Free The Sudden Arrival of Violence: A Glasgow Underworld Novel 3 by Malcolm Mackay Page A

a risk worth taking.’
    William’s sitting in his armchair, nodding his head. The conversation’s become morose. Failing lives. Might as well get that one last miserable question out of the way.
    ‘What about Ma?’
    Calum’s sighing. ‘I don’t want to have to do this to her, but I don’t have a choice. I can’t go see her. People will ask her about me, and I can’t have her place me in the city any time after last night.’
    ‘Fuck’s sake, Calum, you can’t let her think you’re dead. She nearly fell apart when Da died. What’s this going to do to her?’
    ‘Well, what do you want me to do? Go round and tell her the truth. Hey, Ma, guess what: I need to flee the city because I killed a bunch of people! What would that do to her?’
    William’s rubbing his forehead. ‘We’ll come up with something. I won’t have you dying on her, poor old cow. You’re her blue-eyed boy. We’ll find a way to keep her content.’
    Now William’s gone out for a couple of hours. He was due to meet some friends to play five-a-side football. Does it every Tuesday after work. He wanted to cancel; Calum said no. You go and you act normal. Nobody thinks there’s anything going on. You do nothing that raises an eyebrow. So he’s gone. Agreed to send a text to Calum’s mobile. He’ll send a couple more, and make a few calls in the next few days. Calling a phone he knows is lying on Calum’s kitchen table. Keeping up appearances. Calum knows how this will work. William’s upset because his little brother is going away. Because there’s risk involved. He’s not bothered about the risk to himself. It’s Calum he’s frightened for. Calum’s the one who could be killed for walking away from a man like Peter Jamieson. But tomorrow William will be bustling with energy. Ready to face the challenge. Ready to go and see the counterfeiter. Play his part. It’s a reassuring thought. Comforting to have someone else’s enthusiasm to feed off.

11
    Richard David Hardy. A sixty-one-year-old widower. A professional accountant all his working life. A regular at his local church. A hard-working individual. A gentleman. An intellectual. And one crooked little son of a bitch. That was DI Michael Fisher’s first instinct after a quick glance around the office, and he’s not finding anything to prove him wrong. He’s carefully writing out the list of clients mentioned on file. Of the eleven so far, there are only two names he doesn’t recognize. The nine others are all names that have crossed his path at one time or another. In Fisher’s experience, it is fair to judge a man by the company he keeps. To be honest, none of these men are in the top rank. None of them are serious players. They’re all low- to middle-grade criminals. Schemers and crooks of various varieties, but nobody Fisher would work up a sweat to arrest. Not worth it. None of them worth it but one. Hugh ‘Shug’ Francis.
    That file’s caught his attention. He’s flicking through it now. Sitting at Hardy’s desk, the office door open. Higgins and McIntyre are still around. The two women across the hall have developed a habit of leaving and returning to their office. All so that they can peek in through the office door and see what Fisher’s doing. They’ll see nothing interesting. What they’ll see is the sort of thing that gets a conviction. Flicking through pages of numbers, trying to work out what should be there and what shouldn’t. There’s plenty. Hardy keeps details. There seems to be info on every deal Shug’s done, every employee he keeps. It’ll take an expert to unpick it all. Work out what Hardy changes, to make the numbers add up. Something must have been changed. There are people listed here who must be involved exclusively in criminal work for Shug. Money brought in through criminal work, and then hidden amongst the honest cash.
    Fisher’s closing the book. Take a step back and consider everything you have. Hardy’s gone missing. Car’s