The Sudden Arrival of Violence: A Glasgow Underworld Novel 3 Read Free Page A

Pitch-black. No sign of lights ahead. They must be into some sort of woodland. A part of the world that Richard Hardy could not be less familiar with. This is making no sense at all. Richard’s looking at Mullen. Mullen’s not looking back. He’s just staring ahead, into the darkness.
    The car’s slowing almost to a stop. There’s a building there. Looks like a barn, but Richard only caught a glimpse in the headlights. The car’s stopping beside it, reversing. Turning to face the other way.
    ‘No, a little further,’ Mullen’s saying.
    The driver’s moving the car a fraction to the right.
    ‘That’s it,’ Mullen’s saying now. Satisfied they’re in the exact place. Exact place for what?
    The driver’s switched the engine off, but left the headlights on. Shining off into the trees. Ahead of them a circle of flat land beside the barn where they’ve parked, and trees all around. Now the driver, DC Russell, is getting out of the car. Doesn’t seem to be doing so with any great enthusiasm. He’s closed his door, left the two of them alone in the back. Russell’s walking round behind the car. Richard’s turning to look. Russell’s opening the boot.
    ‘Your client, Hugh Francis,’ Mullen’s saying quietly. It’s a slight struggle to hear him. Russell’s clattering about in there, taking things out of the boot that sound heavy. Something rustling, something else dropped on the ground.
    ‘Mr Francis, yes, the garage owner,’ Richard’s saying enthusiastically. Such a nice young man, Shug Francis. Always treated Richard well, always been loyal. Richard does his books for him. Handles his payroll. Has more employees than he ought to, and Richard hides that for him. Not a big deal.
    ‘What can you tell me about his financial records?’
    ‘Well, er, I don’t know. This would be easier back at the office with his records in front of me.’ Pausing, considering. ‘There have been times when, I guess you could say, I’ve wondered about one or two things. Some of the money he brings in, where it comes from. Why he has quite so many employees. Nothing blatant. Nothing significant, I wouldn’t have said.’ Pausing again. That didn’t sound like enough. He needs to offer them more to keep them happy. ‘Of course I’d be willing to show you the complete accounts.’
    Mullen hasn’t said anything. Just a raising of eyebrows, and Richard knows what it means. Knows the cop is saying that looking at the books means nothing. Means the police know that Richard’s been subtly adjusting the figures to make Francis Autos look more legitimate than it really is.
    ‘I admit that I’ve . . . ensured that, er, Shug’s books add up. Perhaps I’ve broken the law. I accept that. I’ve needed to make sure that the figures add up. I basically handle his payroll. I needed to make the figures work for the number of employees he has.’ Talking more quickly as the sentences go on.
    Mullen’s nodding, as if he knows all this already. It’s because he knows it that he’s here. He knows that for the last few years Richard has been making sure that all Shug’s people get paid each month.
    There’s a thump behind them. The boot closing. Richard’s catching a glimpse of DC Russell walking past the car with a large bundle under his arm. Hard to see what it is. He’s walking in front of the car now. Dropping the bundle on the ground. It looks blue. He’s pulling something out. Also blue. Looks like a sheet of tarpaulin. He’s spreading it out carefully, about halfway between the trees and the car. Now he’s picking up the rest of the bundle and walking across to the trees. He’s only gone about three or four feet into them. Still in view of the car. Richard and Mullen both watch him. Each seems as concerned as the other. Watching him lay out the rest of the tarpaulin. Carefully taking out the contents that had been wrapped within it. Two shovels. Something white. Looks like a towel. Russell starting to dig. Richard’s