Westie short-changed. Another picture or 20K cash, you choose. Alice.
‘Nothing urgent, I hope?’ Chib was asking.
‘Not really.’ Mike pretended to be punching a reply into the keypad, aware of Chib’s eyes drilling into him.
‘So you’re pretty confident about your pal Allan?’
The question caught Mike off guard. ‘Of course,’ he spluttered. ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’
‘Well, because of his taste in art for one thing.’
Mike barked out something that he hoped might be construed as a laugh, Chib obliged by smiling back. He straightened his back and clasped his hands behind his head, studying the room again as if he were considering its purchase.
‘Very nice,’ he commented. ‘Bet it cost a few bob.’
‘A few,’ Mike conceded.
‘Owe any money on it?’
‘No.’
‘Didn’t expect you would, man of your talents. What’s that word they use about businessmen when they know what they’re doing…? Ecumen?’
‘Acumen,’ Mike corrected him.
‘That’s it.’ Chib nodded slowly. ‘Now do us all a favour, Mike…’ He was bearing down on Mike, for all the world as though he was going to back him against the wall. ‘Use some of that famed acumen of yours to make sure nothing goes wrong, starting with your good friend Mr Allan Cruikshank. A chain’s only as strong as its weakest link, isn’t that what they say?’ The two men stood only inches apart, so that Mike could feel the gangster’s breath on his face. He took a moment to steady himself.
‘From where I’m looking,’ he said eventually, ‘the weakest link is that headcase Hate. If he wants to take you down, all he has to do is send the cops an anonymous tip-off.’
‘But then his clients wouldn’t stand a cat in hell’s chance of getting what’s owed them. When it comes down to it, they’re business people, same as you. So don’t you go worrying about that, and don’t give me cause to worry about anything at your end.’
‘A chain doesn’t have an end,’ Mike said quietly.
‘A chain’s nothing but ends!’ Calloway snapped back. They locked eyes for a moment, and then the gangster turned away. It looked to Mike as if he was readying to leave. The replenished mug, still three quarters full, was placed on the coffee table. Chib exited into the long hallway, Mike following.
‘Maybe next time I’ll get the full tour, eh?’ Calloway was gesturing towards the art that lined the walls. ‘And like I say, there’s an open invite to mine. Not half as snazzy as yours, of course, but then it’s been through the wars – a bit like its owner.’
The thing is, Mike thought to himself, I don’t know your address, while you now know mine. The front door was open, Chib striding out on to the landing with a backwards wave of the hand. Mike pressed the door closed after him and leaned against it, as if to repel further intruders. He listened out for the sound of the lift arriving, and hazarded an eye to the spy hole. The lift doors were sliding closed. He turned and walked back to the living area, scooping his phone up and making for the window. As yet there was no sign of Calloway. Mike didn’t want the gangster seeing him making a call – no telling who he’d think Mike was talking to – so he retreated a few steps into the room before punching Gissing’s number into the keypad.
Laura wants to see me…
Westie’s girlfriend is getting greedy…
But it was Gissing he wanted; maybe the professor could offer solace, or at least the vague reassurance that, as bad as things might seem, Mike’s life was not yet ready to implode.
The call was answered. ‘My boy, this is unexpected…’ The line was terrible, Gissing’s voice breaking up.
‘Where are you?’ Mike asked.
‘Keeping my head down, just as we agreed. At least, I thought that’s what we’d agreed…’
‘How much does Ransome know?’
‘He seems to know that I know Charles Calloway.’
‘How is that even possible?’
‘Your guess is as good as mine.’
‘Things are starting to unravel.’ Mike heard the BMW’s engine starting.
‘I’m sure you’re exaggerating, Michael.’ Gissing sounded so calm that Mike felt it a shame to spoil things. So he came to a sudden decision: he would keep the news of Allan’s paintings, Hate’s collateral and Chib’s visit to himself.
At least for now.
‘By the way,’ Mike said, ‘I’ve told Allan about Ransome.’
‘How did he take it?’
‘He took it.’ Mike paused. ‘How did it go at the warehouse yesterday? ’
‘I did all that was asked of me in my usual thorough manner. They’re even offering to pay me for my time.’
‘Your message said Ransome is probing – what does that mean?’
‘It means what it says – he’s not part of the official inquiry, yet he’s sniffing around it like a dog after a truffle. I happened to mention as much to DI Hendricks when I saw him. He wasn’t best pleased.’
‘Nicely done, Robert.’
‘I thought so,’ the professor purred. ‘Meantime, the very best thing we can do is stay calm and keep ourselves very much to ourselves, except in the direst of straits.’
These are the direst of straits, Mike wanted to tell him, but instead, watching the BMW retreat down the long, sloping driveway, he found himself agreeing. With a sigh, and running his free hand through his hair, he asked again for Gissing’s whereabouts.
‘I’m at home, keeping busy with some marking assignments. But whenever boredom strikes, I find I have one or two things I can gaze at in wonder and reverence. We are blessed, are we not, Michael?’
‘Blessed,’ Mike echoed, as Chib and his men finally disappeared from view.
24
Chib Calloway had fairly stalked towards his car. Johnno had flicked away his cigarette, Glenn holding open the rear door for their boss.
‘Unless you want to drive…?’
But Chib had been content in the back, looking over his shoulder as the car pulled away. No sign of anyone at the top-floor windows.
‘Good meeting?’
‘Never you mind,’ Chib had growled, chewing on a thumbnail while he considered potential courses of action. Of course, in a sense it wasn’t for him to decide. The demand had been made to Mike – twenty grand or one of the paintings. The girl called Alice, she had to be Westie’s girlfriend. Chib knew about Westie, but no one had thought to mention that there was a bird in on it as well.
And now the pair of them were getting greedy. Chib found himself tutting, while at the same time admiring their bare-faced cheek. What were they going to do – run to the cops? Not likely, with the two of them being every bit as complicit as anyone else. They were testing Mike’s nerve, that was all, same as Chib himself had just been doing. Problem wasn’t really Mike, though – it was that wet pal of his, Allan Cruikshank. Losing his bottle. Mike’s lie about the new girlfriend might have worked if he’d had time to refine it. Over the course of his professional life, Chib reckoned he’d probably heard about twenty thousand lies, the majority of them honed to near perfection. Mike’s attempt hadn’t been in the same league. Hadn’t even been playing ballboy.
Another reason for the little visit today: Chib wanted to see exactly how rich Michael Mackenzie was. Just because he’d run a company, sold some product, it didn’t mean things hadn’t gone tits up along the way. Plenty of guys Chib knew had made money only to blow the whole lot on misguided shares or badly tipped nags. But Mike was living the high life, no question about it. Chib doubted the paintings on the walls were repro. Flat-screen TV must’ve been three of four K. As for the flat itself – not much change out of a million. Hell, the way things were in Edinburgh, maybe even a million-five, million-six.