It had been raining on and off most of the day, but that had not been a bad thing he had told himself as he had sloshed amongst the puddles earlier that afternoon. It had enabled him and Rab to do what they had needed to do and not draw suspicion to themselves as they had scoured the streets with their collars up and chins tucked firmly into their topcoats whilst they had searched out their target address.
He wiped drips of rain from his hair as he stepped inside the entranceway of the smoking shelter at the rear of The Station public house, his slate grey eyes scanning the car park before resting his gaze upon the modern railway building that housed the ticket office and waiting room that was only fifty yards away. He strained his ears, waiting for the sounds of the engine clonking over the tracks and checked his watch; the connection train from Edinburgh was due in any time.
He stroked his recently grown beard that covered his craggy features and hid most of the hideous scar, which normally made him stand out, whilst once again mulling over the decision he’d been forced to make. He knew that they needed some extra muscle to finish the job and he’d had to call in some favours with old contacts during his flying visit back to his hometown two days previously. He had been uncomfortable with that; he always liked to know who he was working with — needed that level of control and trust — but on this occasion it was out of his hands. It had cost him a few grand as well, but he knew it would be worth it.
“Get that down your neck.”
The appearance of Rab Geddes made him jump. He was edgy.
He took the pint of lager from his partner in crime and stepped to one side to allow him into the shelter.
Neither of them smoked but they were using it so as not to draw attention to themselves; two strangers with Scottish accents would make them stand out — he had told Rab.
“Not arrived yet?” said Rab sweeping one hand over his newly grown hair before slurping the top off his bitter.
It had been a long time since Billy had seen Rab with hair. It was still sandy in colour but it was now thin and wispy and he realised why he had taken to shaving his head on a regular basis over the past ten years.
Nevertheless despite their appearance he knew this was necessary. They needed to disguise their features for a few more days.
“Nope. It’s a couple of minutes late,” Billy replied, sliding the cuff back of his coat, looking at his watch again. He glanced back towards the station. The hazy sun was dipping below the rain clouds towards the horizon, another half an hour and then darkness would cover them.
His thoughts drifted back to their recce earlier in the day. After they had finally found the house, Billy had done another circuit of the streets surrounding the semi as he guessed somewhere close there would be cops keeping watch; and he’d been proven right.
Although he hadn’t spotted anyone who stood out as a cop he had found the unmarked police car on the second sweep. He had to smile conceitedly to himself as he checked the Peugeot over. Despite all these years in prison, though the make and models had changed, the police radio in the centre console was still a dead giveaway. He mentally noted its number and position; it would have to be taken care of so they could make their getaway after the job.
He guessed the detectives would be in a house somewhere nearby keeping observation, though he dare not stand around to check as that would make him vulnerable to capture, and so he and Rab had driven back to the railway station finalising their plans. Billy had made sure the car had been parked well away from view. They still had the Mondeo and he knew that yesterday afternoon it had been clocked by that nosy bastard at Jock’s gym, so they had to keep it low profile for a few more hours. After that it could be dumped.
In the distance he heard the rumble of the train and it brought him back from his thoughts. “Come on Rab they’re here,” he said nudging his partner and swallowed the remnants of his glass in one gulp. He swiped the residue from his mouth with the back of a gloved hand, then removing his handkerchief from his trousers pocket he wiped it around the edge of the glass several times; no room for error he told himself as he held it up to the light before setting it down on a bench.
As he stepped out into the car park he pulled up the collar of his coat.
“Got the masks?” He enquired, turning back to Rab who was catching him up with a shortened jog.
Rab took out two black woollen ski masks from his jacket pocket and waved them towards Billy.
The corners of Billy’s mouth creased into a malevolent smile.
* * * * *
The late evening news was starting. Jock Kerr slid a coaster across the surface of the coffee table and set his steaming mug of tea down before flopping down onto the sofa. He was about to shout through to Fiona, who was in the kitchen opening a fresh packet of shortbread biscuits for supper, to let her know the news was on, when the telephone rang. One of the house handsets lay on the table in front of him and its display was glowing with the ringing tone. He snorted as he glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece even though he knew the time. He snatched up the receiver.
“Hello,” he said gruffly.
“Do you know who this is?” Jock heard the gravelly voice say.
“I always said I’d catch up with you and I have done. Your day of reckoning is almost here.”
The line went dead.
Jock sat transfixed, the receiver pressed firmly to one ear, listening to the continuous purring. In a flash an image from his past flooded into his mind as he recognised the voice and his head was in turmoil. As he started to push himself up from the sofa, without warning, there was an abrupt explosion of glass. Shards flew everywhere, and the fabric vertical blinds drawn across the lounge window erupted from their fastening, as a weighted lump slumped through the shattered opening.
Jock froze. His eyes registered what lay before him but his brain was grappling with the vision; confusion, disbelief and fear were all manifesting at the same time. The head and bare shoulders of a man’s lifeless body lay flopped over the windowsill entangled amongst the wreckage of the blinds. A chill ran through his body as he momentarily sat riveted staring at the unkempt lank of hair hanging from the bloodied head. At the same time he became conscious of an awful gut-wrenching smell emanating into the room.
The piercing screams of his wife, who had rushed into the room, holding her face in her hands, jolted him into action.
The instinct to survive took over. He launched himself from the sofa and made a dash for the hallway. Flinging open the front door he leapt out onto the path. Having jumped out from a brightly lit house, for a split-second his eyes only registered blackness, but quickly his sight re-adjusted and in the darkness he saw that slumped half-inside, half outside of the front window was a naked man. The paleness of the flesh told Jock that he was dead.
Out of the corner of one eye movement at the top of his drive grabbed his attention. He half turned. He made out a tall silhouetted figure looking in his direction. Behind the shadow he could see, pulled against the kerb, a hatchback car. Its engine was revving loudly. In the half-light he could make out at least a couple more people both in the front and rear all staring in his direction.
He seesawed his gaze between the dead body hanging half out of his lounge window and the man at the top of his drive. His eyesight had fully adjusted to the surroundings of the night.
The figure in the long dark overcoat was peeling up a ski mask. The action was slow and deliberate. He first caught sight of the beard and as the woollen mask lifted the straggly wavy hair dropped, framing the man’s face.
A shiver ran down Jock’s spine. Despite the greying beard and hair he recognised his nemesis after all these years.