‘I thought the thieves left them in the van…’
‘Keep up, Glenn – inventory on the warehouse keeps throwing up pictures that are no longer there.’
‘So they did get away with some?’
‘Looks like – nothing in your boss’s house or the boot of his car?’
‘I’ve not had the boot open in a while… I could take a peek.’
‘And while you’re at it, make some excuse to get inside his home, too – have a rake around. Where else could he be stashing them?’
‘You sure it’s him in the first place?’
‘Come on, Glenn… he must have let something slip.’
‘Nothing.’
‘Then he didn’t want you in on it. Maybe you’re on the way to the subs’ bench, Glenn – you and Johnno. Maybe Chib’s building himself a new team…’ Ransome lifted the whisky glass to his nose, smelling seaweed and peat smoke and maybe a hint of hot road tar. The produce of a coastal distillery, somewhere far to the north and west of Edinburgh. Just the one drink, though – he had Sandra’s Vietnamese duck to look forward to. He forced himself to stare straight ahead at the row of optics, rather than try for eye contact with Glenn. There were plenty of drinkers between them. ‘What is it you’re drinking, Glenn?’ he asked.
‘Smirnoff Ice. Cheers, Mr Ransome.’
‘I wasn’t offering to buy you one. If I go telling the barman to send a drink to the other end of the bar, it’ll look like a pick-up.’
‘Then why did you ask?’
‘Just curious, same as I’m curious about the whereabouts of these pictures.’
‘Funny thing,’ Glenn said, ‘but remember I told you we’d been to Henderland Heights?’
‘Mike Mackenzie’s flat, yes.’
‘Well, on the way back, Chib got a call. Someone called Edward, but pronounced funny. And Chib said something to him about “collateral” and how it wasn’t even posted as missing.’
‘What did he mean by that?’
‘Dunno. He realised Johnno and me were being nosy and made sure we were out of earshot for the rest.’
‘He’s got to have it stashed somewhere, whatever it is…’
‘There’s the clubs and pubs – they’ve all got cellars and store-rooms. Plus the snooker and pool halls… dozens of places.’
‘You could ask around, see if Chib’s made any visits without you knowing.’
‘If he gets wind of it…’
‘Make sure he doesn’t. Are you absolutely sure Mike Mackenzie’s a recent addition to Chib’s social scene?’
‘I’m sure. But, Mr Ransome, maybe that means Mackenzie’s hiding the paintings for Chib.’
‘The thought had crossed my mind. Tough to get a search warrant, though…’ Ransome gave a loud sigh. ‘Look, Glenn, it’s all very simple really. If we can get your boss for the warehouse, there’s no fallout. No one’s going to know you played any role in it at all. Makes your accession all the easier.’
‘My what?’
Ransome closed his eyes for a second. ‘You taking Chib’s place as the city’s number one,’ he explained.
‘Right.’
The pub’s double doors flew open as a stag party burst in. Easy enough to spot the bridegroom-to-be, reduced to his underpants, shoes and T-shirt, the latter defaced by graffiti and egg yolk. Ransome angled his phone away from the fresh wave of noise.
‘Keep your eyes and your ears open, Glenn. Next day or so is going to be crucial. Believe me, Chib’s empire is ready to fall. Make or break time for you, my friend. You ready to ascend your boss’s throne?’
‘Ready for what?’ Glenn had pressed a finger to his ear, holding the phone more closely to the other. ‘I didn’t catch that, Mr Ransome. Too much noise. Hello? Mr Ransome?’ Glenn took a few steps back, the better to see the far end of the bar. But the detective had already headed out into the night.
28
It was eight o’clock on Wednesday morning before Mike got through to Chib. They arranged to meet at ten at the disused snooker hall. Mike had been cagey on the phone, keeping it short, intent on saving his fury for the meeting itself. But then he reminded himself who – and what – Chib was, and revised his strategy accordingly.
Chib was standing behind one of the unlit tables when Mike pushed open the door. The gangster’s face was in shadow as he rolled a series of reds against the opposite cushion, studying their trajectories and momentum.
‘What’s on your mind, Michael?’ Chib asked, his voice refrigerator cold.
‘I think you know.’
‘Let’s pretend I don’t.’
Mike slid his hands into his jacket pockets. ‘The warehouse is missing a few paintings, Chib. A dozen or more, as it turns out – which kind of blows our brilliant plan to smithereens. They may not have noticed the switch, but they know a robbery’s happened because they’re suddenly short twelve masterpieces!’
One snooker ball hit another and sent it spinning on its axis. ‘I saw it on the news,’ Chib intoned. ‘One reason I was off limits last night. If we’d met then, I might’ve been a bit hotheaded. Still can’t say I’m too thrilled about it, though…’
‘If you’d thought about it for one second… one single, solitary second… you’d have realised they were bound to do a full stock check.’ Mike paused. ‘Or did your four bright young things just get greedy and grab the oils for themselves?’
‘Sorry, Mike, I’m a bit confused…’ Calloway leaned down with his elbows on the rim of the table. His face was visible now, eyes peering up at Mike. ‘Didn’t you use those same four guys to cover the guards and the gatehouse? Leaving you and your friends to empty the vaults?’
Mike burst into an incredulous laugh. ‘You’ve had all night to come up with a story and that’s the best you can do?’
‘I’m tempted to say the same thing.’
‘You’re not seriously suggesting we lifted those paintings? Are we supposed to have tucked them under our jumpers?’
‘How would I know? I wasn’t there – but then neither were my boys. They were keeping an eye on the hostages while you went about your business. When are they supposed to have pulled off this miracle? Did they make themselves invisible so they could get past you in the vaults without anyone noticing?’
Mike thumped a fist down hard against the green baize. A cloud of dust flew from it. ‘Why the hell would we go to the bother of stealing paintings? We’d taken all the trouble of switching them so nobody would ever be the wiser!’
‘Maybe one of you got greedy.’
‘I would know if that had happened.’
‘Really? You were standing over your pals the whole time as they emptied their vaults?’ Chib was silent for a moment, then exhaled noisily. ‘You talk a good game, Mike. I could almost use someone like you on my team.’
‘This is crazy!’ Mike spun away from the table, running his hands through his hair, stopping just short of tearing out a few clumps.
‘I’ll tell you what’s crazy,’ Chib stated quietly. ‘Your pal Allan was paid a visit yesterday by Ransome.’
‘How do you know that?’
Chib was standing upright again. His grin just showed against the shadows, much like the Cheshire Cat’s. ‘I had Johnno tail the bastard for a few hours, wanted to know what he’s up to. Ransome paid a visit to First Caledonian Bank – I remember you telling me that’s where Allan works…’
‘It’s not a big deal – Allan called me at the time to tell me it was happening.’
‘And?’ Chib was slowly rounding the table.
‘And nothing – I spoke to Allan afterwards. It was a fishing expedition, that’s all.’
‘You sure about that?’
‘Look… is this you laying down some smoke? Right now, it’s these missing paintings I’m bothered about.’