They were in the Regent, in a room with twin beds, in a cheap hotel in Meadowbank. Meadowbank, the former stadium, was currently a vast building site and looked to be that way for some time to come. But the hotel in a run-down street nearby was fine for their purposes. Ray emerged from the bathroom, Dougie was lying on one of the beds, smoking a cigarette. Ray, his body wet from the shower, sat down on the other. He looked around him. He’d never stayed at the Waldorf Astoria, but he was willing to bet it was nicer than this.
Big Dougie was twenty-eight. He was tall, blond and raw-boned. Ray thought he looked like a Viking. Perhaps he was – there had been a lot of Viking activity in Scotland in the distant past.
He flexed the fingers of his right hand.
‘Your hand OK?’ Dougie asked.
It was a bit sore still from where he’d hit Hanlon’s head. He’d been wearing leather gloves; his knuckles were fine. But it was a reminder that he wasn’t as young as he used to be. He ought to leave hitting people to Dougie. He was younger, his bones were more robust.
He wondered if she’d heed the warning. She would if she were wise. Millar didn’t like giving second chances. He rarely gave first chances, come to that.
Oh, Millar, what the hell went wrong? wondered Ray. He’d worked for Millar for over twenty-five years, but of late it was like being trapped in a marriage that had gone hideously awry. Millar was getting crazier, and increasingly violent. He was also getting more and more paranoid, convinced people were plotting against him. Ray tried to restrain his boss, but it was increasingly difficult. He tried to telepathically send a message to Hanlon: please go home, go home now, or you’ll be returning there in a box.
‘Did you know Jordan?’ Dougie asked.
‘What, the dead guy in the van? No, just that he worked for the Big Man in Edinburgh and it would appear that he’s been offed by this Jamie McDonald.’
He leaned over Dougie and peered at the screen of his tablet. Computer games baffled Ray. What was the point? He just didn’t get them, in fact they really irritated him, but he was wise enough to keep his mouth shut. Dougie loved them.
‘What’s that? What are you doing?’ he asked, more to be polite than anything.
‘It’s a virus. I’m trying to infect the world…’ Dougie said. Why? Ray wondered, but he didn’t say anything.
‘Well, can you pause it for a moment or two?’
Big Dougie sighed. ‘OK.’ He looked annoyed at being stopped; he must have been doing really well in his game.
He looked at Ray, who had returned to his bed and was looking at him with impatience. Ray could see himself in the mirror on the bedroom wall. He looked hard at his reflection, his powerful, muscular body. I’m looking good for someone on the wrong side of fifty he thought. Ray was a physical fitness nut, ran five miles a day, worked out. His silver hair was shaved close to his head in a buzz-cut. His abs were chiselled. Already Ray was missing the absence of a gym, he worked out for at least an hour a day when he could.
They had been working together now for a couple of years and Big Dougie, six three in his bare feet, was perfectly happy to let Ray make the decisions and do the thinking. Thinking was not his area of expertise.
‘And?’ he asked irritably.
‘Tomorrow. I want to go over tomorrow,’ said Ray.
‘What’s to go over? We go round to his flat and kill the fucker.’
Ray sighed. ‘Yes, that’s it, Einstein, but there are some things I’d like to think about.’
‘Such as?’ Dougie was puzzled; it seemed simple enough.
‘How are we going to get there?’ Ray asked.
‘We’ll drive.’ He frowned, Ray could see him wondering, what was the issue here? There was the BMW outside.
‘Oh, will we? Where are we going to park? That’s my car out there,’ Ray said, indicating the general area of the street. ‘If I park that in a car park it might have number plate recognition. I don’t want to be in Musselburgh officially. If I park it in a side street we might have to fuck around looking for a parking place. It’s probably residents only. I don’t want a ticket. I do not want my car officially parked just down the road from a killing.’
‘OK, then, we’ll get an Uber.’
Ray shook his head. ‘We’ll get the bus.’
‘The bus? We’re going to kill a man and we’re getting a fucking bus!’ Dougie was incredulous.
‘Aye, what’s wrong with that?’
‘What’s wrong?’ Dougie sounded cross. ‘Are you being serious?’
He leapt off the bed and stood in front of Ray, towering over him. He looked furious.
Ray’s eyes didn’t leave Dougie’s. He suddenly hooked a leg across behind his partner’s, sweeping Dougie’s legs from under him. Simultaneously he sprang off the bed and pushed him hard. Dougie collapsed backwards and Ray was on top of him, pinning him to the carpet. He leaned forward, holding Dougie’s wrists down against the floor, and inclined his head so their noses were nearly touching. He could smell the whisky and cigarettes on Dougie’s breath.
‘Ye’ll dae whit youse fuckin tellt,’ he said, menacingly, mimicking Dougie’s accent.
Dougie started to laugh. ‘Get off me, you’re awfie heavy, Ray.’
Ray leaned his face closer to Dougie’s. His mouth opened and their tongues met.
Afterwards they lay next to each other in bed sharing a joint.
‘Why does the boss want him dead anyway?’ asked Dougie.
Because he’s gone crazy, would be the honest answer, thought Ray. Because in Millar’s mind, fragmenting under the drugs and the booze or maybe just natural causes, McDonald was either ‘out to get him’ or he had ‘let him down’.
Ray propped himself up on one elbow, took the joint from Dougie and inhaled deeply.
‘Well, to make an example of him maybe?’ He exhaled the smoke thoughtfully.
‘I guess.’ Dougie ran a hand across Ray’s chest. His pectorals were like iron. His skin was hairless; Ray liked to wax.
‘Like I said earlier,’ Ray said, ‘Jordan was the boss’s man in Edinburgh. We’ve been moving a lot of gear out here these days. It’s a growing market. Jordan’s death has really screwed things up. Thank God, Millar’s got someone else working out here too. They’ll have to pick up the slack, do Jordan’s work as well as theirs.’
‘Whereabouts in Edinburgh?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe the uni.’
‘Why can’t they handle McDonald, then? Why us?’
‘Cos they’re the brains and we’re the brawn. That’s the way it is.’
And also, he thought, Millar trusts me more than anyone. God help me if that changes.
‘Aye.’ Dougie took the blunt from Ray. ‘Carry on…’
‘Where was I?’ Post-coital relaxation and the weed were making Ray feel a bit muzzy. ‘Oh, aye.’ He recovered his train of thought. ‘Catriona, Jordan’s girl, said that Jordan was doing a hit, and he’d contracted the job to Jamie McDonald.’
‘Who is McDonald anyway?’ Dougie asked.
‘A guy that Jordan had met inside, doing time for a stabbing.’
‘So why the fuck did McDonald kill him?’
‘I have absolutely no idea.’ He frowned. ‘But he did. Now, before we kill him, we ask him about a girl called Aurora Cameron. Millar wants to find her, and don’t ask me why, or who she is, because I don’t know. But he wants her, that’s the important thing.’
Probably she was someone else who’d ‘let him down’ or had been ‘taking liberties’, both capital offences now seemingly. Fleetingly, he wondered again what she’d done to attract Millar’s fury. None of his business.
‘Have you got that?’
Dougie rolled on his back and stared at the ceiling. ‘Yes, yes, yes. Subdue him, question him then kill him. Millar wants a message sending out. Nobody messes with his employees unless they want a real fucking shit-storm. We’re the message.’
Incoming call. Ray picked up his mobile and glanced at it.
‘Speak of the devil,’ he said to Dougie. ‘Aye, boss… mmhm… sure, can you text me the details? Sure, tomorrow lunchtime… aye, will do… we’ll be there, bye the now.’
He put his phone down.
‘Well?’ asked Dougie.
‘He’s just checking that we’re OK for tomorrow. He says he’ll meet with us afterwards at lunchtime.’ He rolled his eyes – well, that was just great. That was lunch ruined. They’d better not cock things up, or Millar would want to know why.
‘Jesus,’ said Dougie, ‘it’s going to be a busy day.’ He yawned.
‘Tired?’ asked Ray.
‘Knackered,’ said Dougie.
He pulled the duvet over himself but just before he closed his eyes, he checked his phone.
‘Ha!’ he said.
‘Ha, what?’ Ray said.
‘It’s my virus, look, Ray, it’s successfully mutated.’
‘That’s just great,’ replied Ray, wearily, ‘now can we get some sleep.’
‘Humanity’s dead.’ Dougie was triumphant.
‘Well,’ Ray said, rolling over, ‘let’s hope McDonald will be as easy to kill. Good night.’