Terms of Restitution Read online

  ‘Exactly where are we going?’ said Senga.

  ‘Are you thick? You saw the flames.’

  ‘Do you know, one day you might give me a straight bloody answer. It may have slipped your mind, but I’ve more to worry about than your stupid riddles.’

  Making no reply, Maggie turned the car past Halfords and into Abercorn Street. They didn’t travel far up the road until they were stopped at a police cordon. Ahead, blue and red lights twinkled in a haze of smoke.

  Maggie wound down her window. She took in the impossibly young-looking police officer, wearing a hi-vis jacket topped off by a reflective police-issue baseball cap, standing by the line of police tape. ‘Hey, son!’ She beckoned him towards the car.

  ‘Yes, madam.’

  ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘A fire, and it’s a big one. If you’re trying to get any further, you can forget it.’

  ‘This fire, where is it?’

  ‘They’re trying to stop it spreading to other buildings. But at the moment it’s contained in one factory unit.’

  ‘What factory unit?’

  ‘Chancellor Fabrications.’

  Senga leaned over to talk to the policeman. ‘I’m a director! I need to speak to someone.’

  ‘I’m afraid there isn’t anyone to talk to at the moment.’ The young cop leaned into the car. ‘There’s nothing but a shell left; the place has been completely gutted. Good thing is, we think everyone had gone home for the evening. So please, try not to worry.’

  ‘Try not to worry? How would you feel if your business was going up in smoke?’

  ‘Not very good, I’m sure.’ The policeman looked sheepish. ‘But what can you do? I’m sure you’re insured. Not that that’s any consolation.’

  Senga looked at Maggie. ‘Well, aren’t you going to say anything? Fuck, you ran the place for long enough!’

  Maggie shrugged. ‘Some things just have their time.’ She looked at the policeman. ‘Since when did you lot start wearing baseball caps, eh?’

  ‘New issue – from Police Scotland, you know. They’re slowly dragging us into the twenty-first century.’

  ‘Aye, well, they should drag you back again. They look bloody awful.’

  ‘Why are you being so calm about all this? How can you be?’ asked Senga, as a desperate look spread across her face.

  ‘Because we’re being looked after by another power, that’s why.’

  ‘Oh, I fucking give up.’ Senga held her head in her hands, as the police officer looked on bemused.

  *

  Finn left the pink Mini at the path that led to the boarded-up Chinese restaurant. A door creaked open, but nobody appeared through it.

  Finn approached cautiously. ‘Okay, I’m here. Let Gillian out and I’ll come in!’ He looked round. Mannion had chosen well. This place was just about as isolated as you could get and still be in the city.

  ‘Naw, you come in, then we’ll let your wee lassie go.’ This was Mannion’s voice.

  Finn had expected nothing less. He pushed the boarded-up door aside and walked into the darkness. As he peered, waiting for his eyes to adjust, he was aware of movement in front of his face. By instinct, he ducked, but a heavy blow still glanced off his chin.

  Like a rugby player in a scrum, Finn doubled down and pushed forward, his hands grasping at shadows. But in a few steps he felt another blow, this time to his back. He dived forward, and this time he was lucky; he caught someone by the legs. A voice grunted in pain as he brought his attacker to the floor.

  Finn’s eyes were adjusting now. Though it was still almost pitch black, he could see, feel and smell the man he had by the arm. He began to rain blows down on his exposed back.

  Suddenly, everything was illuminated, as neon lights stuttered into life. Finn blinked. He was lying on top of a burly man on a tiled floor. When he looked up, Mannion stood before him, a pistol pointed at his face.

  ‘Fuck’s sake, Sammy! You had the element of surprise, darkness, the lot – and you still couldn’t do the job, eh?’

  ‘Get this bastard off me!’ Sammy Sloane was struggling under Zander Finn’s weight.

  Mannion gestured with the gun that Finn should release his henchman. ‘It’s lovely to see you again, Zander. Is it a number fifty-two with fried rice, or just curry sauce and chips?’ Mannion laughed at his own joke.

  ‘Where’s Gillian?’

  ‘Sammy, drag Mr Finn this way.’

  Sloane grabbed Finn by the arm. They stared at each other for a moment, then Finn shrugged. ‘You heard your master, poodle boy.’ He blew a mock kiss at Sloane.

  ‘Fuck you, Zander. You’ll not be blowing kisses shortly, you wanker.’ He turned Finn round and applied cable ties, pinning his hands behind his back. For good measure, Sloane took a swing, connecting with the side of Finn’s face just under his ear.

  The now captive gangster staggered at the force of the blow, fighting to retain his footing. But before he could shake the dizziness he was being pulled along the corridor into a bright room.

  ‘You not feeling so good, Zander?’ said Mannion. ‘Here’s your wee lassie, by the way.’

  Finn, his head still spinning, squinted in the direction of Mannion’s gaze. Gillian was tied to a chair, her head bent forward so that her father couldn’t see her eyes. ‘What have you done to her?’

  ‘Och, the lassie was a wee bit hysterical, so I thought it best we gave her a wee jag to calm her down. She’ll be fine.’

  ‘Okay, let her go. That’s the deal.’

  ‘Zander, you know me better than that. When’s the last time I stuck to a deal? Picture the scene.’ Mannion spread his hands as though conjuring up an image from thin air. ‘Wee Gillian here goes running off – maybe to her mammy, but more likely to dear old granny, eh?’

  ‘And what’s my mother going to do? She’s an old woman.’

  ‘Sometimes I forget you’re so much younger than me.’ Mannion rubbed his chin, as though deep in thought. ‘You see, I remember her when she wasn’t just an old woman.’

  ‘What’s this shit?’

  ‘Oh, you know. You don’t think for a second that drunken father of yours held things together? Did you never stop to wonder how smoothly everything went when you took over? After all, you were just a boy.’

  Finn tried to clear his head by shaking it. ‘I was there, remember.’

  ‘Aye. But you know how this game works now. You can’t show any kind of weakness, or the wee dogs that do your bidding soon become a pack that’ll happily devour you. Who do you think kept everyone in line while you were finding your feet?’

  ‘My mother? Piss off, Joe.’

  ‘Look how quickly things went downhill in the two years you were kicking your heels down in London, eh?’

  ‘Down to my dear wife and her relationship with you, I think.’

  Sammy Sloane looked at his boss, mouth gaping in surprise.

  ‘You know, Sammy, you’ve always reminded me of something, now I can see it.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘A cod. You look like a cod. Shut your mouth, you’re putting me off my revenge here. Now, where was I?’

  ‘You were telling me what a criminal mastermind my mother is.’

  ‘Oh aye, that’s it. You shouldn’t underestimate her. I mean, Davie Kelly, old Paton, they’d eat their own granny for breakfast.’ He looked over his shoulder. ‘Come in, Paulie!’ Mannion shouted.

  From a side door, a figure emerged.

  ‘Take this young man, for instance.’ Mannion was puffing on the stub of a cigar, relighting it in a cloud of smoke with a flaring match. ‘While you’ve been busy clearing all these Albanians out of the way for me, Paulie here has been running Dusky’s boys.’

  Finn stared at the young man. It didn’t take him long to recall when he’d last seen that face. It was in the Tannahill Bar when he and Malky Maloney had met up with Dusky. He’d sent him out to stand in the street.

  ‘Of course, I had the big man in my pocket. But you knew
that, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes, that’s why he’s no longer with us.’ Finn stared at him defiantly.

  ‘You know everything, of course.’

  Finn snorted in derision.

  ‘I could have left you in London, you know. You were out the way, and what with your stupid wife and Dusky doing my bidding – well, it would have been fine.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘But there was always a risk you’d come back and cause me trouble. You see, I’ve got a wee thing going – great thing, it is. But we needed they Albanians out the way, which you so kindly attended to. Aye, and I needed to be sure you wouldn’t come back to ruin our plans.’

  ‘Oh, and just how did you manage to persuade me back? Because if you think I came up from London at the behest of my wife, you’re wrong.’

  ‘Oh no. I mean, you forget I know her – well, in fact.’ He smiled and reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. He produced a mobile phone. ‘You’ll need to give me a second here. Old age doesn’t come alone.’ He pulled a pair of reading glasses from his breast pocket and started fiddling with the smartphone. ‘Ah, here we are.’ Joe Mannion held up the phone. Soon a voice echoed in the large empty room.

  51

  Amelia Langley stood as near to the blaze at Chancellor Fabrications as she could, DS Neil Dickie at her side.

  ‘Well, that’s that,’ she said with a resigned look.

  Dickie screwed up his face against the heat of the blaze. ‘You don’t think . . .’

  ‘I don’t think what?’

  ‘Well, your man, Finn. He might have decided that enough is enough. Do you know what I mean?’

  ‘What?’ Langley turned to him with a glare. For some reason this hadn’t crossed her mind at all. She felt a most unwanted tug at her heart, an empty feeling in her stomach. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Neil. They’ve torched the place to hide evidence. How long have you been doing this job?’

  ‘Long enough.’ He shrugged. ‘It was just a thought. I mean, he wasn’t exactly full of the joys when he left us, was he?’

  ‘He was his usual self.’ Langley hoped she was hiding the feelings she was desperately trying to banish.

  A car screeched to a halt behind them.

  ‘Watch out, it’s the gaffer,’ said Dickie, automatically straightening up.

  ACC Mary Green’s gold braid reflected the flames, now much diminished, thanks to the attention of the fire brigade. Her face was stern as she looked up at Langley. ‘So, what happened?’

  ‘We’re not sure. Obviously, there’s been a fire.’

  ‘Top marks, Chief Inspector. I must say, the reason behind your rapid rise in the ranks had eluded me until this moment. Now all is clear.’ Green looked at her watch. ‘I want you to round up every one of Zander Finn’s crew. I’m especially keen to speak to Donald Paton.’

  ‘On what pretext shall we round them up, ma’am?’ Langley could barely hide her irritation.

  ‘On the pretext of investigating mass murder of foreign nationals, what do you think? Do you want me to chew your food for you as well?’

  ‘Ma’am, surely it would be better to gather some concrete evidence against them before bringing them in. Right now, we have nothing apart from circumstantial and anecdotal evidence to suggest that the Paisley mob had anything to do with the Albanian deaths. We’ve already released Finn.’

  ‘Yes, on your advice. And look where that got us.’

  ‘Of course, I’m forgetting your source.’

  ‘Just get them rounded up.’

  ‘Finn first, I assume.’

  ‘No, Donald Paton is the priority. Get it done!’ Green turned on her heel and was soon back in the passenger seat of her car. The driver executed a quick U-turn and they disappeared back down Abercorn Street.

  ‘I wonder who her source is, then?’ said Dickie with a smile.

  ‘Ha! No prizes now, Neil.’

  A senior fire officer approached them. His face was slathered in soot and ash from the fire, and he looked exhausted.

  ‘Hard night?’ Langley asked sympathetically.

  ‘We had our work cut out trying to stop the fire spreading to other units. These went up a long time ago; there’s nothing like enough clearance between buildings.’

  ‘Well, it looks as though you’ve got it under control now, at least.’

  ‘Yes, that’s one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you. You’re Langley, right?’

  ‘Yes, that’s me.’

  ‘Well, you might want to get a hold of your SOCO team. We’ve found a body.’

  Neil Dickie looked at Amelia Langley with an ‘I told you so’ expression plastered across his face.

  Langley’s hand shook as she took the phone from her pocket.

  ‘Are you okay?’ asked the fire officer.

  ‘Long day,’ she replied. ‘A very long day.’

  Neil Dickie raised a brow, as his boss called in the SOCO team.

  *

  At first Zander Finn didn’t recognise the voice. Mannion must have noticed his puzzled expression because he walked towards Finn, the smartphone held out in front of him. The recoding was tinny, but perfectly audible.

  ‘So you go down there, persuade your man to come back, and we’re both quids in, eh?’ This was Mannion’s voice, distinctively low and gruff.

  For a few moments there was silence, then another voice sounded from the phone. Finn wasn’t sure if the echo was in the room or in his head.

  ‘Aye, I’ll do it. But it’s as we agreed. I want my cut of everything.’ The voice of the late Malky Maloney was unmistakable.

  ‘Consider it done. You can do what you do in Paisley. Just leave the big stuff to me and we’ll get on fine.’

  Mannion clicked off the recording but continued to hold the phone in the air like some kind of trophy. ‘Look at your face, eh? Just look at it. This is one of the best days I’ve had in a long time, that’s for sure.’

  ‘It’s easy to manipulate voices now.’ Finn shrugged, doing his best to look untroubled, though in reality he felt sick to the stomach. ‘All you need is some wean that can do it and away you go.’

  A flash of irritation passed across Mannion’s face. But he soon recovered. ‘If you think that, you’re mistaken. Malky Maloney was pissed off with your wife, and he was pissed off with you. Accept it. Your best buddy sent you to the wolves.’

  ‘If this shit is true, why did you kill him?’

  Mannion thought for a moment before replying. ‘You’re a fisherman, Zander, I know that much. Out there, with your wee fly and hook, trying to get a fish in all that mud, cold and rain. I’ve never quite understood it, to be honest.’

  ‘If I had time to write down the things you never quite understood, then I’d have nothing else to do.’

  ‘You’re not quite getting this, are you? You see, I tried to goad you into getting rid of our Albanian problem before. But instead, you disappeared. Though I knew you wouldn’t be away for long. A man like you would have to seek vengeance on the people that killed your son. Problem is, you missed.’

  Finn struggled to free himself from Sammy Sloane’s grip, but his hands were still firmly pinned behind his back. ‘So you’re saying you did it? You don’t have the balls!’ Finn’s face was crimson red now, his eyes flashing with hatred.

  ‘My lad’s first, actually.’

  ‘Which lad?’

  ‘The father of your new grandchild-to-be: Kevin. It’s amazing what even my own family will do for the promise of money, and a shithole like this.’ Mannion gestured round the room. ‘What a swap, too! Your arsehole of a boy in exchange for a boarded-up Chinese restaurant. He’s stupid, of course – like his mother.’

  Finn roared at the top of his voice. It was a wordless yell of sheer fury. Though Sloane had his arms pinned back, through the pain and his captor’s strength, he moved a few steps towards Mannion.

  Mannion nodded.

  Finn felt a sharp pain in his neck. His legs gave way and he sagged in Sloane’s grip.
He was aware of being grabbed by the hair, his head tugged up. The face of Joe Mannion shimmered, then faded to black.

  52

  Sandra Finn was pushed into the delivery room by an orderly and two harassed-looking nurses. Kevin was holding her hand, but one of the nurses pulled him back.

  ‘You’ll need to get scrubbed and kitted out. You’re the father, I assume?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Right, come with me.’

  They walked down a corridor towards another room. Kevin glanced out of a window that looked over the hospital car park. Under the lights, he could see two figures making their way towards the entrance. He stopped in his tracks.

  ‘Hang on. I’ve left my camera in the car. I don’t want to miss this.’

  ‘You better get a move on!’ said the nurse.

  Kevin ran back down the corridor. Instead of the main entrance, he paused in front of a fire door. Fearful of alarms, he screwed up his eyes as he pushed it open. Thankfully, there were no bells or whistles. He crept round the corner of the building and stared into the night.

  Soon, he was back in his car. He revved the engine and left the hospital’s grounds, turning onto the main road with a screech of tyres.

  *

  Senga Finn and her mother-in-law, Maggie, made their way through the hospital corridors.

  ‘Here, this way,’ said Senga, pointing to a sign that read ‘Maternity’.

  ‘Are you sure that was the message Zander sent?’

  ‘Yes! For the last time. I’ll show it to you, if you want.’

  ‘Fuck, it never rains but it pours. Why the hell do they make these hospitals so big? She’d have been better off having the wean in Paisley.’

  ‘In the RAH? Are you kidding?’

  ‘Nothing wrong with the hospital, nothing at all. Just you have a go trying to administer care to all they junkies and chancers. This will be the first of my family not born in Paisley.’