Smokeheads (9 page)

‘This is ridiculous,’ said Adam.

His arms were bent behind his back and he felt the restraints bite as Grant pulled them tight around his wrists. Grant tied his ankles and moved on to Molly, as Adam slumped down against a cask. ‘You’re breaking about a dozen laws.’

‘We are the law,’ said Grant quietly.

‘You’re not the only cops on the island,’ said Molly. ‘There are plenty of decent officers on Islay who would skin you alive for this shit if they found out.’

Joe smiled as he watched Grant work. ‘Like who?’

‘Eric Dalton for one.’

‘Dalton?’ Joe laughed. ‘That old cunt couldn’t find his arse if you handed it to him on a fucking plate, never mind uncover an operation like this. Anyway, he’s virtually retired, it’s pipe and slippers for him in a few weeks.’

‘You’ll never get away with this,’ said Adam.

‘Who’s going to stop me? You?’

‘What’re you going to do, exactly? Kill us all?’

Joe mugged looking thoughtful for a moment. ‘Kill you all, now there’s an idea. I hadn’t thought of that.’

Roddy screamed as Grant yanked his arms behind his back.

‘Fucking cunt, that hurts.’

‘Good,’ said Grant.

Joe walked over and smiled as Grant secured Roddy’s ankles.

‘Aw, diddums,’ he said. ‘Did nasty little Grantie hurt the rich dickhead, did he?’

‘Fucking right he did,’ said Roddy, sweating. He didn’t look well. His red eyes were watery and his face was washed-out grey. He seemed to be shaking, trying to control it. He gave Joe a thin smile.

‘Fucking cocky cunt, aren’t you?’ said Joe.

‘Takes one to know one.’

‘I knew you were trouble when I first saw you driving that wankmobile.’

‘Well, we’re in agreement about that shit car, anyway.’

Adam tried to think back. Getting pulled over for speeding had been a day and a half ago, but it seemed like a lifetime. All he’d wanted was a couple of days on Islay, the chance to drink some malts and talk to Roddy about investing. How the fuck had they got into this shit?

Joe looked at Roddy. ‘Your life’s one big fucking joke, isn’t it?’

‘You’ve got to make the most of it.’

‘You think you’re better than everyone else, don’t you?’

‘I buy and sell people like you every day.’

‘Is that right?’

‘Fund manager.’

Joe snorted with laughter. ‘Fuck, that’s worse than paedophile at the moment.’

‘Tell me about it.’

‘You know what they do to paedos in prison, right?’

‘Bake them a cake?’

Joe reached out and stroked the metal sticking out of Roddy’s shoulder. He tightened his grip, twisted and pushed. Roddy let out an animal howl, writhing to escape then falling to his knees and struggling for breath. Blood seeped from the wound as Joe turned away.

‘Not so fucking cocky now, are you?’

He went to the table and brought two chairs over for him and Grant. He picked up the petrol canister, took a swig and grimaced.

Grant finished tying up Luke then joined Joe. Luke sat next to the other three on the ground, leaning against hogsheads and facing the chairs.

‘So,’ said Joe. ‘This is the part where you try to persuade me to let you go.’

‘Please let us go,’ Molly deadpanned.

Joe sat back and crossed his legs. ‘You can do better than that.’ He turned to Grant. ‘Don’t you think they can do better than that?’

‘Maybe they don’t want to live,’ said Grant, smiling at Molly.

‘Christ,’ said Molly. ‘You’re a regular Morecambe and Wise, you pair.’

Joe ignored her and turned to Luke. ‘What’s the deal with you? Strong silent type?’

Luke gave a blank stare.

‘Nothing?’ said Joe. ‘Not even to plead for your life?’

‘You’re not going to let us go,’ Luke said.

Joe clapped sarcastically. ‘Quite right. At least one of you cunts knows what’s going on.’

‘Look,’ said Adam. ‘You
can
let us go. We won’t tell anyone about this place, I promise. Three of us will be off the island in hours anyway, and I’m sure Molly just wants to be left alone.’

Joe laughed hard. ‘Didn’t you learn anything from Quiet Boy over there? We’re not letting you go. Then again, maybe I’m just saying that so you beg and plead and demean yourselves, then I’ll let you go. Or maybe kill you. Life’s complicated, isn’t it, Grant?’

‘These cunts have no idea how complicated it is,’ said Grant.

‘I’m confused,’ said Roddy, recovering composure. ‘Which one of you is the good cop? This is more of an “arse cop, twat cop” routine.’

Joe turned to Grant. ‘He’s funny, isn’t he?’

‘He thinks he is, but he’s wrong.’

‘Let’s turn out their pockets, see what we’ve got.’

Grant went through their pockets, dumping everything in a pile on the floor. Mobiles, keys, wallets, money, the Viagras from Adam’s pocket, a notebook of Luke’s and Roddy’s coke tin.

‘What have we here?’ said Grant, picking up the Viagras.

Joe turned to Adam. ‘Problems getting it up, eh?’

‘They’re not mine.’

‘And yet they were in your pocket. Guess how many times I’ve heard that down at the station?’ He turned to Molly. ‘You hooked up with Mr Floppy here yet? I never had any trouble in that department, eh, love?’

‘Piss off.’

Joe picked up the coke case and opened it. ‘Shit, there’s enough in here to fuel the whole of celebrity London.’

‘Personal use,’ said Roddy.

‘Like fuck, this is ten times what we need to do you for dealing Class As.’

‘Double A, more like,’ said Roddy. ‘That’s none of your usual Colombian crap cut to fuck, that shit is purest Bolivian medical-research grade.’

Joe tapped a line onto his hand and snorted.

‘Hey,’ said Roddy.

‘Fuck me,’ said Joe, eyes like saucers.

He passed the tin to Grant who copied him.

‘Holy shit,’ said Grant, wiping his nose.

Joe shook his head as if trying to dislodge something. ‘I guess being a hedge fund cunt has its advantages.’ He looked at Roddy. ‘But I don’t suppose it really prepares you for situations like this.’

‘You really don’t have to do all this,’ said Adam. ‘You’re digging a hole for yourselves.’

Joe sauntered over and casually kneed Adam in the face, sending his head slamming into the cask behind him.

‘Jesus wept,’ said Adam.

‘The only holes we’ll be digging are the ones we need to hide your bodies.’

Molly shook her head. ‘What happened to you, Joe?’

Joe stopped in his tracks and turned. ‘What?’

Molly sighed. ‘You weren’t always like this or I wouldn’t have married you, would I? Don’t you remember what it was like in the beginning between us?’

Joe rolled his eyes. ‘Spare me the amateur psychology lesson, darling.’

‘Do you think your dad would’ve been proud of how you turned out?’

‘Where do you think I learned how to become such a bastard?’

‘You don’t have to repeat his mistakes.’

‘I don’t
have
to, but it turns out it’s fun.’

‘What about your mum, then?’

‘You leave Mum out of it.’

‘How would she feel about all this?’

Joe walked towards Molly with a strange look on his face, then hesitated.

‘I know things didn’t work out with us,’ said Molly. ‘Our plans for a family and everything.’

Joe looked like he was about to interrupt, but didn’t. He turned away and looked at a far wall.

‘But you’re better than all this, Joe,’ she said softly. ‘At least, the Joe I used to know was better than this. He would never have got mixed up in all this insane shit.’

Eventually Joe turned, giving a little sigh. ‘Yeah, well, the Joe you used to know doesn’t exist any more. Meet the new, improved Joe.’

‘I don’t think it’s an improvement,’ said Molly. ‘Cutting yourself off from the world like this.’

‘I’m not cutting myself off from anything.’

‘You are. All this stupid evil bullshit is just an excuse so that you don’t have to feel anything any more.’

‘That’s bollocks,’ said Joe, glancing at Grant, who was pocketing the Viagras.

‘I don’t think it is,’ said Molly.

‘It’s too late,’ said Joe, walking up close to her and crouching down to stare into her face. ‘It’s far too late for all this shit.’

Their lips were almost touching now.

‘It’s never too late,’ said Molly, her eyes staring deep into his. His eyes flickered between holding her stare and gazing at her lips, two inches from his own.

There was a burst of electrical static over the distillery machines. Joe held Molly’s gaze for a few more seconds then sighed, stood up and turned. A tinny voice could just be heard coming from the junk on the table in the far corner. Joe walked over and picked up a police radio.

‘Sounds like our pick-up’s on its way,’ he said to Grant. ‘I’ll deal with this outside, you keep an eye on the Fantastic Four, eh?’

He stopped on the way out, turned back and whispered something to Grant, who nodded.

Adam felt blood trickling from his nose into his mouth as he watched Grant point the pistol at them.

‘You don’t have to do this,’ said Adam.

Grant came up to him, face to face. Adam could smell the bitter moonshine on his breath, see an alcoholic sheen on his forehead. His eyes were glassy slits, and Adam wondered how much he and Joe had been drinking. If they were rat-arsed it might be easier to escape; on the other hand it might make them more volatile.

‘I know I don’t have to do it,’ said Grant, baring his teeth.

‘I mean, Joe’s clearly lost it, but you seem like a decent guy. You could help us get out, we’d back you up with the authorities. It’s all Joe’s doing, right?’

‘You have no idea, do you?’

‘What?’

‘You think I don’t love this shit?’

‘Ah.’

‘We’re the law on this island, we rule the place, and we can do whatever the fuck we like. Including making a packet from bootlegging, and stopping anyone that gets in our way.’

Adam heard a laugh. It was Roddy. ‘Nice going, Freud,’ he said to Adam between wheezes. ‘That really got to his inner good guy, didn’t it?’

‘At least I’m trying,’ said Adam. ‘What the hell are you doing, except bleeding everywhere?’

‘That’s kind of keeping me occupied at the moment.’

Joe came back in and chucked the radio on the table.

‘Well?’

Grant smiled. ‘You owe me a fiver.’

‘Fuck,’ said Joe, getting out his wallet. He handed the money over and turned to them. ‘I bet Grantie that Hedge Cunt would try to persuade him to let you escape, he backed Mr Floppy to go for it.’

He patted Grant on the back. ‘I’ll get you next time, mate.’

‘You two are unbelievable,’ said Molly.

‘Thanks,’ said Grant.

‘Who was on the radio?’ said Adam.

Joe smiled at him. ‘Why the fuck should I tell you?’

Adam shrugged then regretted it as pain shot through his wrists from the restraints. ‘What does it matter if you’re going to kill us?’

Joe cricked his neck casually. ‘Nothing much to tell. We discovered the Ramsay brothers running this place a few months back and liberated it from them. Told them to keep their mouths shut if they wanted to stay alive. Molly, you know the Ramsay brothers, right? Pair of fucking retards. Anyway, me and Grant took over the place and since then we’ve been making shitloads of illegal whisky when we’re not on duty, and often when we are. We sell it and make piles of money. Any questions?’

Molly chipped in. ‘Other police are involved?’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘The police radio, stupid.’

Joe smiled. ‘Of course, silly me. Yeah, we move shipments to the mainland every now and then, so we need a boat.’

‘A police boat?’ said Adam.

‘Give the guy a Scooby snack.’

‘So this is a big operation?’

‘Now you’re starting to realise why we can’t let you go,’ said Joe. ‘It’s not just about me and Grantie here. There are others with time and money invested in this whole business. Not that it matters, we still wouldn’t let you go, even if it was only us.’

‘This is all bullshit,’ Roddy piped up.

‘Beg your pardon?’ Joe turned towards him.

‘I said this is all bullshit. You’re not going to kill us. You don’t have the fucking bollocks.’

‘Is that right?’

‘It takes a real fucking maniac to do something like that, and you don’t have it in you, either of you.’

Grant snarled at him. ‘And you would know, having shot how many people, exactly?’

‘I’ve handled a gun.’

Joe laughed. ‘Clay pigeons on a stag do, aye? Let me tell you, I’ve shot people, and it isn’t the psychological trauma cop dramas make it out to be, trust me.’

‘Bullshit.’

Joe smiled at Roddy then took a handgun from the waistband of his trousers. He sauntered up to Roddy, then past him. In one fluid movement he lifted the gun to Luke’s forehead and pulled the trigger. The crack made them all jump, as Luke’s head smacked against the cask. Blood spurted from the hole at the front of his head as he slumped over and hit the floor with a soft thud.

‘Luke!’ shouted Adam. ‘Fuck!’

‘Oh my God,’ said Molly under her breath.

‘See?’ said Joe, turning to them. ‘Now maybe you smart-mouthed bastards will start taking this situation a bit more seriously, eh?’

He turned back to Luke and nudged the body with his toe. He leaned in closer to Luke’s head and frowned, then stared at the cask Luke had been leaning against. He knelt down next to the body and grabbed Luke’s hair, lifting his head out of a small sticky pool of blood and looking at the back of it. He frowned again, then turned.

‘What the fuck?’ he said to Grant. ‘There’s no exit wound.’

He stared at the gun in his hand as Grant walked over.

Grant examined Luke’s head then sucked his teeth. ‘Right enough.’

Joe dropped Luke’s head, which landed with a thump, spraying up blood from the pool on the floor. He turned to the rest of them.

‘Was your mate a fucking cyborg or something?’

Adam couldn’t speak, felt bile rise in his throat. He looked from the body to Molly and Roddy, both their faces full of shock. Eventually Roddy spoke.

‘What do you mean?’ he stuttered.

‘Point-blank range, execution style,’ said Grant. ‘You always get an exit wound.’

Joe frowned at his gun. ‘This baby usually makes quite a mess on the way out as well.’

‘You’re a sick fuck,’ said Roddy, face ashen.

‘That’s as may be, but it doesn’t explain why the bullet didn’t come out your mate’s head.’

Adam swallowed hard then heard his own voice, weak and wavering. ‘Metal plate.’

‘What?’ Grant turned to him.

Adam gulped in air. ‘He’s got a metal plate in his head.’

Joe raised his eyebrows. ‘Really? Why?’

‘Snowmobile accident,’ said Roddy quietly.

‘Well, I’ll be fucked,’ said Grant, shaking his head. ‘How about that?’

Joe stood thinking for a moment. ‘That’s a bit of a cunt, really. Now I’m going to have to get that bullet out of there. Can’t be too careful about incriminating evidence, you know.’

He wandered over to the table and examined the mess, then picked up a large claw hammer, felt the heft of it in his grip.

‘No, wait,’ said Adam, feeling his stomach lurch. ‘Whatever you’re thinking of doing, please don’t.’

Joe came back over, gripping the hammer.

‘I don’t have any choice.’

He positioned himself next to Luke’s head and grabbed the front of his jacket for leverage.

‘I can’t go around shooting people and leaving bullets in their heads, can I?’

He flipped the hammer round so that the claw end pointed forward.

‘Don’t,’ pleaded Adam.

Joe took a deep breath and raised the hammer, then swung it down hard into the side of Luke’s skull.