25
One of the best things about being a driver is that you don’t have a heavy schedule. Kenny maybe works four days a week. The days he works might be long hours, but it’s long hours doing nothing. Waiting to pick people up, mostly. Boring stuff, you have to have a lot of patience. The most important thing, he realized early on, was never complain. Most people think you’re lucky to be a driver. You’re getting decent money to do something anyone could do. You’re taking fewer risks than most of the people around you. If you complain, they think you’re an idiot. Be happy to do the job, and remember that most other people will needlessly complain. It’s the single reason he’s driving Jamieson now.
He’s not bad at what he does. He knows the city, knows his way around. He checks his routes regularly, driving around for the sake of driving. You can’t be a driver who gets lost. Still, even that’s boring. People don’t understand. He’s making twenty-two thousand a year to be bored whilst helping criminals. It’s that last bit that gets him. The money is fine – more than he’d get doing anything else. He knows he’s not smart enough to get rich. He’s thirty-seven now; he hasn’t really done anything else in his life. He has a steady girlfriend, but no kids. He’s not entirely faithful to her, but she isn’t to him, either. They both know it, and they can live with it. It’s a good coupling that neither of them wants to abandon. She’s made a few hints about him finding another job. She’s worried that he’s going to end up in court. Probably more worried that she’s going to end up there beside him. When someone pesters you enough, you start to worry.
He’s been thinking about it for a while. More than a year, truth be told. Almost did it once and backed out at the last minute. Too intimidating. The consequences were too big. Consequences are still the same size, he’s just more worried. A few things have tipped him. It would have been nice to have a little more praise. A little recognition. He’s not needy; it just feels like everyone else is a part of a team, and he’s their only spectator. It’s the Shug thing, too. It’s dragging on. People are talking. He takes most of what he hears with a pinch of salt, but there’s some truth in what they say. It shouldn’t take this long for Peter Jamieson to deal with a guy like Shug. He should have ended this weeks ago, yet it’s still rumbling on. Jamieson has to do more jobs to try to get the better of Shug. The more jobs he does, the more risk of failure. Everyone in Jamieson’s organization is entitled to be concerned.
It’s been keeping Kenny awake at night. Making him think of trying again, one last time. He made the phone call, set up the meeting. Now he has to decide whether to keep it. Didn’t last time, but that was last time. Jamieson seemed strong then. He seemed like the man who was going to take over the city. Now he looks weaker. Looks a little bit run-of-the-mill. This time Kenny can’t persuade himself that he’s overreacting, that he’s just being a sissy. This time it feels like he needs to do this. Why shouldn’t he protect himself if he can? Chances are lots of other guys are doing it. Lots of guys in the business. They wouldn’t admit it – more than their lives are worth – but people take precautions. He can’t be the only one. Doesn’t make it okay. Doesn’t lessen the nerves.
He’s sitting in the car, outside the place they’re supposed to meet. He could drive away. If someone sees him – Jesus, it doesn’t bear thinking about! It looks like a normal house to him. Terraced street, kind of old-fashioned. The door will be unlocked, just come straight in. Three steps and he’s in. There’s nobody around, not on the street anyway. There might be someone peeking out from behind the curtains. How many times has he heard people complain about nosy neighbours? This one small step is tearing his guts apart. How do they do this? How do people go out on a regular basis and do dangerous jobs? They have something inside them that he doesn’t. Or maybe it’s the other way round. He’s opening the car door and stepping out. Closing the door, pressing the keyring to lock it. Three long steps and he’s at the door, pushing it open.
It’s gloomy inside, which seems about right. He’s in a narrow corridor. Go through to the kitchen, he’ll be waiting there. No mention, when they spoke, of the previous aborted effort. Nothing that might rock the boat. They both want this to work for them. If it’s possible. That’s what Kenny’s thinking as he’s walking towards the kitchen door. Too late to back out, anyway. You’re in. What if it can’t work out for both of them? Surely they can’t both want exactly the same thing. He’s pushing the door open. The man’s sitting at the kitchen table, a cup in his hand. Tea or coffee. Kenny only just about recognizes him. It is the right guy, and he is alone. That’s a start. He’s nodding a hello. They always tell you to stay away from people like him. Don’t think you can handle them, because they’re always working against you. They’ll do you no favours. Can’t stop the fear, though. The fear that they’re going to catch you anyway. Might as well try to take some control of it. Might as well go and meet a detective.
Fisher’s looking up at him, waiting for the driver to sit down. Been a long day of meeting scumbags. This one’s not so bad. Not so many moral questions about having a man like Kenny McBride as a contact. He’s just a driver. Close enough to hear things that matter, easily replaceable. Arresting him makes no difference to a man like Jamieson, so you leave him where he is and use him. It puts the contact at risk, but Kenny knows that already. He must know that Peter Jamieson would kill him if he ever found out he was meeting cops. Something’s made him come to this meeting, though. The same reason he had a year ago when he backed out, more exaggerated now. Treat it carefully, cautiously. Some contacts are unstable, have nothing of value to offer and think they can hide behind you. They can be troublesome, but there are worse. Some are a set-up. Sent by their employer to feed you false information. Those ones can cost you a career.
Kenny’s sitting down opposite him at the kitchen table. Dingy little place, but safe. Fisher won’t offer him a cup of tea; he doesn’t want this to go on for long. A short meeting. An introduction. Leave the driver knowing that he hasn’t done enough to gain any favours from you yet.
‘Do you understand how this is going to work, Kenny?’ he’s asking him.
‘I guess,’ Kenny’s saying. ‘I give you information, help you out.’
‘And what do you expect to get in return?’ This one always stumps them. They never want to say that they expect you to keep them out of jail. They can’t pretend they’re doing it out of a respect for the law. Most of them don’t have an answer. They worry that the wrong answer could spoil their chance at protection. It won’t.
‘I know that what I do is illegal, but all I do is drive. I figure I’m not important. It would be tough for you to prove that I’ve done much illegal, other than keep information to myself. Still, if I end up in court, things go wrong; I want this to be remembered. I want this to play in my favour. I want something to play in my favour.’
Not too dumb for a driver. Knows the limits of what he can expect. That’s good. Maybe too good. Sent in by an employer to tell the cop what he wants to hear. If it wasn’t for that call a year ago, he would be a lot more sceptical.
‘Seems fair,’ Fisher’s saying. Kenny’s sitting right across the table from him, trying to look calm. He’s aiming for aloof, but his nerves are in his eyes. Looking round too much, blinking more than a well-sighted man should. Looking to Fisher to guide the conversation. ‘I appreciate that you’re taking a risk,’ Fisher’s saying, ‘but that doesn’t change the fact that I need you to give me something. I need to know that you’re serious about this.’
Blinking even more heavily now. ‘I’m serious. I don’t know what exactly you want, though.’
Here’s the bit where you have to tread carefully. Don’t scare them away. Ask for too much in the first meeting and you might never get a second. Then again, you always have this meeting to hold over him. You have to ask for something useful. Stay present. Don’t delve into major cases of the past – they can come later. Try to get something immediately useful.
‘I know that Peter Jamieson is in conflict with Shug Francis,’ Fisher’s saying. ‘You can confirm that.’ A basic test of honesty to start.
‘For a few months now,’ Kenny’s agreeing. This is a nice easy one. ‘Shug’s been trying to set up a network, take Peter’s business. To be honest, he’s making a piss-poor job of it. Still, he keeps causing bother. A lot of people are surprised that Peter hasn’t stopped him yet.’
Ah, here we go. A lot of people are surprised. Some people are rather worried. Some people think that Peter Jamieson might be losing the golden touch, so they’ve come running for cover.
Move it along a little. ‘You heard about Tommy Scott?’
There’s a pause. Nervous eyes moving too fast to read. ‘I heard he got killed by his mate. He worked for Shug, I’m pretty sure.’
Talking faster now. His thick Glasgow accent a little harder to understand. Nervous, but for what reason? ‘Did you ever meet Scott?’
‘Nah, never,’ he’s saying, a little too quickly this time. ‘I heard of him. Heard people complaining that Scott was taking clients. He was a nuisance, is what I heard. I don’t know that he was a big deal, though.’ Kenny came here prepared to talk about any job he had played no part in. He drove Calum to the flats to kill Scott. He didn’t know he was doing that at the time, but he does now.
Fisher’s nodding along. Kenny could be telling the truth; he might just be nervous at the meeting. Hard to trust. Take another approach, one last roll of the dice. Better not to throw too much at him right now. Save the rest for a later date.
‘Do you know a guy called Calum MacLean?’ he’s asking. Might draw a blank, or might open the curtains on a dark room.
Kenny’s shaking his head slowly. ‘No, don’t think so.’ He drove him to the flats to kill Scott. Now the police are looking at Calum. Accessory to murder. That’s a damn sight more than driving people around. ‘Doesn’t ring any bells. Should it?’
Fisher’s shrugging. ‘I don’t know. Thought he might have done a job for Jamieson.’
‘I’ll be honest with you; I don’t know everyone who does jobs for Jamieson.’ A little more confident now. ‘I only get to see the ones he doesn’t mind me seeing.’
‘Fair enough.’
He’s let him go. No point in holding a nervous driver when he has little to tell you. It seems above board. Seems like Kenny wants a little shelter and is willing to give info to get it. You do have to wonder how much use he’s going to be. Fisher himself isn’t certain. Kenny could turn out to be a diamond, might come up with something terrific. Or he could be a driver who isn’t told anything useful to begin with. In which case, he’s useless. If he’s useless, he gets no shelter.
Fisher’s giving him a head start before he leaves the house. Washing the cup in the sink – no hot water. Took a while for Kenny to start his car before he left. Fisher was listening for it. Might have been phoning Jamieson to tell him that the cop had bitten their hook. More likely he was looking around for any sign of someone following him. He’s right to be paranoid. The risks are all his, the rewards mostly Fisher’s. Might just be a driver, but it’s his own life he’s playing with now.
