Mac grabbed the pole, smacked the kid on the side of the head. ‘Beat it, fannybaws.’
The kid shot a hand up to his head, took a look at Mac’s face and ran for the gate. I took the flirt-pole from him, looked at the end of it. The dog snarled and strained as I took the tail into my hands. ‘That’s off a fucking Labrador or something… Check it.’
Mac looked uninterested. He’d already located Sid — who was walking towards us. The dog pulled on his rope when he saw his master, his own tail going into motion. Sid carried a racing pigeon in his hands. He saw us in his yard but played it cool: ‘Wee bastard, ain’t he?’
‘The dog?’ said Mac. ‘He’s that.’
‘No’ a patch on the pit bull, though. Yon forty-two-teeth American’s a bastard and a half.’ Sid held up the pigeon. ‘I do the burds as well… but they piss me off. This cunt should have been back two days ago. Fucking no good to me!’ He snapped the pigeon’s wing in his hand, dropped the bird to the ground and laughed as it flailed about helplessly. ‘Fucking no good to me!’ He watched the bird complete a few desperate circles, creasing up his hollow cheeks — it was a deep pleasure to him — then he kicked the creature towards the snarling bull terrier.
The dog lunged on the pigeon and caught it in his jaws. He threw it in the air and then pounced on it again before shaking it violently. The dog was still shaking the bird as I looked back at Sid to see him laughing so much he had to take off his big glasses and wipe his eyes.
‘You are one sick fuck,’ said Mac.
‘It’s just some fucking fun; a wee bit of sport.’
‘You what?’
‘Come here.’ Sid motioned us over to the wire mesh cages he kept his dogs in. ‘Look at that.’ He became excited, animated, as he pointed to a fox that was pacing one of the far enclosures. ‘Caught that wee bastard under the pigeon hoose the other night… Going to make some pagger, that, eh!’ He was smiling and laughing, rubbing his hands at the thought.
Mac lost it, ‘This guy’s a fucking roach… You want me to do him?’
I saw Sid reach for the handle of the enclosure that held the dogs. He was too slow. Mac was close enough to throw a windmill right, decked Sid. As he lay pegged out on the ground I told Mac to pick him up.
‘You better watch yourself, Sid… Mac the Knife’s got form for this lark.’
I saw the name registered with him. He spluttered, gripped at his collar with his fingernails and yelled, ‘What the fucking hell do you want with me?’
‘Oh, I think you know… You were very reluctant to let me speak to Vera Fulton.’
Mac pressed his forearm hard against Sid’s neck. ‘You poking her? That what the game is here? You were poking Moosey’s wife and decided to do away with him, that it?’
I wanted to congratulate Mac. He was doing a great job of putting the shits up Sid, said, ‘All the more attractive a proposition, given Moosey was holding fifty grand of Rab’s, eh, Sid?’
‘I don’t know what you’re fucking talking about… I don’t.’
I glanced at Mac. It was enough. He put a wrecking-ball right into Sid’s gut. The gimp bent in two and fell to the ground, clutching at his stomach as though his insides were about to become outsides. Over the chaos the caged dogs went mad, barking and clawing at the wire. I could see a dash of red as the fox tried to leap out. It had no chance.
I bent down, leaned over Sid. His glasses had come off. I picked them up, snapped them in two between the lenses. ‘Shame — they’re broken… Might need a wee bit of Elastoplast for them now.’
Sid wheezed, tried for words. Found none.
‘Where did Moosey get the fifty grand?’
Sid struggled to speak, ‘It was the takings… Rab’s takings from the pagger.’
‘Dog fights?’
‘Aye, aye… the whole fifty fucking grand.’
‘What was he doing with it?’
‘Holding it for Rab. We do the books — we did together — but when Rab went inside, the money was just sitting about.’
‘So you and Moosey thought you’d have it?’
‘Naw, it wasn’t like that… We wanted to get it to Rab.’
Mac sighed, said, ‘Aye, right… and I button up the back.’
He leaned over and grabbed Sid by the collar. Sid kicked out, tried to push him away. ‘Call him off. Call him fucking off!’
I nodded to Mac. He dropped him on the flags. Sid collapsed again, panting.
‘Speak,’ said Mac. ‘I can easy fucking pound you into those slabs.’
Sid spoke, ‘Moosey was angling for a bigger cut of the game… The dog fights have gone mental. The take’s pure crazy compared to the auld days.’
‘And so Moosey decided to cut you pair in for more?’
‘There was no “us pair”, I just helped oot. Moosey was Rab’s main man. He was talking about getting a bigger cut after Rab got put doon
… but it was just talk, we didn’t… he didn’t do anything about it.’
I was pretty sure that if Moosey had decided to cut himself in for more, Rab would have put him in the ground. ‘Rab found out about this?’ I said.
‘No chance. No fucking danger. Rab’s looking for his money, and he’s not fucking happy…’
If Rab had done Moosey, he’d have the money. Much as I despised this little arsecrack, he was speaking sense.
Mac pushed in. ‘Sid, you are a lying wee cunt. You and Moosey were running Rab’s rackets together. Do you expect us to believe you weren’t in on it with Moosey?’
‘I wasn’t. I wasn’t. I was just doing the numbers, I never touched the cash — that was all Moosey. Who’d trust me with that kinda wonga? Think I’d still be walking about if Rab thought I had his cash?’
He was a smart talker, I’d give him that. ‘So who took the money off Moosey?’
‘I don’t know. Could be anybody… everything’s gone mental since Rab got put away. The young crew are knifing each other in the back all the time.’
‘Gimme some names.’
‘I dunno… fucking anybody… It’s like World War Three oot there, I’m not shitting you.’
The dogs’ barking lost its edge, decreased in pitch. I think Sid could sense the danger was over, too. I nodded to Mac to raise him.
‘What about the young crew?’ I said. ‘Is Mark Crawford running with the young mob?’
‘Who?’
I showed him the picture on my phone, the one Vera Fulton had already recognised.
‘I’ve seen him about. He’s just a laddie; he’s no’ one of the top men.’
‘Did you ever see him with Moosey?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Who’s in this young crew, Sid? I want names and addresses.’
‘I don’t know any of them, I just did the books…’
Sid’s ponytail had fallen out. His long greasy grey hair fell over his thin face. I grabbed a bunch. ‘You better fucking find out. Because the way I see it, Sid, you’re up to your nuts in this and if I drop the hint to Rab, you’ll be lucky to keep those fucking nuts, you get me?’
He didn’t say a word. I released his hair and walked over to the end of the dog enclosure. He watched me standing before the end kennel where the fox was still pacing. ‘Mac, gimme that jemmy.’
I turned the jemmy in the padlock and the door swung open. The fox shot past me as if it had been scalded. I watched Sid’s mouth droop at the sight of the fox jinxing round the edges of the path, down the yard, and out the gate to some kind of freedom.
Chapter 21
