He looked around the room.
‘… you seem to be doing ok.’
He made the words ‘doing ok’ sound like ‘doing shite’.
‘Our client,’ he continued, ‘has given us permission to make an offer for you to join our firm. You would become our number two in Scotland and report to the new head of Scottish affairs. In return we will cut you in for a share of the total Scottish pie. Five percent to be exact. With a following wind we expect to clear one million in our first year.’
I did the maths as the gunman sat back to let me take this in. I had just been offered fifty thousand pounds a year as if it were a packet of soor plums from the corner store. I had enough sense to keep my mouth shut. For all I knew this was some bizarre loyalty test by Mr Read.
‘We don’t expect an answer right away but it may help your decision to know that Mr Read will be heading for some choppy waters. He would have been well advised to stay clear of the capital. Our offer is valid for twenty four hours and you can get me on this number.’
He threw a card across the table. It was blank save for a Glasgow phone number.
‘We would also look upon any conversation with Mr Read or his associates about this meeting as an unwise act on your part.’
With that they got up and left. I stared at the card wondering what the hell that was all about.
Chapter 12
To say I was confused was a major understatement. I was hardly a king pin in Mr Read’s organisation and, as such, I suspected that the visit might indeed be a test of some sort.
I decided to phone Craig Laidlaw. I had no idea what I was going to say but I needed to start somewhere — you don’t turn down a fifty grand until you’re sure the offer is a turkey.
Craig was in a bad mood. That is to say his usual mood.
‘What the fuck do you want?’ he growled down the line.
I asked if there were any more jobs coming up as I was thinking of taking a short break. Craig laughed at this.
‘Off for a shag in Spain?’
I laughed back.
‘No jobs I know of but there is some weird shit going down.’
I asked what, but he wouldn’t elaborate.
‘Let me check with the boss before you start packing the condoms.’
The phone rang an hour later.
‘The boss said he wants no-one out of town for the next couple of weeks.’
I asked why?
‘Something is going down but that’s all I know.’
He was lying. Craig was Brutus to Caesar and knew a damn sight more than he let on.
‘What about a trip doon the watter?’ I asked.
‘Zip.’ he said. ‘Get the message. Nothing. Not even a night at the pictures. Stock up on art mags and curry, and stay put until I call.’
Things were looking interesting and I had no intention of staying in doors, so I set the answer machine and put on my jacket. The machine could be operated remotely from another phone. If Craig phoned I would know and could get back double quick.
I headed for the only person I could think of.
Martin Sketchmore’s face was a picture when I swanned up to his front door. He had only just returned after his forced absence of leave. One of Mr Read’s cronies had told me he was back home.
He slammed the door on me but I hung on to the doorbell like a leech until he gave in and let me in. I didn’t bother with small talk and told him what had happened (minus the monetary offer) and he looked at me with his head at an angle that must have hurt.
‘What the hell are you telling me for? Why would I give a rat’s shit?’
‘You want to get back at Read?’
He tilted his head the other way.
‘What kind of question is that? I’m not stupid. It’s taken me all this time to come home. Why would I want to screw it up again? Anyway why shouldn’t I go to him and tell him about our little chat. I’m sure he would be more than interested to find out why you haven’t told him?’
‘Because he won’t take a call from you,’ I said. ‘Because if this is true you’d be stupid not to be interested. Because I know he has your balls in a sling and is asking for fifty percent of your earnings in return for letting you live. Because he has lined up a world shattering set of crap jobs for you to do. Because if you were to get caught in any one of those jobs it is a minimum of two years in Bar L. Now what do you know about a new mob on the scene?’
Martin turned away and looked out the window. Things had been tough since his exile but I’d heard that he had started to run with a gang from London and I was betting there was some word on the street about a move north.
‘Rumours,’ he said.
‘Like what?’
‘I’m not sure. It started about a year ago. Rumours of a new boss on the scene. The guys I was working with put it down to the same old, same old. There’s always gossip on the go. Stories of some new king muscling in. Hot air and nonsense most of the time.’
‘So what changed?’
‘Eddie Haliburton.’
I knew of Eddie. Most people in our game did. A major player down south. Old school. Friend of the Krays and all that.
‘He’d died a while back. Car crash somewhere in the sticks,’ I said.
‘Spot on. Only thing was that he was found with no head. Nothing to do with the crash. It would seem that Eddie got in the car — minus his head, which would make steering difficult, drove into a tree and the petrol tank exploded’
‘Anything else.’
‘Chuck Semple.’
Another name I knew and another dead man.
‘Went swimming in a DJ in St Catherine’s dock.’
‘And? Were they connected?’
‘Rumour mill says so. Add to that about half a dozen of both Eddie’s and Chuck’s senior crew going missing and you can see a pattern.’
‘Fuck. That’s serious shit.’
‘Could be. Might just be a turf war. I left London before Chuck went for a dip so I’m a little out of touch.’
I knew how hard it had been for Martin to come home. He’d offered up a raft of future favours to Mr Read before he was allowed back. Read had taken his offers and tripled them. Martin was in for a few years full of crap. No wonder he was opening up. I represented a way out.
‘So why would they approach me. I’m hardly in Read’s inner circle.’
‘Story goes,’ he says, ‘that this new mob don’t want the old guard when they move into an area. Too unreliable. Too likely to rebel. They don’t need thinkers, just doers. Foot soldiers they can mould. If they are coming to Scotland then you fit the bill.’
‘Me?’
‘Take Jack Rushent. He worked for Eddie. Low level but bright. A month after Eddie and his team vanish Jack suddenly has money on his hip and has moved up a social circle or two. He’s about your age and was about your level.’
I mulled this over.
‘Look,’ said Martin. ‘I think you’ve just been made an offer you can’t refuse.’
‘How do you figure? It could be Read checking me out.’
‘Could be — but unlikely. If someone is moving in, Read has far better things to do than check up on every grunt in the team. Besides what would he learn? That some of his trusted men were willing to jump sides for a wedge. Hardly a revelation is it? I think the offer is genuine.’
‘So what do I do?’
‘Why ask me?’
‘Because I think you know more than you are letting on.’
Martin closed his eyes and shook his head — loosing the cobwebs.
‘Tell you what,’ he said. ‘You cut me in for a cut of your cut and I’ll help you out.’
‘What about Read?’
‘If this is really going down I’d rather be on the winning side. He was an idiot with the job in London. From what I hear he is history, with a motorway support as a grave in his near future. But you’re going to have to be plenty smart if you want to get through this intact. If Read gets wind you are on the flip he’ll nail your balls to the City Chambers.’