The Night the Rich Men Burned (31 page)

Marty’s nodding. This is Potty pushing him into a corner. A corner he doesn’t want to be in. Looking at his watch. Making a show of it, but he does need the office cleared. Grateful for the excuse to get rid of Potty, before he’s forced into making a decision. Making a commitment.

‘Damn it. Listen, I have a fellow coming to use the office. Good guy, doesn’t like to have other people here when he’s having his wee meetings. It’ll scare him.’

‘Of course,’ Potty’s saying, struggling to his feet. No arms on the chair for him to use as leverage. Might be an excuse, might be genuine. Sort of thing he can understand, people looking for a good office to use. Hard in this business to find a reasonable place. ‘But you let me know when you’ve made a decision.’

Marty nodding. Trying to seem all enthusiastic. Walking Potty to the door and opening it for him. Not going to walk him down the stairs. Doesn’t have the time for that. Besides, Potty won’t want someone like Marty treating him like he’s disabled. He’s not, he’s just fat. Marty’s back across to the desk and sitting in the chair. Both hands on the top of his head, leaning back in the chair. Potty coming to him for a union. Talking about what they could do together, like it’s that easy. They wouldn’t be a great fit. And why go looking for any help at all? MacArthur’s his buddy. Why not use MacArthur for protection? Must be because MacArthur isn’t willing. Must be. Potty’s under attack and he doesn’t have cover. So he’s desperate.

A desperate Potty Cruickshank. He could use that. He could. It would be fantastic, if the best-case scenario played out. He could have Potty under his thumb. He could use Jamieson’s influence to force Potty under control. He could make a killing. But he won’t. Won’t because he doesn’t trust Potty. Won’t because Jamieson would never trust Potty. Wouldn’t want him anywhere near his business. Won’t because he has a better offer. A tough bastard like Billy Patterson is an excellent weapon to use against Potty. A man with no other baggage, a man with reason to try and make this work. Marty and Potty would be a bad fit. Marty and Patterson? That could work.

8

He’s early. And now he’s complaining about where they’re meeting. This isn’t like Paul Greig. Making a big play of the house they’re meeting in, like it’s the worst option he’s ever seen. Like he’s used to so much better. He seems tense. Peterkinney isn’t saying anything. This is a routine meeting, nothing more. Routine for Peterkinney, anyway. Whatever’s crawled up Greig’s arse is Greig’s business. He should be professional enough to leave it at the door.

‘You need to start thinking bigger,’ Greig is saying, slumping onto the couch.

Little bit over a year ago Peterkinney had no job. Now he has a business of his own. An established, credible collector. And he’s still only twenty-one. Now Greig’s shouting at him to think bigger. Doesn’t make any sense at all, but you have to let people rant.

‘I’m thinking big,’ is all Peterkinney’s saying. Saying it calm, a little disinterested, wanting Greig to get down to business.

‘Thinking big. Aye right. You don’t know what big is.’ Saying it with a mutter and looking down at the floor. Making no effort to hide the fact that there’s something very wrong in his life.

‘Problems?’ Peterkinney’s asking. Not concerned at all. Sounding a little smug. A man with no problems of his own. Sounding like a man who disapproves of Greig bringing his problems to work with him.

Peterkinney hasn’t earned the right to talk in that tone to Paul Greig. Not yet, anyway. Boy has potential, but you don’t act superior to a guy like Paul Greig this early in your career.

‘Problems?’ Greig’s saying. ‘Yeah, I got problems. I got problems all over the fucking place. I’m under pressure and I need a little support. Am I getting it? Am I fuck. You help people your whole life, soon as the going gets tough they disappear. You’re no different. Don’t you go pretending that you are. Don’t you go pretending with me. Would you go into battle for me?’

‘Do you need me to?’ Peterkinney’s interrupting. Fed up of hearing this, wanting an end to it.

Greig’s laughing at that. ‘You couldn’t if you wanted to, kid, couldn’t if you wanted to. Forget about it. Let’s just focus on what we’re here to talk about. Just so you know, there are things going on. I’m under pressure. I might need to lower my profile for a while if I get through this at all. Don’t get all shocked if I go off the radar for a while. A long while, maybe.’

Peterkinney’s nodding. Making an effort to look concerned, but he couldn’t care less. He’s long past the point of thinking someone like Paul Greig is important. Greig is helpful, but he’s nothing more than that. Most of what Greig will ever do for him, he’s already done. Peterkinney remembers that first meeting. The pick-up with Howie Lawson. Lord knows what’s happened to him since. Meeting Greig and being so impressed with him. Not any more. It was good to have his guidance in the early days. Still good to have a police contact. But let’s not pretend Peterkinney still sees Greig as important. Certainly not as important as Greig sees himself. And would he go into battle for him? No. No, he wouldn’t.

‘Okay, well, anything I can do, let me know,’ Peterkinney’s saying.

Greig’s waving a hand. ‘Forget it. I’ll let you know if there’s anything you need to know.’ A dismissive hand for a man who can easily be dismissed. Wouldn’t have dismissed Potty Cruickshank that way. Might have tried to use Cruickshank’s help. Cruickshank is connected enough to make a difference. Not this kid. Not yet. Greig’s own fault. Wanted someone younger that he could better control. The price of that is that he hasn’t built enough strength to use yet.

‘So what’s the news?’ Peterkinney’s asking.

‘They arrested Potty yesterday morning. You probably heard. Let him go yesterday afternoon. Plan is to try and gather more evidence and arrest him again. Seems like the accountant isn’t as feeble and talkative as I thought he’d be. He’s keeping his trap shut, for now. That could change. The way things are stacked, the info we already have, there should be a second arrest on Potty. Should be charges against him.’

Peterkinney nodding. That’s the news he wanted to hear. He wants Potty weak. He wants to make some serious moves. Getting an itchy trigger finger. You start fast, and things inevitably slow. This is the challenge now. The need for patience. The earlier in the process, the faster you grow. The more you grow, the harder it is to grow much further. Peterkinney can feel it slowing down. Not that it’s going badly. Just that that breakneck sense is waning. He wants it back. The sense of momentum. You get it back by taking on opponents. Taking their business. You lurch forwards by swallowing them. That’s what Peterkinney wants. That’s why he wants to bring down Potty. More business, more money, more success.

‘You have to be careful,’ Greig’s warning him. There’s a depressed tone. Like he’s about to say something he learned from painful experience. ‘Doesn’t much matter who brings Potty down. I mean, good that someone does, but that’s not the pay-off. Him out of the business isn’t the prize. The prize is taking his share of the market. You won’t be the only one aiming for it. There’ll be a queue.’

‘And I’ll be at the front of it.’

Greig’s shaking his head. The boy’s getting a little bit too confident now. ‘You won’t be at the front. It won’t be some orderly line. Never bloody is. It’ll be a mad scramble. And it won’t just be the usual suspects either. It’ll be people who worked for Potty, wanting to start on their own. Thinking their inside info will serve them well. It’ll be every opportunist little shit in this city. It’ll be big people like Alex MacArthur thinking they might as well take a slice of the business if it’s going free. No bigger opportunists than the big organizations.’

Peterkinney’s shaking his head. This isn’t the conversation he wanted to have. ‘So you’re saying I take Potty Cruickshank and in return I get fuck-all. Actually, less than fuck-all. In return I get a bunch of other people who might try to take me down?’

Greig’s shaking his head. Not the boy taking Potty down, it’s Greig. But he’ll let that slide. ‘If you wait, yeah, that’s what you get. What you want to do is take advantage now. Start pulling business away from Potty now. He’ll know you’re doing it, but that’s the gamble. He’ll come after you, but when the second arrest comes, he’s finished anyway. If you’re willing to take the risk, then you move now. He’s weak, but he’ll try and hit back. Try and damage you. You just have to hold out until he gets arrested.’

‘Hold out?’ Peterkinney’s saying with a confident smile. ‘I can do more than that.’

‘No,’ Greig’s saying loudly. ‘Don’t be some fucking idiot about this. He attacks you once so you attack him twice. That’s all bullshit. You don’t fight back. You don’t do anything. You get into a war with that fat bastard while the police are investigating him and you get swept up in the arrests. Us cops aren’t fucking blind, you know. A guy we’re investigating is being attacked and we’ll see it. We’ll do something about it. You hold out. You take his business while everyone knows he’s weak. You make him look even weaker. Then you sit back and let the police take him down for you. You get rid of him without breaking sweat.’

There’s a pause while Peterkinney considers this. The idea of getting rid of Cruickshank without even having to attack him is nice. But there’s a problem. The problem of PR. ‘People see me taking shit from him without hitting back. People think I get lucky when the police put him away. That doesn’t help my image.’

‘No, people in the business will think you were playing it this way from the start. They’ll know it. They’ll respect it. It’s not about winning. It’s about winning with as few losses as possible. That’s what people respect. Don’t . . .’ Pausing as he lets his frustration with Peterkinney slide. The boy’s still young. You have to be patient with him. Ambitious and determined, but a little naive. Trying again now that his tone will be calmer, less aggressive. ‘Look, you’re smart. You get it. A lot of people will tell you that you have to look strong. How the way other people see you is important. That’s true, but not at any price. See, the people that really matter are the people you do business with. The people you do business with know the business. They know that someone who takes advantage of a guy getting arrested before he gets arrested is well connected and smart. They will like that. They’ll be impressed and they’ll be intimidated. See what I mean? That’s the PR you want.’

Now he’s got Peterkinney nodding. This is something he can get behind. You might sacrifice a little of your image with the muscle, but you gain more from the moneymen. He can handle that. He’s agreeing with Greig. He’ll work to take business from Potty. He won’t strike back if Potty moves against him. Which he might not, because he knows he’s being watched by the plod. Although he might try one or two sneaky manoeuvres. Take it. Survive it. Then profit.

Greig’s up and walking to the door. ‘Listen, this stuff about me going off the radar. It’s not a maybe, it’s a definite. There’s a lot of stuff going on. But I’ll still be around, sort of. I’ll keep in touch, now and again.’ He can see that Peterkinney isn’t bothered by that. He can see the boy doesn’t think he’s important any more. Which is fine. Happens with all of them eventually. They think a cop as a contact is a great thing at first. Then they get blasé about it. Finally they start to resent you because you don’t do everything they want. So be it. Important thing to Greig is getting someone like Potty Cruickshank off the streets. That fat scumbag and his family have done so much damage in this city. Potty won’t survive a year in prison, and he’ll get at least that. The collection industry will be better in the hands of someone more controllable, like Peterkinney.

Greig’s gone. Peterkinney sitting and waiting a decent amount of time before he leaves. Doesn’t matter what his grandfather thinks. Doesn’t matter what any of them think. He has a plan. He’s going to take down Potty, and then all the rest of them. He’ll have the whole collection business under his control by the time he’s twenty-five. Then what? Ha. Easy. Then he goes looking for other challenges. Shit, he could have the city under his thumb by the time he’s thirty. See what his grandfather thinks of that.

9

He knew Glass would sleep late. Physically and emotionally drained. Arnie had been to the shops and back and started making lunch by the time he showed his face. Not a great face to show. Tired and haggard. If you said he was thirty-five, Arnie would believe you. Kid looks a mess. A mess of his own creation. Walking gingerly, still clutching that stomach.

‘How are the wounds?’ Arnie’s asking.

Glass dropping slowly down into the chair at the kitchen table. ‘Shoulder’s a bit sore but not as bad as it was. Stomach still hurts when I move around.’

‘You hungry?’

‘Yeah, really hungry.’ Trying to remember the last time he ate something, rather than drank or snorted it. Can’t. Yesterday, probably. Might have been the day before. No, yesterday morning. Before he went to see Jefferson. Hell, was that only yesterday. Time slows down when you’re waiting for it to stop.

Arnie’s pottering about in the kitchen. Working silently between frying pan and fridge. Getting the lad something wonderfully unhealthy. Looks like he needs it. Looks skinny, which he didn’t before. Never fat or chubby, but used to be healthy-looking. Now he looks thin, weary and beaten.

Arnie’s putting the plate down in front of him. Watching silently as the boy eats. One of them has to bring it up. One of them has to mention the fact that last night Glass admitted killing a man. Someone certainly has to mention the fact that he turned up in the middle of the night with lumps kicked into him.

‘Do you remember who gave you the beating?’ Arnie’s asking. Ask the safe questions first. A beating is an easy conversation opener compared to murder.

‘I do,’ Glass is saying, slurping tea before he goes on. ‘Bouncers at a club. Ella was there. We had an argument. Some guy got between us and there was a scuffle. I think him and his mate landed a few blows. I think the bouncers probably did too. Threw me out the back of the club. I passed out. Couldn’t make it home after that.’ Said quietly and apologetically.