Not that the boss was entirely happy. The club was open for the evening, meaning Benny’d had to bring Burnett to a garage workshop down a lane near Tollcross, a garage whose roller-shutter door was seldom seen open, except in the dead of night when a car might arrive requiring a change of number plates and maybe even a paint job. Place wasn’t soundproofed, but the locals knew better than to pry or complain.
Burnett’s clothes sat in a pile near the chair. Benny had been through them, not finding much. A bit of grass and some tablets – now safely stowed in his own pockets. Couple of hundred in cash, ditto. The bank cards he’d left, along with the condom. Couldn’t take a man’s last condom – maybe Burnett would get lucky later, though Benny doubted it. He finished his latest cigarette and stubbed it out against the oil-stained concrete floor. The garage was empty tonight, the inspection pit covered over. Most of the tools were kept in a series of padlocked metal lockers, which was why Benny had brought his own bag from the boot of the Merc. It sat on a workbench, directly in Burnett’s line of sight.
‘Gie’s a smoke then,’ Burnett said, not for the first time. His other greatest hits included ‘Freezin’ here, man’ and ‘You know who I am?’ He was putting this last one to Benny yet again when Big Ger Cafferty arrived, giving Benny a moment’s withering look as he passed him on his way to the chair. The boss was dressed in a black puffa jacket, zipped to the neck. Steel-toecapped shoes, the kind you’d wear on a construction site. Black leather driving gloves. Black baseball cap. Without bothering to remove the cap, he crouched slightly so his face was level with that of the seated figure.
‘You know who I am?’ he asked.
‘You’re that cunt that used to be somebody.’
Cafferty half turned to smile in Benny’s direction. ‘Some baws on the boy, eh?’ Then he swiped Burnett’s face hard with the back of his hand. The force was enough to send the chair toppling sideways, Burnett’s head connecting with the floor with a thud.
‘Bastard,’ the teenager spat.
Cafferty squatted next to him. ‘Bastard is the right word, bawbag. But a bastard who knows all about you. Knows you think you’re the dog with two pricks. Right now I could slice both of them off and leave you howling at the moon. Cockless Cole, your old comrades will call you. How does that sound?’
‘Better than being an old sweaty bastard with a gut.’
‘I sweat when I get excited. And to tell you the truth, I’d almost forgotten how the anticipation of GBH gets me excited.’ He placed one hand around Burnett’s throat and started to squeeze. Burnett tried twisting himself free to no effect, his eyes bulging as he gasped for air. Cafferty gave it a good twenty seconds before easing off. ‘Got your attention yet, Cockless?’
‘Untie me and try that again.’ Burnett’s eyes were filled with rage. Cafferty turned once more towards Benny.
‘He reminds me what I was like before I learned better.’ Then, to Burnett: ‘Anger’s all well and good, but there’s such a thing as the survival instinct too – you might want to start using it.’
‘Fuck is it you want?’
‘We want a phone.’
‘A phone? Is that all?’
‘The phone you took from the wee Chinese girl you thumped.’
Burnett thought for a second. ‘It’s long gone.’
‘Then you’re going to get it back.’
‘What do you need it for?’
‘I don’t – but she does. And you’re going to tell her you’re sorry.’
‘Am I fuck.’
Slowly Cafferty rose to his full height. He placed his right foot on Burnett’s left cheek and began to press down. ‘Shattered jawbone takes a while to heal. Milkshakes through a straw if you’re lucky.’ Burnett’s lips were mashed together so that Cafferty couldn’t make out what he was saying. Benny, holdall in hand, had taken a couple of steps forward, just in case he was needed. ‘I like you, Cole,’ Cafferty continued. ‘I like what I’ve heard about you. I think maybe we can come to an arrangement.’ He paused. ‘You know how things work in Dundee? Cuckooing, they call it. Find an easy target, set up a lab in their house, make the stuff quick and cheap and get it out on the street. Your hood’d be good for that – and I reckon you’ll know more than a few suitable locations. Give the phone back and I’ll bring you into the game. You’ll be a player rather than the ballboy. How does that sound?’
He didn’t ease his foot off, not straight away. But eventually he did. Burnett’s nose was running with a mixture of mucus and blood, his underfed chest going in and out, breath coming in broken rasps. Cafferty gestured to Benny, who grabbed the chair and righted it, none too gently. Burnett glared at his abductor, then at Cafferty.
‘Give me the other options.’
‘They’re right there in my associate’s bag.’ Cafferty nodded to let Benny know the holdall could now be opened and its contents made known to Cole Burnett.
Not much more than an hour later, Burnett was in
