Long Time Dead

Chapter 23

HOD AND I WATCHED MAC cross the street to the pub. I’d seen more than my fair share of Leith drinkers but this place was a total doss. Two skelky yoofs stood outside like ornamental hoodies, hanging off filter-tips, and watching a pair of Staffies in heavy leather and brass harnesses circle each other in preparation for a scrap. Three yards from the door an old man in an Andy Capp hat and dirty mac took a piss against the wall; he could hardly stand and looked likely to keel at any moment. The snoutcasts, at least half a dozen of them, looked unfazed by either of these scenes – it was just another day in paradise.

‘Some fucking kip, that place,’ said Hod.

‘No kidding.’

At the door, Mac took a hand out of his jacket pocket and pushed his way in. I felt relieved this was his gig and not mine. There was no way I was up to taking on any of the locals if they got uppity at the sight of a strange face. Round here, a fresh coupon is likely taken as filth.

Hod spoke: ‘So, the hospital again…’

‘What about it?’ I was in no mood for a lecture. Had taken more than enough of them in my day.

‘Nothing.’ He knew better than to have a go. Went on, but his voice changed tone again. ‘I, eh, bumped into your mam.’

This was unexpected. At the best of times Hod didn’t hang anywhere my mother was likely to be, and he had been lying low. He was up to something. ‘You did?’

‘Aye, okay… Look, I called her, told her you’d been in the hospital.’

I fired up, ‘You did fucking what?’

‘Gus, I had to… She asked me to…’

‘She asked you to what?’

He scratched at the stubble on his chin. ‘She asked me to let her know if you were… y’know, ever in a bad way again, just to let her know.’

This wasn’t good. The last thing I needed was my mother piling on the grief; Jesus, I had enough of that to be worrying about as it was. ‘Oh, she did, did she?’

Hod swivelled on his hip, turned to face me, his eyelids drooping heavily as his gaze fell. ‘She’s worried about you. She’s your mother…’

‘I know that.’

‘Then don’t you think you should let her know you’re okay?’

I shot him a glower. ‘Do I look okay, Hod?’

‘All I’m saying is, I think you should give her a call… pay her a visit, maybe.’

It had been on my mind anyway, for altogether different reasons. I just didn’t know if I had the bottle. ‘Okay, well, thanks for the advice. I’ll bear it in mind.’

He turned away again, stared back at the pub. The old jakey in the mac had tried to get back inside but was being thrown out by a biffer with a towel tucked in his waistband and tats down each arm. He handled the old bloke as though he was made of straw. I half expected to see him taken by the breeze. It was a scene that was probably being played out in dozens of pubs throughout the city; though none of the trendy pubs filled to bursting with Festival-goers would see the like. Uh-uh. We keep this stuff well out of their way. No one wants to see the real Edinburgh – no one would pay a penny for that.

Said, ‘Wonder how Mac’ll do?’

‘I’m more worried about Amy.’ The statement came with a cruel look. It was another low blow, but I didn’t doubt I deserved it. I didn’t doubt I deserved a whole lot worse.

‘Hod, you know there’s no way I’d put that girl in any danger.’ It was a long shot trying to make him see that I was on his side with this one, but at the very least I hoped I could make him agree that Amy was a law unto herself. We both felt far too much for the girl to see her hurt; he got that, surely.

‘Yeah, and you know what she’s like, Gus.’

He had me there. It was my fault she was in this situation. I’d been stupid enough to call her in – what had I been thinking? I was in no condition to be keeping an eye on her. I wondered where my mind was? Knew exactly what my intention had been, but held schtum, covered my arse. ‘Yeah, sure… but Hod, we needed to get moving on the case.’

‘You could have kept her out of it, that’s all I’m saying.’

‘I didn’t even hint at her getting anything off Gemmill. I asked her to snoop around at the uni… this was a complete shock to me as well.’

He wasn’t buying it. ‘Gus, have you ever known Amy to do things by halves?… You must have had a fucking inkling she’d go off on one.’

I was getting nowhere. ‘Go on, then, blame it all on me.’ I was trying to do my best by him; I knew he was in deep shit and I wanted to help out. Christ, neither of us were doing great and the case was likely too much for us but we’d taken it on now and I’d be fucked if I was walking away after what we’d uncovered. I’d seen the look on Gillian Laird’s face: she knew her son hadn’t been a gasper. There was more to it than that. Dealing for Danny Gemmill was bad enough, but Fitz’s revelations about the Craft silencing his nephew was tipping tragic. This kind of thing fired me up – I’d never been comfortable with the games the big boys played. If they kicked their ball in my direction, it was going back with a puncture – even if it took my last breath to deliver it.

Mac appeared in the doorway again. He put his collar up and shuffled through the smokers. I tried to read his face but he wasn’t giving anything away. I hoped to Christ his contact had come good; I didn’t want any more on my conscience than I had already. And I certainly didn’t want to lose Amy.

Hod started the engine.

Mac kept his pace casual, not wanting to draw attention to himself in case he was being watched. He fitted in perfectly among the chib-men and heavies; Christ, didn’t he just. You couldn’t do better with an identikit.

When he finally got in the van he said, ‘Right, back to the city.’

‘You got a place?’

‘Corstorphine Road. Gemmill’s been drinking in some hotel out there lately.’

Hod found first, pulled out. The old engine rattled a bit, coughed out some smoke. I hoped it wouldn’t overheat on the way out.

‘So what’s the go?’ I asked.

Mac shook his head. ‘There’s no fucking go… think I got chatty with the cunt? It was casual as fuck. I just asked if he’d seen Gemmill about and if he knew where he was drinking these days.’

It sounded dodge, Mac just dropping by a strange drinker, asking questions. ‘Did he cotton on?’

‘Don’t think so.’

‘You don’t think so…’

That lit a fuse. Mac’s eyes turned on me; I saw plenty of the whites, tinged with angry red. ‘No, I don’t. But, y’know, I’m no’ a fucking mind-reader and ex-cons tend to know better than to let their faces give away what they’re thinking.’

Hod slapped the wheel. ‘So, what you’re saying is he could be on the phone to Gemmill already.’

Mac leaned past me, flattening me in my seat to roar at Hod. ‘Well, we knew that was a fucking option before I went in there!… I don’t remember you having a better plan!’

I pushed Mac back in his seat. ‘Right, enough. We’ll find out when we get there, eh.’

The rest of the journey passed in silence. The traffic got heavy, tram and road works competed with Festival-goers and tour buses. Getting from Leith to Corstorphine was a trial at the best of times in this city; right now it seemed like mission impossible. Hod and Mac fumed, letting out sighs at every turn. We were stopped by every set of lights – both drivers and pedestrians took blastings from the horn. As we got to Corstorphine Road the tension in the cab hung like a fever. I felt my hands start to tremble again; beads of sweat formed on my forehead. I needed a drink, desperately.

‘Thank fuck there’s a bar in here…’ I said.

‘Jesus Christ, Gus,’ said Mac, ‘you won’t be doing any drinking.’

My mind was drifting all over the place. When I got like this I felt inches from unconsciousness. I started to gnaw at my exposed gums with my lower teeth. I had gone too long without topping up my units. I felt seriously drowsy, but at the same time my heart raced.

Mac pointed to the hotel; Hod pulled the van onto the driveway scree. As he parked he caught sight of his Beemer. ‘Well, he’s here, then. Prick’s got a cheek driving my motor, eh.’

‘Perks of the job,’ said Mac.

Hod braked, pulled the keys out of the ignition. ‘If he’s hurt that lassie he’ll no’ be fit for any fucking job… He’ll be on invalidity if he’s fucking lucky.’

As we got out of the van I wondered if we’d suddenly changed seasons – summer to winter. I started to shiver uncontrollably. My neck froze; I felt my stomach tightening. I blamed the stress of the situation. I was worried about Amy, said, ‘I really need a drink.’

‘Will you shut up about drink,’ said Hod, ‘Do you not remember why we’re here?’

‘I really do need a swally… my insides are burning.’

Mac grabbed the front of my coat, pulled me towards him. ‘Right, get this straight… we’re not here for a session.’

Hod stood at his shoulder. The pair of them looked ready to pound me into the ground when the doors of a blue Bedford sprung open and four or five pugs poured out. A burgundy Daimler that had been parked opposite pulled up. In the front passenger seat I could see Shaky waving arms and pointing at the three of us. In the next second my arms were put up my back and my face was spun towards the side of the Bedford.

Hod and Mac followed me as we were thrown into the back of the van. As we righted ourselves, the lumps parted to let Shaky through. Gemmill and Amy came close behind him; she’d been crying, black mascara running down her cheeks. I tried to go to her but got held back.

‘Gus!’ Amy yelled out.

‘All right… you’ve got us, you can let the lassie go, Shaky,’ I yelled.

Shaky came forward, put a shoe on the edge of the van, leaned in, ‘Where’d you get the balls tae tell me to do anything, ye cunt? You’ve got right up my fucking nose, d’ye know that?’ He pointed a tanned finger at me. ‘You’ll be fucking lucky no’ to be wearing your arse as a hat by the time I’m finished with ye, Dury!’