Two-Faced (37 page)

‘The ripper got ripped, eh?’ Davy joked.

‘Believe me, I’m not ripping you,’ Steve assured him. ‘That gear is so pure you’ll have to cut it to fuck just to make it safe for the knob-heads you deal to. You’ll quadruple your money, easy.’

Saying, ‘I’ll hold you to that,’ Davy reached for his second drink and took a long swallow. Sighing with satisfaction as the warm liquor soothed his hash-charred pipes, he pursed his lips thoughtfully. ‘Talking about the investment shit . . . I was talking to one of my old boys the other night. He’s not long come out of the Strange, and he’s set himself up dealing diamonds. Now, I know that’s probably not something you’ve thought about or you’d have mentioned it. But I reckon it could be worth looking into.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Steve sat back.

‘Yeah, see, diamonds don’t depreciate like other shit. Cars drop by a third as soon as you drive them two inches; and – as you know – houses fluctuate depending on the market. But diamonds don’t just hold their value, they
rise
.’

An amused smile played on his lips as he listened, then Steve said, ‘Since when have you been such an expert?’

‘Not me,’ Davy told him. ‘My mate. And he’s straight as a die, so if you got talking to him and decided it was something you wanted to get into, you’d have no worries about getting stuck with anything you couldn’t get rid of – not like all them scamming bastards on the net.’ Shrugging now, he said, ‘He’s a good kid, and it’d help him out to get a customer like you with money to burn. And it’d help
you
out, too. Fully legit, and no one questions the profits, ’cos everyone knows diamonds go up not down.’

Eyes narrowed thoughtfully, Steve sipped at his drink. He had never even thought about diamonds as an investment opportunity, but now that Davy had mentioned it he could see the sense in it. Small, so no storage overheads; plenty of available buyers, so no worries about being lumbered with shit you didn’t want; and prices increasing rather than decreasing.

‘This mate of yours,’ he said after thinking it over for some time. ‘When can I meet him?’

24

When the plane taxied to a stop, Liam got up, slipped on his jacket and reached into the overhead compartment for his small case and rucksack.

Standing by the door, thanking the disembarking passengers for flying with them and wishing them a safe journey to their next destinations, the pretty flight attendant gave him a coy smile as he approached.

‘Goodbye, Mr Grant . . . I trust everything was satisfactory?’

‘Absolutely, you’re an angel,’ Liam said, looping the rucksack over his shoulder and setting off down the steps. He was aware that she was still watching him. But, cute as she was, he wasn’t in the mood. He’d had an early start that morning, and he just wanted to get to the hotel, grab some dinner, and get some sleep.

The chill air that always seemed so much more vicious in Manchester than anywhere else hit him full in the face as he stepped onto the tarmac. Shivering, he pulled his collar up around his ears and made a dash for the terminal.

Reaching the arrivals lounge to find that Davy hadn’t arrived yet, he headed to the news kiosk to get a pack of cigarettes. Reaching it just as the scrolling poster unit attached to the wall rolled over, he stopped in his tracks, his stomach flipping when he found himself staring into Michelle’s eyes.

As quickly as the feeling had come over him, it was replaced by the bitter taste of resentment when he remembered that it was
Mia
he was looking at, not Michelle – Mia, the cold bitch whose attempts to steal him from her own sister had led to him going to prison.

Although he had to admit that if he hadn’t known it was her, he would have been fooled. There was a time when he’d thought that he would easily know the difference between them if he saw them again because of the difference in their eyes, but Mia had obviously found a way of mimicking Michelle’s soulfulness because her eyes were incredible in this picture.

Still, no amount of acting ability, or whatever digital wizardry had produced the luminosity her eyes now possessed, could ever make him overlook the rotten core beneath the façade.

After buying his cigarettes when Mia rolled out of view to be replaced by a perfume bottle, he made his way to the coffee shop and, sitting at a corner table from where he could see the door, sipped at a steaming latte.

This was the first time he’d been back to Manchester in months, and it felt good to be here. As Gina had predicted, he’d gone straight back to Ireland after getting out – although, contrary to what she’d thought, he hadn’t gone back intending to settle and start again but simply to attend his father’s funeral.

Released early on compassionate grounds, he’d flown straight over to Galway, where his father had demanded to be buried alongside
his
own father – a man whom Liam had met only a few times but remembered as being as much of a nasty cunt as his son had turned out to be, which made it fitting that they should spend the rest of eternity together in the hell they had created for everyone else along the way.

Liam hadn’t attended the funeral out of any sense of loyalty or respect – he’d merely wanted to see for himself that the old bastard really was dead. His Aunt Ruth had turned up pissed and spoiling for a fight, but he’d completely blanked her. And it had only been respect for the priest, who had been so kindly, that had prevented him from fulfilling his promise to his father and spitting in his face when he’d viewed him in the open casket.

Proud of himself for maintaining his dignity, unlike the remainder of his father’s foul family who had gone from the graveside to the pub for a good old scrap – with each other, and whichever poor innocent locals happened to get in the way – he’d gone over to Dublin straight after the funeral, to visit his one remaining aunt on his mother’s side.

That visit had extended well beyond the intended time – as visits so often did when you were around people who genuinely cared about you. Refreshed and relaxed after a few weeks, he had decided that it was time to put his future plans into action.

The idea had come to him during his last three months in prison, when an old diamond trader called Harry Bell had come in on a fifteen stretch. Harry had told him how lucrative a market it could be – especially if the dealer had the nous to really gen up on the product. Any fool could buy and sell rocks, he’d said, but it took someone special to recognise the subtle differences of these utterly unique gems.

Naturally curious, Liam had quickly become infected by Harry’s passion and, under his tutelage, had come out with a respectable knowledge of cuts, grades, points and prices. Armed with that, and with the money he’d managed to save while inside – which Davy’s screw had smuggled out and deposited in his account – it wasn’t long before he got rolling.

And, so far, he’d been doing quite well, although he’d probably have been a damn sight richer by now if he’d embraced the internet as a trading tool. But he wanted to do things the old-fashioned way: handling his goods, and meeting his clients face to face. Anyway, the internet was a playground for criminals, and he had no intention of going down the same road as poor old Harry; getting suckered by a smuggling cartel who, after lulling him into a false sense of security with several above-board deals, had used his credentials to ship containers of cocaine over to Britain.

Harry had no idea how many had got through before the last one was intercepted, but it had been done so skilfully, leaving only his details as a trail, that he’d found himself completely unable to prove his innocence at the trial. And Liam had no intention of allowing himself to be suckered like that, so he’d concentrated on building up his physical contacts, using his instincts to weed out the suspect ones – of which, he quickly learned, there were far more than there were honest ones.

Which was exactly what he intended to do at the meeting he’d come over for now, the one that Davy had set up for him. He’d assured Liam that the guy was trustworthy, but Liam wasn’t fool enough to go by another man’s word. Grateful as he was for the way that Davy had looked after him, he couldn’t overlook the fact that Davy was a dangerous skunk-head who could switch in an instant. So, yes, he would meet the guy as arranged, but he would make up his own mind about whether or not he wanted to do business with him.

Almost falling asleep to the strains of the soft classical music that was floating out through the coffee-shop speakers, Liam jumped when Davy’s distinctive voice bellowed out across the almost empty arrivals lounge.

‘Yo, motherfucker! Long time no see!’

Grinning, he stood up to greet him. They had kept in sporadic touch by phone since Liam had gone back to Ireland, but this was the first time they’d actually seen each other since before his arrest. And the years between had narrowed the gap, so Liam now felt they were meeting as equals for the first time.

‘Hey, gimme a hug,’ Davy demanded, laughing as he added, ‘Or is that too queer for you now you’ve gone all IRA on us?’

Giving him a back-clapping hug, Liam asked if he wanted anything to drink. Looking at the greasy dregs of coffee in the bottom of the cup, Davy shuddered. ‘Nah, man, that’s nasty. Anyway, the motor’s on a tow zone, so we’d best clip.’

Picking up his bags, Liam followed Davy out to where the old black Mercedes was parked haphazardly across a
No Waiting
sign painted in huge letters on the ground.

He climbed into the back and touched fists with Davy’s man Faz who was in the front passenger seat.

‘So how’s tricks?’ he asked when Davy climbed into the driver’s seat. ‘Everything still cool with you and Vivienne?’

‘She’s certifiable,’ Davy told him, firing the engine.

‘What, worse than Ruth?’ Liam asked, settling back in his seat as they set off.

‘You kidding me? Ruth’s
gone
, man. Didn’t you see her when she went to send your dad off?’ Davy stared at him in the rear-view mirror – narrowly missing a man who was in the middle of a pedestrian crossing.

‘I didn’t talk to her, to be honest,’ Liam replied, wincing at the near-collision. ‘She was kaylied, so I left her to it.’

‘Just as well,’ Davy chuckled, taking the spliff that Faz handed to him. ‘Always said you shouldn’t mess with them mad Irish bitches. Should have seen her when she caught me and Vivienne at it – near enough tore the poor cow’s fucking head off. But when she tried ripping my bollocks off with them false fucking nails of hers, I thought, nah, man . . . I’m not having this. Enough’s enough.’

‘So you left?’

‘So I left.’ Grinning now, Davy sucked deeply on the spliff. ‘Best fucking move I ever made.’

‘Told you to do it years ago,’ Liam reminded him, lighting a straight to keep his head clear as the car filled up with the strong weed smoke.

‘Yeah, well, some of us need a bullet in the head before we see sense,’ Davy laughed. ‘Anyhow, never mind her. How’s it going with you? Made your first million yet?’

‘You asked me that yesterday when you rang,’ Liam reminded him, hoping that Davy had a sharper grasp on his driving than he did on remembering things. ‘And, like I said then, far from it. But I’m doing okay – thanks to you.’

‘Oi, pack it in with the soppy shit,’ Davy scolded. ‘You sound like you’ll be after a shag in a minute, and I don’t do blokes.’

Smiling, Liam covered a yawn with his hand. Knackered as he was, it was good to be back. And it was really good to see Davy after so long. He hadn’t been sure about him when they’d first met, but he’d proved himself to be a good mate, setting Liam up with that room when he’d needed somewhere to live, and looking after him when he’d been sent down.

Glancing at him in the mirror, Davy said, ‘Oi, don’t be falling asleep. I can’t be carrying you round like a baby – not with my old back. We’ll be there in ten, so open the window and wake yourself up.’

‘I’ll be all right when I get to the hotel,’ Liam told him. ‘A good kip and something to eat, I’ll be right as rain.’

‘Sorry, forgot to tell you, there’s been a change of plan,’ Davy told him. ‘Steve rang when we were on our way over. Apparently, some out-of-town business has popped up, so he asked if we could go straight over.’

‘Oh, right,’ Liam murmured, wishing he’d known, because he didn’t like taking gems along on a first meet. He liked to make his assessment first, decide whether the guy could be trusted, or if he even wanted to do business with him.

‘Chill,’ Davy said, guessing what he was thinking from his expression. ‘He don’t trouble no one ’less they trouble him. Anyhow, me and him have got too good an arrangement for him to risk pulling any shit on one of mine. Plus he ain’t gonna risk fucking things up with you ’cos he really needs to start offloading money, and you’re the way forward for him. So relax – yeah?’

Liam nodded, but that didn’t mean he was taking Davy’s word.

Steve was at the bar when Vern let Davy, Faz and Liam in, sipping on a large Bacardi and idly flipping through a newspaper. Closing it now, he shook Davy’s hand and nodded at Faz. Then, extending his hand to Liam, he said, ‘Good to meet you. What can I get you?’

Liam swung up onto a stool and asked for a JD. Clicking his fingers at a four-foot-nothing Oriental woman who was drying glasses behind the bar, Steve ordered their drinks. Then, lighting a cigarette, he squinted at Liam through the smoke. ‘So, Davy tells me you’re a diamond merchant?’

‘Wouldn’t really class myself in that league,’ Liam told him honestly.

‘But he’s doing real good,’ Davy chipped in, resting his elbow on the counter-top as Faz wandered over to sit at a table to ogle two girls who were practising their pole techniques on the stage.

‘I’m doing okay,’ Liam said, flashing a hooded glance at Davy. ‘Anyway,’ he said to Steve now, ‘he tells me you’re looking to make some investments?’

‘That’s right. Can I take it you’ve brought something to show me?’

‘A few bits,’ Liam said cagily, letting it be known that he wasn’t carrying enough to warrant any thoughts of robbery.

Picking up on it, Steve smiled. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not after a one-off deal. If I like what I hear price-wise, and you can guarantee a steady supply, with certificates and what have you, we could be talking long-term.’