A Matter of Blood Read Free Page B

effect, for leaving the firms alone. Cass always thought of it as a non-performance-related pay scheme.
    In the main, most coppers - Cass among them - were happy to take it. No one wanted to spend their days chasing low-life scum just so they could earn a decent wage. There would always be people out there selling drugs, and even more that wanted to buy them, and yes, they could drive themselves into early graves chasing them all endlessly, but what would be the point? There was always someone else more than happy to take over, and as far as Cass was concerned, they could carry right on with their business, as long as they didn’t start making things dangerous for mainstream society.
    The world wasn’t fair. Instead, like Cass, it was just tired - but when those firms stepped across the line and let their business affect the ordinary world of the nine-to-fivers, then he felt his blood rise and the policeman in him came to life. And as long as that didn’t happen, the system worked just fine and everyone was happy.
    ‘Today’s been in a league of its own.’ The beer was cool and it left a refreshingly bitter after-taste at the back of his throat.
    ‘Yeah?’ On the other side of the bar, Artie watched him. ‘They still got you coming after me for the murder of those two boys?’ His eyes were hard. ‘Not that I have to ask. I’ve developed a case of permanent plainclothes shadow. It’s a right pain in the arse when I’m trying to do business. I should sue you lot for loss of income.’
    Cass shrugged and Artie smiled. Beneath the surface warmth, there was something of the shark in it.
    ‘Funny how my money buys safety for my employers, but not for me, isn’t it?’
    ‘You know the bonus doesn’t cover that kind of shit. They might have been aiming for Macintyre, but whoever shot those kids broke the rules. All bets are off in this case.’
    There was a pause and Artie sipped his beer, then looked at Cass thoughtfully over the rim of the glass. For his own part, Cass lit a cigarette and then met the man’s gaze. He was tired and all he wanted to do was go and shower Carla Rae’s death away, but he’d known this conversation was on the cards. The boys had been gunned down the week before, and all fingers pointed to Artie Mullins. For those screaming for a quick arrest, Artie was the obvious choice. Sam Macintyre was becoming quite a force among the firms, and he was a clear rival to Artie’s rule. It was pretty obvious that he had been the drive-by shooter’s target, even though it was the two kids, who just happened to be passing by, who ended up bleeding to death on the pavement. The whole thing was a fuck-up and everyone was screaming for a name, the press, the commissioner, even the rival firms. Both sides of the law wanted it sorted quickly so they could get a swift return to the status quo.
    ‘What’s your view though, Detective Inspector?’ Artie put his glass down. ‘You think I did it?’
    ‘No.’ Cass met his gaze. ‘Not your style.’ He meant it too. Artie Mullins had been around a long time. If he’d wanted Sam Macintyre taken out, he wouldn’t have done it Hollywood Mafia style. ‘Not that my opinion counts for much,’ he added. ‘I’m only the officer in charge. My job is just to do as I’m told and take the shit if we don’t catch someone.’
    ‘It counts to me.’ The cold glint had left Artie’s sunken eyes and Cass felt a small knot untie in his stomach. He wasn’t ashamed of being slightly afraid of Arthur Mullins. It was probably a healthy response.
    ‘I don’t want Macintyre dead.’ Artie sniffed. ‘Not yet anyway. He’s ambitious, but that’s not always a bad thing. And the Irish are better than the Yardies. That lot don’t have any code. And if I did want him sorted, then I wouldn’t have done it so fucking loudly. I’d have taken him out somewhere private - somewhere he wouldn’t be found.’
    Cass nodded. ‘That’s what I figured. But you’re the top