Rough Cut: Rosie Gilmour 6 (31 page)

‘I haven’t heard from Adrian. Maybe we’ll try phoning him later.’ Rosie knew that he was probably already on a plane to Belgrade.

She glanced at her phone again, a bit surprised that Julie hadn’t replied to her text.

*

Nikki pulled on a heavy jumper over her long-sleeved T- shirt. She was surprised at how easily she’d adapted to working with only one hand. Simple things like buttoning a blouse or doing up her jeans had reduced her to a frustrated wreck in the beginning, but if she took her time, it was all workable. You adjust to your life and what you’ve been left with. Julie had told her that two years ago when she’d found her in bed in a stupor, a bottle of paracetamol and a half bottle of gin by her side. She hadn’t wanted to live any more. The darkness she woke up with every morning had grown heavier and she’d become less and less attached to the world. She’d be better off dead, she’d pleaded with Julie, who’d dragged her into a cold shower. Then, Julie had told her that when you lose someone you love, what you get back is what is left of you. You’re never the same person again, but you hold onto what is left and make the best of it. She told her to do it for the baby who didn’t get a chance, and for all the people in their lives who had gone – their mothers, both dead in their sixties from heart attacks. Hold onto what you’ve got, she told herself as she looked in the mirror and smoothed her jumper over
the recording device. She felt a little flurry of nerves, but she was determined to make it through this day.

There was a gentle knock on the front door and Nikki went into Julie’s bedroom, where she was dressed and ready, applying the final stages of her make up. There was something of the girls-on-holiday feel about this, Nikki thought . . . if only that’s how it was.

‘The door,’ Nikki said. ‘Someone’s at the door.’

Julie looked at her watch.

‘It’ll not be Gordy. He’s not due for another half hour. Go and answer it. Maybe it’s Euan.’

‘What will I do if it is?’

Julie made eyes at her.

‘Make him a coffee, for God’s sake. Just be normal. Relax. We don’t want to arouse any suspicion.’

Nikki went out the bedroom and crossed the hall to the front door. Euan smiled and held up a plate as though it were a trophy.

‘Wee chocolate sponge Mum’s made for you. Honestly! You’ll not be able to resist it.’

Nikki opened the door wide and smiled back at him. He was lovely, all sparkling eyes with a hint of mischief in them. She wondered what he must have been like before he was stuck in this wheelchair, relying on his parents.

‘Come on in. We’ll have some coffee. I’ll never say no to a chocolate cake.’

She went into the kitchen and filled the kettle as Euan made his way inside.

*

Julie dabbed some perfume on her wrists and glanced at herself in the mirror. She was looking well, considering all the shit that had been flying around, The fact that this was coming to an end had given her a new lease of life. By this evening, she and Nikki would be in a hotel in Manchester, sinking a bottle of wine and gearing up for their flight to Malaga in the morning. They’d be free. And they’d be rich. There was as much chance of her parting with all the diamonds to that bastard Gordy as her flying in the fucking air, she told herself. He was such a stupid prick, he’d even told her how this Jew fence had described the difference between a good rough diamond and a bad one. Well, there was probably no such thing as a bad rough diamond, but a good one from a not-so-good one, was how he’d described it. Last night, once Nikki had fallen asleep, she’d gone into the pouches and taken a closer look at every one of them. There was a fortune in this stuff. Plenty of white ones, and good sizes too. She didn’t know how valuable the other ones were, but she concentrated on the white ones. She took out three white ones from each pouch and stashed them away in her zipped bag. No need to get greedy. She could have taken more. Gordy or this Vanner guy didn’t really know exactly how many diamonds there were anyway. But she decided she’d take just enough to give her
and Nikki the chance of a decent start in whatever new lives they were about to embark on. She also took the rest of the money and hid it. Stuff them! Gordy would be so grateful to get the diamonds, he wouldn’t be hanging about counting – especially if he was planning to stiff Vanner. She could hear Nikki and Euan chatting as she headed for the living room.

‘Are you eating
again
?’ she said to Nikki.

‘You need to taste this cake, Julie. It’s magic. I’ve made you a coffee.’

Euan gave her a thumbs up, a mouthful of cake preventing him from talking. She brought her coffee and sat on the sofa opposite Euan in his wheelchair. She was about to ask him how he was when she heard the click of the back door. Her head swam when she saw the figure appear in the kitchen. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

*

‘Morning, ladies.’

The Manchester accent sent a chill through her and she glanced at Nikki, whose face had turned white. The big, well-dressed figure with a shock of greying hair stood in the kitchen in his black Crombie coat and red scarf, icy blue eyes staring down at them. Behind him was a shaven haired minder in a padded anorak, with a slash mark from his cheekbone which spread to a wide dent in his neck that looked as though someone had taken the bolts out.

‘What the fuck!’ Julie stood up. Nikki also got to her feet.

‘Hey. That’s no way to treat a guest who’s paid an unexpected call on you . . . It
is
unexpected, is it not?’

‘Who the fuck are you? What are you doing in our house?’

The big man’s mouth snarled to a smile, but he kept his icy stare on her.

‘I’ll give you two guesses, love. In fact, I’ll give you one guess, and if you don’t get it right, then my boy here will break your nose.’ He raised his eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

Julie looked at Nikki.

‘I . . . I think I’m going to faint.’ Nikki faltered back and sat on the arm of the chair.

The minder moved forward.

‘Fucking leave her.’ Julie stepped between them. ‘I know who you are. You’re Johnny Vanner.’

‘Got it in one. You’ve wasted my boy’s morning. He likes hurting people.’

‘What the hell are you doing here?’

He sniggered.

‘Like you don’t know?’

‘Gordy will be here in a minute.’

‘Well that’ll be nice and cosy then. He’ll get a surprise too.’

‘What’s going on? He said he was giving the case to you. He said it was all arranged. What are you doing here?’

Vanner tugged off his leather gloves, one finger at a time, revealing tattoos on each knuckle. He took a step forward, then suddenly grabbed Julie by the hair.

‘Listen, you arrogant cow. Never mind what I’m doing here. Never mind about that cunt Gordy. I’m here for the case, then I’m off. So let’s not fuck around here for any longer than is necessary.’ He pulled Julie’s hair tight. ‘So if you want to stay alive, just give me the fucking case and I’m off.’

Julie looked at Nikki, and there was a flash of recognition between them that they both knew the game was up. There
would
be no other life, no jobs abroad where they would reinvent themselves. This bastard would kill them. He wasn’t going to take the case and walk away. How the hell did he even know they were here? He’d obviously been planning to stiff Gordy the way Gordy planned to stiff him. Except that Vanner was smarter. He let go of her hair.

Julie went into the kitchen and knelt on the floor, rummaging in the cupboard until she got to the little place at the back where she’d stashed the case. She brought it out and handed it over.

He placed it on the worktop and opened it, while his minder kept his eyes on Julie and Nikki. Vanner took out the pouch of diamonds and sprinkled them onto his hand. He caressed them, weighed in his palm, then brought out the other pouch. He went across to her.

‘You’d better not have taken any of these.’

‘I’m not fucking stupid! Just take them and go.’

He slapped Julie hard on the face and she tasted blood.

‘Stop! Leave her.’ Nikki burst into tears.

‘Shut the fuck up, you, or you’ll get your other arm torn off.’ He gestured to his minder, who took a rope out of his jacket pocket.

‘Sit on the chairs and shut your fucking mouths. The two of you. If you stay that way, I might even let you live.’

Nikki stumbled as she crossed the room to sit on the kitchen chair next to Julie. The minder grabbed Julie and tied her hands behind her back, then pressed Nikki’s good arm against her side and wound rope around her.

‘Who’s the cripple?’ Vanner gave Euan a long look. ‘Are you turning tricks for him?’

It wasn’t so cold now that he’d been walking and working in the field, but James O’Neill decided he’d go back to the house and make sure the fire was well stoked for Euan. His wife was out for the morning for a hospital appointment, then she was going for lunch with his sister. He enjoyed the days when it was just the two of them, talking about the farm and the rugby. Deep down, his heart bled for his son, still the same boy in so many ways, trying hard not to show the frustration and disappointment he must feel every morning he woke up and saw his wheelchair at the side of his bed. But that was where they were now. Nothing they could do about it.

*

It was the car at the back of the cottage that James noticed. He’d not seen many visitors in the time those girls had stayed there. That big bastard who insulted Euan was the only car he’d seen before, and from this distance he could
see it wasn’t that Jag. He crossed the field where he’d been checking on sheep in case the heavy rain turned the place like a swamp. Last year, after heavy snow, then the big thaw, one of his sheep drowned in a pit of mud, so he had to make the mile-long trek twice a day when the weather was like this.

The narrow pathway from the field took him out at the back of the rented house, and now he had a clear view of the car. He crept around the back of the house, familiar with every nook and cranny, knowing where to move so nobody would see him. He felt as though he was spying on the girls, but there was a niggle that something wasn’t right. He didn’t want to knock on the door after the last time, but wanted to peek in the window and see what was going on. He walked carefully around the house, and with his back to the wall, made his way toward the kitchen window. In the second he looked in, he saw enough to make him feel physically sick. Someone was tying up his son, and his face was bloodied and battered. Jesus wept! A sudden image flashed up of Euan’s head like a football on the morning he and his wife had gone into hospital after the beating that had left him paralysed. A surge of rage almost knocked James off his feet and he gripped the wall for support. He chanced another glance. The girls were already tied up on kitchen chairs, and the Julie girl had blood on her face. A big guy in a black overcoat was pointing a gun, waving it at the girls, then at Euan. James
could hear his heart thumping and his mouth was dry as a stick. He slunk away, slowly at first, then ran as fast as his legs would carry him to his house. But as he did, he suddenly remembered the car he’d spotted in the layby up by the field he’d just been in. He’d seen it for the first time in the distance as he was walking in the field yesterday. He was sure it was there again today, but had thought nothing of it and assumed someone was taking a shortcut. But now, he realized that this meant there could be more of these bastards. He threw open the door of his farmhouse, his hands trembling as he grabbed the key to the old pantry.

*

Big Gordy was feeling buoyant as Terry drove the Jag out of Glasgow and onto the motorway. He’d have a pocket full of diamonds on his way back, and he planned to take the big driver for lunch on the way home as a bit of a celebration. A pocket full of diamonds. Christ! You could nearly get a song out of that. He thought of his ma and how she’d be egging him on, especially now that his mind was made up that he was chucking Glasgow and moving to Spain. But first, he’d have to deal with these two bitches who thought they’d made a tit of him. Making him sign over the club. He’d just shoot the fuckers and be done with it. Who gave a fuck how long their bodies lay there festering? The old farmer would find them eventually, but he’d be long gone by then.

Terry drove up to the front of the cottage and switched off the engine.

‘Will I come in, boss?’

‘Yeah, you might as well. We’ll not be too long, though. Just pick up the case and then sort these birds.’

They both got out of the car and went up to the door. Instinctively, Gordy took a furtive glance around to make sure there was nobody stupid enough to phone the cops. You never knew with those two nutters inside, and he’d already seen that the farmer could be a bit of a meddling bastard. So if he came anywhere near, poking his nose in, he was getting it too. He wasn’t in the mood to piss around. He knocked on the door. Nothing. He shrugged, then rapped on it harder. He winked at Terry when he heard the lock being turned, then the door opened, and his jaw dropped to the ground. It was the barrel of the gun he saw first. And some baldy, scar-faced bastard behind it.

‘What the fuck!’

‘Shut it and get in here.’

Gordy recognised the voice coming from inside the house, and a chill ran through him. Johnny Vanner. In the name of fuck!

They both stepped inside slowly, the gun pointing at them all the time. He knew Terry was tooled up, and so was he, but a lot of good it was going to do them now. Fucking Vanner! That wee Paul had done this. Bastard! He was
choking with rage and could feel sweat inside his shirt, and the hairs on his neck standing up. Get a grip, he told himself. Think fast. There has to be a way out of this.

‘Johnny! What the fuck is
this
, man?’

‘
This
, my friend, is why I’m the kingpin down south and you’re just a pile of steaming shite from Glasgow.’

‘What the fuck are you talking about? We have a deal here! I was getting the stuff for you. Did you think I was going to do you over?’