Andy leaned down to the cupboard under the sink and groped around for a dustpan and brush. After sweeping up the broken glass, he ran a damp cloth over the tiles and then headed to the living room, never once questioning why he was following somebody else’s instructions in his own home.
Montrose was sprawled on the black leather sofa, remote control in his hand, watching the news. He clicked the television off as Andy sat opposite and eased himself up into a sitting position.
‘I have an offer,’ Montrose began. ‘A way for you to clear your debt without paying me another penny. Interested?’
Andy studied the other man, trying to read his expression. He knew that this wouldn’t be as simple as Montrose was suggesting and he also sensed that it might be a trap. ‘I’m not sure,’ he admitted. ‘What does it involve?’
Montrose snorted and shook his head. ‘Jesus. I’m trying to help you here and you look at me like I’ve shit in your hands and told you to clap. I don’t like it when people owe me money. I’m never sure when, or if, they’ll pay me back and I don’t enjoy uncertainty. This is a way to put this whole matter to bed, so I don’t have to worry about you, and you don’t have to worry at all.’
Andy shook his head. Montrose sounded so reasonable, so reassuring but he knew from recent experience that the man couldn’t be trusted. Only three weeks previously Andy had found his tyres slashed and something that smelled very much like human excrement smeared across the windscreen of his BMW. The only possible explanation was that he’d defaulted on a payment to Montrose. He’d been glad to trade the car in for an older, less flashy replacement and pay the two instalments that he’d missed.
‘I need details,’ Andy said. ‘I’m not going to get involved in anything dodgy.’
‘Dodgy? Andrew, you owe me tens of thousands of pounds and I’m offering you a way to write it all off. If I were you, I wouldn’t suddenly find a conscience. What else are you going to do – sell your house? And what about your dear old mum in the retirement home? Will you still have enough left over to fund her care?’
Again, Andy noticed that Montrose’s tone was friendly but there was a veiled threat to his family. Or was he imagining it? ‘What do you want me to do?’
Montrose smiled and Andy felt himself give in. Whatever Montrose wanted, Andy knew he’d commit because he was weak. That’s how he ended up in so much debt. That’s how he was now beholden to the dangerous man on his sofa. And, being offered an easy way out, he knew he’d take it.
‘That’s more like it.’ Montrose grinned broadly. ‘I have a bit of an issue with a certain person in the local community and I think you can help me out. I believe your sister, Donna, works at Fellbeck Academy, am I right?’
Andy nodded.
‘I need you to tell me more about her. And anything you know about the school.’
‘Is that all?’
‘Of course not,’ Montrose said. ‘That’s just the beginning.’
Over the next few days Andy received three telephone calls urging him to get in touch with his sister to find out specific information about the school perimeter and about her classes. On all three occasions Andy made the call – in case Montrose had some way of checking his phone records – but steered the chat towards their mother or an explanation of how he was managing his debt. If Donna had been surprised to hear from him so regularly she didn’t show it and actually seemed happy to hear from him on one occasion.
The information he gave to Montrose was based on his own knowledge of the school and a few of Donna’s throwaway comments about safeguarding that he’d managed to remember. Of course, he had no idea about her classes and knew she wouldn’t tell him if he asked so he happily passed on this lack of information along with a grudging recognition of his sister’s professionalism. Montrose’s responses were muted but Andy believed that the man was convinced that Andy had done his best. All he could do was wait until Montrose told him he was satisfied and the debt was wiped clean – until then, the whisky helped him to block out his concerns about what Montrose was intending to do with the fake information.
The final instruction came in a package that was waiting on Andy’s doorstep when he got home from work. He picked it up suspiciously but there was nothing to indicate where it had come from – just his name on the front. He slipped inside his front door and leaned against it listening, just as he had every time he came home, in case he wasn’t alone. He checked the kitchen and living room before taking off his jacket and tie, then poured himself a beer, leaving the package on the countertop where it sat like threat.
‘Just open it,’ he said to himself. ‘How bad can it be?’
He was on his second beer before he decided to find out.
The A5 envelope was padded and sealed firmly with parcel tape. It weighed next to nothing and Andy half-wondered if it was some sort of elaborate joke. He picked at the dark brown tape, reluctant to use scissors or a knife as he wasn’t sure what was inside. Finally, he managed to gain enough purchase to be able to grab the tape between the nails of two fingers and rip it off.
Gently, he squeezed the envelope until the opening at the top gaped like a mouth. There was something dark inside and a folded piece of paper. Andy tipped the contents out onto the granite surface of the kitchen counter. He poked the dark object and then unfolded the
