booksnew/source/Full Proof/C20.txt

     Had he followed her here?</p>
     <p>"Can I get you something?" The girl held up a cup.</p>
     <p>Kate shook her head, craning forward to watch him striding fast down the street towards George Square. Something was different about him. The suit looked new. And she'd never seen him with a briefcase either. It gleamed a burnished ox-blood.</p>
     <p>Kerrigan Deane had persuaded the sheriff to slap on the interdict against Aitkenbar Distillery.</p>
     <p>"It's a holding operation," he said. "All that does is prevent any action on their part until they come to court and try to get it lifted."</p>
     <p>"Can they do that?"</p>
     <p>"Of course they can try. But at the moment they can't take any action, which gives your organisation the chance to prepare your case. As I see it, the research we have provides us with a <em>prima facie </em>case."</p>
     <p>"We've got some research. Where did you get yours?"</p>
     <p>"I'm afraid that's confidential. But it is very informative, very detailed, and  as far as I can see, historically accurate."</p>
     <p>She wished she knew his source, but that was as far as she was going to get today.</p>
     <p> "Whatever. It's there. On the face of it, there is a strong a case for public ownership of the River Harbour which will stand as long as Mr Sproat cannot produce title deeds. Initial checks show this is a strong possibility, but one never knows when we're dealing with ancient history. This  will at least prevent the destruction of the harbour in the meantime. In a word, he's stuck."</p>
     <p>"That's all we want," she said. "If he can't dump the buildings in the basin, we'll win."</p>
     <p>Jack had talked through it out on the Creggan Cliffs, before that boy almost drowned down near the rocks. Sproat needed that big hole in the river to bulldoze the rubble and reclaim all that acreage of land. If he couldn't use the river, it would have to go somewhere else and that would cost millions in landfill tax, millions that Sproat didn't want to spend,  millions Sproat didn't have anyway, Jack had said.</p>
     <p>Now they had a chance, thanks to whoever the mystery benefactor was who had funded this operation. Kate had a sneaking suspicion about that. It could have been the fellow from the big yacht, the one who had somehow traced her and gone round to thank Jack for saving his son. He certainly looked as if he was worth some sort of money. Kerrigan Deane was steadfast in his refusal to disclose that piece of information, but it didn't matter. It would have taken Charter 1315 months to raise the money they needed, maybe a year, and by that time the distillery would be down, dumped in the river, and the shopping mall developers in on the new site.</p>
     <p><em>Damn Jack Lorne.</em> He had helped kick this whole thing off, in a way. His anger at the steady drain of jobs and money from the area had spurred her on with the charter protesters. </p>
     <p>Then despite all that, he had turned his back in it and his bunch of wild men had hijacked the big whisky decant like a gang of hoods. She couldn't understand that at all.</p>
     <p>She recalled his look of surprise and incredulity when she had come round the corner, sizzling with anger, and  lumped him one on the jaw.</p>
     <p><em>You stole a tanker of whisky?</p>
     <p>No. I stole </em>two<em> tankers of whisky.</em></p>
     <p>He'd kept his face straight, dead serious.</p>
     <p><em>I needed a head start. It was payback time for that arsehole.</em></p>
     <p>That wasn't the laid-back Jack Lorne of old. He'd had a look in his eye she'd never seen before. What was it, anger? Bitterness? Maybe both. He sounded tougher, harder. And he wasn't for backing down one inch.</p>
     <p><em>....twenty seven years old milkman with maybe a chance of a job in an office. Work my way up to middle management by the time I'm forty and then get kicked out for being past it.</em></p>
     <p>This was a new Jack Lorne. He'd been coasting for so long, taking it easy, the original laid back retro-music man. Now the police were after the raiders at Aitkenbar, after <em>him</em>, and if they caught up he'd go down for five years, Jack and that whole team of daft boys who never grew up.</p>
     <p>And it would break her heart.</p>
     <p>She froze, just on the point of stepping out of Starbucks.</p>
     <p>"Cappuccino? Latte?" the girl's voice seemed way in the distance.</p>
     <p>He could go to jail and it would break her heart. The realisation of just how much she cared felt stopped her dead and shook her to the core. <em>Damn damn damn!</em></p>
     <p>Kate finally got a hand to the door and walked out into the busy street. He was far down the slope now, waiting for the lights to change and her heart was still pounding harder than it should.</p>
     <p>Did he have any idea how she felt?</p>
     <p>And how did she feel anyway?</p>
     <p><em>Damn him.</em></p>
     <p>He was way in the distance now, head and shoulders just visible.</p>
     <p>It was just then that his appearance finally struck her. What was he doing with an Armani suit? And what the hell had he done to his hair?</p>
     <p>Early Monday morning and  Jack juggled the grille and the frying pan. The smell of bacon and eggs and fried tomatoes filled the kitchen and soon percolated through the house. Donny was at the table, still wrapped in the dressing gown. Jack was stiff from another night on the couch, but that would wear off quickly when he got busy. Ed buttered the rolls while Sandy read the paper. </p>
     <p>Donny had woken in the middle of the night and come downstairs, still favouring his side.</p>
     <p>"What's the matter? You still hurting?" Jack came awake quickly at the sound of the door opening and sat up, yawning, while the dream he'd had fragmented into shards and he tried to hold on to them as they scattered.</p>
     <p>"It's okay," Donny said.</p>
     <p>"You need a doc?"</p>
     <p>"No. I think I just tore a muscle."</p>
     <p>"You never had any muscle to tear, you big Jessie." Jack reached over and ruffled Donny's hair. All the anger was gone now. <em>Friends</em>. You couldn't pick them, not when you were a kid. They were just like families sometimes. You had to make allowances.</p>
     <p>The anger had evaporated, replaced by a determination to get past this.</p>
     <p>Donny's face was still pale and miserable, more so in the thin light that leaked in between the slats of the blinds.</p>
     <p>"Jake, I..." he began.</p>
     <p>"You tell me you really, really love me, I'll hook you."</p>
     <p>"No its..."</p>
     <p>"I know what it is, man. You screwed up. Okay. Right. That's it said. And so did I."</p>
     <p>Jack punched him on the shoulder, hard enough to get his attention. "We can go on about it all day, or we can get on with the business, you and me and the boys."</p>
     <p>Donny looked back at him, surprise and shame fighting it out.</p>
     <p>"Come on Donzo. What's done is done. Everybody has to fuck up. The trick is to shove past it and move ahead, which is what we're doing. We've got a long way to go and you're still my main man. We're all solid, and I mean <em>all</em> of us. And I need you in the team."</p>
     <p>He sat back, suddenly struck by the desire for a fast shot of  Lars Hanssen's good vodka.</p>
     <p>"You want a drink?" he tried to change the subject.</p>
     <p>"No. I'm off it."</p>
     <p>"Good. Stay off it until this is over." The thing with Donny was past. They had to get by the obstacle and think of what to do now. If he dwelt on it, that would slow everything up. He poured a shot, added some fresh orange, using the time to think.</p>
     <p>"What about Ferguson?"</p>
     <p>"Him? He's all mouth and muscle. If he'd brains, he'd be dangerous."</p>
     <p>Jack was just talking now, still holding on to the half dream. Ferguson <em>was</em> dangerous, and not just because he had Cullen and Foley and a whole team of the Corrieside animals on the payroll. He was dangerous because of what he knew, and if he didn't get what he wanted, he'd shop them all, that was for certain. Honour amongst thieves wasn't in his lexicon.</p>
     <p>"He's not daft," Donny said. </p>
     <p>"No. He's got animal cunning, but can he <em>think?</em>"</p>
     <p>Could he really think? Muscle and cunning was sometimes enough. But put Sandy Bruce up against Ferguson, and Jack knew who his money would be on. But Sandy had taken a big risk for him before, and Jack wasn't ready to let that happen again. He'd do it <em>his</em> way. In fact, he'd already, and quite instinctively, started the battle, the first time he went up to Glasgow.</p>
     <p>The dream kept trying to force its way back in on his thoughts again. Jack took another sip of the drink. He'd be all the better for a good night's sleep and a tightener. Something had clarified while he slept and he smiled to himself. It wasn't the first time that had happened. He should sleep more often.</p>
     <p>"Listen man. You get to your bed and we'll talk in the morning. I'm going to need you to do something for me."</p>
     <p>"What's that?"</p>
     <p>"It's a big job. And it's Something only you can do."</p>
     <p>Donny looked at him, grateful, strangely tongue tied. Jack punched him on the shoulder again, the way friends can.</p>
     <p>"You tell me what it is Jake. I'll do it right."</p>
     <p>"I know you will. Now piss off before you start kissing me," Jack said.</p>
     <p>But they hugged anyway. Friends, what could you do?</p>
     <p>Jed Cooper took him aside to ask him a question. They were down by the boat and Donny had gone to start his shift. Tam was on the site, keeping an eye on the big tanks. It had been a busy morning and Ed had woken him at dawn with an idea.</p>
     <p>It was dead simple. Tommy Dunbar was a regular in Mac's Bar and it was easy to keep him occupied for five minutes talking about football at the post office hatch where they handed out the parcels that hadn't been delivered. Ed simply reached around the door and snatched one of the red and blue jackets hanging there and then they both went round to Tim Farmer's house.</p>
     <p>Ed knocked tentatively, while Jack remained outside.</p>
     <p>"What do you want?" The old man's voice came from behind the door.</p>
     <p>"It's the postman," Ed said. He leant in towards the frosted glass, showing the colours. Tim Farmer took his time, and finally opened up.</p>
     <p>"You think this is the town dump?" </p>
     <p>"What do you mean?" Ed was taken by surprise.</p>
     <p>"Look at all this stuff here. Somebody just dumped it through the door. I've a good mind to chuck it in the bin."</p>
     <p>"That's what I'm here about," Ed said. He looked beyond the old fellow and noticed that the shards of pottery had been cleaned up. "There was a mistake. We had a new boy, stuffed the wrong mail through the door. I'm here to collect it."</p>
     <p>"I could charge you storage," the old man said.</p>
     <p>"You could, but that would be interfering with her majesty's mail. You can get three years for that. And a big fine."</p>
     <p>"Really?"</p>
     <p>"True. It's the law."</p>
     <p>"Well you better take it then. Just make sure I don't get any more of this."</p>
     <p>Ed bent, stacked it all together and was gone in a minute. Jack sorted through the pile of envelopes on the way down the road and by the time they reached his grandfather's place, Sandy was gone.</p>
     <p>"Good stuff," he told Ed. "We're finally on our way. Just a couple of days more and we're home clear."</p>
     <p>"As long as we can stay ahead of big Baxter and  that nutter Ferguson."</p>
     <p>"He doesn't know where I am."</p>
     <p>"Let's keep it that way."</p>
     <p>Alistair  Sproat had signed on the line, eager to get his cash flow going now that his own deadline was rushing closer. He had aged five years in the past fortnight and Jack could see the need in his eyes. Daddy's money might have given him the firm and the lifestyle, but he'd never been hungry until now, never really had to work at it, and it was a bit late to learn the tricks. Jack had drawn him out and Sandy had played him like a trout. Kerr Thomson had been crucial to the deal.</p>
     <p>They had cornered him in the car park off river street just after the end of the shift and it was clear he was waiting for Betty McKinley from the charity shop to get off so they could go somewhere quiet. Tam Bowie wondered if they should wait and follow them, but Jack vetoed the idea. There was always a chance she'd get such a fright that she'd blurt it out to her husband and do true confessions. That would just open up a new can of probabilities and imponderables. They needed Kerr Thomson by himself and preferably by the balls.</p>
     <p>Tam knocked on the window and the customs officer didn't recognise him through the glass. Tam flashed him a wallet and mimed rolling the window down. He leant an elbow on the car roof.</p>
     <p>"Mr Thomson?"</p>
     <p>"Yes?" Wariness showed already.</p>
     <p>"I'm afraid you'll have to come with me and answer a few questions."</p>
     <p>"Who the hell are you?" Thomson tried bluster despite the quick fear in his eyes.</p>
     <p>Tam flipped the wallet open again and this time Thomson got a clear look at his own white backside sticking up in the air and his face half turned, mouth slack.</p>
     <p>"Oh shit." He'd seen the flicker in the dark and had thought it was a flashlight.</p>
     <p>"The lady in question works in the charity shop?"</p>
     <p>"How did you.....?"</p>
     <p>"Never mind how. You were warned about your behaviour and it seems you haven't learned a lesson. But there is something else we have to talk to you about. Please step out of the car." </p>
     <p>"Am I under arrest?"</p>
     <p>"That remains to be seen." Tam enjoyed putting it on. He turned to Jack, who stood with his arms folded  at the entrance to the car park and gave him an exaggerated wink. Jack kept his face totally straight. He looked the part.</p>
     <p>They shut the private car park gate behind the chemists shop, shielding themselves from the traffic. Thomson looked Jack up and down, took in the  well cut tweed jacket and the rimless glasses.</p>
     <p>"We have good information that you and Alistair Sproat have been involved in an attempt to defraud Her Majesty's Customs and Excise of its rightful revenue." Jack kept his face stern.</p>
     <p>When Tam showed Thomson the picture of him and Betty McKinley the blood had drained out of his face. Now he looked as if he might have a stroke. Thomson put a hand to his chest and slumped back against the brick wall, breathing hard.</p>
     <p>"No need to tell you how many years you could be facing for offences of this nature," Jack kept up the pressure. "Fraud, conspiracy to defraud. Breach of trust."</p>
     <p>"I...I...I...."</p>
     <p>"You were involved in remarking barrels of bonded spirits in B Hall at Aitkenbar Distillery. I can give you date and times, and if you would like to see them, the surveillance tapes."</p>
     <p>"But there's no surveillance in...." Thomson's mouth closed like a trap.</p>
     <p>"You might think that," Jack said. "You would be wrong." He stood back, folded his arms.</p>
     <p>"However, this is your lucky day. We don't want you. You're small fry. We're even prepared to grant you immunity for your complete co-operation. And my colleague here will try to forget he ever took that interesting artwork. We've been watching you for some time."</p>
     <p>Thomson licked his lips. The beads of sweat that had sprung on his forehead had transformed themselves into rivulets. They could almost see steam rising from under his armpits.</p>
     <p>"What do you want me to do?"</p>
     <p>"I want you to sit down and tell us everything you can. Times, numbers, amounts, everything. Tomorrow, we'll expect to see the relevant paperwork, and we'll expect your complete co-operation and total discretion. You tell anyone about this and the deal is off and I'm afraid you'll be facing multiple charges. Total silence is imperative."</p>
     <p>"And I get immunity? You won't charge me?"</p>
     <p>"You might even get to keep your job if you do this right. We always reward good citizens who realise the error of their ways and help the police with their inquiries."</p>
     <p>Kerr Thomson started talking and didn't stop for two hours.</p>
     <p>Alistair Sproat had supplied the big flatbeds and drivers and it took a morning to roll the barrels out and load them. Things were looking up today, with the news from Dunvegan. They had done the deal in the Drumbuie Hotel on the Friday and Sproat had been cheered up enough to offer them champagne. Sandy took a brandy, looking quite the part in Armani.</p>
     <p>He'd passed the envelope across the table. Sproat made a play of opening the flap and taking a cursory glance inside, too arrogant to get right in there and check in front of them. That was a mistake. The deal was bent and they all knew it, and if you did bent deals, you dealt with bent people. You counted your fingers if you had to.</p>
     <p>"Go on, you count," Sandy said. His accent stayed the distance.</p>
     <p>"This is just the first tranche," Sproat said. "I trust you."</p>
     <p>The five thousand was all there, just a taster. For good faith.</p>
     <p>"We're loading up today. It'll be ready for you tomorrow. And thanks for helping out with the Dunvegan deal."</p>
     <p>Sandy waved his hand, as if it was nothing, and Jack smiled. DJ Munro and the rest of the boys up there had taken a bit of convincing, for it was their redundancy money and their futures stacked up on the line.</p>
     <p>"I hadn't expected a management buy out," Sproat said.</p>
     <p>"All they needed was some leverage," Jack told him. "Mr D'Angeli's associates were pleased to assist."</p>
     <p>"Frankly I thought I'd never get rid of the place. I'm just glad to see it off my hands. No demand for those single malts these days, and it's far too labour intensive. Designer drinks, that's where it's going. You can sell the stuff in three days, not three years, and the tax is by alcohol volume, so your costs are a third. You can't lose."</p>
     <p>"We're just pleased to help," Jack said. "We kill two birds with the one stone. They give us the storage, which means we don't have to take the goods out of customs bond until we need them, which is good for cash flow, and we give them the business."</p>
     <p>"You're happy, we're all of us happy." Sandy said.</p>
     <p>It had been more difficult to persuade DJ Munro than it had been to persuade Sproat. All Sproat could see were fast dollar signs and they had focused his attention on another target. All he needed was to get shot of Dunvegan to concentrate on the Mall deal. Jack had brought DJ down to Kerrigan Dean's office and with the big credit guarantee from the bank they'd thrashed out the details and the lawyer had gone to Aitkenbar to fix it up. Sproat would rather have had the money up front, but Deane explained that the local boys were talking a chance, and Sproat knew they had no major market. At the end of the day, he'd be stuck with an empty distillery and the redundancy payments for the men he was throwing on the scrap. Sproat signed the deal for a ten-year reducing payment and washed his hands of an asset that would have cost a fortune in care and maintenance. What he didn't know was that the money to fund the buy-out came from a bank guarantee on a share of a boat that had been bought with the whisky that had been stolen from under his nose. That would have rankled.</p>
     <p>It would have been a lot worse if he'd known the first moves had been made to obtain the European regional grants that would mean the buy-out by the Dunvegan management and their backers would cost them virtually nothing over the ten years.</p>
     <p>But he didn't know that, and Braveheart Distilling became a reality.</p>
     <p>Jack phoned ahead and told DJ to expect the first delivery. Kerrigan Deane rang him just after that to tell him the property transfer had gone through the register. Everything was coming together now, building up under the plan's own gravity.</p>
     <p>The big trucks got rolling. From Levenford to Skye, it's a long and winding road up through the highlands and out to the wild wastes of the west, and it's rare for Scotch whisky to travel in that direction. Normally it's made up in the north and gets transported south by the same road. But times were changing.</p>
     <p>Kerr Thomson had aged faster than Alistair Sproat had. Ed had watched him as he worked, all the bravado and bluster knocked out of him; like a man imploded. By the Monday afternoon, he had come up with the paperwork Jack needed and Margery Burns searched the records for the rest of it. By this stage, the operation had gained its own momentum. All Jack needed was the word from Lars Hanssen.</p>
     <p>He used the time to set up yet another mail drop, and that was one thing he had planned for, just in case Murphy's Law kept to the usual rules: Anything that can go wrong, <em>will</em>.</p>
     <p>When he said that, Ed told him Murphy was a rose tinted optimist. He was probably right.</p>
     <p>"Trouble's like a wet-suit," Ed said. "Easy to get into, murder to get out of."</p>
     <p>They had a week's credit on the batch of whisky Alistair Sproat was glad to see gone from Aitkenbar distillery, especially since most of the money would be clear profit, no income tax, no VAT. That gave Jack Lorne a breathing space, so long as Lars Hanssen got his boat fixed and managed to get out of the Clyde in just a couple of days time. He could sense Angus Baxter ferreting about the town,  working his way closer. No matter what happened, it was only a question of time before he came sniffing around.</p>
     <p>"He knows it was an inside job," Ed told him.</p>
     <p>"Not entirely."</p>
     <p>"You know what I mean. I'm in the clear anyway, but he looks right through you, as if you're guilty anyway. They haven't figured out when the pipes were welded. There were a dozen guys in the decant room on the night and they're all in the frame."</p>
     <p>"They'll be all right," Jack said with some certainty. "They haven't done anything."</p>
     <p>"That's what you think. They've all been scamming whisky out of that place since they were boys just out of school. They're all shitting their pants thinking Baxter will get them for something."</p>
     <p>Jack laughed. "That's the trouble these days. You just can't trust anybody."</p>
     <p>He got up to Dunvegan on Skye by six that night, almost dead on his feet, and stayed at DJ Munro's place a half mile down the road from the little old distillery that was tucked into a little narrow glen not far from the old castle. He had a fast meeting with DJ's cousin, two quick beers in the back room of the village pub, tying up final details, and when he hit the pillow at nine he fell asleep immediately. DJ's wife woke him with a big breakfast twelve hours later, and at eleven in the morning, the big flatbeds arrived from Aitkenbar, with the hogsheads of young whisky pinned down on their backs with ropes and steadied with big curved wedges.</p>
     <p>At the same time Angus Baxter brought his team of investigators together in the CID operations room in Levenford.</p>
     <p>"The engineers tell me they couldn't have used a gravity feed to fill the tankers." He managed to talk and light his pipe at the same time, a trick that only veteran pipe smokers know. "And from what our observant patrol officers noted, they had a pump. Any leads Jimmy?"</p>
     <p>The young CID constable shook his head. "We're still working on it. The local hire companies have eighty pumps between them, most of them on lease to local contractors. We're checking them all out, but some of them are working out of town, or don't have proper schedules."</p>
     <p>"Give me the full list. Check them with companies house, Benefits Agency, Inland Revenue, the lot. We want to pin them down by tomorrow, so get them at home if you have to. We find that pump and we'll have our men."</p>
     <p>He turned to the rest of them. "They had to have a man on the inside, and somebody who's an expert on pipes. We need to know who all had plans, and we've narrowed the field of expertise down to four people inside the plant. Now I want everything you can get on them. Who they see, where they go. If we have to get taps, them we'll do that. One thing's for sure, we're going to catch this bunch of buggers."</p>
     <p>One of the other constables put his hand up and waited until Baxter caught his eye.</p>
     <p>"I heard there was some whisky getting dealt down the quay."</p>
     <p>"The day it's not, then that'll be a first. The distilleries around here leak like burst mains."</p>
     <p>"I though we should check it out."</p>
     <p>"Fine. Make a couple of inquiries, but they won't be selling this piecemeal down the quay or anywhere else. This is a bulk job and it's been sold already. We just have to find out who it was sold to, and by whom." </p>
     <p>Gus Ferguson was not happy. He was down in his yard adjacent to the lorry park, where he sold a couple of used cars as a cover for the rest of his business. He did not know that he had been operating only yards from the loads of whisky he was now desperate to get his hands on.</p>
     <p>"So where is he?"</p>
     <p>"Nobody's seen him," Seggs Cullen said. "Not for the past week."</p>
     <p>"He must be somewhere. That ginger idiot said he hasn't left town."</p>
     <p>"Well, he's not staying at home. We've asked around."</p>
     <p>Ferguson  bit on his thumbnail.</p>
     <p>"Okay. He's gone to ground. All we have to do is give him a reason to come out again."</p>
     <p>Just as Ferguson began to outline his plan, Jack had gathered the others down at Gillespie's boat to talk about that very problem.</p>
     <p>"He's going to come at us," Tam said. </p>
     <p>"Sure he is. We have to figure out how and when. First we have to keep a low profile. Donny and Ed are staying at my Grandad's place. You three hole up together and keep out of the way. I don't want you on the streets. We need the advantage."</p>
     <p>"Cullen and Foley have been asking questions."</p>
     <p>"Sooner or later, they'll get answers. All we have to do is hold them off for a couple of days."</p>
     <p>"What will Ferguson want? Can we do a deal?"</p>
     <p>"No," Ed said. "You can't deal with him. He's a hyena. We make the kill, he wants to eat it."</p>
     <p>Jack agreed. "We've come too far now. Just so long as we can hold out. Once it's gone, he can't touch us. And neither can Baxter. If he comes asking, we stick to the plan. If he takes anybody in, he'll try the usual trick, playing one off against the other, trying to make you believe somebody's caved in. Just as long aswe all walk together we'll beat that big highlander. Just have to have confidence in each other to know that nobody will say anything, and if we stay tight, he can't break us no matter what."</p>
     <p>He turned to Donny. "How's your end coming along?"</p>
     <p>"Good. I've got fifteen barrels ready to roll. Stencils and the brander."</p>
     <p>"Right. I've got the numbers we need."</p>
     <p>"What's that for?" Tam asked.</p>
     <p>"Need to know. Everybody does their own job."</p>
     <p>Tam knew where the whisky was stashed, but Donny was still in the dark after the Ferguson complication. Jack needed to play it like that. Only he knew the final plan, and if the others knew exactly what it was, maybe they'd have second thoughts. Definitely maybe.</p>
     <p>"How did you get the numbers?"</p>
     <p>"A friend of a friend," Jack said. Nobody else knew what he was talking about.</p>
     <p>Marge Burns had promised the rest of them from the computer files, but Kerr Thomson had come up with what they needed and despite the catastrophe over Donny's fish, the fact that Jack had got Tam out on the bike scouting the streets for intruders on the night of the raid had been a major piece of serendipity. It allowed him to ratchet the plan into another dimension.</p>
     <p>But he was acutely aware of the pressure of time. The only thing he couldn't hurry was the repair job on Lars' boat. </p>
     <p>"Just watch your backs everybody," he said. "Stay away from Ferguson and his hoods, and just act normal."</p>
     <p>Tam laughed. "How can you act normal with your hair like that?"</p>
     <p>Jack ran his hand through it. "Look at the state of me. I'm old before my time."</p>
     <p>Everybody had a job to do. Neil was detailed to hire the lifting gear they'd need and Ed had to help Donny with the empty barrels. Jack knew Ferguson would make his move sooner than later and he had to be ready for him.</p>
     <p>      "He thinks he's got us by the balls, down and out. But remember there's a big difference between kneeling down and bending over."</p>
     <p>Jed stopped him at the bottom of the ladder as the rest of them strolled away from the boat. Night was falling here where the river flowed into the Clyde, and the oystercatchers out on the flats wheedled in the dimming light. A smell of pine and oak woodsmoke mixed with the exotic scent of gorse blossom. </p>
     <p>"Have you seen Marge Burns?" Jed seemed almost embarrassed.</p>
     <p>"What do you mean?"</p>
     <p>"I know you were talking to her. I just wondered if you knew what she was up to."</p>
     <p>Jack  swallowed, wondering what Jed was going to say next. A little greasy trickle of guilt ran through him and he had to force himself to ignore it. Sometimes a man had to do what a man had to do, he'd reasoned. Desperate times needed desperate measures. Any old excuse would do. Jack felt guilty for Jed and for Kate, but no matter what, Marge had been worth her weight in any currency, and paying the price had not exactly been dogged with unpleasantness. Old Marge knew just exactly what she wanted, and she was no hesitant maiden when it came to collecting. Jack just wondered how he could extract himself from it without offending her. Right now he needed everybody pulling together. The last thing he needed was a fatal attraction, and Sandy's racing pigeons baked in a pie.</p>
     <p>"I'm not with you," Jack  lied.</p>
     <p>"I think she's seeing somebody else."</p>
     <p>Jack stopped and stared Jed straight in the eye, forcing himself to look concerned for his friend and not worried for himself.</p>
     <p>"You think so? Any idea who?" Jed could twist and turn on the stock track, but he wasn't really devious. Jack wondered if he was just testing him.</p>
     <p>Jed shook his head glumly. "No. We had a great time, but I don't know what's the matter with her. I went round last night and she never came to the door. I'm sure she was in. That's happened a couple of times. A few weeks back she was all over me like a rash, and now it's like I've got a dose of the pox."</p>
     <p>Jack's mind raced. Had he been round there? Things were moving so fast that it was getting difficult even to keep track of himself. No. He hadn't been there. He breathed a sigh of relief and managed to disguise it.</p>
     <p>"I don't know," he said. "But you know Marge. She's just split up with her man, so she's not going to let the grass grow. And you're not planning to tie the knot, are you?"</p>
     <p>Jed shook his head. "I suppose not. But, jeez Jake, she knows her stuff does Marge. Taught me a thing or two, I can tell you."</p>
     <p><em>I could believe that,</em> Jack thought.</p>
     <p>"Don't tell me," he said, trying to keep it light. "There's some details I don't need. Anyway, you better just ask her straight out, and if it's bad news, don't worry. Remember those Swedish twins at Robert Wardell's party? They're coming back across in a couple of weeks. I can definitely fix you up."</p>
     <p>"I thought you were well in with them. The boys said you had a Swedish sandwich."</p>
     <p>"No, that's just a scurrilous rumour," Jack said. "I've got my eye on somebody else."</p>
     <p>"Kate Delaney, right?"</p>
     <p>Jack tapped the side of his nose.</p>
     <p>"Need to know, old son."</p>
     <p>He smiled conspiratorially, but he still felt like a shit.</p>
     <p>Jed's suspicions gave Jack the excuse he needed. She had been demanding, but he'd always known what a tightrope walk it had been, trading off what he could get from Marge Burns against what she wanted. Now he could genuinely tell her that Jed was asking questions and if he found out what had been going on, well, it would upset him for a start, and he didn't need any cracks developing right now.</p>
     <p>He rehearsed the scenario as he made her way round to her bungalow in Castle Lane in the easy gloaming light just before dark. He'd have to play her and he hoped she wouldn't make a big thing of it. He'd tell her what he'd told Jed: there were plenty of fish in the river, and new ones swimming past every day. </p>
     <p>It was close to midnight when he pushed the gate forward, automatically checking right and left for neighbours peering from behind curtained windows. Her garden was encircled by a high hedge, which gave her plenty of privacy, for which Jack had been grateful.</p>
     <p>He walked round the side of the house to the back door, more intent on getting the figures he needed from her for the next phase of the plan. He was concentrating so much that he didn't see the figure loom out of the gloom until he was right on him.</p>
     <p>"What the...?"</p>
     <p>"Who the....!"</p>
     <p>Jack pulled back a tight fist, ready to  throw a jab, and he froze.</p>
     <p>"Sandy?"</p>
     <p>"Jack?" More of a whisper than a spoken question.</p>
     <p>"What are you doing here?" The pair of them spoke at exactly the same time.</p>
     <p>Jack pulled him round towards the front, where a street light gave just enough illumination. He couldn't see the colour, but Sandy was shifting from foot to foot, body language eloquent of cringing embarrassment.</p>
     <p>"You dirty old bugger," Jack finally said, when the coin dropped. "I thought you were kidding about this."</p>
     <p>"Hell Jack, I <em>was</em> kidding, but <em>she</em> wasn't."</p>
     <p>Jack had to really get a grip on himself to stop from bursting into laughter.</p>
     <p>"Does she still think you're Italian?"</p>
     <p>This time Sandy coloured to the darkened roots of his hair. "No. But she likes me to talk it. She says it's like Robert Di Niro."</p>
     <p>"More like John bloody Cleese," Jack said. He let go his grandfather's lapel and looked up at the sky where flimsy clouds scraped past the thin crescent moon. "Thank you dear lord!"</p>
     <p>"What's that supposed to mean?"</p>
     <p>"Nothing. It's too long a story. All you have to know is you've solved a big problem for me. Just so long as you don't have a heart attack while you're at it."</p>
     <p>This time Sandy pulled him forward and lowered his voice.</p>
     <p>"You're not kidding Jack. She's bloody insatiable. But I'll tell you one thing."</p>
     <p>"What's that?"</p>
     <p>"I can still pull the chicks, right?"</p>
     <p>
Chapter 20:  Full Proof                                                                                                                                   Joe Donnelly




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