The Night the Rich Men Burned (23 page)

By the time he’s reached the door, he’s just about terrified. This isn’t his depth. Not even close. A big red door, no windows on it. A three-storey, mid-terrace brown stone building. It looks like an expensive house. But that’s the point, isn’t it. What goes on behind closed doors. Knocking on the door a couple of times. Jesus, please don’t answer. It would be so nice if he had an excuse not to go ahead with this. But it’s opening.

The first little piece of his curiosity is stamped upon. The guy answering the door is muscle. Stereotypical muscle. Tall, a little overweight, shaven-headed. Looks like he’d break his granny’s neck if the price was right. Not the sort of person that answers the door at a swanky private members’ club. The muscle’s nodding for him to come in.

Inside it looks like a nice house too. Not some special place the rich come to play. A corridor, doors closed on either side. A staircase on the right-hand side of the hallway. The muscle leading him along the corridor. Thin, cheap carpet. There’s a big scratch on the wallpaper above the radiator. So not some private members’ club after all. That’s a disappointment. This isn’t some special meeting place. Just a city-centre location that a man like Potty has easy access to. Convenient, not special.

Places like this get their own mythology. A man like Potty is seen coming and going. It’s a good location in the city centre. It’s the sort of property that could easily be used for something exclusive. Something exciting. So it gets a reputation as some special place. That’s what people want to think. They want to think there’s something clever and dangerous going on behind these doors. Something glamorous. Fascinating fantasy trumps tedious truth every time. Truth is it was a good piece of property that Potty managed to come by on the cheap. Owner owed some money. Gave Potty a big price cut on the deal. A good little investment. Property is a good way to clean money.

None of this matters to Glass now. He’s following the muscle along the corridor. Getting more nervous as he goes. It’s silent behind the closed doors. There’s nobody else here. Just him and Potty and this thug. It suddenly feels dangerous. Ominous. It was intimidating before, but he was sure he would have a chance to pay off the debt somehow. Now it feels like a set-up. It feels like he’s never going to get out of here.

The muscle’s opening the door, nodding for Glass to go in. It’s a large room, well lit, white walls. There’s a sink over against one wall, but that’s the only giveaway that this used to be a kitchen. All the units and features have been ripped out to leave the place almost empty. Looks like they started a conversion and ran out of interest. There’s a table in what was the dining area. That’s all the furniture. A long dining table, with Potty Cruickshank sitting at the head of it. The muscle who was sitting along from Potty is getting up, moving towards the sink.

That’s Glass’s cue to take a seat at the table, which he’s doing. Looking behind him at the sound of the door closing. The muscle who led him in is standing just inside the now closed kitchen door. There’s a closed window behind Potty, and no other way out. The other muscle is leaning back against the sink, looking casual. Both of them watching him. Not watching Potty. Just Glass. Potty’s taking a sip from the glass on the table in front of him. Not offering Glass anything. The state of this place would suggest Potty did well to get anything for himself, never mind a guest.

‘I’m glad you made it,’ Potty’s saying. ‘You and I need to have a very serious discussion.’ His tone is sombre. No messing around here. ‘We need to have a discussion that I don’t think you’re going to like. But you’re a strong person, aren’t you, Alex? A tough guy?’ Little bit of mockery crept in there, just at the end. The little mouth curling up at the edges, ever-so-slightly creasing those big cheeks.

It could be an offer of work. Wanting an old friend of Peterkinney to be seen working for him. It could be something else. Either way, you agree with Potty. ‘I guess. Tough enough.’

Potty’s nodding. ‘Mm, good. Because what I have to offer you will require a tough person. It’s an opportunity for you to pay off your debt to me in its entirety in one evening. The whole thing, gone. But it’s tough work. Are you interested?’

It’s not as if he can say no. Potty’s just said that he owns the debt. He’s giving him a chance to wipe it out. The man’s offering a rare opportunity. A favour, it looks like. How often does Potty sit down with a man and offer one of those? Saying no is going to piss Potty off. Alone in a room with Potty and two of his muscle is not the time to piss him off.

‘I guess, yeah. I’m interested.’

Another nod. Potty hearing what he expected to hear, and knowing how worthless that can sometimes be. ‘Let me ask you, Alex. Do you know where your girlfriend is right now? Where Ella is?’

Glass is looking at Potty with alarm. His mouth is open, but his brain hasn’t found a word ready to head out there yet. The fear turning to anger. He’s about to get emotional when he remembers who the fat guy sitting in front of him is. Remembers the two thugs that are in the room with them. Watching him. And the fear returns. He’s shaking his head. Not saying anything because he doesn’t trust himself to speak. Just shaking his head.

‘No,’ Potty’s saying. ‘But you can guess. Don’t take this as a threat. I just wanted to know if what I’d heard was true. What I’d heard about her occupation. So one of my boys tracked her down. Offered her money for her work. She agreed, of course. It’s some money for you both, I suppose.’ Said with a smug shrug. ‘But what of you, Alex? Are you earning any money? Helping her out of this life she lives?’

Another shake of the head. If they were alone it would be different. If they were alone he would threaten and shout. He might even throw a punch. He’s beaten people up. He knows how he would do it here. Charge all his weight at Potty. Knock him off the chair and onto the floor. Once you get a man that big onto the floor, it’s easy to keep him there. But no. They’re not alone. Potty’s never going to let that happen. And Glass is never going to do anything. Just shaking his head until Potty starts talking.

‘So she’s the one bringing the money in. Doing all the work for the both of you. And here you are with a large debt. A debt you now owe to me. I’m going to offer you a chance to remove that. To wipe your slate clean. Isn’t that what you want?’ Talking quietly, confidently. Elbows on the table, chin resting on his folded hands.

Get him to agree to the job before he even knows what it is. It’s a good tactic. Make it as hard as possible to back out. If he was thinking clearly, Glass would realize how big this is. Threatening Ella. Threatening him. Trying to force him to accept without details. It should tell him a lot about what’s coming next. But he isn’t thinking clearly. The threat to Ella made sure of that. All going to plan for Potty then.

‘I do want that.’

‘Of course you do. Strong young man like you, you want to do the right thing for yourself and your partner,’ Potty’s saying, and leaning forwards against the table. ‘I am going to give you an opportunity that can clear your debt. That could make you very popular with me. You do understand how valuable that could be, don’t you, Alex? Being popular with me? It could serve you very well. Will you do it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good. One of my boys will give you a knife. You are going to go to this address. You are going to kill the man who lives there. Do you understand me? You are going to kill this man. You are going to do this.’

There’s a slight shake of the head. Watching as Potty passes a quarter of a page from a phone book. One name and address ringed in blue ink. Sliding it across the table. Potty saying nothing, just glaring back at Glass.

‘I haven’t . . . I don’t know how. I couldn’t.’

Potty frowning. ‘Are you refusing to help me?’ Asked quietly, with a sad expression. That’s the nod for the guy by the sink to stop slouching and stand up straight. Take a noisy scuffed step towards the table. Let Glass know what pressure he’s under.

‘No, no,’ Glass is saying. ‘It’s just, I haven’t done this before. I don’t know how. There must be someone better.’

Potty’s smiling and shaking his head. ‘First-night nerves. You’ll get over it. You’re the best person for the job. Tough lad like you, of course you are. You go there right now. You knock on the door. He answers and you do it. Then you get out of there. It’s really rather simple. Don’t overcomplicate it, Alex, that’s where many people slip up. Do it quickly and keep it simple, and you’ll be fine.’ Said with a quietly reassuring tone. Just about sounded like he cared. There’s a pause. ‘You understand that I will be very happy with you if you do this well. I will be very angry if you don’t.’

Glass is looking at him. You can see that he means it. Potty Cruickshank doesn’t have time for idle threats. Potty’s never lived in a world of idle threats. Too busy issuing real ones. He’s threatening Glass. Letting him know that he will be the one impaled on metal if he doesn’t do the job. Probably be killed right after they do something to Ella.

‘I know,’ Glass is saying. ‘I’ll do it. Tonight.’

‘Good lad,’ Potty’s saying, and smiling a smile so false it’s an insult. ‘Show Alex out, would you,’ he’s saying to the muscle at the door.

The muscle’s walking Glass back along the corridor. Taking out a long thin knife from the inside pocket of his fleece. Passing it to Glass. Glass holding it and looking at it.

‘Put it away,’ the muscle is telling him harshly, then opening the front door.

Back out into the cold night. The metal feels heavy in his pocket. That’s the handle, rather than the blade. He’s walking slowly along the street. He knows where he needs to go. Taking his phone out and calling Ella. Her phone’s switched off.

9

He started tracking him at his office. Parked across the road from it, watching a few people come and go. Little place, doesn’t look like much. Peterkinney arrived in his car. Got out looking happy with himself. Little shit. Went into the office and stayed in there for about twenty minutes. He thought about going in then with the knife, but he didn’t. Too much chance of being seen. Marty wouldn’t want that, so Neil Fraser sat in the car and watched.

See, people are always treating Fraser like he’s some idiot. Like he doesn’t have the subtlety to do anything important. Young’s always treating him that way. Only ever takes him along to look mean and be quiet. Finally someone’s giving him a job that matters. That’ll let him show people how good he can be. Staking the place. Tracking the target. Waiting for the right moment to strike. This’ll show them what a pro he is.

He sat patiently and watched the office. Patiently, you see, patiently. He can do this. And Peterkinney came out, got in his car and drove home. And Neil Fraser followed him. Thought he did a pretty damn good job, too. There was a spell where he was right behind Peterkinney’s car, but so what? Even if Peterkinney looked in his mirror, he probably wouldn’t have recognized him anyway. So Fraser followed him home, parked a little way along the street from his flat, and waited.

Nice little street it is too. You can see the boy’s moving up in the world. Sort of place for the young middle class. People with rich parents. Well, that ain’t Peterkinney. But young people with money. Don’t need a lot of space, but want to be in a nice area close to the places that matter in the city. Yeah, he’s done all right out of screwing Marty, Fraser’s thinking. Looking at the buildings. Thinking it would be nice to live in a place like this. Maybe he should screw Marty too. But he wouldn’t know how. Nah, do this job, and trust Marty to reward him. Marty sees his potential.

Fraser waited there for nearly an hour, which was pretty damn patient. Then got fed up waiting. There’s really no need to spend forever waiting for a better opportunity. Take the opportunity that’s in front of you. So he got out of the car and started to walk to the door of the flats. Casual, trying to look like he belonged. Then the door of the flats opened and Peterkinney came out. Down the steps, looking relaxed. Didn’t look at Fraser. Just walked to his car at the side of the road and got in. Fraser stopped halfway along the pavement. Trying to work out what he should do next. Keep on walking to act casual, or turn back to his car and maybe catch the boy’s eye. Frozen on the pavement, unsure of himself. Peterkinney’s starting his car and pulling away. Fraser, without waiting for Peterkinney to turn the corner at the bottom of the street, has turned and is running back to his car.

Okay, so he handled that badly. He knows it. Doesn’t need you ramming it down his throat. But he managed to follow Peterkinney. Caught him up and kept close. Driving into the centre, lot of people around. Parked close behind him. Watched Peterkinney stroll along the street and into a cinema. So Fraser hung around outside the cinema, for the best part of two hours.

Two fucking hours, standing in the street like an idiot. Just lurching around, people coming and going. Getting hungry, but nowhere he can go to grab something to eat. Nowhere that he could still see the cinema doors from. People are seeing him, hanging around. Bloody stupid, this is. But he can’t go in, he knows that. Got to hang around and wait. Keep watching the door. Keep your distance. Be smart.

He was impatient by the time Peterkinney came out of there. Walking along a busy and well-lit street. Fraser knows better than to attack now. But what if this is the perfect place to attack? This is the last place anyone would expect him to attack. They always say that’s the best time. No, not here. Too many people around. Wait until it gets quieter. There’ll be a better chance. Back on the street where they’re both parked. He can just walk up behind him and stick the knife in him. Keep walking to his car. Yeah, that’s the perfect way to do it.

Except Peterkinney isn’t going back to his car the way he came. He’s taken a turning away off down an adjoining street that takes them further away from their cars. But that’s okay, because he’s walking to a quieter area. There are fewer people, it’s darker. There are more little alleyways down this way. Peterkinney’s leading him closer and closer to his chance. Turning again, into what’s basically a wide alleyway between shops and a multi-storey car park. Fraser keeping close, but not too close. Nobody else down this alleyway.