They headed into Wigtown and made for the Grapes, thinking the pool table might be quiet. He got in the first round in order to buy some good will and waited until they were on drink number four to get down to business.
“You got something on your mind?” Al asked, as he tried to figure out the best way to broach the subject and gave himself away.
“Kind of, aye,” he replied. “Does your dad still do those stag parties?”
Campbell appeared in the car park, after Jones had finished her fag and headed inside, leaving Burke to stand in the icy December air, trying to inhale as much as possible in a crude token attempt to cool down his cardiovascular system.
“Better watch that one boss, she’ll have your job next,” he said, seemingly watching Jones walk away.
“Really?” was all Burke could bring himself to say in response.
“Oh yeah. Ambitious one that one,” he confirmed.
“I’m wondering at what point that became a bad thing,” Burke replied, “Or is that just something you reserve for female officers?”
“You ok boss?”
“Oh I’m grand. Are you ok?”
“Not too bad. Could always be better, but that’s just the way it goes.”
“Is it?” Burke asked, fixing the Detective Sergeant with glare.
“Ehm, yeah,” Campbell said, looking a little unsure of himself.
“So what have you got to say then?”
“Sorry?”
“Well you’ve always got something to say for yourself haven’t you?”
“Sir?”
“Out with it then?”
“Well, I was just going to say that a source of mine mentioned something about the drug scene at the moment and a certain level of fear regarding the possibility of losing their head, shall we say.”
“Source.” Burke began laughing. “Source.”
Campbell smiled. “Wasn’t really sure if it was worth mentioning or not to be honest.
“And by source I take it to mean dealer, I imagine.”
“We have sources all over sir. You know that.”
“Yes but we don’t buy their products do we. That’s the thing. Because it doesn’t really make us any good at our jobs or anything else for that matter does it. In fact it tends to mess up our lives doesn’t it?”
Campbell shrugged. “You should probably think about the scene you’re in danger of causing right now,” he said, with a wink.
Burke shot forward, shoving his chest and slamming him into the wall, then followed through with an uppercut just below the rib cage. He pinned him by the throat with his right forearm as his body went limp at the knees. “You should think more about the consequences of your actions.”
Campbell laughed. “Says you.”
Burke tightened his grip. “I’ll kill you.”
Campbell gave him a knowing look. “That seems unlikely.”
Burke punched him again with his free hand, before releasing his grip. He moved away, starting to turn but saw the smirking face and couldn’t resist another blow, side on this time, directly at Campbell’s jaw, and another and another, until everything became a blur.
When he became aware of his surroundings Campbell was gone.
31
McKay stood shivering outside the house in Morningside. Its manicured privet hedges twinkled with fairy lights, which along with its Victorian sandstone grandeur made it look like something off a Christmas card. A very expensive Christmas card at that. Nothing came cheap in this part of the city. If you were lucky you’d bought in the 80s when the Capital was still known for being the heroin capital of Europe and clung on for the property boom. If you weren’t you could just about forget it.
The judge was unlikely to have been happy at being woken at such an hour. If that was the case it didn’t show though. He seemed a fairly jovial character in his dressing gown. His white hair stood up off the sides of his otherwise bald head and his colour suggested an eventful night may have been had elsewhere earlier this evening. They’d been told he could be found at the Whisky Society if not at home.
It was all very cloak and dagger. The documents were signed and witnessed before being placed in sealed documents ready for receipt by the DI. He wished he’d had a cheeky swatch at them before they’d been sealed, but it was too late now and no point knowing anything if you felt someone might try to winkle it out of you. They were gossip hounds round the station, particularly CID.
The judge had bid him good evening, despite the fact it was well beyond that, maybe tipsy, maybe this was exciting to him. It couldn’t be a regular occurrence, getting dragged out of bed by the cops.
It had all happened at once, as tended to be the way of things; spend days doing heehaw, going through evidence, going through the motions, waiting for something to happen and then the boss recoils in his chair while reading the paper, like he’s spilled his coffee in his lap and it all kicks off.
Strange enough when he was wandering round talking to himself all the time. A lot of people in CID thought he’d still to get over that shooting business the year before, but that was just how things went. Bloody tragedy that. Losing those two.
Burke had immediately shot off rabbiting into his phone about something, before returning to his own office and pacing around again. Muttering to himself.
The next thing McKay knew he was being despatched to the judge’s house with the documents.
By the time he returned, that Edwards eejit was assembling his troops and they looked like they were tooling up for something big.
Victor knew things were getting complicated. Things were not to his liking at this end of the operation. There were too many unresolved problems. The kid was a waste management issue, nothing else for it. He’d been stupid, crossed the wrong people. How could he be allowed to go now? How could it be ensured that he wouldn’t say anything? There was no way and as much as he hated to end a life needlessly before its time he had to look after number one and of course numbers two and three in the forms of Boris and Sacha.
Family was all. There was no debate there. The kid should not have been so stupid. They all were nowadays. Still, he should not be expected to pay for their sins. He only had control over his world and he must do everything to retain that control.
Alexei held the blowtorch in one hand, his face glowing like some kind of demonic gargoyle. He should really see a dentist if he survived long enough, which, given his recent behaviour, seemed increasingly unlikely. In his other hand he held the bolt cutters, which glowed almost white at the end of their jaws. Occasional sparks drifted off into the air as Alexei’s fascinated eyes followed them.
He took too much pleasure in this to maintain any professional detachment. Victor could see that now. He took no such pleasure. Indeed it was as though he was not there. He could ignore the screams and the pleading, let it wash over him. He was nothing more than an observer in someone else’s nightmare, watching a man who looked like himself but registered no emotion, took no pain or pleasure and recognised this was just his lot. It was a job that had to be done in order to ensure the successful running of an operation.
He heard his voice address the lawyer with a kind of cold feigned empathy. “Fire.” He motioned towards Alexei and his burner. “It purifies, sanitises, cauterises.”
The lawyer pleaded with his eyes, struggling almost involuntarily. He couldn’t make out the moans of desperation from behind the gag but he could see the anxious contortions of the face.
“The jaws of this implement will cut through fingers as if they are not there, which of course they then won’t be.” He laughed at this, couldn’t help it. It had been a long day
The lawyer’s face ran with tears now as he contemplated this, undoubtedly wondering in what way he had failed his client in order to deserve such a fate.