Laura was still asleep when I got in but I knew I wouldn’t be able to rest if I’d wanted to. The whole thing was going through my mind, over and over again but it boiled down to very simple questions. Who has done this thing and why? I’d gone through everybody I could think of. I’d started with the main players in cities within striking distance of us, the family firms who controlled large patches of Glasgow, Edinburgh, Manchester and Liverpool, but surely they had enough on their plate without starting a war with us over our city. I put myself in their shoes, dispassionately weighing up the risks and advantages of launching an attack on a rival family in a city I didn’t know and I came to the conclusion I wouldn’t risk it myself, not for millions. It was too dangerous, too likely to threaten their current empires and would just result in tit-for-tat killings with no side fully destroying the other. It would be messy, bloody and expensive and it might just give the police all of the evidence they needed to put everybody involved away for years.
I poured myself another beer and thought about the smaller local crews that operated under our noses and, if not always with our outright permission, a tacit understanding that as long as they didn’t tread on our toes, they had a right to earn a living. Had the leader of one of those crews suddenly become too ambitious? It was possible, natural even. That was how Bobby became Top Boy – by being more ruthless than the guy who was in his way. There must have been a day when Bobby looked around him and suddenly thought ‘I want to be the man. I’m good enough, hard enough and I’m going to make it happen. Men will die as a result but it’s a price I’m willing to pay’. And he did pay that price, displacing the guy at the top by killing him and all of his main men, with Finney’s help of course. But that was twenty-odd years ago now and the world wasn’t quite the same. You had to be a very political animal to cope with life at the top these days. That was what the Drop was all about, after all. You had to understand politics, big business, the legit world as well as the criminal one, you had to feather nests and keep the money flowing, you needed bent coppers and shady politicians, dodgy journalists and crooked accountants. You had to know when to scare people and when to pay them off. It was a tough job running an empire and somehow I couldn’t see any of the local hoodlums having the grey cells to even attempt it.
So, who then?
I was lying in bed that night next to Laura, not sleeping, when suddenly in a flash of realisation it hit me – the reason that Bobby should trust me. It was a risk phoning him in the middle of the night for a meet but my instinct told me it was the right thing to do. It might have been late but he wouldn’t be sleeping either. I knew him too well. He’d be up and pacing, churning over all of the same thoughts in his head that I was having.
Sure enough he answered his mobile on the first ring. He sounded guarded, defensive.
‘Yeah,’ he said impatiently.
‘I want a meet,’ I told him.
‘What? Now?’
‘No not now,’ I told him, ‘tomorrow, as soon as you can do it. There’s something I need to tell you.’
There was a short pause on the line while he digested this. ‘Right,’ he said, ‘meet me at Frank’s in the morning.’ We agreed a time and I rang off. I went back to bed then and slept like a baby.
TEN
We were both naked, lying face down on two massage tables, a pair of soft white towels draped across our arses to preserve our modesty. Tina and Susan, the two fittest young lasses in the place, no coincidence there, were expertly kneading the tension out of our necks with their soft, oiled hands and it felt good, really good.
Bobby was on form considering. Maybe he had already stopped suspecting I’d ripped him off, now that I had found Cartwright’s body, but most likely it was just for appearances. That’s why he was having such a good craic with the girls. When things were bad in your business you carried on like everything was rosy. Some people call it fiddling while Rome burns. I call it common sense, because if people started to lose confidence in Bobby’s ability to control things then he was as good as dead already.
‘You know this is about the only legit massage parlour I have any involvement with,’ he told Tina who chuckled at this. She was in her mid twenties and a trained therapist, masseuse and a holistic white witch, or whatever it is they like to call themselves these days when they graduate with their certificates in that alternative therapy shit.
‘That’s right pet,’ she told him confidently, ‘you won’t get any hand jobs here,’ and the other girl laughed, ‘well,’ she added cheekily, ‘mebbe’s on your birthday,’ and that set all of us off laughing.
‘He’s 29 today as it happens,’ I said and that prompted more laughing but there was no phasing Tina.
‘In that case you’re on,’ she said. She paused for effect then told us, ‘I’ll go and fetch Gary. He’s the hand job expert round here.’
‘And you can fuck right off,’ said Bobby but he was still laughing. I’ve seen Gary, the in-house male masseuse and if he isn’t gay, he should be. Personally I couldn’t give a fuck who anybody shags, as long as it isn’t children, but I wouldn’t be comfortable getting a massage from any man, especially Gary. I reckon he’d enjoy it more than I would.
The massage Tina’s mate was giving me was excellent. It was just what I needed and chilled me right out, unwinding all the knots of tension in my back and neck. ‘Frank’s’, named in honour of Bobby’s personal favourite Frank Sinatra, was a gym and spa that Bobby had a share in. His fellow investors may or may not have been fully aware that his stake was based on ill-gotten gains but they didn’t seem to care and it was a legitimate form of income, which supported our story that Bobby was, to all intents and purposes, a successful, local businessman.
When Tina was done, Bobby said, ‘leave us to it pet,’ and the girls disappeared. We wrapped the towels around ourselves and I followed Bobby out into the steam room to talk business. I closed the door tightly behind us and we almost disappeared in the vapour, but I could still make out Bobby’s face as he sat opposite me on a little wooden slatted bench. He was wearing that frown again.
‘What you got to tell me?’
‘Not much,’ I replied, ‘just the reason why you should start trusting me again.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘It’s not enough.’ I said.
‘What isn’t?’
‘The money,’ and I made sure I looked him right in the eye when I said this, ‘the amount that’s gone missing wouldn’t be worth the risk for crossing you. Let’s put aside for one minute the fact I’ve known you since I was a nipper, let’s ignore the years of loyal service shall we? We both know that right now that doesn’t mean much. Someone has ripped you off and it could be anybody, including me. If I was you, I wouldn’t trust me either. Maybe I’ve got money worries you don’t know about, debts or perhaps I just want a bigger house. Maybe my bird’s been bending my ear about it.’
‘Go on,’ we were staring each other out at this point.
‘Or look at it another way. What if I’m just too ambitious? You’ve said no to a couple of my ideas this year so perhaps I think you’re slipping and I could do a better job than you as the boss. Suppose I can’t be bothered to wait till you retire to someplace hot and I want you out of my way.’
‘Fuck me,’ he told me with something like astonishment, ‘you tell it straight don’t you?’
‘Don’t kid me you haven’t had those thoughts in the last few days.’
‘Maybe I have.’
‘Course you have. You’re trying to work out who’s brave enough or stupid enough to move against you by stealing the Drop, but my point is, the Drop isn’t large enough for me to chuck in a good screw with your firm. Think about it, if I was going to rip you off, it would have to be big, really big. We both know I’m a clever cunt and I wouldn’t want to be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life waiting for Finney to turn up and put me in the ground. For that, it would have to be millions and I would never be able to sleep easy at night if I left you breathing.’
‘Jesus,’ he said, clearly shocked by my lack of tact but I could see he understood my point.
‘If I was working with Cartwright I’d have had to split the Drop and there’d be fuck all left for either of us, so
