid of my car,’ Calum’s saying. ‘Respray and retag, break it down for parts–whatever. I need to make a little bit of money out of it. They’d expect it to be missing. They don’t know that I use you for the cars, although they might guess. Obviously you deny it if they ask. So the car needs to disappear.’
William’s nodding, thinking. ‘How much cash you got?’
‘About six hundred.’
William’s frowning now. ‘Won’t get far on that. Six hundred quid? All right, listen. Breaking it down might be safer, but I think you should go for a dressing-up. A good spray and tag, and nobody knows it was yours. I can get it a new logbook. Sell it. Car like that, you could get, maybe, a grand and a half after costs. Might be a bit less if we’re selling in a hurry. Gives you more to run with.’
Calum’s nodding. ‘As long as it’s safe. Safety first. That needs to be the first thing,’ he’s saying. ‘After that, I need a new identity. I know a guy who can come up with a new passport and driver’s licence in good time, if the money’s right. I can’t go and see him about it,’ Calum continues, with a bit of a shrug. A ‘you know what that means’ kind of shrug.
‘I can go see him,’ William’s saying. A pause. ‘I know a guy: does fake service histories and whatnot for cars. I know he does driver’s licences too. I could have a word with him.’
Calum’s shaking his head. He chose his man carefully. Any counterfeiter who lasts is a good counterfeiter. But a driver’s licence and a passport are two different things. These new biometric passports require a speciality. They also need the passport to be falsely registered–something his chosen man can do for him. Same with the driver’s licence, but that’s easier.
‘We’ll stick with the guy I’ve chosen. He should be fine. I’ll tell you what I need.’
‘I’ll go see him tomorrow then. You have enough time for all this?’ William’s asking.
‘I hope so,’ Calum’s saying quietly. ‘The counterfeiter will already have IDs he can use. They set these things up and hold the IDs for years before they sell them. Gives them a history.’
‘Is this one of those dead-baby things?’ William’s asking with another frown.
‘Might be a stolen ID, might just be made up. I will need to set up a bank account in the new name, but that’ll be a piece of piss. Then I’ll need to book tickets to get myself out of here.’
‘You’ll need his ID before you can get through an airport,’ William’s saying. ‘If you’re not leaving Britain, you could always just drive.’
‘Nah,’ Calum’s saying. ‘I will have to leave at some point. Jamieson has connections with people all over the country. He could find me anywhere in Britain.’
‘He could find you anywhere,’ William’s warning.
‘He could. But he won’t.’
Another moment of silence between them. Quiet in the house. William lives alone. He’s never married, although he was with a girl called Morven for years. Six years, maybe a little more. Then it all fell apart, in no time at all. Calum never knew why. Knew William didn’t want to talk about it, so didn’t ask. Been a couple of girls since, but William hasn’t settled. The elder brother’s the one to break the silence. Has to be. He has the right to ask; Calum only has the right to answer.
‘So you going to London or what?’
‘Probably. Just to begin with. Then on somewhere else. I’ll see how the land lies. See where I can go.’
‘You got any idea where you’ll end up?’
‘I have an idea,’ Calum’s nodding, and saying no more. It’s not an idea he’ll share with William. Not yet. Safer for his brother to know as little as possible. William understands that.
‘So does this have something to do with that wee fire-cracker you were knocking about with? The one who came and called me all sorts of terribly insulting things at the garage?’ William’s asking with a smile, teasing but genuinely interested.
The firecracker’s name is Emma. Calum hasn’t seen her since the day she walked out of his flat nearly two months ago. She asked him to walk away from this life, and he told her he couldn’t. Which was true, at the time. He doesn’t know where she is now. He does know he’ll never see her again. He can’t, when he’s using a new identity.
‘It is and it isn’t,’ Calum’s shrugging. ‘It’s not about her personally. It’s about having someone like her. Having that kind of life. I can’t have it. Not if I stay. Only way all that can be mine is if I make a break. So that’s what I’m doing.’
‘Hell of a risk for a life you might not enjoy.’
‘I don’t enjoy this one much, so it’s a risk worth taking.’
William’s sitting in his armchair, nodding his head. The conversation’s become morose. Failing lives. Might as well get that one last miserable question out of the way.
‘What about Ma?’
Calum’s sighing. ‘I don’t want to have to do this to her, but I don’t have a choice. I can’t go see her. People will ask her about me, and I can’t have her place me in the city any time after last night.’
‘Fuck’s sake, Calum, you can’t let her think you’re dead. She nearly fell apart when Da died. What’s this going to do to her?’
‘Well, what do you want me to do? Go round and tell her the truth. Hey, Ma, guess what: I need to flee the city because I killed a bunch of people! What would that do to her?’
William’s rubbing his forehead. ‘We’ll come up with something. I won’t have you dying on her, poor old cow. You’re her blue-eyed boy. We’ll find a way to keep her content.’
Now William’s gone out for a couple of hours. He was due to meet some friends to play five-a-side football. Does it every Tuesday after work. He wanted to cancel; Calum said no. You go and you act normal. Nobody thinks there’s anything going on. You do nothing that raises an eyebrow. So he’s gone. Agreed to send a text to Calum’s mobile. He’ll send a couple more, and make a few calls in the next few days. Calling a phone he knows is lying on Calum’s kitchen table. Keeping up appearances. Calum knows how this will work. William’s upset because his little brother is going away. Because there’s risk involved. He’s not bothered about the risk to himself. It’s Calum he’s frightened for. Calum’s the one who could be killed for walking away from a man like Peter Jamieson. But tomorrow William will be bustling with energy. Ready to face the challenge. Ready to go and see the counterfeiter. Play his part. It’s a reassuring thought. Comforting to have someone else’s enthusiasm to feed off.