How To Kill Friends And Implicate People (22 page)

SIXTY-SIX

ALEX

12:38

Alex opened his eyes.

He regretted it straight away.

The room was spinning, and his skull was buzzing beneath the skin. There was a red stain creeping across the vision in his right eye. Alex closed his eyes again and willed the room to stop moving.

There was a copper taste in his mouth. Running his tongue across his teeth, he felt some of them coming loose.

Okay.

Let’s take this slow.

Test it out. One eye at a time.

He eased his right eyelid up. The red mist still tinted the room. His skull was still hurting, but a little less so. Either the pain had faded, or he’d got used to it. He opened his left eye slowly, then tried blinking a few times.

There was a delay with his right eyelid. It was running a few seconds behind.

Alex tried to stand. No dice. He was tied to a chair in the living room. He felt a cramp in his right leg and rotated his ankle to ease off on it, getting some blood flowing.

That was the first time he really noticed that he couldn’t feel anything at all in the other leg. He strained against the rope to lean forward and look down. A piece of pale bone was sticking out from his shin, and his ankle was on its side, at a right angle to the rest of his leg. A belt had been fastened tight around his thigh as a tourniquet.

Alex threw up and passed out.

When he came to, he had to go through the whole thing again, closing his eyes and then gradually opening them when the pain faded.

Kara and Milo were standing over him.

Alex couldn’t help but notice that Kara had changed her clothes. Even in his present situation, he let his mind wander through all of the dirty and insulting reasons she might have needed to get changed.

‘I’m sorry about the leg, honey,’ she said. ‘But we dropped you coming down the stairs.’

Milo put his hand up like a schoolboy. ‘I’m not actually sorry.’

‘What do you want?’ Alex said. Well, he tried to. He found that his mouth wasn’t working all that well. His jaw was slow to respond, and a tooth came loose as he spoke, sending pain across the side of his face in waves. The words came out as, ‘Wha woo woo wan?’

‘You mentioned money,’ Kara said.

Alex didn’t respond. Partly out of contempt, but mostly because it was going to hurt too much to try.

‘Was that your plan?’ Kara spoke again. ‘Put away some cash, then fake your death. What came next, were you planning to run away somewhere? Were you even going to tell me?’ She took a step forward and slapped him across the cheek, the one that was already hurting. Alex felt something damp on his lips. ‘You let me think you were dead.’

‘Wnu womb weme wo wave ween whab wubseb,’ Alex said.

‘What?’ Kara leaned in closer. ‘Speak up. You sound drunk.’

You don’t seem to have been that upset
, Alex wanted to scream at her.
You’ve been fucking this kid behind my back, and you want to make out like I’m the bad guy here?

The anger was followed straight away by a deeper hurt.

This was for us. I wanted you to come with me. I was making us rich.

‘He’s speaking Wookie. I think we broke his jaw last time,’ Milo said.

‘Wast wimb?’

Kara looked into Alex’s eyes, one after another. ‘Oh shit,’ she said. ‘I think we’ve concussed him.’ Then to Alex. ‘You don’t remember, do you?’

‘Why wou woin wis?’

‘Oh honey.’ Kara stroked his cheek. It was a tender touch that only highlighted how violent everything else had been. ‘You ask me that? You, who faked his own death and didn’t even tell me? Who let me believe you were toast, and was going to let me cry, and grieve, and hurt?’

‘Wo won’t wook wad.’

‘I, what? Oh,
sad?
Well, okay. You got me there. Look, Alex, babe, when was the last time we were good together? I’ve been looking for a way out for a year now, at least. We don’t talk. You don’t kiss me unless you want to screw. When was the last time we just wanted to hang out together?’

‘I wuw wu.’ A tear rolled down Alex’s cheek.

He looked down to close his eyes, because he couldn’t move his arms to wipe the water away.

Alex saw the bone sticking out of his leg again. Pain spread outwards from the wound when he looked at it.

He heaved and passed out.

SIXTY-SEVEN

FERGUS

12:45

I stand outside Alex’s building, and try him on the phone a few times. No answer.

It could be nothing. I
want
it to be nothing. Maybe he’s in his apartment and hasn’t noticed the phone. Or he’s on his way back. Or
. . .
he’s been caught by the cops. If Joe had him, I’d know by now, because I’d be in the dock with him.

I’ll break in. The lock is an easy enough electronic job. I’ll figure out which apartment is his, and, if he’s
not
already there, I’ll wait for him to come back. We’ll have that nice talk about his responsibilities. I work on the lock. People think this type is more secure, but it’s easy when you know how. The soft electronic beep sounds out and the door gives inward.

My phone starts buzzing.

What now?

Can’t people see I’m busy trying to break into some fud’s building?

I ignore it and step into the foyer, but then the phone starts again. I look down at an unknown number on the display, and for a second I’m going to dingy it, but this has been one of
those
weeks. Best not to mess anything up.

‘Hello?’

‘Do you have a key for that building?’

A female voice. I recognise it straight away. She was on the other end of the phone, in Marxist Martin’s bedroom. This was who Dominic Porter dialled.

I play it calm. ‘What?’

‘Turn around.’

I turn on my heels to look out through the glass door. There’s a black car parked on the other side of the road. Tinted windows. Can’t see inside.

‘Two of my employees are in that car. They’ve filmed you breaking into that building.’

‘I don’t know what you—’

‘Yes, you do. They’ll bring you to me and delete the video. If you’re a good boy.’

What now?

I nod at the car and kill the call. There’s a button on the inside of the door, so it’s much easier to get out. I cross the road and, as I do, the driver’s door opens and a tall guy with a buzz cut and a black coat gets out. One of those thick, puffy jackets favoured by private security guys who want to conceal guns. I have three just like it.

‘Couldn’t you just call me and book an appointment?’ I aim for a vaguely pissed-off tone. Which isn’t all that hard.

The front passenger door opens and another guy gets out. Same taste in clothes, but this one has longer blond hair.

‘Asma Khan
doesn’t need appointments,’ Long Hair says.

Shit.

I know the name. Of course I do. I was doing work for the cartel behind MHW long before I came back to Glasgow. I’ve heard the name Asma Khan, and that of her brother, Akhel Khan, for years. And I never planned on having to meet either of them. I don’t know why she wants me, but it can’t be good. I weigh my odds. I can probably take these two if I have to. My adrenaline and endorphins are pumping. As long as I can get to one of them before either pulls a gun, I’ll be okay. But I don’t know how many other people I’d be pissing off.

I nod. Long Hair waves me toward the car. I settle into the backseat as four messages come through from Sam, and they pretty much ruin my day.

TheSamIreland
 
–
 
Hey.

TheSamIreland
 
–
 
So, I know this is really crappy of me

TheSamIreland
 
–
 
But I need to cancel tonight.

TheSamIreland
 
–
 
Sorry xx

Shite.

It’s my fault. I was too pushy. Asking for a second date the night after the first? Who does that? Baws.

They drive me to a bus stop on Argyle Street, right where it joins the pedestrianised Buchanan Street. Long Hair leads the way and Buzz stays in the car, pulling away from the kerb to merge back into traffic before anyone starts to make a scene about him being there.

At the bottom of Buchanan Street, Long Hair stops outside a shoe shop and waves me in. Just before I pass him, he puts a hand out and asks for my phone. When I step back, he promises he’ll return it once I’m done. I hand over my mobile and step inside. Straight away, I know something’s wrong. The shop is empty.

Not completely, of course.

It’s full of shoes.

The staff are standing along the back wall, watching me, and acting like they’re too scared to move.

There are no customers. The place has been cleared. I’ve seen this happen for royalty in London, and I was once in a museum in New York that had to be emptied out so the President could walk in and look at one exhibit. But I’ve never experienced it in Glasgow.

I catch movement in my peripheral vision and an Asian-looking woman steps out from behind the nearest rack. She’s shorter than I expected, about five two. I’m not sure why, but hearing her name in such revered tones over the last few years had made me picture someone taller, broader. She’s wearing baggy jeans and a GAP hoodie. Her hair has blue highlights. Her eyes are what stand out straight away. They’re uncomfortably piercing. They make her look like she’s staring at you.

‘Fergus.’ She smiles. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you. Come over here.’

I walk over, and she points down at her feet. She’s wearing a pair of tight blue shoes, with high heels and several busy-looking straps.

‘What do you think?’ she says.

Has one of the most powerful criminals in the country invited me here just to shop for shoes?

SIXTY-EIGHT

SAM

12:45

Crap.

Crap.

As far as we knew, Todd Robinson was Paula’s killer.

Hanya pulled the chair over to the door and pressed it below the handle. It wouldn’t hold long, but we might only need a few seconds. I climbed onto the dressing table and eased the window the rest of the way open, then lowered myself out.

We were on the ground floor, so it wasn’t far to go before my feet hit the grass. I turned back and helped Hanya as she climbed down. Just as her feet hit the turf, we heard someone try and open the door. The attempt was followed by a grunt.

‘There isn’t a lock,’ we heard Sarah say.

The door shook again. This time the chair almost gave.

Hanya and I crossed the yard and climbed the low metal railing onto the street. We ran to the next street over and her car. ‘Meet you on the other side of Belahouston Park,’ she said sliding behind the wheel.

I unchained my bike and took off after her.

Belahouston is a large public park. It was only a couple of hundred yards away from where we’d been parked, but Hanya was going to have to drive around it, and stop at traffic lights.

On the bike, I cut straight through the park, and got to the other side a couple of minutes ahead of her. I leaned against the railing at the small car park off Mosspark Boulevard, and pulled my phone out while I waited. I’d been thinking about my second date with Fergus all morning. With everything else going on, I needed to cancel.

TheSamIreland
 
–
 
Hey.

TheSamIreland
 
–
 
So, I know this is really crappy of me

TheSamIreland
 
–
 
But I need to cancel tonight.

TheSamIreland
 
–
 
Sorry xx

My heart did a weird thing in my chest as the last message sent. Something I hadn’t felt in a long time. I didn’t cry when my dad died, yet cancelling a date with a guy made me want to break open?

Crap. Maybe Phil and Hanya were right about me.

Hanya got out of the car and joined me at the fence.

‘Want your suit back?’ I said.

‘After you’ve washed it.’ She smiled.

The joke held for a few seconds, but it couldn’t win out against the tension we were both feeling.

‘We’re in trouble,’ I said.

She nodded. ‘And if Joe is involved, we really have no idea how high this goes. His party could be involved. The council.’

I pulled the notebook I’d taken from Paula’s room and flicked through the pages. Compelling evidence hadn’t magically appeared on any of the blank pages.

‘We don’t have enough,’ I said. ‘I mean,
we
don’t even know what’s going on. Not all of it. So, there’s a conspiracy, the cops are involved, and Joe is trying to cover it up. There’s something about a cartel, and they’re going to take something over tomorrow. We’ve got a vague conversation on tape, and an empty notebook.’

‘If we could just get hold of Martin Mitchell or Callum Gibson.’

Hanya hadn’t even finished saying the words before we both knew the answer to that particular line of thought.

Crap.

‘We’ll not find either of them,’ I said. ‘I’ve been looking for a dead man.
Again
. Why do I always get into these things?’ I laughed, but there was no humour in it. ‘Paula was in that room, trying to tape a conversation between Martin and whoever else was there. She runs, contacts me, gives me the package. Joe’s people have killed them all to shut them up, and they burned down the building.’

‘These people,
my
people.’ She made a clicking noise between her teeth. ‘They’ve killed in broad daylight and got away with it. They’ve buried the CCTV.’

This was all my fault.

As ever.

I pulled on those threads, and the things that came loose hurt the people around me.

‘I’m sorry, Han.’

‘Don’t be. What were you supposed to do? Walk away from seeing Paula die? That’s not your style, Sam. Always trying to save people. It’s why I like you.’ She dropped her voice a little. ‘I wish I was like that.’

At any other time, I would have been touched.

I would have buried it under a joke, but still.

In that moment, I was too busy being numb.

A message came through from Fergus.

FergusSingsTheBlues
 
–
 
Okay

That was it. Nothing to say he understood, or that it wasn’t a problem.

‘What do we do?’ I said.

‘All we can do is play it normal. They don’t know we have the tapes. They don’t know we got anything out of the house. I mean, they don’t
know
we were in the house.’

‘They’ll figure it out once she describes us.’

Hanya gave me a look. ‘I’m looking for the positives here.’

‘Okay, sorry. Positive is good. I’m
with
the positive.’

‘Paula was undercover, so she was an easy target. Cal was a criminal, so nobody cares, and Martin Mitchell isn’t even known to be dead. They’re trying to do this, whatever it is, on the quiet. So, we go about our normal business, we don’t make a scene, and we stay around other people.’ She gave me one of those looks that said,
This is the important bit.
‘Until we figure all of this out, don’t be on your own.’

‘Well, I can sit in the office with Phil for the afternoon. I can stall Mike Gibson a while longer, and I’ve cancelled my date with Fergus, so—’

‘No.’ Hanya was smiling in spite of everything. ‘You’re going on that date even if I have to force you there at gunpoint. I can now, you know.’ She patted the small of her back. ‘I’m locked and loaded.’

‘Still carrying?’

She nodded. ‘I’m not reporting the gun. Right now we don’t know who it belongs to. And if cops are involved in all this, I don’t know who I can trust.’

‘Why do you suppose Paula left it behind? Why not have it on her?’

Hanya shrugged
.
‘We’re assuming it was hers, for defence. Maybe it was evidence? If it was hers, and she was trained on it, she’d only pull if necessary. Besides, the paperwork? Don’t go there. I’ve shot three people, and my job’s been on the line after each one.’

And two of those were my fault
, I knew.

I covered with a joke. ‘Admit it, you just like carrying one. Playing at Jack Bauer.’

She smiled. ‘Maybe a little. Plus,’ she turned around and raised her jacket, showing the gun tucked into a small leather-effect holster on her belt, ‘I had this left over from the old days.’

We both stood and watched for a while as some children played football in the park. A kid was trying to be Lionel Messi, dribbling the ball past everyone. Until one of the bigger boys booted him to the ground. The rest of the kids celebrated the foul as if it was a goal.

‘How about you?’ I was packing my bag and getting ready to ride off. ‘You shouldn’t be alone, either. You don’t know who on your team might be in on it.’

Hanya patted the small of her back again. ‘I’m fine. I need to go see the Pennan woman in about an hour. She was all kinds of hysterical this morning, so the boss wants me to go back and take another try. You know,’ she lowered her voice to impersonate a man, ‘
You’re a woman, she’s a woman, maybe she’ll talk
. Sexism rules, yo.’

‘True dat.’

We did a fist bump to complete our moment of being street. I pushed off on the bike. Hanya called something after me about her suit, but I was already building up speed.