Smokeheads by Doug Johnstone Page A

in a minute.’
    Joe left the barn. Grant’s eyes kept darting around, to the canister on the floor, over the four of them, at the spirit safe burbling away, never settling on anything. It made Adam queasy to watch.
    After a couple of minutes Joe came back in carrying a jumble of plastic strips in his hand. He walked over and threw them on the ground at Grant’s feet. Adam saw they were hand and foot restraints, the kind they used on terrorists, like giant cable ties.
    ‘First things first,’ Joe said to Grant. ‘Tie these cunts up so they can’t escape.’
    He turned to look at the four of them, his eyes narrowing.
    ‘Then we’ll decide what the fuck to do with them.’

21
     
     
    ‘This is ridiculous,’ said Adam.
    His arms were bent behind his back and he felt the restraints bite as Grant pulled them tight around his wrists. Grant tied his ankles and moved on to Molly, as Adam slumped down against a cask. ‘You’re breaking about a dozen laws.’
    ‘We are the law,’ said Grant quietly.
    ‘You’re not the only cops on the island,’ said Molly. ‘There are plenty of decent officers on Islay who would skin you alive for this shit if they found out.’
    Joe smiled as he watched Grant work. ‘Like who?’
    ‘Eric Dalton for one.’
    ‘Dalton?’ Joe laughed. ‘That old cunt couldn’t find his arse if you handed it to him on a fucking plate, never mind uncover an operation like this. Anyway, he’s virtually retired, it’s pipe and slippers for him in a few weeks.’
    ‘You’ll never get away with this,’ said Adam.
    ‘Who’s going to stop me? You?’
    ‘What’re you going to do, exactly? Kill us all?’
    Joe mugged looking thoughtful for a moment. ‘Kill you all, now there’s an idea. I hadn’t thought of that.’
    Roddy screamed as Grant yanked his arms behind his back.
    ‘Fucking cunt, that hurts.’
    ‘Good,’ said Grant.
    Joe walked over and smiled as Grant secured Roddy’s ankles.

    ‘Aw, diddums,’ he said. ‘Did nasty little Grantie hurt the rich dickhead, did he?’
    ‘Fucking right he did,’ said Roddy, sweating. He didn’t look well. His red eyes were watery and his face was washed-out grey. He seemed to be shaking, trying to control it. He gave Joe a thin smile.
    ‘Fucking cocky cunt, aren’t you?’ said Joe.
    ‘Takes one to know one.’
    ‘I knew you were trouble when I first saw you driving that wankmobile.’
    ‘Well, we’re in agreement about that shit car, anyway.’
    Adam tried to think back. Getting pulled over for speeding had been a day and a half ago, but it seemed like a lifetime. All he’d wanted was a couple of days on Islay, the chance to drink some malts and talk to Roddy about investing. How the fuck had they got into this shit?
    Joe looked at Roddy. ‘Your life’s one big fucking joke, isn’t it?’
    ‘You’ve got to make the most of it.’
    ‘You think you’re better than everyone else, don’t you?’
    ‘I buy and sell people like you every day.’
    ‘Is that right?’
    ‘Fund manager.’
    Joe snorted with laughter. ‘Fuck, that’s worse than paedophile at the moment.’
    ‘Tell me about it.’
    ‘You know what they do to paedos in prison, right?’
    ‘Bake them a cake?’
    Joe reached out and stroked the metal sticking out of Roddy’s shoulder. He tightened his grip, twisted and pushed. Roddy let out an animal howl, writhing to escape then falling to his knees and struggling for breath. Blood seeped from the wound as Joe turned away.
    ‘Not so fucking cocky now, are you?’
    He went to the table and brought two chairs over for him and Grant. He picked up the petrol canister, took a swig and grimaced.
    Grant finished tying up Luke then joined Joe. Luke sat next to the other three on the ground, leaning against hogsheads and facing the chairs.
    ‘So,’ said Joe. ‘This is the part where you try to persuade me to let you go.’
    ‘Please let us go,’ Molly deadpanned.
    Joe sat back and crossed his legs. ‘You can do better