‘Back in your pocket, Spanner,’ he ordered.
‘It’s John Rhodes’s pocket he’s in!’ Ballater called out.
Spanner Thomson ignored this, his attention focused on the man he’d known longer than anyone else in the city, longer even than his own wife.
‘I need you to back me up here, Cam,’ he said. ‘I need to hear you say it in front of everyone.’
‘Say what, Spanner?’
‘That you trust me.’
‘Doesn’t seem the wisest of moves to trust anyone right now.’ Colvin glanced behind him. Paterson and Menzies had moved to the bar and armed themselves with bottles, ready to smash them, leaving jagged necks only. ‘Easy there, boys,’ he warned, scooping up the razor.
‘Nobody touches my blade!’ Ballater roared. ‘It was my dad’s!’
‘Do him while you can, Cam,’ Thomson spat. ‘Ask yourself who’s more likely to have done away with Bobby. Who’s hungry to sit in that chair next to you? And believe me, even that won’t satisfy him for long.’
‘The pair of you need to shut the fuck up!’ Colvin gave Ballater a shove, stepping away from his immediate orbit, his hand still clasped around the razor’s scuffed ivory handle.
Panda Paterson was at Ballater’s side, helping him to his feet. ‘Easy, Mickey, easy.’
‘I’m not the one that’s tooled up, Panda.’
Dod Menzies had put himself between Thomson and the others. He was holding both hands up as if in surrender, though one of them still held an empty mixer bottle.
‘None of this is helping,’ he said.
‘Cutting that bastard might, though,’ Thomson snarled. Menzies’ free hand had begun reaching towards the raised spanner. The tool came down hard across his knuckles, causing him to gasp. He dropped the bottle, which shattered against the stone floor, and bent over, nursing the injury, muttering curses through gritted teeth.
‘You’re out of order, Spanner,’ Colvin said, his voice hoarse from the sudden adrenaline.
‘As far as I can see, Cam, I’m the only one around here not out of order. And if that’s the way it is, I suppose the only thing left to say is: fuck the lot of you. I don’t want to hear from any of you after today, and if you come looking for me, you better be carrying heavy artillery.’
‘Spanner...’
Thomson looked at Cam Colvin. ‘Lot of history, Cam. And you’ve pissed all over it. I’m out.’ He turned and headed for the door.
‘Good fucking riddance,’ Ballater called after him, rotating his shoulder as he checked it for damage.
‘Spanner,’ Colvin repeated without any real force, eyes on the closing door. Ballater had retreated behind the bar, pouring himself a whisky. Menzies was flexing his fingers and wrist, wincing in pain.
‘I need a check-up,’ he said.
‘Surgery’s open,’ Ballater informed him, setting a fresh glass on the bar next to the refilled ice bucket. Menzies plunged his hand into the ice. Paterson arrived alongside him, leaving Cam Colvin to stare at the door as if he could bring his old friend back by sheer force of will.
‘You’re better off without him,’ Ballater said. He had already regained a measure of composure, as if buoyed by Thomson’s exit.
‘He just needs a bit of time to think,’ Paterson speculated.
‘That would be a first,’ Ballater said.
‘You talk a lot of shite sometimes, Mickey, and you’re transparent with it.’ Colvin was approaching the bar.
‘Sorry, boss.’ Ballater poured another measure before holding out his hand, palm upwards. Colvin hesitated before passing him the razor, its blade folded again. He gave Ballater the hardest of stares, not relaxing until the razor was back in Ballater’s pocket. Then he turned his attention to Menzies’ hand.
‘You okay?’
Menzies lifted his fist from the ice bucket. The knuckles were swelling and beginning to discolour. ‘I think some-thing’s broken.’ He gestured towards Ballater for a refill.
‘When you’ve done that, Mickey,’ Colvin said, ‘I’ve got a job for you.’
Ballater was suppressing a thin smile as he turned from the optics with Menzies’ glass. ‘Anything you say, boss.’
‘That’s good, because what I’m about to say is London.’
Ballater’s face was suddenly a creased question. ‘London?’
‘Couple of business associates there. A deal’s going down and I need eyes and ears in the room.’
Ballater took a moment to process the information. Was this the back of the net or a sending-off? His face said he didn’t have an answer.
‘It’s not for long,’ Colvin assured him.
‘But with Spanner gone, you’re already two men down.’
‘Plenty firepower in reserve, Mickey, don’t you worry.’ Colvin glanced at his watch. ‘There’s a train at noon — gives you time to go home and pack, if you start right now.’
‘Boss, I need to know—’
‘No, you don’t. I’ll have someone meet you off the train. They’ll take you to a hotel and I’ll phone you.’ Colvin paused. ‘Always supposing that’s okay with you?’
Paterson and Menzies were twitching, neither man able to work out if this meant the empty chair had been filled.
‘You’ll be back here before you know it,’ Colvin said. ‘But I need you to be on your way.’
‘If that’s what you want, Cam.’
‘It is, Mickey.’
Ballater considered for a further moment, then finished his drink. ‘I’ll see you around, lads,’ he said to Paterson and Menzies, giving them a wave as he made for the door.
‘Watch out for Spanner,’ Menzies called to him. ‘The man doesn’t forget.’
‘Me neither, Dod, and I’ve yet to see a razor lose a fight...’
There was silence in the bar after he’d gone, as if a suspect device had been carted away. Colvin approached the optics and refilled each glass.
‘Are you sure about this, Cam?’ Panda Paterson asked.
‘Time to regroup, lads. I want you to fetch me some fresh blood. Give me your best names and let’s gather them around a table. I want them clever rather than stupid, able to give someone a fright but not Neanderthal. I appreciate it’s a tall order...’
‘I might know one or two,’ Paterson conceded.
‘Me, too,’ Menzies added.
‘By the end of the day, then, before the jungle drums start announcing recent departures.’
‘In the meantime, what do we do about Bobby?’
‘Keep digging, keep asking. Somebody out there knows something.’
‘And John Rhodes? After what he did to Betty’s taxis? We’re due him some payback, no?’
‘Are my ears burning?’
They all looked towards the doorway. A man with a heavily scarred face was holding it open while John Rhodes stood there silhouetted by the daylight behind. Both men walked in, the door rattling closed after them.
‘This is unexpected, John,’ Colvin said.
Rhodes was studying Menzies’ hand as it emerged from the ice bucket. ‘Which one did you punch, Spanner or Mickey?’ He smiled for Cam Colvin’s benefit. ‘I was in the car outside, weighing up my options. One of them was to have Gerry here hold shut the door while I torched the place.’
‘I had nothing to do with what happened at the Gay Laddie,’ Colvin stated.
‘And I believe you.’ Rhodes nodded to himself. ‘Which is why I decided jaw-jaw was better than war-war. Now who do I have to French-kiss to get a drink here?’ He had begun walking across broken glass towards the bar.