The Glasgow Grin (A Stanton Brothers thriller) Page 36

  “Swear down… he told me… he was eighteen,” he managed between breaths.

  “Not like a prostitute to lie, is it?”

  “I’d swear to that… in court.”

  “The Graham Rix defence?” Bob replied. “Didn’t work so well for him now, did it?”

  “I’ll still deny it.”

  “But admit to everything else. Hmm, that little line’ll go down well with them employers of yours, won’t it? Police Chief admits to soliciting a male prostitute, but says he swore down he were eighteen.”

  Aimes lowered his face into his hands, mumbling, “This’ll destroy me.”

  “Not if you do as you’re told, when you’re told to do it.”

  Aimes lifted his vomit-glazed face. “Why? What’re you planning?”

  “Nothing that need worry your pretty little grey head.”

  “Bob…”

  “The less you know, the less you can say.”

  Aimes angled his head towards the door. “It’s about that fuckin’ charade out there, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t play charades, Charlie. Just people. Now consider yourself played and shut up.”

  Aimes lowered his hands and stared at Bob, awaiting orders.

  “Should owt concerning Sunrise ever pass across your desk, I want to see it first.”

  Aimes muttered I knew it under his breath, but remained otherwise silent.

  “Forget what you think you know,” Bob said. “Accept that you know nowt and leave it at that.”

  The Chief Constable started to get up. Bob shook his head and lowered his right hand to suggest that Aimes should stay where he was. “I’ve not finished.”

  The man stayed on his knees.

  “If Jack Samson tries to contact you about videos or photographs, I want to know. And when I say know, I mean immediately.”

  “Why?”

  “There’s that word again. You’re not in a position to why me, Charlton. You’re on your knees in a puddle of puke,” he said. “If the word why leaves your cake hole one more time, lad, I’m gonna be done with you and just send this little package of photos to the press.”

  Aimes came forward on his hands and knees and made as if to touch Bob’s leg. But a warning cough from his tormentor made him think better of it. Aimes lowered his head, too afraid to look at his tormentor.

  “Next time I tell you to jump I don’t wanna hear why, I wanna hear how high. We clear on that?”

  “Very.”

  “In fact, should Jack Samson try owt sneaky I want to know about it, don’t care how insignificant it might seem, but especially videos and pics he might be trying to sell.”

  Bob sensed the question in the Chief Constable’s pause, but the man didn’t articulate it. He raised his head and nodded. “Fine.”

  “Don’t look so glum,” Bob said. “The stick’s no bloody use without the occasional carrot to go with it. All this extra work carries a bit extra in the pay packet.”

  Aimes tried to appear happy about being blackmailed, but his half-hearted smile was little more than a moustache hair away from becoming a grimace. Bob looked down on the man in more ways than one and then put the phone back in his inside jacket pocket.

  “Might be best if leave through the back door. You look a mess, Charlie. When I need you I’ll get in touch.”

  As he left the room, Bob caught the unmistakeable sound of Aimes crying. It was an ugly, choking sound filled with desperation and self-loathing.

  It cheered Bob up considerably. Aimes would work hard to keep his secret: he’d do more than just cover the mistakes; he’d be another pair of eyes to pick out the mistakes before they ever happened.

  Larry strode down the corridor, short-stepping like he needed to piss badly. Bob blocked his path. Larry’s face twitched and his eyes angled towards the toilet door. “Mr Owden, I need…”

  “Somebody’s been very ill in there,” Bob said. “Right mess. Vomit everywhere.”

  The cleaner’s mouth tightened and he exhaled through his nose. “Do you know where there’s another toilet?”

  Bob nodded over Larry’s shoulder. “Back the way you came. Near reception.”

  Larry turned. Bob hooked a big hand around his shoulder before he could leave. He swivelled around and looked at Bob. “Sir?”

  “I want you to do something for me before you go. A promise, actually.”

  Larry managed a tight-lipped smile, but it was merely to disguise a grimace of pain. “Sir?”

  “Promise me you’ll watch your employers.”

  Larry’s expression slackened with confusion. “I don’t under…”

  “Course you don’t understand, lad,” Bob replied, squeezing his fingers into Larry’s bony shoulder. The cleaner winced and stiffened, trying to say something, but that only made Bob squeeze harder. “I’m not expecting you to understand. If I wanted you to understand, I’d explain it to you.”

  Larry looked conflicted. There was pain on his face and fear in the eyes, plus some degree of hesitation that culminated in a brief, uncertain shake of the head – a trace of loyalty to his new employers for the paltry paycheck he received every month. Bob’s grip brought tears to his eyes and made him bend at the knees.

  “That looked like a shake of the head, lad. Were it?”

  “They’re my employ-aaah.”

  “And I’m Bob bloody Owden, lad. And you’ll obey my word as you would the word of God, or I’ll have you down on your knees, pissing in this corridor like a bloody animal.”

  “Please, sir, I’ll do it. Just let me go.”

  Larry groaned and wriggled until Bob released him. He leaned against a wall, rubbing his shoulder and stared at Bob, who smiled back at him.

  “Gupta and Mike. You’re going to watch them for me, aren’t you?”

  Larry nodded silently.

  “People who come and go, meetings they have, trucks and deliveries that come in and out, unexpected cash transactions, you’re going to watch it all. You’re going to listen.”

  Larry turned his head in the direction of the reception and then looked down at his crotch. His discomfort was increasing. He did small hops from one leg to the other, but didn’t seem aware that he was doing it.

  “Every month I’ll put a little extra cash in your pocket, lad. Strictly off the books, of course. Now promise me, and I’ll let you go.”

  Larry gritted his teeth, hissing his promise through them.

  Bob dismissed him with a wave of the hand. Larry took off at speed, back along the corridor, groaning loudly, his hands wandering in the direction of his crotch. Bob’s mocking laughter followed him down the corridor.

  Today had turned out splendidly.

  Hollis Haulage was dead.

  All hail the Sunrise.

  If You Enjoyed This Book...

  The Stanton brothers will be back soon in Bangkok Bound and also in the ‘earlier’ tales: A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Billingham Forum and Sexy Lexy. They will also make a cameo appearance in the first Mark Kandinsky novel The Amsterdamned. Bob Owden will return in We Won’t Leave This World Alive.