‘Well?’
Grant smiled. ‘You owe me a fiver.’
‘Fuck,’ said Joe, getting out his wallet. He handed the money over and turned to them. ‘I bet Grantie that Hedge Cunt would try to persuade him to let you escape, he backed Mr Floppy to go for it.’
He patted Grant on the back. ‘I’ll get you next time, mate.’
‘You two are unbelievable,’ said Molly.
‘Thanks,’ said Grant.
‘Who was on the radio?’ said Adam.
Joe smiled at him. ‘Why the fuck should I tell you?’
Adam shrugged then regretted it as pain shot through his wrists from the restraints. ‘What does it matter if you’re going to kill us?’
Joe cricked his neck casually. ‘Nothing much to tell. We discovered the Ramsay brothers running this place a few months back and liberated it from them. Told them to keep their mouths shut if they wanted to stay alive. Molly, you know the Ramsay brothers, right? Pair of fucking retards. Anyway, me and Grant took over the place and since then we’ve been making shitloads of illegal whisky when we’re not on duty, and often when we are. We sell it and make piles of money. Any questions?’
Molly chipped in. ‘Other police are involved?’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘The police radio, stupid.’
Joe smiled. ‘Of course, silly me. Yeah, we move shipments to the mainland every now and then, so we need a boat.’
‘A police boat?’ said Adam.
‘Give the guy a Scooby snack.’
‘So this is a big operation?’
‘Now you’re starting to realise why we can’t let you go,’ said Joe. ‘It’s not just about me and Grantie here. There are others with time and money invested in this whole business. Not that it matters, we still wouldn’t let you go, even if it was only us.’
‘This is all bullshit,’ Roddy piped up.
‘Beg your pardon?’ Joe turned towards him.
‘I said this is all bullshit. You’re not going to kill us. You don’t have the fucking bollocks.’
‘Is that right?’
‘It takes a real fucking maniac to do something like that, and you don’t have it in you, either of you.’
Grant snarled at him. ‘And you would know, having shot how many people, exactly?’
‘I’ve handled a gun.’
Joe laughed. ‘Clay pigeons on a stag do, aye? Let me tell you, I’ve shot people, and it isn’t the psychological trauma cop dramas make it out to be, trust me.’
‘Bullshit.’
Joe smiled at Roddy then took a handgun from the waistband of his trousers. He sauntered up to Roddy, then past him. In one fluid movement he lifted the gun to Luke’s forehead and pulled the trigger. The crack made them all jump, as Luke’s head smacked against the cask. Blood spurted from the hole at the front of his head as he slumped over and hit the floor with a soft thud.
‘Luke!’ shouted Adam. ‘Fuck!’
‘Oh my God,’ said Molly under her breath.
‘See?’ said Joe, turning to them. ‘Now maybe you smart-mouthed bastards will start taking this situation a bit more seriously, eh?’
He turned back to Luke and nudged the body with his toe. He leaned in closer to Luke’s head and frowned, then stared at the cask Luke had been leaning against. He knelt down next to the body and grabbed Luke’s hair, lifting his head out of a small sticky pool of blood and looking at the back of it. He frowned again, then turned.
‘What the fuck?’ he said to Grant. ‘There’s no exit wound.’
He stared at the gun in his hand as Grant walked over.
Grant examined Luke’s head then sucked his teeth. ‘Right enough.’
Joe dropped Luke’s head, which landed with a thump, spraying up blood from the pool on the floor. He turned to the rest of them.
‘Was your mate a fucking cyborg or something?’
Adam couldn’t speak, felt bile rise in his throat. He looked from the body to Molly and Roddy, both their faces full of shock. Eventually Roddy spoke.
‘What do you mean?’ he stuttered.
‘Point-blank range, execution style,’ said Grant. ‘You always get an exit wound.’
Joe frowned at his gun. ‘This baby usually makes quite a mess on the way out as well.’
‘You’re a sick fuck,’ said Roddy, face ashen.
‘That’s as may be, but it doesn’t explain why the bullet didn’t come out your mate’s head.’
Adam swallowed hard then heard his own voice, weak and wavering. ‘Metal plate.’
‘What?’ Grant turned to him.
Adam gulped in air. ‘He’s got a metal plate in his head.’
Joe raised his eyebrows. ‘Really? Why?’
‘Snowmobile accident,’ said Roddy quietly.
‘Well, I’ll be fucked,’ said Grant, shaking his head. ‘How about that?’
Joe stood thinking for a moment. ‘That’s a bit of a cunt, really. Now I’m going to have to get that bullet out of there. Can’t be too careful about incriminating evidence, you know.’
He wandered over to the table and examined the mess, then picked up a large claw hammer, felt the heft of it in his grip.
‘No, wait,’ said Adam, feeling his stomach lurch. ‘Whatever you’re thinking of doing, please don’t.’
Joe came back over, gripping the hammer.
‘I don’t have any choice.’
He positioned himself next to Luke’s head and grabbed the front of his jacket for leverage.
‘I can’t go around shooting people and leaving bullets in their heads, can I?’
He flipped the hammer round so that the claw end pointed forward.
‘Don’t,’ pleaded Adam.
Joe took a deep breath and raised the hammer, then swung it down hard into the side of Luke’s skull.
23
Adam screwed his eyes tight, but the awful sounds kept coming to him. He’d known Luke the longest of all, met him at the union in Freshers’ Week first year; four hours later they were steaming drunk best friends. Now Luke was lying in a spreading pool of his own blood, his head being caved in by a fucking lunatic.
Adam opened his eyes and glanced at the mess of Luke’s head, the blood and brains, skull and hair. He felt a rush of fury swell up inside him. His stomach spasmed and he vomited acrid liquid down his front. He spat and tried to wipe his mouth on his shoulder.
Joe turned, wiping blood and sweat away from his forehead and breathing heavily.
‘Looks like we’ve got a squeamish one,’ he said, taking a swig of peatreek from the canister.
‘You’re not going to get away with this,’ said Adam.
‘You going to stop me?’ Joe let out a melodramatic laugh. ‘I don’t think so.’ He shook his head as he got his breath back. ‘It wasn’t my fault, I only did it to prove a point. Hedge Cunt here said I didn’t have the bollocks to kill someone, so I had to show him. If anything, it’s his fault your bumchum is dead.’
‘Fuck you,’ said Roddy.
Joe tapped out a line of coke and snorted, then threw the case to Grant who did likewise.
Molly stared at Joe. ‘I knew you had turned into an evil bastard, but I never thought you were capable of
