excavator in motion. The driver leaned out the cab — it was Dartboard — then he lowered the digger into the frost-hardened ground. As the screen’s angle shifted again I saw he had already dug one hole in the ground. Dartboard was working on the second as the screen changed again, homed in on a Transit van. An arm came before the camera and opened the back doors. Inside was stacked with pine-box coffins.
I’d seen enough, looked away.
The Undertaker took the phone up. ‘That niece ay yours has got a tidy wee arse on her… No wonder the Czech was poking her.’
I didn’t want to listen. I saw the pug start to laugh.
The Undertaker pointed to the phone. ‘See this Czech boyo here? Your brother told me they put that cunt in his hoose to keep an eye on him, make sure he didn’t do anything stupid like break their wee arrangement.’
I looked up, saw the Undertaker twisting his mouth at Vilem. I said, ‘What are you saying?’
He shrugged. ‘See me, I don’t waste time thinking, Dury… I act. When those cunts cut me oot I told Michael, get those wagons running again or there’ll be bother. Your brother was a smart laddie, he knew I didn’t waste time on threats. No like these Czech bastards… That’s why he went home to tell that fucker to get out his hoose, and get his nose out our fucking business.’
‘He killed my brother?’
‘Oh, I’d say so… Wouldn’t you?’
I strained to free myself again. ‘I’ll kill him.’
The Undertaker stepped back. ‘You might no’ get the fucking chance.’ I looked up at him. He continued, ‘You’ll do something for me if you want your wee niece back… And your hands on her boyfriend.’
My head burned up. I couldn’t think fast enough to take it all in. ‘What do you want?’
‘Simple, Dury. That fat cunt’s no’ going anywhere owing me the poppy he does. Bring him back here and I’ll do you a wee favour — since it’s Christmas — I won’t put her in the ground till she’s dead.’ He paused. ‘Way the weather’s going, though, that won’t be long.’
He started to wheeze with the exertion of baiting me, rasped into a cough. He broke away, nodded to Dartboard.
I felt my arms released. I landed on the floor.
‘Get the fuck up, Dury,’ said the Undertaker. ‘Time’s ticking away, laddie.’
Chapter 38
I stood in the snow facing Tollcross in the dark of night. The Christmas lights draped over the road glowed down on the traffic, danced on the car roofs. I heard screams and wails carry from the showground in Princes Street Gardens. The sounds sliced me as a double-decker bus passed by, wet spray flying from the gutter. A man with gift-wrapped parcels in his arms tried to squeeze past me, grunted when I didn’t move. He dropped a glove, failed to notice; I didn’t tell him.
I stood staring. Watching the traffic lights change, the taxis turn in the road. I started to get wet. The snow fell heavily. I’d never seen snow like it. It settled where it lay, inches of it already on parked cars. My hair flattened to my head, stuck to my brow. An old woman approached me and held up the fallen glove. She asked if it was mine but I didn’t answer. She waved it at me but I ignored her. The woman’s mouth kept moving and moving and moving but I didn’t hear the words. Eventually she walked away, placed the glove on railings and continued up the street.
I felt cold. My lips grew numb and my hands froze in my pockets. I stood and I stared ahead and I felt the tears forming in my eyes, but they wouldn’t fall. They held there like I held myself to the exact same spot on the pavement and then I felt a dig in my shoulder as a late shopper pushed past me, and the tears were dislodged. I turned to hear the shopper apologise, wiped my face with the back of my hand. I didn’t know what to say. I was beyond words. Words could be formed into thought and I didn’t want to think. I didn’t want to think and I didn’t want to feel. I wanted to trade places with my brother. I didn’t want any part in this misery called life any more. I knew I couldn’t go on if anything happened to Alice.
‘Gus, Gus… fucking hell, Gus.’ Mac called me from the street.
I looked up. He had Hod’s truck stopped in the road; a trail of angry drivers blasted horns behind him. I found myself moving towards the vehicle, automatically opened up the door and got in. Tyres spun on the wet road as he took off.
‘Jesus, you were away with the pixies there, mate,’ he said. ‘What’s up?’
The heater blew in front of me. I started to thaw.
‘I know who killed my brother.’
‘Wha’?’ Mac turned his head. ‘Who?’
I saw my fingernails turning pink. ‘It was the Czechs… They put one of their own in Michael’s house, as a frightener.’
Mac pulled over the truck — we drew in beside the Meadows. ‘How do you know?’
I told him what the Undertaker had said. ‘It all stacks up. On the night he died Michael went to see McMilne; he says he was going to cut out the Czechs.’ I looked out to the Meadows, where they had found my brother’s body. ‘Michael must have went home and had it out with Vilem.’ I saw nothing in the park but blackness. ‘We have to find fat Davie: he’s legged it since Radek got lifted… McMilne has my niece.’
Mac spoke: ‘Your niece?’
‘He’ll put her in a hole if we don’t bring him Davie… We have to get that piece of shit right now.’
Mac started the engine. ‘Let’s go.’
I jerked my head away from the blackness. The Undertaker’s lumps had been searching the city and got not a sniff of him. ‘Where to fucking start?’
Mac pulled right across the road; a blast of car horns went up. He engaged reverse and went for a three- point turn. ‘I’ve got a fair idea where he might be.’
We headed back towards Tollcross. I said, ‘Where are we going?’
‘Remember when I was tailing him, I told you he had a wee scrubber stashed away in a flat in Restalrig?… I bet you a pound to a pail of shite the fat wee gimp’s up there.’
Mac bombed it down Lothian Road, ran lights on Princes Street, but the traffic ground to a standstill on George Street. The middle classes in their uniform Barbour jackets trotted back and forth between the glitter and the tinsel and the bright lights. A crowd of excited schoolgirls giggled and shivered at the crossing; I thought of Alice.
‘Come on, Mac… punch it.’
‘It’s chocka. Christmas Eve, mate.’
I didn’t want to be reminded. Alice should have been like those girls, having fun, laughing and joking. Preparing for a school party, Jesus, getting tipsy. How could I have been angry with her for that? I wanted to say sorry to her and hug her and promise to look after her. She’d lost her father, we’d all lost Michael; we couldn’t lose anyone else. I saw Debs’s face as I thought of Alice tied in that field. Debs would never be able to take any hurt befalling Alice, it would be the end of her too.
Jayne.
My mother.
My sister.
The list grew in my mind.
‘Come on, come on.’ I slapped at the dash. The cars sat still, going nowhere. I opened the door, got out and shouted, ‘Get moving, come on, fucking move it!’ The New Town shoppers stared at me. A woman flicked her scarf over her shoulder and muttered something to the concourse. I pounded the bonnet of the Hilux with my fists.
Mac called me, ‘Get in, Gus, you’re not fucking helping.’
That was my problem; I wasn’t helping anyone. I hadn’t been there for Michael, and now I’d let down his daughter, my niece. Knew I was transferring my own self-loathing to the surrounds. Anger and hurt burned in me.
I got back in the truck and Mac eased it through a gap in the bottleneck. He tore through York Place until we
