`Funny thing, though,' said Skinner. 'You needn't have bothered. The bloke at the other end of the chain, Vaudan — he was going to do it as well. You just beat him to it.
`Tell me about Linda. That's the bit that I don't understand. You go to jail and your boss shags your wife — not just that, he puts her on the game. When you come out you butcher her, then he's done in. You're the obvious choice for that one too, yet here you are telling me that Tony was like a father to you. Does that mean that you sold Linda to him, like a piece of meat?'
For the first time, the gentle voice hardened. 'No, Skinner. You've got that all wrong. Linda was a tart, before I married her, and she stayed that way. She was a nympho: she couldn't get enough of it. She was always flashing her eyes around, and sometimes other bits as well. Of course, when I was about, no one would even look in her direction, but once I was sent up, she was off the leash. Tony gave her the flat, and he would have paid the housekeeping, but she told him that she wasn't being kept by him. She said she was going back to her old career. He offered to get her a job in Cocozza's office, but she'd have none of it. So he decided that if he couldn't persuade her, the next best thing was to control her. So he took her into the Powderhall place, and vetted the punters she saw. If anyone got too keen, he moved them on. He never laid a finger on her. When he took her out to the house, it was for a night off, nothing else. Tony couldn't stand her. If it hadn't been for me, she'd have been in the Water of Leith. Tony said that everyone has to have a weakness or they'd be too dangerous to let live. He said that she was mine.'
`All that time you were inside,' said Skinner quietly, 'did you plan to kill her?'
Big Lennie's shoulders slumped; he shook his head. 'No.' It was a whisper. 'I was tormented by the idea of leaving her again. I took the knife into the bedroom to cut her. I was going to mark her face. Not to get even; but to spoil her for the punters. Not for the sake of making her ugly, but as a sign to other guys: one that said "Be very careful of the man who did this." I took the knife in with me, tucked into the back of my jeans, and there she was, lying back wide open, saying "Come on, gimme." And so I did. And even as we were doing it, she was taunting me. She had her ways to torture you. I had forgotten how much they hurt. Then she talked about Ainscow, and how she loved it when he fucked her because he was so rough. She said that, beside him, I was just a big pussy. That was the last thing she ever said. I lost it. I snapped. Only one time in my life have I ever done violence in hot blood, and when I did — oh Christ, it had to be hers! Another reason for killing Ainscow.'
He began to move towards Skinner once more.
`Come on, Lennie, the whole story, then you can try your luck. You're right. My boys aren't backing me up tonight. So tell me, then we'll go at it. When did you hear about Tony?'
`I read about it in Spain. I bought a copy of the Daily Record, and there it was. And I knew. I knew straight away.'
`You knew that when Tony sent Cocozza to tell Ainscow to shut the InterCosta operation down, Ainscow decided to do something completely different.'
Big Lennie nodded. 'That was Tony's one great weakness, you see. He trusted people. Part of it was because he couldn't imagine anyone ever having the balls to cross him, but most of it was just plain gullibility. Tony was a savage guy at times, but he had standards. If Tony' said you had a deal, you could take it to the bank, and if he said you were dead, you could book Warriston Crematorium. The last true man of his word.'
`Do you know how they did it?'
`Oh yes. That was one of the things Cocozza told me when we had our chat — when he didn't have that towel stuffed in his mouth to stop him screaming. Cocozza — Tony's good friend Cocozza — had keys to the house. He let Ainscow in. They fixed the alarm later to make it look like a break-in. They both waited in the bedroom for Tony to get in. The wee shit Cocozza hid in the wardrobe. Tony switched on the light and Ainscow was on him with the knife. He never had a chance.'
Lennie Plenderleith paused, with a smile of satisfaction. `Neither did they. You should have seen Cocozza's face when he saw me. He looked like a spectator at his own funeral. As for Ainscow, he didn't even know who I was. I told him that Dick had sent me, and he followed me up here. He was a strong guy — but nowhere near strong enough to stay alive. Treacherous bastards,' added Lennie quietly. 'No way were they going to do that to him and live.
`I could have been off for good, Mr Skinner. I was free and clear, with a new identity and the income from that trust. The whole world was my bloody oyster, but it would always have tasted sour if I hadn't come back to pay my debt to my friend, and finish with these people.
`So after I did the business in Spain, I went to Liechtenstein with Tony's document, Tony's will, and took possession of his trust, my inheritance. Then, with my new passport and my new, genuine, Liechtenstein licence, I bought a car and made my way home. And now I've done the business here, almost. With you out of the way, I'll be free and clear again. So, Mr Skinner, it's time, as you said, to try our luck — and it's yours that's run out.'
Big Lennie moved forward with a speed and balance which were as unexpected as his voice. Skinner knew that the talking was over, and that he faced a fight for his life. The light was bad, and the path was narrow, with the pool on his left, and foliage on his right. He backed off before the giant's advance, weighing him up as best as he could. Muscles bulged beneath his attacker's black top, and his jeans were tight around massive thighs.
Skinner broke his retreat, and feinted a karate kick, but Lennie reacted lightning-fast, swaying back and ready with a strike of his own. Skinner could tell that the man had no martial-arts training, yet realised that he was as deadly as any black belt, a natural fighter with enormous strength.
He backed off once more, then came in again with a second feint — a kick to the head. Once more Lennie leaned back instinctively, his hands up to catch the blow he thought was coming. But, instead, Skinner's foot changed direction and slammed into the side of his left knee. Lennie grunted, and sagged slightly, but he stayed upright and balanced. Skinner's momentum committed him to his next move: a sweeping chop to the throat with the cutting edge of his right hand. It would have been a finisher, even against such a formidable opponent, but his wrist was caught in mid-air, just short of the target. The big man jerked him up and towards him. Skinner knew what was coming, but he could only begin to pull back as Lennie's broad forehead crunched into the bridge of his nose. He heard a thunderous crack inside his head, and felt the hot blood flowing.
The fingers of a huge right hand clamped around his throat, and his wrist was suddenly released. Instinctively, skill and technique forgotten, he clawed at Lennie's face, digging for the eyes with his thumbs, luck more than judgement guiding him to his target. The big man snarled as pain made him release his death grip to push Skinner away. He shook his head, blinking. Skinner hit him: a straight right-hand punch square on the chin. It was a blow that might have stunned a horse, but it seemed only to renew the giant's strength and determination. He closed again.
`You're tough, all right,' Lennie said softly. 'But it won't be enough.'
Skinner tasted blood in his mouth. And then he tasted something else. An icy coldness flowed through him: a feeling that he had known before, one that he feared; a presence in him that very few had seen. He had wished him gone for ever, but now, when he needed him, his other self was back. He heard himself hiss in the darkness. 'I don't see a gun, Lennie. And without one, you'll be carried out of here, big and all as you are.'