Free The Drop by Howard Linskey Page A

concrete floor of the warehouse, stepping over puddles. Most of the roof had caved in years ago, leaving it open to the elements and I shivered.
    ‘How did you find him?’ I asked.
    ‘I put the word out I was looking for George Cartwright, unofficial like. I said there was a couple of grand in it if anyone found him, alive or dead. I assumed that was okay.’
    ‘Yeah, no problem.’ That was pennies in our game.
    ‘A few hours later, I get this call. It seems the Western Boyz discovered him when they were patrolling their patch.’
    ‘Shit name for a gang. They sound like a bunch of queer cowboys.’
    ‘This is their area apparently. It’s a no-go zone for civilians and uniforms keep away from it as well.’
    ‘That’s good, should make it easier for my lads to get rid of the body. No one would take their dog for a walk down here.’
    ‘Not unless they had a death wish. The Western Boyz called me first. They’re good lads, know the score.’
    ‘Good lads?’ that was an unusual description.
    ‘For drug peddling, robbing, raping scum bags,” he shrugged, “it’s all relative. We meet worse believe me.’
    ‘They’ll get their two grand. I’ll sort it. Cartwright’s body will be gone in an hour. Tell nobody about this and tell the Western Boyz to keep it schtum too. If they do we might be able to use them again, put some money in their pockets from time to time. Would that appeal to them?’
    ‘I’d say so,’ we walked back to his car and got in. ‘What the fuck was Cartwright doing with Bobby’s money in the first place and how would they know who to hit?’ he asked reflectively, like he wasn’t expecting an answer and, to tell you the truth, that was what was worrying me the most right now. Even Sharp didn’t know about the Drop. He didn’t know how much it was or who it was for, let alone the fact that Cartwright and me were both responsible for delivering it. Only a handful of people in Bobby’s organisation knew about it, which meant we had a rat - and a high level one at that.
    ‘Sharp?’ I called to him as we were climbing into our cars, ‘tell no one about this. I want it buried.’
    ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘what are you going to do?’
    As soon as I could, I called Bobby.
    ‘We’ve got a problem,’ I said.
    ‘Go on.’
    ‘We found our rep,’ I was speaking in that guarded way he preferred over the phone. We treated every conversation like it was being taped or someone could be listening in, ‘it turns out he hadn’t resigned.’
    Bobby sighed, like he’d known it all along but didn’t want to believe the truth.
    ‘Someone’s retired him?’
    ‘Yep.’
    ‘Right,’ he said suddenly, a flash of anger in his voice now he had proof that one of his men had been killed. ‘Find out who and sort it,’ before reminding me, ‘that’s what I pay you for,’ then he added the single word, ‘Monday,’ as if I needed reminding of the deadline.
    Laura was still asleep when I got in but I knew I wouldn’t be able to rest if I’d wanted to. The whole thing was going through my mind, over and over again but it boiled down to very simple questions. Who has done this thing and why? I’d gone through everybody I could think of. I’d started with the main players in cities within striking distance of us, the family firms who controlled large patches of Glasgow, Edinburgh, Manchester and Liverpool, but surely they had enough on their plate without starting a war with us over our city. I put myself in their shoes, dispassionately weighing up the risks and advantages of launching an attack on a rival family in a city I didn’t know and I came to the conclusion I wouldn’t risk it myself, not for millions. It was too dangerous, too likely to threaten their current empires and would just result in tit-for-tat killings with no side fully destroying the other. It would be messy, bloody and expensive and it might just give the police all of the evidence they needed to put everybody involved