Blood Whispers (18 page)

‘Then I guess we’re all done,’ said Moran as he pushed back his chair and stood up. ‘If you think of anything that might be of use, we’re staying at the Crowne Plaza, and this,’ he handed her a scrap of paper, ‘has our cell numbers while we’re here. Abazi will be so busy looking over his shoulder for us, he won’t have time to come looking for you.’

The atmosphere in the unmarked police car was tense as it sped along the road on its way back to Glasgow. Gary Hammond could tell the two Americans weren’t happy.

‘Does anyone else feel like they’ve been kicked in the balls?’ said Aquino.

‘You get the feeling she’s not telling us everything?’ Moran directed the question at Gary.

Gary was reluctant to give his opinion. ‘I don’t know. She’s been through a lot in the last few weeks. I think maybe she’s just had enough. She’s under a lot of pressure.’

‘You think maybe she is involved in handling the drugs?’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘It wouldn’t be the first time the lawyer turns out to be one of the main players.’

‘Not in this case.’

‘All I’m saying is, you might want to take a closer look.’

‘We leaving tomorrow?’ asked Moran.

‘We’ve still got some work to do. We’ll leave when we’re done.’

The two officers were standing in the lobby of their hotel waiting for the lift to arrive. ‘I’m gonna take a shower, try and freshen up a little. You wanna eat here or try to find somewhere in town?’

‘Let’s grab a few beers at the bar, then we can decide . . . You think she knows what’s going on?’

‘I think there’s something she’s not telling us, but that’s as far as it goes. If she was on to us, we’d know about it by now.’

‘You think it was subtle, making that call with the two of them sitting at the table?’

Moran looked round at him and smiled. ‘Did you like that?’

‘Not particularly.’

‘What?’ protested Moran. ‘All they heard was me cancelling a meeting in the States . . . what’s wrong with that?’

‘And how did a bag of smack find its way into Kade’s apartment?’

‘No point being subtle about it. We gotta make this guy out to be badder than bad. We give these guys plenty of evidence that’s all pointing in the same direction, there’s only one conclusion they can come to – Edwin Kade, guilty as charged. You wanna know where they found the bag of heroin?’

‘In his holdall?’

‘Man, you’re too good.’

‘You can be such an asshole sometimes, you know that?’ Aquino shook his head.

‘Turns out our source was correct about it being placed in the lawyer’s apartment, too. For whatever reason, it must have been removed – but not before some of it spilled on the kitchen table. I was reading through some of the scene-of-crime reports Hammond gave me and, bang, there it was: “Traces of controlled substance confirmed as heroin”.’

The lift arrived and the two men stepped in.

‘Not enough to put her away for a long time, unfortunately,’ continued Moran, ‘but enough to grab a few headlines and fuck her over.’

St Andrew’s Cathedral sat on the north bank of the River Clyde near Glasgow’s city centre. It was illuminated by large uplighters that made the building stand out against the dark, cloudless sky. The back two pews of the cathedral were taken up by Nick-Nick Carter, Big Paul and a handful of each of their respective gang members. They had gathered there at the Holy Man’s request to ‘pray for the departed and those on the metaphorical platform edge who were about to receive their one-way ticket to the afterlife in the form of a bullet’.

Even though there was obvious tension between the rival gang members, the rest of the congregation seemed oblivious to the stony-faced men.

‘It’s like visiting hours at the remand centre,’ muttered Nick-Nick, shaking his head.

Big Paul leant across Edi Leka, who was sandwiched between him and the Holy Man, and whispered, ‘We’ve found the little fuck.’

The Holy Man shot Big Paul a look. ‘You’re in the Big Man’s house now, brother. Keep that sort of language for your own home, not in here.’

Big Paul didn’t even blink. ‘He’s holed up in a bed and breakfast on the South Side. Wan eh Nick-Nick’s guys saw him out at the off-licence buying some cheap cider and followed him.’

‘What’s it called?’

‘Ah don’t know: Magners?’

‘The bed and breakfast,’ the Holy Man said coolly.

‘Ah’m just messin’ with you. It’s called the Ewington, in Queens Park. More a hotel really, but it’s B-and-B rates. Nice set-up. Too good for that wee shite.’

‘Are you sure it’s him?’

‘No mistake. Man, there’s wanted dead or alive posters all over town. Even my ma knows what Jay-Go looks like.’

Edi Leka sat staring ahead, pretending he was listening to the priest. The rumour circulating after the incident at Jay-Go’s flat was that Yogi Bearcat had tried to rob Jay-Go: that’s why he got whacked. After shooting him in the head, Jay-Go had gone into hiding, taking the Holy Man’s money and Abazi’s kilo of heroin with him.

The story had worked in Edi’s favour: everyone, including the police, was searching for the missing Jay-Go.

All Edi Leka had to do was make sure he got to him first, kill the son-of-a-bitch, recover the heroin and return it to Mister Abazi.

‘There’s nothing I can do tonight,’ said the Holy Man. ‘It’ll have to wait. Can yer man keep an eye on him, let me know if the situation changes?’

‘Ah’m sure he can.’

At the end of the Mass, as the rest of the congregation filtered out, the Holy Man passed the word around for everyone in his party to stay where they were, then walked down to meet the priest, who was already halfway along the aisle on his way to greet him.

‘Everything all right?’ asked Father David.

‘No worries, Father . . . Could I have five minutes to address my gathering, then we’ll be on our way?’

‘Certainly‚ Mister McMaster‚ take your time.’ As the priest turned heel and headed for the vestry, the Holy Man rejoined the group of men, most whom were now on their feet.

‘Take a seat for a moment, gentlemen, this won’t take long. A lot of you, I know, are wondering why this choice of venue and I’ll come to that in a moment. The reason I wanted us to gather for Mass en masse was for everyone to get a good look at each other before Saturday night. In particular our new friend Mister Leka, without whom none of this would have been possible . . . Stand up, Edi.’

Edi Leka stood for a second, gave an awkward nod, then sat down again.

‘It was Edi that gave us the information about the large shipment Mister Abazi will be receiving at the weekend and it is he who will make sure the gates are open and the alarm system disabled when we enter the premises. He is also the one responsible for fingering which building to target – a haulage warehouse on the Darnley estate. If and when the shooting starts, please make sure our friend Mister Leka is not in the firing line. The same applies to all of you. Take a good look around. Memorize as many of the faces that are unfamiliar to you as possible. I don’t want there to be any casualties on our side caused by friendly fire. Mister Abazi is allegedly planning to retire, but not before he’s sent us a “fuck-you-all” leaving present. He wants to flood the market with extremely cheap, extremely pure product in an attempt to kill off our business or kill off our clientele before he goes. Either way it’s an act of sabotage. Which brings me nicely to the reason I’ve chosen St Andrew’s as the venue for our wee get-together. When the cathedral was first being built, because of the prejudice against Catholics and the resistance to them having their own place of worship, all the work that was carried out during the day was dismantled in the middle of the night by saboteurs. Such was the level of interference, and the cost of repairing the damage done by the bastards, that it looked like the Church would run out of money and the project remain unfinished. Guards had to be placed outside to protect the construction works. However, congregations from other Christian denominations didn’t like what was going on. They took collections, offered the money and worked to help the Catholic Church complete the building that we are sitting in now. This is why I brought you here. To show you what can be achieved with a little co-operation. Let us unite in a Holy Ecumenical Alliance Treaty . . . HEAT for short. For the ignorant amongst us, it means that we may not agree on a lot of things, but if we co-operate with one another, bury our differences for a short while and work for the common good, we can not only protect our business interests, but sort that wee bastard Abazi right out.’

When Holy Man had finished there was a brief pause, followed by an awkward smattering of applause.

Jay-Go sat on one of the two armchairs in the bay window of his room in the Ewington hotel. He was hunched over the round coffee table in front of the chairs rolling a joint. He’d scored some grass from a street-dealer in the park across the road from the hotel. The room was clean and comfortable with plenty of space to move around, but the colour scheme was doing his brain in – aquamarine coloured chairs, rose pink carpet, yellow walls and a floral patterned bedspread. As soon as the spliff was cooked he’d go for a walk in the park to get a break from the décor.

He pulled back the curtain.

The street lamps had just come on, but it would be another twenty minutes or so before it was dark enough to venture out. Over a week had passed since Yogi had copped it. In that time Jay-Go had managed to grow a short, stubbly beard. Using some of the money the Holy Man had given him, he’d also bought some new clothes. His hair was starting to grow back too, but he still didn’t look different enough to feel confident going out in daylight hours. He had his own key to the front door of the hotel, so he could come and go as he pleased and avoid any unnecessary contact with the staff, but it was only a matter of time before someone clocked who he was and contacted the police.

Jay-Go’s phone suddenly buzzed on the table. He stared at it, hesitating for a second, before picking it up and clicking on ‘message’.

Ready or not, here I come
, was all it said.

He put the spliff between his lips and lit up.

Taking a long, deep draw he sat motionless and continued to stare at the screen.

Eventually he started nodding his head, as though he’d come to a decision. He would have a couple of tokes to get him started, then finish the rest in the park. Ten minutes at most, just to get some fresh air.

Jay-Go placed the phone back on the table and stood up.

On the way to the door he lifted his PPK off the bed, tucked it behind his back and pulled on his jacket.

There was no need to check that the gun was loaded: in the last few days that was all he’d done.

Jay-Go took a right out of the hotel and walked to the corner of Queen’s Drive and Balvicar, then turned left, heading for the main gates of the park. Black metal railings ran at chest height around the perimeter, beyond which, through the trees and bushes, he could see the flat, well-tended square of a bowling green and its low club building lit from the ground by security lights.

The streets were quiet.

Somewhere behind him a car door clicked open. Jay-Go turned and saw a figure moving down Queen’s Drive towards the corner, but the overhanging branches of a large sycamore tree obscured his view.

Jay-Go set off again, upping the pace this time.

Ahead, in a row of cars parked under the huge octagonal spire of the gothic-style Baptist Church, the doors of a white Ford Transit van swung open and two men jumped out.

One of them moved to block off his escape route down the side of the church while the other started across the road toward him.

Jay-Go turned, figuring he would head back to the hotel, but Edi Leka was waiting for him on the corner holding a handgun by his side.

Jay-Go whipped the PPK from behind his back and pointed it at the man crossing the street.

‘Take another step and I’ll fuckin’ waste you, dickhead.’

The guy stopped in the middle of the road.

Edi Leka raised his gun.

Jay-Go was playing it cool. As he saw it, he was still holding all the aces. If they wanted to know where the heroin was hidden the last thing they’d do was shoot him dead.

It was still a risky call.

‘Can I just say one thing, bawface, before this all kicks off?’ Jay-Go said, addressing Leka. ‘I could jump these railings and make a run for it and have youse chasing me all over Queens Park for half an hour shooting at me, and me shooting at you, but to be honest, I don’t fancy my chances; I’ve never been a good runner. Add serial class A user into the mix and it’s a blessing I can even walk. I had no idea the heroin belonged to Mister Abazi. If I’d known that at the time, I’d have left well alone, but we are where we are. If you promise to let me walk away, I promise to tell you where the heroin is, but it means going back to my hotel room to pick up a few thing in order to make that happen.’

‘Why don’t we just go for a ride in the back of our van and you take us to where we need to be? Or we just beat the shit out of you until you tell us, and we go get it ourselves.’

‘You’d literally have to beat the shit out of me because I’ve swallowed the key.’

‘We’re in no hurry.’

‘There’s a combination too. And I don’t know what that is. The only way I can find out is to phone somebody and say a code word, and the only way I can do that is if I have my phone, and that’s back at the hotel. But if there is any pissing about I’ll say the wrong code word: they’ll hang up and you’ll walk away with fuck all. Even if you go back and get the phone yourself and go through every number in my contacts until you get the right person: if they don’t hear my voice they’re not going say
niente
.’

Edi Leka kept his gun pointing at Jay-Go while he thought through what had been said. Eventually he nodded. ‘Okay. But if I think there is problem even for one second . . . smack or no smack . . . I blow your fucking brains out.’

‘Only fair.’ Jay-Go lowered his gun and walked toward him.

Jay-Go and Edi Leka climbed the last few steps on to the landing then pushed through the heavy fire door into the hallway leading to Jay-Go’s room. Edi had left his two companions at the bar downstairs, knowing he could easily handle the junkie on his own if there were any problems. His instructions were to recover the heroin, no matter what. If that meant waiting for the junkie to have a shit, so be it. Even if he had to shoot him in the head and cut him open, that was all right too. Edi figured he had a nose for this kind of situation. If Jay-Go was stringing him along he’d drop him right there in the room and go borrow a steak knife from the hotel kitchen.

Jay-Go turned the key in the lock and the two men entered.

His phone was sitting where he’d left it on the table.

Edi gestured with his gun for Jay-Go to pick it up, while he stepped to the side and checked there was no one hiding in the bathroom.

Just as Jay-Go reached the table there was a knock at the bedroom door.

‘Who’s that?’ whispered Edi.

‘How the fuck should I know?’

‘Open up, Edi. I saw you walking in there with that wee fucker Gormley.’

‘Don’t open the door,’ said Jay-Go, his voice rising in panic. ‘It’s the Holy Man . . . Don’t open the door.’

Edi kept the gun pointing at Jay-Go and twisted the sneck.

‘Wait, you need to hear me out . . .’ started Jay-Go as the Holy Man entered the room followed by Big Paul, Nick-Nick and a heavy Jay-Go recognized as Happyslap from the Holy Man’s bar.

Holy Man touched his forefinger to his lips and mouthed a silent ‘shh’.

‘I don’t need to hear anything, horse-head, so keep your fucking mouth shut.’

All the guys except for the Holy Man were carrying.

‘What are you doing here, Edi?’ asked the Holy Man.

Edi was sharp, thinking on his feet: ‘I hear you say you have no time to catch this shithead, so I think I do you a favour.’

‘Good man. Showing initiative. I like it.’

‘Bullshit,’ cut in Jay-Go. ‘He’s here trying—’

The Holy Man raised his gun and pointed it at Jay-Go. ‘Clamp it! Open that wee, skinny gob of yours again and I’ll shoot you in the fucking mouth, d’you hear me, junkie?’

‘But Holy Man—’

‘Not another word.’ The Holy Man was starting to lose his temper. ‘There’s nothing I like worse than somebody trying to do the dirty on me. You had your big chance, Gormley, and you blew it out yer arse. Now keep your mouth shut and let’s go for a wee drive. On the way you can tell me where I can recover my merchandise. The game’s a bogey, wee man.’

Edi Leka looked relieved as he stood to one side to let Jay-Go past. For whatever reason the Holy Man didn’t seem too bothered that Edi had gone after Jay-Go: if anything, he had praised him for his efforts. All Edi had to do now was figure out a way of getting the heroin back from the Holy Man, which may not be so easy.

Happyslap led the way, followed by Jay-Go then Nick-Nick, who had his gun pressed hard into Jay-Go’s back.

The Holy Man gave Jay-Go a wink.

‘And the Oscar goes to . . .’ said Jay-Go as he passed him.