Free Long Way Down (A Gus Dury crime thriller) by Tony Black Page A

days past, of Col's Holy Wall. I winced at the memory of my wasted
effort on running the place after his death; but you put a sopping-wet alkie in
charge of a public house and you can expect no less. It was a miracle the place
was still standing.
    The pub was dominated by a circular bar, utilitarian
tables and PVC chairs dotted around the outskirts. A poker-machine — what would
once have been called a simple puggie — sparked and whirred to the left of us.
I nodded to the taps, 'Guinness ... and a wee birdie to chase it.'
    Danny produced a wad thicker than the phone book and
smiled a gold-toothed grin at the barmaid, she was as dour as a stroll out by
the sewage overflows at Porty, shot him a glower and clunked the glasses on the
bar. 'Bag of nuts as well, my girl ...' said Danny.
    Her look said he was lucky to keep the nuts he already
had.
    I took a table at the back of the pub, in the darkness
of a shameless bulb that was clearly on the blink. Danny followed with a tray.
    The creamy Guinness tasted like courage, spiked my veins
and sent my heart ramping. Another gulp and I'd be flicking the switch in my
head that said keep going, don't stop. It was a hair-trigger and always at its
lightest when I had little or nothing going on in the wider world to distract
me.
    'So, spill the beans, Danny ...'
    'Eh?'
    'This isn't a social call.'
    He struggled to open the bag of nuts, started to get
agitated. He shuffled in his seat then put the bag in his teeth and ripped open
the pack. A shower of nuts descended on the table-top. 'Aw, shit ...'
    'Danny ... your nuts have dropped, now man up, what the
fuck is this about?'
    He looked suddenly weary, a cold line of sweat pustules
erupted on his brow. 'Truth be told, Gus, I've been looking for you.'
    I didn't like the sound of this. 'If you've been looking
for me, it's not because you want to find me ...'
    'What?'
    'Has Shakey sent you?'
    He turned in his seat, his arse-cheeks squeaked on the
PVC. 'No. God no.'
    I could tell he was lying, put the bead on him. 'Danny,
don't bullshit a bullshitter.'
    He dropped his gaze and fingered the rim of the table. 'Well,
not exactly.' He looked up, looked away. His voice flattened a little. He was a
man on edge, at the end of his rope, I could see that now ... I knew the
territory. 'What I mean is, well, y'know I work for Shakey and so I suppose in
a way everything comes back to him but this is something I thought out all for
myself.'
    I liked the sound of that even less.
    I fired down the Grouse. 'I'm not with you. Spit it out,
Danny.'
    'I have a job for you.'
    I was skint. Bored as a bastard and verging seriously
close to a skite. But a long way from taking work from gangsters or their shady
acolytes. 'Forget it.'
    'No ... wait, hear me out.'
    I'd fallen foul of Shakey once before, he had me driven
out to the wilds of Midlothian and strung up. 'I'd need my head tested to get
involved with that fucking lunatic. No way.'
    I picked up my pint, started to gulp the Guinness and
rise at the same time. I had no words to say to him, but if there were any
queuing in my mind they were simply: 'Get fucked.'
    Danny seemed to intuit my next move was the door. He got
up and stepped in front of me, his tight Farah trousers looked close to splitting
as he bent down for his Racing Post. Inside the paper was a grey-to-white
envelope, it was held together by an elastic band, a necessity since the
contents were spilling out as he flashed them under my nose.
    'What's this?' I said, lowering my pint.
    'Three grand,' he dipped his head and leaned forward, 'It's
all in used twenties.'
    I don't know who Danny thought he was dealing with but I
set him straight. 'Well that's handy, wouldn't want to be accused of money
laundering transferring it to Switzerland.' I shook my head and walked past
him. I was at elbows with the poker-machine when he grabbed my shoulder and
spun me round.
    'Gus, please ...'
    'No way.'
    He grabbed my sleeve, tugged tight. 'You don't
understand.'
    'I