Beyond the Rage (10 page)

19

‘How’s your mum?’ Kenny was on hands-free, driving past Bellahouston Park. He was on his way to a meet with Dimitri of the Manners, as he called him, and thought he should check in with his cousin. As he pressed speed-dial for the number it occurred to him that he couldn’t remember the last time he and his cousin met face to face. Their entire relationship was conducted by text and telephone call.

‘She’s... fine... dandy,’ answered Ian with a why-the-fuck-are-you-asking? tone.

‘Jesus, she
’d
have to O.D. in front of you for you to realise there was something wrong.’

‘Harsh, m’man. I love my mother.’ Ian sounded as if he was in the middle of a smoke.

‘Has she said anything about the letters?’

‘The letters?’ There was now an urgency in Ian’s voice and a sound as if he had just sat up straight. ‘That’s right. The letters. I totally forgot. What did you learn?’

What did he learn, thought Kenny. His father abandoned him when he needed him most. His father tried to explain this by saying he was in trouble and running away had saved Kenny’s life. And Aunt Vi was convinced his mother hadn’t committed suicide but was instead murdered. Ian spent most of his energy keeping his brain free from pain and stuck in a fog – could he handle any of that?

‘My dad has a new family. I don’t know where they are.’

‘Did he say why he did a runner?’

‘Couldn’t face your dad’s sour puss any longer.’

‘Harsh, m’man. I love my father.’ Ian chuckled. ‘But he does suffer from a serious case of the miseries.’

‘You should put some of your junk in his yoghurt.’ They both laughed at the thought of Ian’s dad being a stoner. Once they recovered Kenny asked, ‘What do you remember of those days, Ian?’

‘Aww, man, I have enough trouble trying to remember where I left my cigarette lighter.’ He paused, sounded as if he was stifling a cough and then he could fight it no longer. He barked like an Alsatian warning off a burgler.

‘Je-sus, Ian, that stuff will kill you.’

‘Least of my worries, dude. Anyways, where was I? Trying to remember...’

Kenny clicked his tongue. ‘If it doesn’t come to you straight away it’s not going to, Ian. It’s not like your aunt kills herself and your uncle disappears every fucking day of the week.’

‘Chill, dude... lemme give this some thought. You know the...’

‘Aw fuck off, Ian.’ Kenny hung up. He took a deep breath, regretting his irritation. The poor guy couldn’t help it; God knows what his combat injuries and heroin combo had done to him.

The car stereo was on a local radio station and playing the latest single from an all-girl pop band. Band, my arse, he thought and muted the sound. When he was younger the word ‘band’ suggested an ability to play some instruments. These days it meant a talent for simpering in front of a camera wearing nothing but some sparkle and a smile.

Jeez, listen to you, Old Man Noah.

He felt at a loss. What should he do? The situation with Alexis hadn’t been resolved yet and he was nowhere nearer finding out the truth of his mother’s death. That she had died of an overdose was a clear and accepted fact. If, as his Aunt Vi suggested, she was murdered then somebody had forced the pills down her throat.

Such was his horror at this thought, he braked. And the driver behind him stepped on his horn. Kenny waved an apology over his shoulder.

Fuck.

How would you feel? Somebody forcing drugs down your throat. The panic and terror of knowing you were about to die. Did she pray for her husband to come home early that night? How much of a fight did she put up? Why didn’t he hear anything?

Why didn’t he fucking hear anything?

He felt his eyes sting and blinked in surprise. If anyone had asked him how he felt about his mother’s death until now he would have shrugged and said,
Ancient history
. And yet here he was making like a guest on Oprah.

He had to find out what happened.

He thought about his father’s letters. His father said he left to protect him. Who was he protecting him from? Find that out and you have your murderer. Simple.

How angry would he have to be to target someone in this way? The letters talked about an accident and the death of a woman and a child. His mother was repayment for the woman. He would have been collateral damage for the child had his father not done his vanishing act.

Your run-of-the-mill revenge-driven psycho would have taken out the father and the child as well, surely? It takes one sick fuck to do the wife and leave the father to worry about himself and the son. That could be a strong piece of torture right there, but it would only work if your long-term plan was to take them both out after a suitable period of being worried into a living grave.

It takes a certain mindset to kill a young woman in such a way. An individual capable of such an act wouldn’t give up on the rest of his revenge so easily. Why did he stop there?

The building he was aiming for loomed on the road ahead. Wondering how he had managed to arrive at his destination safely, Kenny swooped into the car park and chose a parking bay. He pointed his car towards the exit as was his habit. You never knew when a quick getaway might be required.

In the bar of the hotel, Dimitri was wearing his usual suit-and-tie combo and he looked over Kenny’s T-shirt and jeans outfit with an expression of disapproval. Kenny hid a smile. He had chosen his clothes carefully to piss the man off. The two men ordered soft drinks. They were both driving. Such is the new Glasgow. Aye, right.

They sat at a table in the corner of the room.

‘What was so fucking urgent, Dimitri?’ Kenny asked.

Dimitri attempted a huff at Kenny’s tone and then gave in. ‘I have some stuff you might be interested in.’

‘What, no preamble? No pleasant chat before we get to the meat of the meeting?’

‘You appear to be a man in a hurry, Mr O’Neill. I’m adjusting my approach to suit yours.’

‘It’s Kenny, remember? What kind of stuff?’ Kenny sat down at a table beside him. The table was dotted with beer mats and ring circles.

‘Hugely desirable, symbols of affluence, works of...’

‘Dimitri, what happened to adjusting your approach to mine? Save me the spiel and give me the detail.’

‘Designer gear. High end. The real deal. Didn’t even get as far as the lorry, fell off the container ship.’

‘Price?’

Dimitri gave him a figure. Kenny halved it. Dimitri made a face and went back to his original figure.

‘Dimitri, haven’t you guessed I’m not in the mood? You’re here because I’m your best bet to get this stuff moved on before it’s last season’s and therefore worthless. Spare us both the dance and agree my price and then I can get the fuck out of here.’

Dimitri’s face displayed his owner’s internal journey as he mentally fought with Kenny’s assertion. Then his bulldog features settled into an expression of acceptance.

‘Fine.’

He sounded like a teenager who
’d
just been sent to his room. He leaned forward on the table, his elbow planted like a prop and his fingers leaving indents in the putty of his face.

‘What did you do before you got into this racket?’ Kenny asked.

‘I.T.’ Dimitri made a face.

‘Couldn’t you hack it?’

‘Oh, very funny. Haven’t heard that before,’ said Dimitri while loosening the knot on his tie.

‘There must have been easier ways to earn your living while still attached to your motherboard.’

‘There was and I did.’ Dimitri frowned. ‘Before I was caught and locked up.’

‘Tell me more?’

‘Condition of my parole is that I don’t own a computer or have access to the internet.’

‘That must be like telling a food addict to step away from the pies.’

‘True.’ Dimitri laughed and for the first time since they had met Kenny got a glimpse into the real man.

‘How did you get caught?’

‘By thinking I was smarter than anyone else.’ Dimitri’s face grew red. He scratched at his forehead. ‘If you don’t mind, I
’d
rather we change the subject. Where do you want me to send the goods?’

They arranged a time and place.

Kenny thought about Dimitri and how he might be of more help to him. The guy was embarrassed at the mere mention of his capture. This meant he had some professional pride. Take this into conjunction with the fact he was shit as a face-to-face merchant, Dimitri really should get another job. Kenny told him as much.

‘Thanks, mate,’ Dimitri said. ‘None taken.’

‘Your parole people...’ Kenny thought out loud. ‘If you were to be given a desk and a computer with a cheeky wee internet connection, how would they know?’

Dimitri shrugged. ‘Knowing my luck they
’d
find out. I’m not going back to jail, man. I have a wife and two teenage daughters to take care of.’

‘How do they think you’re making a living right now?’

‘They couldn’t care less, so long as it doesn’t involve a computer.’

‘How can anyone work nowadays without a computer?’

‘You don’t.’

Kenny gave this some thought. ‘True.’ He did have a laptop but he didn’t commit anything from his business onto it.

‘What did you do? Steal millions? Hack into the US defence system?’

Dimitri shook his head.

‘If it wasn’t for money or violence, that leaves a woman?’ Kenny surmised.

Dimitri relaxed back into his chair and looked at Kenny’s glass. ‘If I’m going to tell you this properly, you’re going to need a refill.’

Kenny looked at his watch. He didn’t have to be anywhere. ‘Get me a coffee, will you?’

Dimitri attracted the presence of a waiter and the drinks were ordered and quickly supplied. All the while Dimitri sat in his chair wearing more faces than the town clock. One moment he looked resigned; the next depressed; then anger, then uncertainty. Then back to resigned.

‘I’m really shite at this, aren’t I?’

‘Aye.’ Kenny nodded. ‘You’re a nice guy, Dimitri. What made you try for a life of crime?’

‘There was this guy in the jail...’

‘Guys in jail are full of piss and wind, Dimitri.’

‘Anyway,’ – Dimitri took a sip of his coffee – ‘my entrance to a life of crime was all for the love of a beautiful woman.’

‘Good start, D. There might even be a movie in here.’

‘Shut the fuck up, Kenny, and let me tell it.’

Kenny, impressed with the assertive side of Dimitri, did as he was told and shut the fuck up.

‘Her name was Elizabeth. Gorgeous woman. Sexiest woman I’ve ever met.’ His eyes all but glazed over at the thought of her. ‘What did she see in me? Bald, overweight, hairy like a chimp.’

‘Don’t tell me... you’ve a nine-inch tongue and you can breathe through your ears?’

Dimitri stuck his tongue out and grinned. ‘Anyway, we had an affair. I swear to God I’ve never been unfaithful before, but this woman... out of my league. It was like Man United playing Stranraer. Whatever she saw in me, she saw in me. I wasn’t complaining.’ His eyes drifted away from Kenny and into the past. ‘Long story short. We were going to run away together. She booked a room in one of the Hiltons in London. From there we were going to jump on a plane and go to Spain.’

He sipped from his cup and swallowed like it pained him. ‘She wasn’t at the hotel. Nor did she arrive the next day. I got a text – a fucking text – to say that she couldn’t go through with it. Too many people would get hurt.’ He spread his arms wide. ‘What’s a guy to do? I made a fool of myself with this girl. I was humiliated. I needed to say something, do something, yeah? But first I had to find her. She wasn’t answering her phone. So I got this not-so-clever idea of hacking into the hotel computer.’ He made a cheeky wee face. ‘It was SO easy. But there was nothing under her booking that I didn’t already know... her email, mobile number, address. Just then it occurred to me that there must have been loads of couples staying in that hotel that weekend who weren’t with who they were supposed to be.

‘It was just a harmless prank, right? I emailed everyone staying at the hotel that weekend and thanked them for their custom. Offered them all a free weekend if they re-booked within six months. I was just messing around, man.

‘During my trial, the papers reported that as a result of my email fourteen married couples split up. The wives or husbands who hadn’t been there, for whatever reason, intercepted the email and found out their partners had been doing the dirty on them.’

Kenny laughed. ‘Oh man, that is brilliant. Wouldn’t it have been great to see their faces?’

‘Who cheats and leaves a joint email address? Fucking idiots. My guess is they wanted to get caught. In any case, the hotel group got so many complaints they ran the diagnostics and found my IP address. I got eighteen months and lost my job.’ He squeezed his cheeks into a smile. ‘At least the wife took me back.’

‘And now you need to pay her back by earning some good money?’

Dimitri nodded.

‘How much you been earning in your new life of crime?’

‘Fifteen, give or take.’

‘Pathetic.’
Fifteen thousand.

Dimitri nodded.

Kenny shook his head. ‘You need a change in career. You need to use your skills and I’m the man to help you.’ Kenny looked into his eyes. ‘How are you at serving beer?’

‘Eh?’

‘Bar Manager is the front, but you’ll spend most of your time in the office on the computer doing special tasks for me. How does thirty thou a year sound?’ He would be a manager in one of Kenny’s bars. Which one, he wasn’t quite sure yet, but that would be the front. His real job would be in computers. It was about time Kenny went digital. Better records meant work analysed and lessons learned. Lessons learned meant more money. ‘But first...’

Dimitri opened his mouth. A sound like the chirp of a bird sounded. He coughed. ‘Aye?’ was all he could muster.

‘Got a pen?’

A nod.

‘Write this down...’ Kenny waited for Dimitri to locate a spare piece of paper in his filofax, while inwardly groaning – a fucking filofax. Then he gave Dimitri a name and a date.

‘He’s my father. He disappeared eighteen years ago and you’re going to help me find him.’