The only addiction he had given into was Audrey. Like it or not, she was in his blood. And now she was sitting beside him, close yet unattainable. If this was how junkies felt about their drugs, he pitied them.
‘So, how’d you meet your husband?’ Davie asked, trying to take his mind off what he was watching. And her proximity.
Audrey shifted uncomfortably in her seat. ‘You really want to know?’
Davie nodded, but she still hesitated. ‘Don’t worry, Aud,’ he said. ‘It’s been a long time. Whatever there was between us… well, it’s in the past.’ He thought he saw a look of pain in her green eyes but she hid it well. Almost as well as he hid his.
‘I was still at the
Times
when I met him,’ she said. ‘This was a couple of years after I… well, you know…’
He nodded, understanding. She meant a couple of years after he’d had his encounter with Harris and she’d decided she’d had enough.
‘Anyway, I’d seen him at jobs, he’d seen me. There was a big murder out on the South Side a few years ago, a wee girl killed near her home. He was on the team, I was covering it. He asked me out one day and I said yes and that was it, really. We were married eighteen months later.’
‘Kids?’
‘Not yet.’
‘You happy?’
She paused. Davie wondered why. ‘Yes,’ she said, but there was hesitancy to the single word.
‘Good,’ he said, deciding it wasn’t his place to pry. They lapsed into silence again and he was trying to think of another subject to bring up when she leaned forward and said, ‘There he is.’
Davie followed her gaze and was shocked. He recalled that the bloke hadn’t been especially tall, but he had been thick-set and powerful. He’d felt his strength during their fight, even though Davie had gained the upper hand quickly.
The Bar-L Special sliced through the air in front of his face. He slammed the mop handle hard on Harris’ wrist. He wanted to break it, to smash the bone into kindling. He didn’t, but when he had Harris on the ground he put a foot to his chest and jerked and twisted at his arm until he felt something give in the shoulder…
Harris wasn’t the same man now. The red hair was thinner, not as red, but his body had wasted.
No,
thought Davie,
he’d faded.
It was as if someone had taken an eraser to him and had rubbed away at his bulk, at his vitality, and left this hollow man limping towards the dealer to make his buy. Davie let him complete the transaction and begin to walk away before he opened the car door to follow.
‘Davie, don’t hurt him,’ said Audrey and he poked his head back into the car. Her face was etched with concern – whether for Davie or for what he might do, he couldn’t be certain.
He’d hurt him badly back then. Harris had screamed but a scream wouldn’t stop him. Nothing would stop him once the dark thing had taken over…
‘Not planning to,’ he said, and closed the door. He’d only moved a few feet, his eyes on Harris hobbling home, when he heard Audrey’s footsteps behind him. She didn’t trust him. He couldn’t blame her.
Davie caught up with him around the corner. He called out Harris’s name and the guy stopped and turned, a look of suspicion in his eyes. At first Harris didn’t recognise him but then, slowly, the memories came back and he began to back away. ‘I don’t want no trouble,’ he said, his eyes fluttering like a scared bird.
‘Not going to give you any,’ said Davie. ‘Just want to talk.’
Harris looked from Davie to Audrey, who had just come into his view. He was still walking backwards, his right hand, which held his drugs, cradled against his chest with his left, like a mother protecting a child.
‘Don’t run,’ said Davie. ‘I’ll catch you.’
Harris looked around him, still searching for a bolt hole.
‘Jinky,’ said Audrey, her voice soothing. ‘He’s telling the truth. He just wants to talk.’
He focussed on her then, his eyes calming but losing none of their suspicion. ‘What about?’
Davie resisted the impulse to step closer for fear that he would panic him. ‘Who got you to come after me in the jail?’
‘Promised I wouldn’t say, didn’t I?’
‘It was Lomas, wasn’t it?’
A nervy little smile flickered on Harris’s lips. ‘Might’ve been. Might no have. I’m no sayin.’
Davie knew it was Lomas. ‘Where is he, Harris?’
‘How the fuck would I know?’ He gave Audrey an apologetic nod. ‘Pardon my language, darlin.’
‘I’m betting you do know where he is and I’m betting you’ve been milking him for cash. He’s a prison officer who hired a con to go after another con. He’ll not want that to get out.’
Harris smiled then and Davie saw the mean bastard of old. ‘Shows you what you know, he’s no a prison officer anymore…’ He stopped abruptly when he realised he’d said too much.
‘So you have been in contact,’ Davie said and glanced over his shoulder at Audrey. He’d taken a flyer but it had paid off. ‘Where is he, Donald?’
A sly glint came into Harris’s eye. ‘What’s it worth?’
Davie sighed, his patience wearing thin. If it were not for Audrey’s presence he would’ve slammed the boy’s head against the wall by now.
Thread his fingers through the red hair, bounce his face off it. Just like he’d done back in that prison corridor. Ramming the head against it until the slap of flesh against stone took on a liquid sound and blood burst from Harris’s nose and his forehead…
‘How much do you want?’ Audrey said, stepping forward and touching Davie on the arm, as if she knew what he was thinking.
‘Seems pretty important, must be worth… oh… fifty.’
‘I’ll give you twenty.’
‘What? The
Record
on a fuckin wage freeze or something, pardon my language? C’mon, darlin, you can do better than that.’
‘Thirty, or I walk away now.’
Harris was strung out, but he caught the finality in her tone. If he continued to haggle she’d walk away and leave him to Davie’s tender mercies. Davie fought to conceal a smile. She was something.
‘Thirty then, but it’s daylight fuckin robbery, pardon my language.’
Audrey dug into her coat pocket and produced a slim wad of folded notes. She slid off three tenners and held them out. Harris reached out with his left hand but Davie got there first, snatching the cash away.
‘Information first,’ he said.
Harris kept his eyes on the money and sighed. ‘Aye, it was Lomas.’
‘Where is he?’
‘He got retired, given the shove. That Governor, the one we called The Colonel? He poisoned his well for him. He’s a security guard now, big booze warehouse up Bishopbriggs way.’
‘Where does he live?’
‘Sighthill, they high flats next to the cemetery. Can’t mind the block or the number.’
Davie glanced at Audrey who nodded. ‘I can get it.’
Davie turned back to Harris and held out the money. Harris took a few tentative steps closer then suddenly grabbed the notes from Davie’s hand. He counted them, even though he’d watched Audrey peel off the three tenners. Davie shook his head, feeling a mixture of sadness and disgust. ‘What happened to you, man?’
Harris thrust the notes into his trousers pocket and looked back at Davie. He pulled himself straight, his chin set in a defiant thrust. For a moment Davie saw the old Donald Harris looking back at him. ‘Don’t you fuckin judge me, Davie McCall. I’m fucked up right enough but I’m doin it to myself. The only person I’m hurtin now is me. What about you? Can you say the same?’
Then he turned and walked swiftly away without looking back. He knew they had what they wanted and wouldn’t follow. Davie was stung by his words but he knew Harris was right. Audrey looked at Davie and raised an eyebrow. ‘Pardon his language,’ she said.
17
DARKNESS CLOSED
in as they left the Gorbals. They headed north across the river to the tower blocks looming over the southern edge of the graveyard that sprawled over the hill to Springburn. Audrey had asked a pal on the
Record
newsdesk to check the voters’ roll for George Lomas, living somewhere in the housing scheme. He found one listing and rattled off a block and door number.
‘This time, stay here,’ said Davie when she’d parked in one of the bays next to the flats. She was about to argue the point but he went on, ‘Lomas isn’t like Harris. He might get nasty and I’ll need to do what I do.’ He didn’t want to expand any further and she didn’t ask him to. She sat back in her seat again as he climbed out.
‘Davie,’ she said, just as he was about to close the door. ‘Be careful.’
He gave her a wave and headed into the flats. The scent of fresh bleach filled his nostrils as he took the lift to the fifth floor. Somebody had certainly kept it clean. He wondered if they had to, lifts often being mistaken for public toilets in this city. It bumped and shuddered as it slowly made its way upwards and Davie began to think he would’ve been quicker taking the stairs. Finally the doors slid open and Davie stepped out into a long corridor with arrows and house numbers pointing in either direction. He turned right and eventually pushed through a door into a square landing with four flats leading off. He stopped at the one marked 5
D
, helpfully carrying a tartan nameplate with
LOMAS
printed in white, and rattled the letterbox. The top half of the door was made of frosted, toughened glass, behind which there was a white curtain. Davie could not see any lights beyond. He waited, feeling tension build in his stomach. He had no idea how he was going to play this. All he knew was that he needed to confirm who was behind the attacks, even though he was certain he already knew. For some reason only clear to his own twisted brain, Danny McCall had not wanted his son to leave Barlinnie.
When there was no answer, Davie gave the letterbox another clatter. Still no movement behind the white curtain. He got down on his knees and held open the letterbox, peering into the dark hallway beyond. No lights, no sound. The flat was empty.
Dammit.
He straightened and considered his next step. Harris had said Lomas was a security guard at a whisky warehouse in Bishopbriggs. Shouldn’t be too hard to track down, but Davie wasn’t sure if he wanted to approach the man at work. He turned from the door. He knew where he lived. He’d come back again.
And then the heavy door leading to the corridor opened and Davie came face to face with Lomas. He had an anorak over a gray uniform and he looked older and seedier than Davie remembered. He saw recognition flood the man’s face immediately and then a sharp sting at his knee as Lomas’s boot lashed out. He knew exactly where to kick to cause maximum pain, but the blow had been rushed. If he’d done it properly, with all his strength behind it, he might’ve shattered Davie kneecap. Even so, it hurt. It hurt a lot. Davie slumped a little, the pain shooting up his thigh as he reached out to grab the sleeve of the anorak, but Lomas jumped away and ran down the corridor.
Davie moved after him, the heavy blow to his knee throbbing. He was limping and Lomas was travelling faster than Davie would’ve given him credit. The man ignored the lift and headed for the stairwell, the door banging open then swinging shut before Davie could reach it. He shouldered it open and heard Lomas pounding downwards. Davie continued his pursuit, the pain in his leg easing as he moved but still slowing him down.
He reached the exit on the ground floor and stepped out into the cool night air, his breath frosting in the pale street light. He saw Lomas running towards Springburn Road and broke into a lope after the man’s receding back.
He didn’t see the figure keeping to the shadows, watching him.
* * *
Audrey saw a slightly overweight man burst out of the flats at high speed and sprint across the grass towards the main road. Then Davie followed him, obviously favouring his left leg.
What the hell happened
? Davie said he only wanted to talk but there he was, chasing the guy. And limping.
Then she saw the third man, wearing a dark, thigh length woollen jacket, its thick collar turned up against the chill. She realised that she’d been aware of someone walking past the car, glancing at her, but she had been so focussed on the block of flats she had not noted where he went. The man broke into a jog, following Davie and the first guy, who she assumed was Lomas. Davie was too far away to hear if she called out to him.
She climbed out and went after them.
Lomas swerved onto the pavement of the main road and then headed straight for the graveyard gates, which were still open. Davie assumed he’d know the cemetery well enough to believe that he could give him the slip. There would be no street lights, but there would be places to hide – large bushes, maybe even Victorian lairs. With dark now having fully fallen, he could even conceal himself behind a tombstone and Davie wouldn’t see him.
Davie ignored the nagging pain in his leg and picked up his speed. He couldn’t let Lomas out of his sight, couldn’t let him find a bolthole somewhere. He cursed himself for not being prepared for the kick. He should’ve seen that coming. It would not happen again.
They were running up a small rise now, the cemetery stretching ahead of them and vanishing into the winter night. The dark shapes of tombstones surrounded them as they ran, tangible reminders of the frailty of man’s existence. There was no moon so Davie had to strain to keep Lomas’s dim outline in sight. His breathing was relatively even, his muscles not complaining, the dull ache in his leg aside. He had kept himself as fit as he could in the jail, doing exercises in his peter, taking every opportunity to do manual labour. Now he was out he’d get back to Barney Williams’ gym over in Bridgeton, where he’d continue to work out. He knew he couldn’t sustain this pace indefinitely, however.