The Long Glasgow Kiss

‘So how did they get their hands on this?’ I asked. The three of them – Soutar, Collins and Kirkcaldy – were all facing me now, with their backs to the doors. Kirkcaldy had left the door open a few inches and I could have sworn that I had seen it move. My shadow at the window was maybe not another accomplice after all. I pinned my hopes on a guardian angel.

‘Paul Costello was always looking for a score,’ Kirkcaldy continued and I made a gargantuan effort not to cast a glance at the garage doors behind him. ‘I think he was trying to prove he could be a real player, like his Da. Fuck all chance of that. He didn’t have the brains to blow his hat off. Sammy Pollock was supposed to be the thinker. Talk about the blind leading the blind. Anyway, they did a couple of night-time jobs. They got two other guys in with them. Their first score was a warehouse with cigarettes. French shit. They didn’t have a clue how to move the stuff on, other than going round the clubs and pubs themselves. Complete amateurs. You don’t pull a job unless you’ve done a deal in advance with a fence who’ll move the stuff on. Not only did these wankers have no deal, they didn’t even know a fence.’

‘So they went to Small Change?’ It was all fitting now.

‘Aye … he took the stuff off them for peanuts. Now Small Change was no Fagin, but he did handle the odd dirty merchandise now and again. Especially if there was decent money to be made. But only if it was something special and there was a high brokering margin to be made.’

‘It still doesn’t explain how Pollock knew to steal the jade dragon.’

‘Pollock and Costello had help on their jobs. Two guys who worked for Costello’s Da and a pikey who provided extra muscle,’ said Kirkcaldy. Again something fell into place for me.

‘The five of them did the cigarette job,’ Kirkcaldy went on. ‘All the stuff came from the warehouse used by that Frog, Barnier. Before they get to the cigarettes, they have to open a few crates to check before they hit the jackpot with the fags. The genius pikey cracks open a jade statue by accident and sees it’s full of packets. He tells Pollock and Pollock jumps to the conclusion that it’s hashish. So they take the statue as well and get away scot-free. But when Pollock gets home and opens one of the packets, he realizes they’re all in the deepest shite. He realizes it’s not hashish but heroin, and pretty high grade. He takes a sample from one brick, puts the brick back and glues the statue back together. He takes the sample straight to Small Change. Small Change doesn’t know the slightest thing about narcotics, so he comes straight to yours truly.’

‘So these two guys you said were working for Costello,’ I said, ‘I’m guessing that they did a deal with you and Small Change and then delivered up Sammy Pollock and Paul Costello … So what went wrong?’ I kept my eyes fixed on Kirkcaldy’s and ignored the figure I saw on the edge of my vision slipping in through the doors and edging, crouched down, along the wall and behind the cars.

‘The pikey works out there’s something more to the job and starts asking for more money or he’ll talk. Except he doesn’t know that I’m involved now. He also happens to be a bare-knuckle fighter who Uncle Bert has fixed up with a few fights at Sneddon’s place.’

‘And he just happens to die during the fight?’

‘Aye … funny that.’ Kirkcaldy smiled coldly. ‘Quite a coincidence. Particularly as Uncle Bert gave him some special medicine before the fight. Told him it would make him fight better and not feel the other bloke’s punches. The last bit was right. The stupid pikey bastard took it. The other fighter was able to beat the shite out of him and then he started bleeding like fuck. From the beating or the drugs I don’t know.’

‘And your problem’s solved.’ I tried to stay relaxed and natural, when all the time I was mentally measuring the distance to the rusting scythe and waiting for the figure hidden behind the cars to make his move.

‘Naw … that’s when our problems just began. Turns out that the pikey is Sean Furie’s son … the brother of the one up for Small Change’s murder.’

‘So that’s the glaba you have to pay …’ I said. ‘A Baro’s son won’t come cheap.’