Rough Cut: Rosie Gilmour 6 (27 page)

Gordy lifted the clip on the underside of the counter and went behind.

‘Daniel,’ Ezra said to his son, without even looking up. ‘Make us some tea, boy.’

Ezra turned around, taking his eyeglass out. His heavy features crinkled into a smile. His silver hair was slicked back in waves, his widow’s peak cutting into his deep furrowed forehead and leathery complexion from long holidays in Tel Aviv.

‘How are you, Gordy? It’s been a while.’ Ezra cleared a leather chair piled with papers and boxes so he could sit down.

‘I know, Ezra. I’ve been so busy with the club and stuff. Few wee business deals here and there – and the property stuff is building up well.’

‘You’ll soon be for the easy life on the Costa then, my friend.’

‘Yeah. One of these fine days. If I’m honest, I’m ready for it sooner rather than later. I’m puffed out with all this shit now. Too many pricks around – Turks, Albanians and all these fuckers from Eastern Europe. They want a slice of everything nowadays.’

‘Yes, I know. I’ve had a couple of Russians in here looking
to buy, but I won’t deal with them. I don’t know who these people are. I don’t need to do business with men who might get me killed. I’m ready to retire too. Soon, I hope.’

Daniel came in and put the mugs of coffee on the table, along with a small jug of milk. Ezra reached up to a shelf and brought down a small white bowl of sugar.

‘I’m supposed to be off it.’ He put his finger to his lips. ‘Rina . . . She’s always at me to lose the stomach.’ He patted his round belly. ‘So. Tell me your story, Gordy. What you got for me? I’m looking forward to this. You were so vague on the phone.’

‘I know, mate. But you never know who’s listening.’

Ezra nodded.

‘I hate to talk on the phone about business.’

Gordy went into his pocket and pulled out the small envelope and reached inside to bring out the handkerchief. He unfolded it and placed it on the table.

Ezra looked at the small whiteish lump, squinting, but didn’t touch it. He took a sip of his coffee. Then he reached for his eyeglass, glancing across to Gordy before he put it in. He pursed his lips.

‘My, my . . . What kind of people are you dancing with these days, Gordy?’

Gordy didn’t answer for a moment, but Ezra waited.

‘I acquired it,’ he eventually said. ‘There’s more of them. Rough diamonds.’

Ezra gave a wry smile.

‘I
know
what it is. But what I don’t know, is why? Why do you have this? Or these, if, as you say, there are more.’

‘There
are
more. Quite a lot more, I think.’

‘Are you in the smuggling game these days?’

‘No.’ Gordy shifted in his seat. ‘Come on, Ezra. Just look at the fucking thing. Put me out of my misery here.’

Ezra snorted, his lips curling. He leaned over his table.

‘I know before I even lift it that it looks good.’

Gordy felt a little glow in his gut.

‘Yeah?’

‘Let me have a look.’

Ezra picked it up between his thumb and forefinger, then placed it in the palm of his hand and rolled it over a few times with his finger. Then he lifted it again and put it close to his eye. Gordy was barely breathing as he watched him in anticipation. Ezra said nothing, just kept turning it around, making little noises through his nose as he concentrated. Then he lifted a small blade next to him and scraped the stone a little, then polished it. All the time, Gordy sat like an expectant father. He fought the urge to get up and pace the room. He’d no idea really how many more of these there were, because Vanner had been vague about it, but there were obviously more than half a dozen if he was in this much of a lather to get them back.

Eventually, Ezra put the diamond back down and sat back. He let out a soft whistle.

‘She’s a little beauty. She will either make you happy, or put a nail in your coffin.’

Gordy looked at him, surprised.

‘What you saying that for, man?’

‘Because, unless you are in the smuggling business, then I can guarantee that someone is looking for this – and the others.’

‘Fuck!’ Gordy said shocked. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Word gets around. Something valuable goes missing, it’s not just the cops who come here looking for it. The victim sometimes comes too, to give me a message.’

‘Tell me.’

‘Johnny Vanner.’

Gordy felt as though he’d been punched in the stomach. He could feel his whole body deflating. Surely he hadn’t walked into a fucking trap here?

‘Fuck me!’

‘Oh, I think so, Gordy. But not in a good way.’

‘So. How do you know? Has Vanner been in touch?’

‘Not him. Not personally. That piece of shit knows better than that. But, let’s just say I got the gypsy warning from one of his people. I got a phone call a few days ago, saying that some goods belonging to one of his associates had gone missing. Stolen, he said. And now there is all sorts of heat on Vanner.’ He shrugged. ‘Like I bloody care about him.’

Gordy felt a little relieved. Even if Ezra’s life depended
on it, he would never do a deal with Johnny Vanner. Ezra hadn’t forgiven him for the day he’d walked in here fifteen years ago and slapped his father up and down the room, calling him an ugly little Yid who should have been gassed by the Nazis. Vanner had been chasing some stolen jewellery then too, that had been robbed from him, even though it was he who did the initial armed robbery, leaving a man and a woman to die of dehydration after being tied up in their bedroom for two weeks. Someone must have told him that the jewels had been moved to the fence in Glasgow, and Vanner didn’t even stop to ask or reason. As it happened, Ave had never even seen the haul. But Ezra had never forgotten the humiliation and how his father couldn’t fight back. He had fought so long in the concentration camps that he was too tired to fight any more.

‘So,’ Gordy said. ‘What do you think?’

‘Well. I will give you my professional assessment first. You probably won’t understand it, so let me explain. A rough diamond this size, as you see, looks like nothing. But a lot of it is in the colour. They come in brown, sandy-coloured and white. Like this. White is the most valuable. I have to cut and examine it to see how deep it is, look at the facets. But from what I can see here, you have at least one clean carat in here. And once I get to that and shape it, it will be worth about twenty to twenty-five thousand alone.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘What do the others look like?’

‘I don’t know. I haven’t seen them.’

‘So you don’t have them.’

‘No. Not yet. But I’m getting them in the next couple of days.’

Ezra breathed in and sat back, clasping his hands across his stomach, steepling his two forefingers.

‘Its not my business, but who has them?’

‘Don’t ask. It’s irrelevant. I’m getting them. That’s all that matters. So what was the message? I mean, what did Vanner’s man say?’ Gordy knew he sounded anxious.

‘I was told there had been a robbery, and that maybe someone would come to me and make me an offer. He said if I touched this stuff they would cut my hands off. Those were his words. He said if anyone came, I had to call them immediately, because one day, they would find out if I had touched them, and by that time it would be too late.’

‘Usual heavy duty shite.’

‘Yes, in a manner of speaking.’

‘So. What do you think?’ Gordy scrutinised Ezra’s face, his pale grey eyes, wondering if he could see betrayal anywhere in there.

‘I think it is a very dangerous game to play.’

‘But one that could make us very rich.’

‘I’m already rich.’

‘But I’m talking big rich. Listen, Ezra. If there are, say, maybe ten or even fifteen of these little beauties, that’s big bucks, right?’

Ezra nodded.

‘Shifting them is the issue, though.’

‘Well. You’re the man for that. Can you do it? Will you look at them for me, when I pick the rest of them up? I’ll cut you in big time – more than just expenses and payment for the work.’

‘I know you will, Gordy. I trust you on that.’ He looked at the framed photograph of his father back in Poland. ‘I despise Vanner. You know that.’

Gordy nodded.

‘Then let’s fuck him.’

They sat in silence, both of them looking at the diamond.

*

Gordy felt a little spring in his step as he walked out of the Argyle Arcade and along the street, turning left to where Terry was parked in the Jag. Things were looking up. He knew he’d have to pay through the nose to weigh Ezra in for moving the diamonds, and even though he didn’t know the size of the pot himself yet, he got the feeling there was plenty to go around. These two tarts back in the farmhouse, pontificating like mobsters, hadn’t a clue what was coming to them. But they deserved all they got. Ideas above their station, making him sign over his beloved club, talking down to him. He opened the passenger door and got inside, immediately noticing the worried frown on Terry’s face.

‘Boss,’ Terry said, glancing up as he eased the car up
Renfield Street and stopped at the traffic lights. ‘We’ve got a problem.’

Gordy looked at him, as Terry flicked open the glovebox and brought out a mobile phone.

‘What?’ Gordy asked, irritated. He wasn’t in the mood for bad news.

‘Paul’s mobile. He must have left it here when I gave him a lift to the club this morning.’ He hesitated, scrolling down the recent calls. ‘It just rang. I didn’t answer it.’ He showed Gordy the screen. ‘Johnny fucking Vanner,’ Terry said, matter-of-fact.

‘What? You’re fucking joking!’ Gordy snatched the phone from his hand, staring at the screen in disbelief. ‘In the name of fuck! I don’t fucking believe this! When did it ring?’

‘About ten minutes ago. I was going to come and get you, but I didn’t want to interrupt you.’

‘Shut up a minute!’ Gordy said, his mind a blur as he studied the mobile’s menu and checked outgoing calls. The rage rose in his face like a fireball as he screeched, ‘The scheming wee cunt! He’s been phoning Vanner! Fucking twice in the last two days. I’ll kill the cunt. Stone fucking dead, I’ll kill him!’ He wanted to smash the phone to pieces, but his walnut dashboard cost too much to damage. ‘I’m going to ram this fucking phone right up his arse. Where is he?’

‘I left him in the club, like you said, Gordy. He was
stocking the shelves and cleaning the floors. Brian was going down to make sure he wasn’t spending any time on his own or he’d have his fingers in the till. We know what a thieving wee cunt he is.’

‘Pull over here for a minute,’ MacLean snapped at Terry. ‘Get Brian on the phone.’

Terry stopped the car, picked up his mobile and punched in Brian’s number. When it was ringing he passed it to Gordy.

‘Brian. It’s me. Listen, don’t react to this. Don’t say a word and listen good. Is that wee fucker Paul in there? Just aye or no. Right. Good. Get him to go into my office – just tell him to pick up a folder or something. Then lock him in. Understand? Then I want you to take the keys, lock every door and window and lock the door from the outside. I want that wee cunt locked in the place. I’ll be down in five minutes. Just you get off your mark when you’ve done what I say. Okay?’

He turned to Terry. ‘Right. Let’s go.’

Suddenly, Paul’s mobile rang, and they both sat staring at it on the dashboard. It was the number of the call box in the club. They let it ring.

‘Wee bastard’s obviously just discovered he’s lost his phone.’ Gordy’s lips curled into a sneer.

‘What a silly cunt!’ Terry said. ‘He’ll be shitting himself.’

‘He’ll be shitting blood when I’m finished with him.’

Gordy could feel his heart thumping, a mixture of rage, anxiety and adrenalin, as minutes later Terry eased the Jag into the reserved space outside the front door of the club. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. He needed to deal with this coldly and clinically, without making a song and dance about it. He didn’t need to ask why Paul was phoning Vanner or Vanner was phoning him. It was staring him in the face. He was double-crossing him. After everything he’d done for the wee bastard, weighing in that leech of a money-lender Paul had got up to his arse in debt with. He’d done it, not out of some big hand of generosity, but because he was a useful wee sneak to have around, and Gordy knew he’d be forever in his debt, doing his bidding at every turn. This is how he repays him. He didn’t need to ask him why he’d phoned Vanner, but he as sure as fuck was going to get it from his lips before he battered the shite out of him.

Gordy got out and fumbled in his jacket pocket for the keys, unlocking the main shutter and then the heavy double doors. Terry was at his back. Inside, the club was in darkness, depressing when you saw how vibrant and busy it was at night with the lights and colours and music blaring. He walked softly across the wooden dance floor to the steps at the far side and climbed up to his office, Terry behind him. They both stood outside the locked door, Gordy breathing hard from the exertion of the stairs and the excitement. He put the key in the lock and pushed the
door open, fast. Paul, his face the colour of death, was in the corner. Gordy walked in and stood for a moment, letting the silence hang, watching.

‘Where’s Brian?’ Paul’s voice sounded shaky. ‘He told me to come in here and pick up a yellow folder and then the stupid bastard locked me in.’

Gordy said nothing. Paul gave him an edgy look, then looked down at the floor. He couldn’t look either of them in the eye. Gordy went into his jacket pocket and pulled out the mobile. He stepped forward, slapping it on his desk so hard that Paul jumped.

‘Your mobile,’ he said. ‘You left it in Terry’s car. You’ve got a missed call there.’

With each word, Paul’s body crumpled a bit more and Gordy could see his legs actually shaking.

‘Pick it up,’ Gordy said.

Paul looked at him, then Terry.

‘Fucking pick it up, I said.’

Paul stretched a trembling hand across the table and picked up the phone, barely able to hold it.

‘Now go into your missed calls and read the last call you didn’t get.’

Paul looked at the screen, the mobile trembling in his hands. He did nothing.