Tony Black - Paying For It

‘All right, but if you feel the need to, just stop me.’

‘I won’t!’

Took a breath, dived right in. ‘Look, Col, I think Billy was involved with some very shady people.’

‘I agree.’

‘You do?’

‘I’ve known for some time that that boy was no angel. If it wasn’t for his mother-’ Col broke off suddenly. ‘Well, what have you to tell me?’

‘The outfit he worked for are a heavy-duty Russian firm. We’re not just talking about wee boys twoking car stereos here, Col.’

‘What line are they in?’

I nearly laughed, he made it sound like we were two salesmen, bumping into each other in a Little Chef on the M8.

‘I can’t be sure of anything at this stage, but, and I think I’m only scratching the surface here, they look like people smugglers.’ I took a deep breath. ‘No, worse, it’s young girls they’re bringing in.’

‘For what?’

‘Hazard a guess.’

Col sat back in his chair. A pious look crossed his face. I wondered if he weighed what I said against his religion. I didn’t think the good book had a section that read: ‘Thou shalt not smuggle thy poor European neighbours.’ But what did I know about that?

‘It’s Nadja, isn’t it?’ said Col.

I nodded.

‘I knew she was bad for him right from the start. I saw she was no good. I told him, Gus. I did.’

I couldn’t muster the words. Col reeked hurt. There was nothing to be gained by telling him about the threat on my life. I didn’t want to worry him, or worse, freak him out completely. I wasn’t going to have Col pull me off the job. More than ever I felt the weight of duty pressing on me. The man looked ready to crumble into pieces.

‘I just can’t believe my Billy was involved.’

‘Col…’ He wasn’t listening to me.

‘I just, I just can’t believe it.’ He looked into me. ‘Not my boy, not my son.’

‘We don’t know he was involved.’

‘Oh he was.’ Col sounded certain. ‘I just need to know why.’

I wanted to tell him I’d do my best to find out; but I knew anything I said would sound trite. Went with, ‘How’s the wife coping?’

‘She has her moments, y’know. I don’t think she’ll ever be the same. There’s nothing I can do about that now.’

‘Are you looking after her?’ I’d blurted it out all wrong. Christ, why did you say that, Gus?

Col’s eyes shone like match tips. ‘Of course.’

‘I didn’t mean…’

‘I know, I know. You’re a good man, Gus. I can’t tell you how much I- how much we both appreciate what you’re doing.’

‘I was just-’

He raised a hand. ‘Look, there’s no need. I want you to have no doubt about the debt I owe you for this. There is no one else can give me… closure.’

Closure. What was that? Jeez, I wanted a smoke.

‘This smoking ban’s a bastard, isn’t it?’ I said.

‘Oh, sorry, you want a cigarette. Shall we go outside?’

‘No, I’ll go upstairs. I need to pack anyway.’

‘Pack?’

‘Yeah. I’ll be moving out for a while.’

‘But why? Where will you go?’

‘I need to lie low for a time, Col. Don’t worry, it’s nothing to worry about. I just need to put a bit of distance between myself and this life for a while.’

‘Are you in trouble, Gus?’

‘No. God no. I just need to keep a bit of a low profile right now, if I’m to get close to this mob.’

‘I see. You’re going under cover.’

Under cover. Please. Saw myself on a stake-out with a bag of doughnuts.

‘Yeah. Kinda.’

On the way upstairs, I passed a picture hanging in the hall that grabbed my attention. ‘Cannis Dury, Scottish Cup Final 1978’, it said on the frame. How had I missed this? I stared at the photo for a full minute. He’d just scored. None of the Ryan Giggs making a lasso of his shirt. Was barely a glimmer of recognition in his eye. The only reason I knew he’d scored was that he had the ball under his arm. Back to the centre line, more work to do. No messing. That’s how he played.

My father had a rep as a studs first sweeper; shouted himself silent every game. Would have made Vinnie Jones look like a shandy drinker. I once met one of his old adversaries, who summed him up in one word: ‘Fierce.’ I’d never been able to better that.

I turned the picture to face the wall.

I had the key to the flat in my hand as my mobile started ringing.

‘Hello?’

‘Ah, ’tis your bold self!’

‘Milo?’

‘Who did ye think it was? There’s not many have the brogue as thick as me, not since Dave Allen passed, anyway.’

I gave a little laugh. ‘It’s good to hear from you.’

‘Bollocks, isn’t it the life of Riley you’ll be living, not a care in the world, lest of all for an old pot-walloper like m’self.’

He had me, but I couldn’t disguise how glad I was to hear his voice. ‘So how are you, buddy?’

A hacking cough, chased by peals of laughter. ‘Oh, grand, grand. Doctors reckon I’ve weeks ahead of me!’

His patter sounded tremendous for the age of him and the life he led. I couldn’t admire him more. ‘Stop, you’re killing me!’

‘I’ll stop now, I will. To be serious for a second, Gus…’ Milo’s voice dropped to the pits of him, his words came like tremors to my ears, ‘I was wondering, well, hoping really, if you could oblige me-’

I cut him off. ‘Name it, Milo.’

‘Well it’s — you’ll think I’m such an old fool.’

‘Never.’ He had me concerned, he began to sound so fearful. ‘What is it?’

‘If you had some time free, Gus, would you ever be able to pay me a little visit?’

‘Sure I would. God, Milo, it would be a pleasure. Didn’t I say I’d be round soon enough?’

‘No, Gus, you misunderstand. I don’t mean a social visit.’

‘What?’

I heard him shuffle the phone from hand to hand, then his voice sank to barely a whisper, ‘There are some very strange things afoot here.’

‘You’ll have to speak up, I can hardly hear you.’

More shuffling of the phone, then, ‘Some very young women, pale as ghosts they were, and-’ He stopped dead.

‘Milo? Milo, you still there?’

‘I can’t really say any more — it’s the cute hoor.’

‘Gotcha. Stalin’s about?’

‘Ahem, yes, that’s right.’

My mind flipped back to Milo’s black eye. ‘I swear, if that bastard has laid a finger on you-’

‘No, Gus, sure I’m fine — right as rain!’

I sensed he overstated things, he sounded clearly distressed by something. ‘I’ll be round right away.’

‘No! Jaysus, would ye ever listen? Amn’t I fine? All I’m saying is I’d like to get your considered opinion on something.’ He had started to choose his words too carefully for my liking, I could tell he feared they might land him in trouble. ‘When ye have a moment, just drop by. I will look out for you. Goodbye for now.’

He hung up before I could say another word.

The door to my flat sat open. Right away, I thought it looked like the result of a blackout. Couldn’t remember leaving the latch off, but hey, there’s a lot of things I’ve lost to the drink. Inside I jolted: I’d have remembered this, surely.

The flat looked like a war zone. Bed thrown arseways. Mattress to the wall. Table, missing its legs, lay in bits under a pile of debris.

‘C’mon, Gus — think.’ It was no good. If I’d any part in this, it had left me.

My mind flipped into cartwheels.

I waded through the broken plates and torn cushions that covered the floor. Newspapers scattered to the four winds alongside a busted set of venetian blinds. My own cuttings, all my top scoops, ripped to bits. Every picture frame kicked cockeyed.