59 Minutes (30 page)

‘You could say that.’

‘Shite!’

‘You think so?’

‘Martin I’m not into this game. Just fucking tell me
what is going on?’

‘Simple really.’ He took another slug of whisky.
‘Revenge really.’

‘Revenge - for what?’

This time he laughed hard. Very hard.

‘You don’t know. You really don’t know.’

‘I have no idea what the fuck is going on. Revenge
over who? Me?’

‘Who else?’

‘For what?’

‘What do you think?’

I let go of the table and tried to get on board the
train.

‘For what I did in
Glasgow
with Read?’

‘Well done.’

‘What, twenty fucking years ago? You’ve done all this
for something that happened two decades ago?’

‘Of course. Why else?’

‘For grassing you up to Read?’

‘A hole in one my son.’

‘But I brought you down to
London
. You
did bloody well out of
London
.’

‘So did you. Did you think I was just going to let you
roll me over and do nothing? When you grassed me up, you shat on my life from a
height you can’t believe. I was completely shafted. I had to leave
Glasgow
. Leave
everything I had behind. Every bloody thing. You had no idea how well I was
doing. Our breaking and entering was just the start. I was on the verge of a
hell of a deal and you dropped Read on me. He was a serious heavyweight and you
set him on me like a dog on a bone’

‘Jesus Martin. I stopped you robbing the bastard’s
house. Think what would have happened if I hadn’t.’

‘Bollocks. You turned turtle to save your own neck.
You knew you were dead meat once he found out you had been in his house. I’m
not fucking stupid. If I’d seen his name on the list from Rachel I would never
have gone near it.’

He had stood up and his face was starting to match the
deep red glow of the room.

‘You have no clue as to what I had to promise to get
back. It was easy for Rachel - she just waited a while and went back. But when
I tried to go back it seems that I wasn’t so easily forgiven and three of his
morons took great pleasure in putting me into the Southern General for two
weeks.’

‘I’d been in London working my way up the ladder when
I heard the wind was blowing a new way so I made a call to Read and promised
him the earth if I could move back. With the sniff of a
London
gang
coming north I reckoned whatever debt I owed Read would be buried with him when
things changed - and I was right. When you rolled up at the front door again I
saw my chance.’

‘But you were my number two in
Glasgow
. I
called you down to
London
and you came.’

‘Like a lapdog. I might have hated your guts but the
money was bloody good. When you said to go south, I knew I could swing it to my
advantage. It was easy. You were losing it. You were starting to believe in
your own hype - all that Riko crap. People were laughing at you behind your
back. It was the easiest thing on the planet to convince everyone that you were
becoming a liability. Once you took over the whole gaff you went off the deep
end and people started to talk seriously about moving you on. The old man might
have been a bastard but he was fair. You were acting like a tit.’

‘So who was Dupree?’

‘An out of work actor who owed me thirty grand and had
a drug habit to support. Good wasn’t he? Me and Spencer simply sat in the
background and pulled the strings.’

My head was getting sore with this.

‘Spencer as well? Shit. So why didn’t you just off me
and have done with it?’

He began to pace the room.

‘I wasn’t going to let you off that easy. No fucking
way. I wanted to see you suffer. I so wanted to see you suffer. And I also
wanted what you had. So when you pulled me down to
London
after
topping the old man, Spencer and I went into overdrive. We set you up like a
turkey at Christmas. You played along like a gem. You went nuts over the Dupree
stuff. You became obsessed. We couldn’t have dreamed you’d be so stupid. All we
had to do was dump anything that had our name on it and then hand over everything
else to the police.’

‘You told me that you had no choice in the witness
box.’

‘I didn’t. I needed to do it to make sure you went
down. By then you were so hated that I thought someone might take you out.
Prison saved you. I had a few guys on the inside watch your back for the first
few years.’

‘Look after me? I took a kicking every second day at
the start.’

‘And you would have been on the morgue slab after a
week if my guys hadn’t stepped in.’

‘Fourteen years Martin. Fourteen fucking years.’

‘Not long enough. If it was down to me you would have
rotted in there.’

‘What happened with Spencer?’

‘Got greedy so I sent him home. He really did die in a
car crash near Oban.’

I tried to stay in front of it all, but my head was boiling
up a stormer of a headache.

‘What the hell was all that Stevie, the key and
Spain
stuff.
What in the fuck was all that about?’

He sat back down again and took a sip of whisky.

‘I couldn’t resist. You made it so easy. When I knew
you were getting out I sent in Rachel with the letter. I thought you were
getting out sooner than you did but I got it wrong. It didn’t matter - you were
like a rat down a drainpipe once you started on the trail. I laid down the
breadcrumbs and like a bird you followed along.’

‘The code, the safety deposit boxes. What about
Mallorca
Security?’

‘Mallorca Security is part owned by me and Ryder. It
was easy to set it all up. Maria was in on it from the outset.’

‘You’re wrong. If she was then why did she hit the
alarm and save me from your goons?’

 ‘Stupid cow panicked. It was meant to end there
and then. I’d had enough fun and wanted you back home. I thought the whole
photo and code thing a laugh but enough was enough, and people were beginning
to look at me in the same way they looked at you when you obsessed on Dupree.
At least I recognised the signs of obsession. It was more than you did with
Dupree. By the way you did well getting out of
Mallorca
. How did you do it?’

I ignored him.

‘Charlie Wiggs?’

‘Charlie owes me big time. I’ve kept him on as my
accountant since our days. He’s into me for an arm and a leg and it wasn’t hard
for me to get him to play along. ‘

‘Charlie’s friend in
Mallorca
?’

‘Ryder’s son or rather his stepson. How else do you
think he would have got a copy of the blueprints so easily?’

‘So why let me get this close to you?’

‘I had no choice. You slipped my guys in
Spain
. You did
it again at my house. I was in
London
trying to sort out the mess in
Mallorca
at the
time. I still thought you were on the island. When you didn’t turn up on the
return flight I figured you must have got home somehow so I sent some muscle to
my house with orders to pick you up if you were there. You did well. Very well.
But I knew you wanted to front up to Dupree. So I waited for you to reappear
and reappear you did. I had lost you right up until you phoned Giles.’

‘He is in it as well?’

My voice rose a shade.

‘Of course. Once you skipped on us at Rachel’s house I
figured you would come after Dupree so I put the word out to all the old gang
that there was cash in it for anyone that let me know where you were. When
Giles phoned I set up our little meeting. You know that all you had to do was
press the downstairs buzzer. The cloak and dagger stuff was a little OTT.’

I had a million other questions.

‘So everything - prison, the warnings,
Mallorca
- the
whole fucking lot was for your amusement?’

His grin was back big style.

‘Absolutely. And tonight is the money shot. I needed
to see your face when you realised who had been behind it all. This is my
special moment.’

A silence blew into the room and he downed the last of
the whisky in his glass. His grin vanished and I could see his eyes glaze over.

‘But somehow it’s all a bit hollow. I don’t know what I
expected but it wasn’t this. I thought I would feel vindicated but I don’t. I
feel, well sort of empty.’

His grin had been replaced with a small grimace and a
weary look crossed his face.

‘This feels all wrong.’

Damn right it felt wrong. I stood up fast and was half
way across the table when the door burst open and I was grabbed mid air before
being thrown to the floor.

‘All wrong,’ he said. ‘All wrong.’

He walked up to me as the attacker picked me up and
slammed me back into the chair.

‘Did Giles tell you his stupid Sainsbury’s story. The
one to do with the Chelsea/Millwall game? Did he?’

I said nothing and the attacker wrapped his arm around
my throat.

‘He’s told me it on more than one occasion. I always
thought it a bit of a crap tale. I mean what is it supposed to mean, but you
know what? I think I might know what that face looking out the window was
thinking. I think that face belonged to someone that knew exactly what was
going on but chose to stay in the safety of the hostel. He wasn’t a little innocent.
That face had been, seen, done and bought the t-shirt and knew he was in the
right place that night. Well you’re in the wrong place. I’m sorry old friend
that it has to end like this. I need to get on with life and that’s not going
to happen with you around.’

I tried to say something but the attacker flipped me
from the chair and suddenly my mouth was full of carpet. Martin bent down.

‘If you wanted Dupree this badly then you’ll want me
with sugar on. I can’t have that. So I’ll say my goodbyes.’

The bastard kissed the tips of his fingers,
reached down and patted me on the head. I looked up and saw the smile leave his
face.

‘So different. It should have all been so
different.’

I struggled to get up but my attacker and
the man from the Spanish photo were good for the game and I was pinned to the
floor. The first fist caught me behind the ear - the knuckleduster slicing open
my skull. Snap, crackle and pop and the second fist mashed my nose to mince.

Just the beginning. I tried to curl into a
ball. Just the beginning.

The door to the room closed as the bastard
left and it was time for more pain. The attacker reached between my legs and
grabbed at my balls. The squeeze was so hard it felt like one of them burst. A
thumb searched for my left eye socket and a forefinger for my right - fluid
spurted and darkness fell.

Then they got serious.

Hi I’m back. Are you still there? Of course you are.
Was the diary interesting? I bet it was. Giles has done a wonderful job. Hasn’t
he?

Sorry it finished in August. As you may have gathered
things didn’t go well after my meeting with Martin. Not well at all. In fact it
is a miracle I’m still here. Four months in hospital on account of the beating
I took.

I’ve lost the sight in both eyes. The doctors have
told me I’ll be blind for life. Both my legs are useless. One of the kicks - or
maybe it was a couple of the kicks in Martin’s office broke my back and severed
my spinal chord. I’ll never walk. I can’t even piss on my own. My left lung
will never work again and the damage to my kidneys means I will need a
transplant, but I’ll not be high on the priority list. My pancreas is shot and
my liver isn’t much better. The doc says that he is amazed I’m still here.

I can’t use either of my arms. A stroke took care of that
a couple of months ago. 

Sorry I had to duck out there but everyday at
twelve o’clock
they
take me away for a little physiotherapy. Not that it does much good but I’m
hardly in a fit state to refuse.

I don’t get many visitors. Rachel came by with my
stuff a while back but she said little. Giles Taylor showed up and he has been
a good friend in these last few months.

He was a wonder with the digital recordings. His
patience was startling. You can’t believe how much nonsense was stored away on
that little recorder’s memory. He interrogated me like a good one, to add meat
to the bones, and I had him read it all back to me when he was finished.

I think he should get the damn thing published.

Giles was the first new face in a while and now you
are here.