about anything that loser throws at me. I can take care of myself.’
There was no holding her back – she was a force of nature. She really thought she had the guts to go through with this, to handle Gemmill. ‘Amy, this is Danny Gemmill-’
She livened. ‘So what? He’ll be putty in my hands.’
‘Somehow I doubt that!’
A laugh. ‘You perv.’
I clawed it in: ‘I’m not joking. How in hell did this come about?’
‘I have my ways.’
She certainly did. I still remembered her hard-core declarations of undying love for me when she was a cub reporter at the
‘I know you do. But Amy, I can’t let you do this… it’s way too dangerous.’
‘Gus, I don’t need mothering.’
She was right about that; I knew she was of hardy stock. I just couldn’t help feeling protective. ‘I know, I know but…’
‘No buts, I know what I’m doing.’
I sparked up a Marlboro as I descended the stairs, passing through to the lobby with the rotting sash windows. ‘Well, I seriously doubt that.’
‘Gus…’
I didn’t like the sound of her reaction. ‘No, Amy, I mean it, I want you to stay put. Cancel Gemmill.’ I eased into the street, flagged down a Joe Baxi. I needed to keep her talking now.
‘Okay, okay.’ She sounded perfunctory; there was no conviction in her words. It unsettled me. She was suddenly taking this far too casually; putting me on.
I covered the phone, told the driver to boot it for Amy’s gaff. I needed to throw her a line. ‘I’ve got a few other irons in the fire, don’t think there’s any need to go overboard. Way things are shaping, you might be seeing a bit more of me than usual.’
‘
‘I’ve taken a job at the uni.’
‘No way!’
‘Yes way… a janitor’s job. So, when you get back, when term starts again…’
The laughter was deafening. ‘Get the fuck out of town.’
I waited for her to dry her eyes, said, ‘Are you quite finished?’
‘Oh, Gus, that’s a laugh riot. Have you got the Brylcreem looked out? And the teeth… you have to get a few teeth blacked up. Fuck me, this will be a mental laugh!’
‘Yeah, okay, guffaw away. I’m not doing this for a giggle, there’s a serious motive here, remember? It’s a boy’s death we’re looking into.’
Silence.
It was short-lived. ‘You’re so right!’
The driver blasted his horn, shouted at some skanky junkies in blankets crossing the road.
‘Amy… you still there?’
Her voice lightened, took on a serious note: ‘Yes, Gus, but I’ve got to go.’
‘Amy… Amy…’
The dial lit. She’d clicked off.
Chapter 21
THERE’S A PHRASE,
‘C’mon, man… give it some poke, eh,’ I yelled through the perspex.
The bloke turned. ‘You serious, guv?’ He was London – Christ on a cross, where did we find them? What was happening to this city? We’d have our own pearly kings and queens next.
‘Fucking deadly!’ I put the bead on him, let that sting in my tone settle down there a bit, take a bite out of him. He played it cool but had got the message. Two-wheeled the cab onto the kerb and floored it. We didn’t have far to go, but there wasn’t any time to be lost. Knew Amy was probably already putting on her lip gloss. Shit. My mind ran through a thousand dodgy scenarios.
What the hell was that girl thinking? She knew the kip of Gemmill, he wasn’t going to be turning up with a fucking rose in his mouth and tickets for Rachmaninov at the Usher Hall. More likely to be ten pints at some skanky drinker at the foot of the Walk… phial of Rohypnol thrown in if she wasn’t careful. I felt the blood pumping in my neck; my jaw tightened.
‘C’mon… c‘mon…’
Fair fucks to the cabbie, he was pushing it.
We flew down Lothian Road in the bus lane, turned a hairpin into Amy’s street. As we pulled up I could see it was almost too late.
‘Shit!’ I grabbed at the handle on the door. It was locked.
‘That’s seven quid, guv.’
I tugged at the handle again but it wouldn’t budge. I looked out the windscreen at Amy in the street, walking towards a familiar motor – Hod’s Beemer. Gemmill stood grinning on the pavement, opening up the passenger door and pointing her inside. He had on the same black leather that he wore to go stomping heads. I’d had a close enough look at it myself.
‘Fucking hell, let me out here, mate,’ I said.
‘No can do… need paying first.’
I ranted, waved a fist at him. He smirked beyond the perspex, then picked up the handset on his radio, threatening to call plod. ‘I can drive you kicking and screaming if you like.’
I dug in my pockets, yelled, ‘Fucksake…’
I kept an eye on Amy. Could see Gemmill putting a hand on her arse. I blew up inside – wanted to feed him that wandering mitt; would make sure I broke every digit on the way in. I rummaged in my pockets further, came up with a fiver, fed it through the slot.
‘Two quid shy,’ said the cabbie.
I was ready to go postal. Gemmill closed the passenger door, waving to Amy as he skipped round the back of the car. He had a grin on his face as he rubbed his palms together. I knew what was on his mind.
I rummaged in all of my pockets – they were empty.
Gemmill opened up the driver’s door, ducked in behind the steering wheel.
Heard him turn over the ignition.
Exhaust fumes spilled from the back pipe.
‘No, fuck…’
He didn’t drive off. He leaned over to plant a kiss on Amy’s cheek. She grabbed his face, went for the mouth. What the fuck was she thinking? Was she even thinking? This was madness.
I uncovered a two-pound coin in the pocket of my jeans; threw it at the cabbie.
‘Right, that’s the seven then…’
I amped it up: ‘Open the fucking door, y’cunt!’
‘There’s no need for any language, guv.’
I shot him daggers; got the result. He knew he couldn’t push it any further with me. The door popped.
I hit the street like Usain Bolt – tanked it towards the Beemer. Could feel my heart pounding, fit to burst. I wasn’t up for this lark. Not by a long stroke. My lungs started to panic, my breath shortened. The car was still sitting in the street, though, spilling blue-grey smoke. I could see Gemmill munching the face off Amy; it was like two teenagers under the chute for the first time. Was sure I heard someone yell, ‘Get a room!’ I was about fifty yards off when Gemmill broke free, engaged first gear and spun the tyres.
