Truth Lies Waiting (Davy Johnson Series Book 1) (31 page)

Paul
is already ahead of me: ‘We’ve mobilised a squad car to keep watch on the
farm.’

‘Great,’
I say sarcastically, ‘might as well put up a sign saying ‘junkie grass lives
here.’

‘I
know!’ Paul says defensively, ‘I’m doing my bloody best.’

How
can I tell him that’s still not enough?

I
mentally tick off the people who know Daz’s whereabouts: Les Mahago, Paul, me.
Plus the cops tear arsing their way to Ballencrieff right this minute. I
grimace as I realise something isn’t quite right. There’s something Paul isn’t
telling me.

‘It’s
not Daz he’ll come after is it?’ I say evenly.

Paul
goes quiet.

‘Is
it?’ I persist.

Paul’s
voice is laced with concern. ‘Davy, you need to stay right where you are. We’ve
already despatched a car to pick you up while I’ve been on the line.’

‘But
Ken’s coming.’ I sound like a young child arguing over bedtime.

‘Ken
can’t protect you Davy, we can.’

I’m
not so sure. ‘Do you know these men?’ I challenge him.

A
pause. ‘Fucksake, Davy I’ve only been here two minutes, I can’t vouch for every
single person in the division.’

‘Thanks,’
I say quickly, climbing into the car as it pulls up beside me at the bus stop.

‘That’s
all I needed to know. Tell me the moment you hear anything about MacIntyre,
OK?’ I say before ending the call.

‘What
the hell is all that about?’ Ken asks when I turn to him. He signals before
pulling out, narrowly missing a police car racing in the opposite direction,
blue lights flashing, siren wailing; in his rear view mirror he clocks it turn
into the access road leading to the clinic. He sees the stricken look on my
face. ‘Where to, Davy?’

‘Just
drive.’ I say to him.

Brad
is in the back of the Skoda trying to work out what he’s seen. ‘They’ve twigged
where ye are then?’

I
shake my head urgently. ‘Worse than that.’ I tell him. ‘MacIntyre’s
disappeared.’

‘How
the fu-?’

‘One
of his pals gave him the heads up about Daz.’

‘How
did his pal know?’

‘Works
in Complaints.’

‘Right
enough,’ Ken says wisely, ‘they all piss in the same pot.’

I
fall silent as the sheer bloody enormity of it: MacIntyre won’t rest until I’m
banged up like Dad yet the only person who knows what he’s capable of is me.
For every cop willing to look for him there’ll be another prepared to look the
other way.

Rock,
meet Hard Place, he’s heard all about ye.

‘How’s
ye Da?’ Ken asks kindly.

‘He
was knocking off MacIntyre’s girlfriend.’

‘No
way!’ Brad responds, shocked. ‘The girl he murdered?’

I’m
already shaking my head. ‘MacIntyre killed her!’ I say, animated, ‘He killed
his girlfriend right in front of Dad like he killed Jude in front of me!’

‘Then
MacIntyre fitted him up?’ Brad asks.

‘Aye!
Only Dad went mental in the process and ended up at the hospital.’

Brad
jerks his thumb in the direction of the police car that passed us. ‘De they
think MacIntyre’s going to come after your Da?’

I
shake my head. ‘It was coming to take me somewhere safe.’ I tell them both.

‘Don’t
ye believe it, Son.’ Ken says with such conviction I know giving the cops the
slip was the right thing to do.

‘Paul
says MacIntyre’s going to come after me.’ I tell them.

‘Defo,’
agrees Brad, ‘he’s gonnae want tae knock seven shades oot o’ ye.’

I
can see by the set of Ken’s jaw he doesn’t agree. ‘Ken?’ I prompt.

We’ve
been heading in the direction of the city centre; I’m not sure where best to go
when we get there, returning to the hideout may be too risky now. In transit I
feel safe; at least while I’m on the move MacIntyre can’t reach me. We’ve been
travelling at a steady speed for the last ten minutes, but the needle on the
Skoda’s speedometer is starting to creep up.

‘Ken,’
I repeat, ‘dinnae get us pulled for speeding, pal,’ I laugh weakly, ‘not today
of all days.’ Ken doesn’t reply but he doesn’t adjust his speed either.

‘When
did ye last speak tae Candy?’ He asks this so casually the hairs on the back of
my neck start to rise.

‘Fuck
off, Ken,’ I snipe, ‘what ye getting at?’ He doesn’t take his eyes from the
road ahead yet I know it’s not the vehicles in front that have his attention.

‘I
reckon if MacIntyre really wanted to teach ye a lesson he wouldnae come after
you, Son,’ he says seriously, ‘he’d go after someone ye really care about.’

And
I’d gone and told him me and Candy were an item.

I’ve
already pulled out my phone and my fingers fly across the screen to speed dial
her number. I turn to Ken panic stricken: ‘Can ye take me-?’

‘We’re
nearly there.’ he says and I realise we’re on the approach road to Candy’s
home.

My
hand shakes as I hold the phone to my ear. ‘C’mon, pick up,’ I say impatiently.
My heart feels like it’s in freefall; I try not to think of the things
MacIntyre would do to Candy if he had the chance. Ken throws concerned looks in
Brad’s direction when he thinks I’m not looking. Brad places a hand on my
shoulder, ‘She’ll be fine-’

‘Don’t
say that!’ I warn him, twisting out of his reach. My voice comes out rasping,
as though something’s squeezing my windpipe. I turn round to glare at him.

‘Ye
canny say that!’ I say simply, quieter now.

Candy’s
phone rings out.

‘Why’s
she not picking up?’

Ken’s
obviously learned from Brad’s mistake as he doesn’t try to bullshit me:

‘I
don’t know.’ He says solemnly.

Candy’s
tenement comes into view. ‘C’mon!’ I yell, as Ken swerves the Skoda to a stop
outside the building’s main door. Residents’ cars fill all the proper parking
spaces forcing Ken to double park but right now I couldn’t give a toss. I
thrust my phone at Brad, ‘Ring Paul,’ I say urgently, ‘tell him what’s goin’
on! Keep phoning Candy till she answers.’

Brad
shoves the phone toward Ken, ‘You do it!’ he barks, then glares at me as though
daring me to argue, ‘Ye need me tae cover ye back!’

Like
a lot of Edinburgh tenements the main door isn’t closed properly so we slip
inside the building. The interior is smart: brightly painted walls with
polished floor tiles. A wooden sideboard stands against one wall with a pile of
mail on top of it. I look at the numbers on the doors either side of the stair.
‘Shit!’ I say louder than I intended. Brad looks at me questioningly, ‘I don’t
know which flat she stays in.’

‘Here!’
he says, snatching up the jumbled post from the wooden dresser then handing it
to me. ‘What’s her surname?’ Thank Christ one of us is thinking straight.

‘Staton!’
I tell him as I shuffle through the envelopes until I find one addressed to W.
Staton which I guess is her dad.

‘Flat
6B, 3
^rd
Floor.’ I read aloud before tossing the envelopes into the
corner and heading for the stairs.

‘What
ye gonnae do if MacIntyre’s there?’ Brad asks, keeping level with me on the
wide stone steps.

‘I
don’t know!’ I snap.

I
can’t think of anything beyond seeing Candy again.

And
keeping her alive.

By
the time we reach the third floor I can hear raised voices – Candy’s and a
voice I don’t recognise which I guess is her dad’s. I run at their front door
but Brad grabs me before I reach it and rugby tackles me to the floor. I look
at him in alarm as he clamps his hand over my mouth. I search his eyes for
clues in case I’ve misjudged him.

‘Keep
quiet!’ He hisses. I glare at him to show I’ll not forgive this. ‘I’m trying
tae help ye!’ he adds quickly. ‘If ye go barging in he’ll be ready for ye. Ye
gonnae have tae take him by surprise.’

Candy
and her father’s voices are getting louder; a neighbour opens her door a crack
to see what the commotion is; she clocks Brad pinning me down and takes a step
back.

‘Go
back inside, Doll,’ he instructs her, ‘call the cops as quick as ye can.’ She
doesn’t need telling twice.

Brad
turns his attention back to me. ‘Before ye say anything, I needed to give the
old dear something to do.’ he explains. I’m not in a position to argue, I can
barely breathe.

‘Listen!’
he says sharply, ‘As long as ye can hear their voices ye know they’re OK. Don’t
go rushing in for the sake of it. You’ve got to think through what you’re going
to do next.’ His weight is crushing me. ‘Mmmm….mmmmnn.’ I mumble into his palm.
He shifts to one side before removing his hand from my mouth.

‘Let
me go ye moron!’ I gasp, pushing myself up into a sitting position – Brad
hasn’t let go of me entirely, he’s still holding onto me by the scruff of my
neck.

‘We
don’t barge in, we
break
in,’ Brad says quietly. ‘We enter the flat then
separate. When one of us finds MacIntyre we cause a distraction.’

‘Then
what?’ I snap impatiently.

‘Then
we jump him or call for help.’

He
makes it sound easy. I could argue the toss but we don’t have time. ‘Fine!’ I
say impatiently, ‘But how the hell do we break in - ye carry lock picking tools
around with ye then?’ I ask spitefully.

‘Aye,’
Brad answers unfazed, pulling a metal hook and pick from an inside pocket in
his jacket. He carefully places it into the door’s locking device moving it
this way and that until we hear a ‘click’. He turns to me, grinning: ‘we’re
good tae go,’ he whispers proudly.

He
watches me get to my feet. ‘Ye sure about this, though, Davy?’

The
sound that comes next tells me I don’t have any choice.

The
sound of furniture and glass bouncing off the walls masks our entrance. I step
inside the flat slowly so that I can work out which room the commotion is
coming from. The hallway is small and square with four rooms leading from it.
Two of the doors are wide open and we can see that they are bedrooms. We can
also see that they are empty. Brad touches my arm and puts his finger to his
lips. He moves towards the first bedroom and gestures for me to step into the
other. We keep the bedroom doors ajar and peep out into the hallway through the
gap. The flat has fallen silent; I feel my hackles rise at the sound of a
whimper. Candy’s voice drifts across the hallway:

‘What’ve
you done to him?’

‘He
wouldnae do as he was told!’ MacIntyre’s voice is low and menacing.

‘He
let you in!’ Candy reproaches him, ‘Even when I told him not to…’

‘Aye,’
MacIntyre acknowledges, ‘and why
was
that exactly?’

Please
Candy, don’t tell him what ye know.

I
try to think how long we’ve been here. Long enough for Paul to mobilise help?
Or is he still pleading his case to some knob with more stripes than sense?

‘He
needs help,’ Candy’s voice is shaky; she’s trying her best to hold it together
but her dad must be in a bad way. ‘We need to call an ambulance for him.
Please.
’

‘I
asked ye a question, ye stupid bitch
,
an’ I’m still waiting on the
answer.’

There’s
a low moan, and Candy cries out in relief. ‘Dad! Stay with us, it’ll be
alright!’

‘Did
ye no’ hear me?’

‘Let
go of me!’ she shouts, ‘I want to stay with my Dad!’

‘An’
I want to know what that little fucker said tae ye!’

There’s
an urgency that tells me they’ve reached the point of no return, that whatever
happens from here on in will be down to me. MacIntyre won’t give in now, won’t
ever stop until he’s hurt me where I’ll feel it most. He sensed it from that
first day at Swanson’s factory when he caught me gawping at Candy, the hope I’d
pinned on her. He’ll want to annihilate that, wipe out my chance of a life with
her. I always knew he was a nasty piece of work, even now I can only guess the
extent of it. I shudder.

There will be no
coming quietly, no compromise.

It will be do or
die.

I
move out into the hallway, inching closer to the partly open door opposite.
Ahead of me I see MacIntyre in profile, dragging Candy by the hair. Her hands
are tied behind her back and as he pushes her backwards onto a wooden chair she
cries out in pain. The furniture around them is upturned; a corner unit has
been upended shattering vases and scattering photo frames across the wooden
floor. A man’s body can be seen beneath a large double window. His hands are
also tied but more worrying is the bloody gash across his forehead. I stare at
his chest long enough to see it rise and fall. He’s alive.

Brad moves to my
side.

‘Easy,
Davy.’ He warns, yet it’s not his concern that keeps me rooted to the spot.

MacIntyre
is holding a gun.

I
look back at Brad to see if he’s seen what I’ve seen; he stares back at me
wide-eyed. I know what he’s thinking as I’m thinking it too:
Aw, fuck.

MacIntyre
points the gun at Candy. ‘Ye need tae keep still,’ he says quietly, ‘and ye
need tae tell me what that scrote ye’ve been going round with has told ye.’

‘What’s
the point?’ Candy cries defiantly, ‘You’re gonna kill me anyway!’

Candy no, ye
need to keep him happy.

I’m
not afraid of death. I know that now. I just don’t want it to be in vain. No
point getting my head blown off if he kills Candy anyway. The chicken shit part
of me is rearing its head again and I hate myself a little bit more.

My
heart is pounding so much it feels like it’s going to jump out of my chest.
Directly in front of me Candy is tied to a chair, mouth open, forming the start
of a scream. Through the window behind her I see movement on the rooftop
opposite. A group of men dressed like Ninjas are getting into position. Paul’s
come up trumps then, but MacIntyre will know that. He’ll know his window of
opportunity is narrow, that if he doesn’t act soon the moment will pass.
Marksmen, once in place, will wait for their signal. I should hold back, leave
them to do their job. If I rush into the room I’ll be putting Candy in danger.

The
last time I held back had cost Jude her life. All that had separated her from
death or a happy ending had been the fraction of a second, a bigger set of
balls.

There’s
a moment of silence, as though the world is holding its breath.

Then someone’s
mobile starts to ring.

I
turn to Brad in alarm but he’s shaking his head wildly. Back in the room
MacIntyre grabs at a phone on the windowsill.

It’s
the phone I’d given to Candy.

‘Someone’s
keen tae get hold o’ ye!’ he tells her mockingly and I know it will be my name
that comes up on it. My heart leaps into my mouth. I’m the only one that calls
her on that phone and I was stupid enough to save my name as a contact.

MacIntyre’s
eyes light up when he sees the screen. ‘Your man wants tae speak to ye.’ He
says sarcastically as he moves towards her, ‘I reckon ye should take it.’

He
thinks I’m ringing to warn her. I stare at his outstretched arm.

I realise now how
this nightmare will end.

He’ll kill her the
moment she answers.

Brad
had said to find a distraction; I glance at him to say
This is it.

Ahead
of me Candy is shaking her head as though she can see through MacIntyre’s plan.

‘Kill
me if you have to!’ she sobs, ‘but don’t make him hear it…’

MacIntyre
presses the phone’s loud speaker button. It continues to ring out, Ken doing
exactly as he’d been instructed. With one hand MacIntyre places the phone in
front of Candy. With the other he points the gun at her temple. I look from the
window back to where he’s crouching; the crafty bastard has positioned himself
behind her.

Candy is in the
direct line of fire.

I
push the door open and step into MacIntyre’s line of vision. A momentary look
of surprise flashes across his face.

‘Even
better.’ He says darkly, discarding the phone.

In
the time that it takes for me to calculate the distance between the doorway and
Candy, MacIntyre stares straight at me, pausing just for a second to compute
whether to kill me first, then go for her, realising by then he’ll be dead. By
the time he turns his attention back to Candy I’ve moved towards him, arms
outstretched in the sign of the cross.

‘I
learnt to tell the time from Sonia!’ I goad him. ‘My dad would fuck her for
twenty two minutes before she called out his name. Ye could set your watch by
it!’

MacIntyre
is up on his feet. His hand shakes as he points the gun straight at me.

‘Ye
wee bastard.’ He spits.

Then he fires.

It’s
like being in some electrical thunderstorm. The room explodes into gunfire as
shots rain in from the building opposite, shattering the windows and hitting
MacIntyre in the head and chest. His body jerks as each bullet rips through him
as though he’s suffering from some kind of seizure before falling to the
ground. Brad runs into the room as the gunfire starts, knocking Candy to the
floor and shielding her with his body. Armed officers move in quickly, securing
the scene. ‘Stay where you are!’ One of them yells as I rush towards Candy but
I’m having none of it. She’s crying silently into Brad’s shoulder and I try to
console her.

‘Your
dad’ll be fine,’ I reassure her, watching as an officer assesses the old man’s
injuries before talking into his radio.

I
put my hand on Brad’s shoulder. ‘Ye can move now,’ I tell him, but he doesn’t
budge. He doesn’t even answer me. ‘Davy!’ Candy cries urgently, ‘I can feel
something warm.’

That’s when I see
the blood pooling around them.

I
get to my feet and start shouting:

‘We
need help here! Please!’

I don’t stop
shouting until someone wraps a blanket around me and leads me away.