For Those Who Know the Ending (31 page)

Now he’s behind Martin, no danger of eye contact. This is where he’ll do it. He’ll shoot him in the back of the head, because, fuck it, all that stuff about looking a man in the eye is bullshit. Why should he torture himself with that? Doesn’t make you tough, just drives you nuts trying to look good in front of a bastard like Nate Colgan. He’ll do this on his terms, he’s earned that. Like Gully said, you do it in a way that lets you get your mind right first.

Usman’s looking at the back of Martin’s head. Martin seems to be looking over towards the door, where Nate is still standing, watching the more easily visible threat. Just glad he’s not looking round, trying to get a view of Usman, glad that he’s staying silent throughout this. That was always his nature, Usman’s thinking. Always the quiet guy, always the guy who didn’t want to give away a single thought or feeling. Thank fuck he’s sticking to that, all the way to the bitter end. Others would be screaming and shouting, throwing abuse or pleading for mercy, but not Martin. He’ll never utter another word.

Nate’s starting to move, walking slowly towards them. Martin’s tensed, Usman spotted it. Worried that Nate’s going to be the one to kill him, Usman just there as a witness. He’ll be thinking it was Usman’s job to get him there for a proper killer to finish the job. Convinced, probably, that the big guy with the big reputation is the one he should be afraid of. Yeah, most people would jump to that conclusion. Assume that if Nate Colgan’s in the room, he’s the one that’s going to hurt you. Maybe that’ll make it easier, Usman’s thinking. Nate will step behind Martin and hand Usman the gun, Usman will shoot Martin and Martin will think it was Nate. Die thinking that.

One more intake of breath, trying to do it quietly. Turning away from Martin and Nate, looking across at the office door. One squeeze of the trigger. How hard can that be? Forget that it’s Martin, forget that you’re killing a familiar face or even a living person. Squeeze the trigger and go home. After that, a good life. A better life. Working with a big organization to take home some serious money. All those dream jobs that have been rattling round in the back of your head, now made possible by the resources of the organization. This is the price you pay, and it’s worth it. He heard Nate walking towards him, heard him stop. A deep breath, shutting his eyes tight and opening them, then starting to turn around.

1.51 a.m.

His hands have started to go numb, and wiggling his fingers and clenching his fists isn’t helping much. Wish they would hurry up. No reason why they’re taking this long, no reason at all. When he holds his breath, Martin can just hear passing vehicles on the road outside the warehouse. Not many of them at this hour, and none that have stopped.

Fighting the lethargy, the urge to fall asleep, to rest his body and mind. He knows if he falls asleep, he might not wake up, even if they come clattering in here. It wouldn’t be sleep, it would just be unconsciousness. It would be passing out and staying out forever more. Shaking his head hard, but that’s just giving him a headache so he’s stopping. His throat is bone dry, his eyes are getting sore. Martin’s failing the physical challenge of being tied to a chair and that’s making him angry. He’s flagging, and he knows that’s going to make what comes next a hundred times more difficult.

Now he’s hearing a vehicle outside, and everything’s changing. His mind is clearing; he’s able to ignore the pain and numbness. This is it. A heavy vehicle, at least a large van, turning out in the yard, its engine straining as it reverses back to the door and then stops. Two doors closing, and then nothing for a couple of minutes. They must be out there, whispering among themselves, planning how they’re going to work this. Martin’s making the effort to make his face hard, expressionless. Clear the pain and discomfort from it, don’t let them see anything when they look at him.

The door’s opening, there’s a pause of a few seconds before anyone steps in. It’s Usman first. Walking in and seeming like he’s struggling with the darkness. Looking around and then looking at Martin. There’s eye contact, Martin staring at him. Trying to make him feel uncomfortable, make this as difficult for him as possible. Coming here to kill a man who’s only ever been a worthwhile colleague and never once a threat. Make him suffer every little pain and humiliation you can. This isn’t supposed to be easy, and Usman’s going to understand that.

Usman’s looking away, down at the floor. He looks like a guilty man, a coward who can’t spend a few seconds looking at the thing he’s about to destroy. Nate Colgan has walked in behind him and he’s pushing the door shut. Just the three of them in the large room. Two of them in control, knowing what’s going to happen, and the third man the victim. Martin’s glancing past Usman, looking at Nate Colgan, making eye contact with a man who feels no need to look away. Usman’s still looking at the floor as he walks towards Martin. Martin’s watching him, looking right at him as he walks on past and stands behind him.

Nate’s walking across towards Martin. He looks calm, expressionless as always, a man in command of the situation. Martin can see Nate glance behind him at Usman. Something’s prompted him to move more quickly. This is the moment. Nate silent, crouching, a flash of metal suddenly in his hand. A small, sharp knife slicing the metal strip tying Martin’s ankles. Leaning in close to him without a sound and slicing the strap holding his wrists together, too. Martin’s pulling his hands round in front of him, flexing them silently.

Nate’s straightened up and he’s reaching quietly into his coat, taking out a small handgun. He’s passing it down to Martin. The gunman has pins and needles in his hands, but the feeling is coming back to them, and the touch of the heavy gun is the reassurance he’s been praying for. This could have gone the other way, the set-up could have been flipped round to work against him, but it seems Nate Colgan will be as good as his word.

The same day Gully had gone to Usman with the plan for this job, Nate had paid a visit to Martin. Turned up at the house, knowing Martin’s girlfriend was fussing around in the bookshop she owned with her sister.

‘You and me need to talk,’ Nate had said to him when Martin opened the door.

It was a risk for Nate, turning up on the doorstep of a gunman like that. A man who had good reason to fear him, and when a gunman has reason to fear you he has reason to kill you. Martin let him in, they sat down in the living room and he waited for Nate to talk.

‘Well?’ Martin said. He didn’t know this man, but he knew his sort. Tough and sure of himself. Confident that there was nobody in this world who could break his complacent superiority. Martin knew he had been at the bookies, knew he had reason to punish him if that’s what he was here for.

‘You know who I am?’

‘I remember you.’

Nate nodded. ‘You know that your friend, Usman Kassar, has been talking to us for months now?’

Martin said nothing, didn’t move. Just looked at Nate, waiting for him to give more information than this.

‘That job you did on the dealer, the guy working for Chris Argyle. We knew all about that, helped to make it happen. You think it was luck that kept Argyle’s men away from you that day? You think they didn’t go chasing after you because they were too lazy, or because they didn’t care about all that money? Nothing they care about more. They didn’t chase you because we made sure they thought it was us behind it. We stood between you and them, gave you cover.’

Martin looked at Nate for a few seconds, expressionless, then said, ‘Thank you.’

Nate chuckled, a rare show of genuine mirth. ‘Aye, you’re welcome. You did us a favour that day, made up for what you did to Donny Gregor. It was that job you did on Comrie though, that’s what I want to talk to you about.’

Martin frowned. ‘I have nothing to say.’ You don’t talk about the people you’ve killed to a man you don’t know. You sure as hell don’t talk to a man who has reason to use it against you.

Nate shook his head. ‘You don’t understand, I don’t want you to tell me about it, that’s your business. Only thing I need to know about that job is the consequences for Argyle and Park and I don’t need you to tell me those. I want to talk to you about it, not have you talk to me. You’re a gunman, a good one if that job is anything to go by. You have experience, I reckon. No way that was your first time pulling a trigger. You’re a gunman working shitty robberies and glorified muggings with some loudmouth kid. I can offer you something better, if you’re willing to listen.’

This was unexpected, and Martin didn’t like or trust the unexpected. But he didn’t like the work he was doing either, and Nate Colgan knew it. Gunmen always thought themselves a cut above, and he knew Martin wouldn’t enjoy slumming it with Usman. A proper job, working for a major organization, was what he had wanted when he first arrived in the city. Nothing had changed.

‘Go on,’ Martin said.

‘We need a gunman, and I think you could do the job. If you’re interested. Permanent work, doing jobs for us and nobody else. Good money, regular income, we’ll make sure you make decent cash and we’ll make sure that you’re as well protected as you can be in this city.’

It was the job he wanted, and he couldn’t say no. He needed money, something regular, something that protected him, and here was Nate Colgan offering him just that. That tough-looking guy, smart enough to know that Martin was going to say yes before Martin did.

‘I will be interested, yes.’

‘Good,’ Nate said. ‘There’s something else though. Your mate, Usman, knows a lot more about you and your work than we’re happy with him knowing. Don’t trust him to keep his trap shut either. Only way to keep him quiet is by shutting him up or paying him off, and we don’t want to employ him as well. Some kid running rip-off jobs, thieving money and killing people that don’t need killing. It’s not suitable work for an organization. You we need, him we don’t.’

Martin already knew just where this was going. Nate was going to shine a light on the thought that had run through Martin’s mind so many times in the last few weeks. Usman knew too much about him, and with a mouth his size he was going to cause trouble sooner or later. Time was going to come when Martin would have to deal with him, maybe silence him permanently. Reduced the risk if that time was now.

‘We have a plan,’ Nate said to him, looking at him with a solid stare.

Martin agreed to it all, and by the time Nate left the house they had the details worked out. He knew everything that was going to happen, right down to the phone call Usman made him, asking them to meet up again. Every detail of the job on the warehouse was exactly what Nate had said it would be, and Martin knew what Usman was planning to do to him.

He told himself he was doing it for Joanne. The only way they could have a settled life together was if he worked for an organization, someone who could both pay and protect him. No more high-risk two-man jobs with a kid he hardly knew. But it wasn’t really about her or anyone else, Martin was doing it to protect himself. Wouldn’t have to worry about Usman ever getting him into trouble, giving his name away as a bargaining chip.

So when Nate handed him the gun just now, Martin was ready for it. He’d tried to keep his legs from cramping, tried to make sure his hands didn’t go so numb as to become useless. He hadn’t tried to escape either; he’s here to do a job. Accept the bump on the head and keep yourself ready for the key moment. Nate’s put the gun in his hand and Martin’s getting silently to his feet. A little unsteady, but he’s standing.

Usman, still behind him, looking the other way, trying to build up the courage to overcome a challenge he’ll never face. Martin’s looking at him, emotionless, and raising the gun. Usman’s starting to turn around. Martin isn’t going to let him, isn’t going to give him the chance to look him in the eye. He’s pulling the trigger, the shot loud, filling the room as the bullet smashes into the back of Usman’s skull, and he’s falling forward on the concrete floor.

1.54 a.m.

Martin’s standing with the gun in his hand, looking at the mess oozing out of the back of Usman’s head and onto the dusty concrete floor. He’s lowering the gun to his side, because there’s nothing left for it to do. He knows there’s only one bullet in it. This gun was provided by Nate Colgan, and Colgan would only give him the bare minimum required to finish the job. Enough to kill Usman, not enough to do anything else with it. A single bullet made sure Martin stuck to the plan. They sent Martin and Usman into the warehouse and waited to see who came out. Who followed the plan with enough intelligence to understand how to survive it. Gave Martin a better chance, but Usman could have avoided this. Martin passed the initiation, Usman failed.

Nate’s already walking back to the loading door, reaching down and pulling it up. It’s making a noise, clattering upward to allow the van to reverse in. Gully, sitting in the driver’s seat, waiting for the door to open, has noticed it and he’s starting up the van. Reversing it slowly in, watching Nate as much as he’s watching where he’s going. Nate looks the same as ever, which means everything went the way it was supposed to go. Which is a shame, in Gully’s opinion, because they just killed a likeable kid who they could have found some use for. It was Gully who had wanted to give Usman a fighting chance, the one he didn’t take. Enough time with the gunman to kill him with the crowbar if he was smart enough to see the need. Sure, the things the boy wanted to do weren’t useful to an organization like this, and he was too bloody naive to last long in the business anyway, but it still seemed a waste. Fancy thinking they needed a thief more than a gunman. Just a shame to lose a good lad who could have learned.

As soon as the van’s inside, Gully’s getting out and closing the door, taking them all out of view. Nate’s opening the back door of the van, pulling out the plastic sheet they’ll wrap the body in. He and Gully are walking across to Usman, looking down at the bloody mess.

‘I’ll get the cleaning stuff,’ Gully’s saying, glad of the chance to go back to the van. Being familiar with blood doesn’t make it any more attractive.