The Death Of Ronnie Sweets Part 4

The old man laughed and scratched at his neck like he had fleas.

"You won't get her," he said.

"Why not?"

"Been gone. Three days.

"Gone?"

"Dead, son," said the old man. He stopped laughing and his face hardened with the doomed wisdom of age. "Dead."

"Did you know her well?"

"Why do you want to know?"

I shrugged. "I knew her son.

"Get the h.e.l.l out of here," the old man hissed. "Just leave her alone!" He went back inside and slammed the door. That told me all I needed to know about Dudman's relationship with hismother. I'd reached another dead end.

Big Ian Machie was behind the bar in the Crow and Claw when I walked in. He wore a horizontally striped polo shirt and black trousers. The "middle-age" spread seemed to have grown since the last time we talked. I didn't want to bring it up, however. It'd only p.i.s.s him off. Nevertheless, despite the advance of the years, he still looked more than capable of holding his own against any of the rough crowd who composed his regular clientele.

"Sammy," he said. "No seen you round here in a while."

I smiled, grabbed a seat at the bar. Big Ian pulled me a pint without asking. I figured one couldn't hurt too much. I was driving, but sometimes you have to make these sacrifices.

"I've not been in the area," I said.

"No one's around these days," he said with a sigh. He looked at the bar. People congregated round the tables, leaning into their small groups like they were afraid someone was listening. "No one worth bothering about, anyway. All the old crowd have gone. They either got respectable or they got into trouble."

"What about Ally Dudman?"

"Whit am I now, yer wee snitch?"

I smiled. "Ally's the snitch, or hadn't you heard."

"He was in trouble with the Kennedys right enough," said Ian. "Mind you, Ally's the type of bawbag who'd get in trouble with just about anyone."

"I need to find him, Ian," I said.

He put the pint on the bar. Some of the head broke off drifting down the smooth edges of the gla.s.s.

"How would I know where he is?" asked Ian.

'Ally was still a regular" I said. "You're known for your loyalty."

"Even to wee bawbags who went and joined the coppers," he said, pointedly.

"I'm not a copper these days."

"Just as bad. You work for them."

"I do favours for friends sometimes," I said. "Some of those friends are in the law enforcement business."

He chuckled at that.

'Ally's life is in danger," I said. "I'm looking to help him."

"Aye, and what about your friend?"

"He's looking to help too," I said. "All we want is to help Ally."

"He was in here about half an hour ago," said Ian. "He asked me for help."

"What did you say?"

"I said I couldn't help someone so messed up as him."

"You couldn't help a wee bawbag like that, you mean?"

"Aye, that's it," he said. "Look Sammy-boy, I don't know what all this is about, ken, but Ally looked in a bad way."

"Where would he go if you couldn't help him?"

"There's a few places," Ian said.

I nodded. I took a deep drink of the pint.

"He couldn't go home," Ian said. "No if he was in trouble with the Kennedys. So he'd need money and clothes and all that if he wanted to get out. I'd say he'd go to see Omar."

"Omar? I can't see the two of them exactly getting along."

"Omar doesn't care about that kind of c.r.a.p, Sammy. All he cares about is making sure his family are taken care of. All he cares about is where the next bushel of money comes from."

I nodded. I didn't want to go and see Omar, but Ian was right.

If Ally wanted money, clothes, and a quick, quiet escape from the city, he'd go and talk to Omar.

It was ten to eleven by the time I reached Omar's pad. Omar operated out of a high-rise in one of the poorer areas of the city.

He was one of those men who had a finger in almost every pie, but was careful enough not to get any filling stuck under his nails.

When I knocked at his door, his brother answered. Yafit took one look at me and shook his head. I knew what he meant: Omar didn't like me. We'd only met a few times, but those few times had been enough for Omar to know we'd never be friends.

When Omar finally came to the door he was dressed in a sharp grey suit. Last time we'd talked he was clean shaven, but now he'd grown a beard. It was flecked with grey. I guess he must have been approaching fifty.

He looked at me like I was some kind of insect. Finally he said, "I know why you're here."

"You do?"

"Raise your arms."

I did so. He gestured for his brother to come out into the hallway. Yafit patted me down. He took my cell phone out of my pocket and turned it off.

"You'll get that back when you leave," said Omar.

I nodded.

Yafit stood up straight and nodded to his brother. Everything was okay; I was clean.

"I suppose you can come in," said Omar We walked through to the living room. A wide-screen TV hooked up to a DVD player was showing Pulp Fiction. The picture had paused on Uma Thurman and John Travolta dancing to Chuck Berry.

"Nice setup," I said, nodding to the TV Omar grinned. "I know a guy," he said. Then his face became stony once more. He gestured to the sofa. I took a seat. Omar remained standing.

"You know why I'm here," I said.

"Yes," he said. "Ally Dudman."

I waited.

"You do favours for the police. Ally was doing a favour for the police."

"Don't waste my time," I said.

"I'll waste as much of it as I want," Omar said. "Mr Bryson, you do realize that you and I are not exactly on friendly terms."

I smiled. "Sure," I said. "But these days there's not a lot of people with whom I am on friendly terms.

"After all, on a few occasions you have inconvenienced me."

I shook my head. "You mean those illegal immigrants? The guys you faked pa.s.sports for? The criminals you sneaked into this country?"

"They had regrettable pasts, Mr. Bryson. But none of us are angels."

"In any case, that was just an unhappy coincidence, considering I was following up on a young girl who'd disappeared with one of your a.s.sociates."

"Not only do you disrupt the business of people like myself but you insist on homing into a burgeoning love affair."

"She was thirteen."

"And burdened by archaic laws that forbade her to express the love she felt for my friend."

I snorted, trying not to let myself erupt into laughter. I knew he was trying to ruffle me on purpose-any excuse to throw me out of his pad a.r.s.e first.

"But what is the use in talking over old times, Mr. Bryson?"

Ally was going to help us bring down the Kennedys," I 'said. "He was supposed to give evidence tomorrow. If he doesn't show, that's all the evidence down the c.r.a.pper."

Omar shrugged.

"Don't pretend you don't care," I said. "I've caused you a few minor headaches, but the Kennedys are a full-blown migraine. I know you've been wanting to expand your business opportunities, Omar. But everywhere you turn, people are scared of the Kennedys and the power they wield, so they fob you off with some excuse, or they back down after one of the Kennedys' friends has a word in their ear."

Omar kept his poker face up, but I knew I was getting to him. After a while in my line of work you begin to develop an extra sense about people, like you can see inside their heads, even when they're giving nothing away. It's not infallible, but the odds are usually pretty good, and someone like Omar I thought I knew well enough to read accurately.

Finally Omar said, "I gave Ally a train ticket to Manchester. Some friends were to meet him down there, give him a head start, keep an eye on him, and make sure he paid the amount upon which we agreed."

"When does the train leave?"

Omar looked at the clock on the wall behind me. He smiled.

"You've got ten minutes, Mr. Bryson. I hope you're a good driver."

As I pulled into the car-park, I was thankful that Dundee is such an odd little city. Dundee rush hour lasts from about five o'clock until maybe six or, at the latest, half-past. After that, taxis aside, the city is easy to navigate. And the police seemed to be on the job, which meant I got down to the station with minutes to spare.

I jumped out of the BMW already running as I threw the door shut behind me, and sprinted into the station. At this time of night, it was empty. The newsstand looked almost dead with the shutters down and the newspaper racks emptied.

The platforms and departure lounge are down a long, steep flight of stairs. I stumbled, managing to keep my footing by miracle of grace. There was only one other person in the departure lounge, a tramp with a green sleeping bag. He opened his eyes when he heard my footsteps clattering off the linoleum floor, then he decided I wasn't a threat and lay back down on the bench he'd taken for a bed.

My heart jumped in my chest as I realized I might be late.

British Rail had a knack for their trains running early when it was least convenient. The rest of the time they'd be late by several hours, but whenever you had a deadline to worry about they would be ahead of time.

I looked at the departure/arrival board. Only one train scheduled to arrive in the next few minutes. It was heading to Glasgow, but I guessed Ally was going to change there and get the overnighter down to Manchester.

Under my feet the ground rumbled. The train was getting close. I ran out the doors to my left and onto platform three. Looking up the tracks, I could see the signs for platform four where the train was supposed to make its stop. Already the train's lights were in plain view. There was a solitary figure standing near the edge of the platform. I started to run toward him, fishing my mobile out of my pocket and hitting Sandy's number. He answered quickly, and I said, "Train station," before hanging up.

Ally looked at me as I ran up to him. He looked like a startled rabbit. His eyes widened and he took a step away from me, his legs buckling beneath him. "Ally," I said. "I don't want to hurt you.

"That b.l.o.o.d.y D.I. sent you, didn't he?"

"Aye, Ally, he did."

Ally straightened a little. He looked wary. "I have tae go," he said.

"No, Ally, you're going to stay here and you're going to testify against the Kennedys."

"Get tae h.e.l.l"Ally said. He was laughing as he did so. The laugh was nervous, the kind of laugh you have when there's a knife-edge resting against your jugular. "This is too dangerous for me, man. I made a mistake, awright?"

"Ally,your testimony's important."

"I don't care! I never thought it through properly, man. You dinnae mess about with the Kennedys, like. They're the Royal Family, man. They got connections everywhere. They know where you sleep, where you eat. I'd never hae made it through tae the testimony."

"You were under police protection."