Terms of Restitution Read online

  Senga shook her head as they hurried along.

  ‘What’s up with you?’

  ‘I’ve got to say, you think of the strangest things at such odd times. Here we are, just about to see my first grandchild being born – your great-grandchild. Meanwhile, your son and your youngest grandchild could be dead, for all we know. And all you can think to do is bang on about being born in Paisley!’

  Maggie caught Senga’s arm. ‘You listen to me. Of course I’m worried. But when you get to my age you learn just to deal with what’s in front of you. I’ve told you, it’s in good hands. Zander and Gillian will be fine.’

  The pair stared at each other for a moment, then pressed on to the maternity ward.

  *

  Father Giordano was standing with the phone to his ear, listening intently. Only one small lamp illuminated the room – it reflected his gloomy mood.

  ‘You will both meet me in the chapel. We shall pray.’

  He listened again, this time impatiently.

  ‘If we lose faith in prayer, then everything is lost. We are merely beasts stumbling around in the darkness.’ He glanced round the room, noting the irony of the situation. ‘This is what I want. It will be done.’

  Call over, he sat down heavily in the leather chair. Giordano felt tired. He knew that age had a lot to do with it; he had flung problems aside as a youth. But now there were other concerns, matters of the heart, not just the soul.

  He remembered his mother toiling over the stove. For her, the cooking of food, feeding her family, was a devotion.

  ‘Too many ingredients and the dish is ruined,’ he could hear her say, so long ago. ‘A pinch of salt, a shake of pepper, can make food sing, or it can make it cry.’

  In the gloom, he felt like crying now. He was in no doubt there were far too many ingredients in his life. There had been for a long time. Now it was time to serve the dish he had slaved over for a lifetime: he wasn’t sure if it would taste as he wanted it to. Too much salt, perhaps too little pepper; he really didn’t know.

  ‘You can’t rush,’ his mother had said. ‘The pot boils when it will.’

  Father Giordano knew how this felt. But he was scared that his pot was about to boil over.

  53

  Zander Finn felt as though he was waking from a drunken sleep. His head was throbbing and his mouth dry. He was disoriented, and it took time to recall recent events. But slowly, horrifically, they returned.

  As soon as he tried to move, he realised that he was held fast, arms and legs tied on to the chair upon which he sat. Though he strained at his bonds, they didn’t budge.

  It was pitch black. At first Finn considered the possibility that Mannion had blinded him. But as his eyes adjusted to the light, he began to make out the shadows of furniture, a bookcase, chairs, and the sheen from a polished table at the head of which he sat. He couldn’t be sure where the sliver of light that afforded this paucity of illumination was coming from. It wasn’t the curtains, though he could now see their folds. No light escaped from the windows.

  Finn could smell money: the sharp, sweet tang of old leather, wood – a musty grandeur. Through the pain in his head, the throbbing behind his eyes, he realised where that smell took him. But it couldn’t be.

  ‘Father!’ he cried out. ‘Father Giordano!’

  Movement: the swish of an opening door; a shaft of light; the change in the atmosphere in the room; the sound of footsteps. Then, as had happened in the disused Chinese restaurant, lights blinded him. But as he blinked his sight back, this was not the harsh light of neon bulbs but the gentle glow of lamps.

  He tried to focus, as two people walked past him. The click of heels on a wooden floor, the drag of chairs pulled back. Whatever Mannion had stuck in his neck must have been strong. Finn was aware that his full wits had not yet been restored.

  ‘You are comfortable?’ The woman’s voice was quiet. He recognised the accent.

  Finn squinted at her. She was sitting at the other end of the table, right opposite him. Her dark hair was illuminated from behind by the glow of a standard lamp, making it look as though she had a halo – an angel. But Finn was pretty sure that, despite appearances, this was no heavenly body.

  To her side, sat the solid figure of Joe Mannion.

  ‘You haven’t answered my question, Mr Finn.’

  ‘I’m just dandy. Who the fuck are you, and where’s my daughter?’

  ‘Listen to the mouth on this bastard,’ said Mannion.

  Ignoring both of them, the woman at the head of the table spoke again. ‘You are not a man who knows when he’s beaten, I think.’ The words were soft but precise, showing no sign of emotion.

  ‘I know who your friend is, but who are you?’

  ‘My name is Ginerva. Not that it matters. You are here for only one reason.’

  ‘That is?’

  ‘That we strike a deal.’

  Finn made to reply, but she silenced him.

  ‘This is the kind of deal where your choices are limited. In fact, you only have two choices.’

  ‘Aye, we know that one in Scotland too,’ said Mannion. He was about to light a cigar, but she stopped him.

  ‘You are not in your stinking pub now, Mr Mannion. There is no smoking in here.’

  Finn smiled. ‘Where are we?’

  ‘On an island in Loch Lomond, Mr Finn. It does no harm to tell you now. I’d love to show you round, but that would be rather pointless at this stage.’ Ginerva smiled.

  ‘Okay, what’s the deal?’

  ‘The safety of your daughter, in return for the loyalty of your men.’

  ‘My men? Your friend here tells me he has most of them in his pocket.’ He looked across at Mannion.

  ‘That – as with so many things – is wrong, Mr Finn. He may have turned some of your associates, but by no means all.’ She clicked her fingers and a man walked through the room. He was dressed in a short jacket and black trousers, the uniform of a waiter. From a silver tray, he served his mistress and then Mannion drinks in sparkling whisky glasses. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Finn. I would offer you something but I see you are rather indisposed. I admit I’ve become rather fond of your malt whisky since I’ve been here. Rather neglecting my wine, I must say.’

  ‘Okay, so while you pair get pished, you’ll have to tell me the rest of what you propose,’ said Finn.

  ‘You record a message for those loyal to you. You tell them that their interests are best served by falling in line with me.’

  ‘What about me?’ said Mannion, looking slightly taken aback.

  Ginerva looked at him balefully, but said nothing.

  ‘And what then?’

  ‘That’s quite simple. Then you do what you did before – disappear.’

  ‘Aye, though this time you won’t be coming back – get it?’ Mannion grinned.

  ‘As you said, not much choice,’ said Finn.

  Ginerva shrugged. ‘No, this is true. But you save your daughter, though she too will have to give undertakings.’

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘She is safe, that’s all you need to know.’

  ‘I want to see her! If not, I’m doing nothing.’

  ‘Mr Finn, there are so many things you don’t know.

  The solid realities of your life are not what you think.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘All you must know is that you have a very short time to make your decision.’

  ‘Aye, it’s like one of they deals at the furniture shops. Everything must go by Christmas – in this case, you!’ Mannion grinned.

  One look from Ginerva was enough to shut him up. ‘Genuinely, I am sorry for you. But circumstances dictate that my options are limited.’

  Zander Finn lowered his head.

  *

  ‘That’s it, darling. You push with all you’ve got!’ said Maggie Finn over Senga’s shoulder.

  Sandra fell back, gasping for breath. ‘This is not how I imagined it would be. Gran, I don’t need any coaching!�
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  ‘Take it from one that knows, honey. You keep at the pushing and you’ll be fine. Your father was nearly ten pounds.’

  ‘Please shut up,’ said Senga to the older woman.

  ‘What is it with you pair? You’re not telling me something new. I might be having a baby, but I’m not stupid.’ Sandra howled again in her birth pains.

  ‘This is most irregular,’ said the midwife. ‘Both of you are here to help Sandra. Start helping!’

  ‘I was,’ said Maggie indignantly.

  ‘Stating the obvious isn’t helping. Now, Sandra, please concentrate on having your baby.’

  Senga and Maggie looked at each other, but said nothing.

  ‘Wait, I think we have the head!’ said the midwife.

  *

  ‘So, that’s it. You take your orders from Ginerva and everything will be fine.’ As he spoke these words into the mobile phone, Joe Mannion was holding a pistol to Zander Finn’s head. ‘I’m taking off. I tried, but I failed. I’m sorry.’ He looked across the table at the elegant Italian. ‘Is that what you wanted?’

  ‘Check it has recorded, Mr Mannion.’

  He removed the mobile from in front of Finn’s face and opened the recoding app. In moments, Finn’s voice could be heard sounding strangely like the short clip of Malky Maloney that Mannion had played in the Chinese restaurant.

  ‘Happy?’

  ‘Yes, I am,’ said Ginerva.

  ‘What about my daughter?’

  ‘I will keep my word, Mr Finn.’ She nodded to Mannion.

  Mannion pushed the gun into Finn’s temple.

  *

  ‘Yes, not long now, Sandra,’ said the midwife.

  ‘We’re nearly there,’ said her mother, as Sandra squeezed her hand.

  ‘We’re nearly nowhere. It’s me that’s doing this, Mum.’ She pushed again, her face red with exertion.

  The midwife smiled. ‘You have a baby boy, Sandra!’

  Sandra was breathing heavily, hair slathered against her forehead. ‘Danny,’ she said breathlessly, then fell back.

  *

  ‘You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,’ said Joe Mannion.

  ‘Just get on with it, you arsehole. My life was in tatters anyway.’ Finn closed his eyes, bracing against oblivion.

  There was noise behind the large oak door: thudding footsteps, raised voices, a gunshot.

  Mannion looked up the table at Ginerva. ‘What the fuck is this?’

  She appeared to be unmoved, sitting motionless in her chair like a tailor’s dummy.

  The door crashed open, revealing two tall men in dark suits with priest’s collars.

  ‘Fuck me, I know you’re a Roman Catholic, Zander. But you’ve got to say, this is good service. Puts us Prods to shame, so it does.’ He turned the gun on the two men, who appeared unarmed. ‘I hope your faith is strong, boys. You might not be as fortunate as our pal, here.’

  ‘Stop!’ shouted Ginerva. The colour had drained from her face and she took to her feet, hesitantly.

  Between the tall men, a smaller figure appeared, another priest, though an old man with wavy white hair. Mannion furrowed his brow and looked between this newcomer and Ginerva. ‘What the fuck is this? The Vatican Loch Lomond branch?’

  ‘Ginerva, take a seat, please. I will speak in English. It would be rude to converse otherwise when your guests don’t have the mother tongue.’

  She stood defiantly, her chin tilted in the air.

  ‘Sit!’ The old priest’s deep voice echoed round the room and the hallway beyond. Ginerva lowered her head and took her seat.

  ‘Father Giordano?’ said Finn. He sounded bewildered, because he was. He couldn’t reconcile the appearance of his old friend with the predicament in which he now found himself.

  Mannion tuned his back on his old enemy to face the priests. ‘What do they call you lot, a murder of crows, eh?’ He addressed Ginerva without talking to her. ‘I’m surprised at you – here’s us set to make a fortune across the country and you go all weak at the knees as soon as a priest arrives. Well, not me.’ Mannion cocked the gun at the unarmed prelates.

  A shot rang out.

  Finn instinctively ducked, hitting his head off the polished wood of the table. In the split second between the gun’s report and the realisation that he remained unharmed, he heard a groan and beside him on the table fell Joe Mannion. His eyes were wide, face white. He grabbed at Finn desperately.

  Joe Mannion’s body slid to the floor, leaving a streak of blood and gore across the polished wood. When Finn looked up, Ginerva was still standing with the pistol held out in front of her.

  Father Giordano rushed to Mannion’s side, muttering a Latin incantation.

  Finn looked at him open-mouthed. ‘He wasn’t one of us, Father. The last rites won’t do him any good.’

  The old priest finished his mutterings and crossed himself. ‘You should know by now, Zander. We are all the creatures of God.’ He turned away and addressed his companions. ‘Untie this man.’

  54

  Sandra Finn was in a hospital bed now, cradling her newborn baby. Maggie and Senga were on either side of the bed.

  ‘He’s gorgeous, he really is,’ said Senga, a fat tear running down her face.

  Maggie was busy on her phone.

  ‘Any news?’ asked Senga.

  Maggie nodded. ‘Everything is okay. That’s all you need to know, right now.’ Maggie Finn widened her eyes in a ‘please shut up’ expression.

  ‘Are you sure? I need to know.’ Senga’s tone was more assertive now.

  ‘Yes! Everything – everyone – is fine.’

  Sandra looked between them, the tiny child nestled in the crook of her arm. Though she looked drained, she was also radiant. ‘Okay, you can tell me what has been going on now. And don’t give me any of this “nothing for you to worry about” bullshit. My boyfriend isn’t here, and there was clearly something wrong with my father. Why was he asking all these questions about Gillian?’

  ‘Okay,’ Maggie replied. ‘There’s been a wee bit of trouble.’

  ‘You mean between Dad and Kevin? Even when this is happening they can’t leave this feud alone?’

  ‘Kevin has nothing to do with this.’ Senga stared at Maggie as she said the words. ‘And your father and sister are fine, just like your gran says. You’re right, there was a problem, but it’s been sorted. Hasn’t it, Maggie?’

  ‘You tell me the truth, Gran. Don’t mollycoddle me just because I’ve had a baby. I know when you’re lying,’ said Sandra, a look of desperation on her face.

  ‘Yes! Your mother is right. There was an incident, but it’s fine now.’

  ‘Between Dad and Gillian?’

  ‘Listen.’ Maggie leaned over her granddaughter and great-grandson. ‘You need to concentrate on your baby. I promise, everybody and everything is okay. I swear on your mother’s life.’

  ‘Well, that’s not much reassurance – you hate each other!’

  ‘We’re fine, too.’

  The door to the side room opened and the midwife appeared. ‘I think we should leave Mum and baby alone now. You can come back any time tomorrow. It’s a private room. But Ms Finn and Danny must rest now.’

  Maggie and Senga said their goodbyes and were soon walking back along the corridors of the hospital.

  ‘If Zander has done anything to Kevin, she’ll never forgive him, Maggie.’

  ‘Are you out of your mind? I know you’ve just been – well, “intimate” with his father. But the boy betrayed our family. My son and your daughter almost died because of the little shit! But Zander didn’t touch him. He’s a Mannion; he knows to get on his toes when the going gets tough.’

  ‘And Gillian, what about her?’

  ‘She’s a bit shaken, that’s all.’

  The pair of them walked out through the entrance and stopped in unison, as though they’d hit an invisible wall. Maggie was the first to produce a packet of cigarettes. For a few moments they enjoyed the r
elaxing power of nicotine before Maggie sighed.

  ‘I knew it! There is something. Tell me, Maggie Finn, or as sure as I stand here I’ll beat it out of you.’

  ‘The first time you and I fell out was when you gave me that blouse. Do you remember? You’d just started seeing my Zander. What age were you, eighteen?’

  ‘I remember. And I was nineteen, actually.’

  ‘Turned out you’d lifted it from Arnotts.’

  ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake. We’re not going through all that again. Don’t you think we’ve got more to talk about?’

  ‘You’ll remember our Gwen was working there at the time. They had you on the CCTV footage. Gwen spoke to me about it, and I had her get rid of the tape.’

  ‘All our yesterdays.’ Senga shook her head.

  ‘I’m making a point.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘No matter what happens between you and Zander, you’re still the mother of my grandchildren. I’ll always do what I can to help you. You did the right thing when you saw that message from Kevin to his father. Typical of the arrogant prick to leave his phone where you could find it.’

  ‘We’d just split up. I was going to send his wife a picture of my tits from it.’

  ‘Charming.’

  ‘Just as well I looked at it!’

  ‘There is news – bad, depending on your point of view.’

  ‘Fuck! What do you mean, “point of view”?’

  ‘Joe Mannion is dead, Senga.’

  Senga took another cigarette from her packet and lit it.

  ‘If it’s any consolation, he would have been quite happy to kill your daughter and your husband – estranged or not.’

  Senga looked up into the night sky, blowing clouds of smoke into the cold air. ‘Do you really think I give a fuck about Joe Mannion?’

  Maggie nodded. ‘Good. Now come on, you and me need a drink.’

  ‘I’m famished. But there’s nowhere open this time of night.’

  ‘That’s easy solved. I’ll make you some egg, chips and beans.’

  *

  Four people were sitting in the quiet lounge of the big mansion on the island in the middle of Loch Lomond. They sat in silence, each nursing a drink. Gillian Finn was nestled into her father’s side on a leather Chesterfield couch. She looked pale and shaken, but otherwise okay. Her father had his arm round her shoulders, and despite his bumps, bruises, cuts and abrasions, he looked remarkably calm.