Palmer threw another punch. Gillespie’s head snapped back.
‘Try again,’ Sutherland said to Gillespie.
I needed to get out of the room. The kitchen was as bad as the living room, but it gave me some breathing space. I knew full well why I’d been brought here. Sutherland wanted me to understand the full consequences of letting him down. I took a deep breath and walked back into the living room. Sutherland was breathing heavily and flexing his right hand. He’d joined in the fun. Gillespie’s right eye had closed up.
Sutherland turned to me. ‘Hit the cunt, then.’
I shook my head. ‘No.’
‘Hit him. You’re here with us, so fucking hit him.’
I was rooted to the spot. I wanted to get out of the house and away from them all. Sutherland repeated the order. Palmer moved closer to me. Gillespie slowly started to focus on me. I could tell he recognised me. He looked at Sutherland and started to say something, but it made no sense. I had no idea what he was going to say about me. I stepped forward, closed my eyes and hit him.
Sutherland nodded to me. ‘See. We’re not that different after all.’
It was made clear to me I wasn’t getting a lift back. Sutherland had also made it clear that nothing had changed. I still had the debt to settle and he expected progress. I stuck to the main road and jumped on the first bus heading to the city centre. I stared at my reflection in the window as the city flashed past. What had I become? However bad things were, I certainly shouldn’t be getting involved in George Sutherland’s activities. I turned away, not wanting to look at myself. I’d crossed a line, regardless of what I thought about Terry Gillespie. I should have stopped what was going on, not contributed to it. I was lying to myself. There was no way I could have stopped the beating. I wasn’t even sure I’d wanted to. Gillespie had dragged my brother into this mess and was now paying the penalty. I realised I didn’t give a shit about Gillespie, even when he was being beaten by Palmer. What did that say about me? Maybe Sutherland was right. Maybe I wasn’t so different to him after all.
CHAPTER NINE
I’d slept on the settee again and was woken by the sun pouring into the living room. I made a coffee and stared out of the window and thought about the previous evening. I told myself I needed to get a grip. I was under no illusions as to the danger Sutherland posed to me. He would continue to push me, but I had to protect Niall from him. I searched through my mobile and found the number I had for Coleman. I wasn’t sure what I could do about Sutherland. I needed to think about it, but I also needed to focus on Don’s problem. Coleman was working an active case and he had an interest in Don. It was time to take a chance, see if I could make something happen. I sent a text message containing the name Reg Holborn to Coleman and sat down and waited.
The reply came quickly. Fifteen minutes later, he was in my flat. I brewed a fresh pot of coffee as Coleman paced around my living room, flicking through the CDs and books. I’d suggested meeting him close to the station, but he was adamant he would come to me. We were both playing our cards close to our chests. I was sure he had something to tell me. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be here.
‘Like The Clash?’ he said, pointing to London Calling .
I nodded. ‘What’s not to like?’
‘One of my favourites, too.’
I was surprised, but didn’t show it. ‘Must be a bit different to your house, I’d imagine.’
‘Maybe.’ He walked across to the window. ‘Nice view.’
‘It does for me.’
‘It might do for me, too.’
I was puzzled. ‘What does that mean?’
‘My wife’s kicked me out.’
I said nothing. I wasn’t sure why he was telling me this, but I listened. I saw him glance at my photo of Debbie. ‘I’ve moved into a flat on Park Avenue. We’re practically neighbours now.’
‘Right.’ That was why he’d
‘Try again,’ Sutherland said to Gillespie.
I needed to get out of the room. The kitchen was as bad as the living room, but it gave me some breathing space. I knew full well why I’d been brought here. Sutherland wanted me to understand the full consequences of letting him down. I took a deep breath and walked back into the living room. Sutherland was breathing heavily and flexing his right hand. He’d joined in the fun. Gillespie’s right eye had closed up.
Sutherland turned to me. ‘Hit the cunt, then.’
I shook my head. ‘No.’
‘Hit him. You’re here with us, so fucking hit him.’
I was rooted to the spot. I wanted to get out of the house and away from them all. Sutherland repeated the order. Palmer moved closer to me. Gillespie slowly started to focus on me. I could tell he recognised me. He looked at Sutherland and started to say something, but it made no sense. I had no idea what he was going to say about me. I stepped forward, closed my eyes and hit him.
Sutherland nodded to me. ‘See. We’re not that different after all.’
It was made clear to me I wasn’t getting a lift back. Sutherland had also made it clear that nothing had changed. I still had the debt to settle and he expected progress. I stuck to the main road and jumped on the first bus heading to the city centre. I stared at my reflection in the window as the city flashed past. What had I become? However bad things were, I certainly shouldn’t be getting involved in George Sutherland’s activities. I turned away, not wanting to look at myself. I’d crossed a line, regardless of what I thought about Terry Gillespie. I should have stopped what was going on, not contributed to it. I was lying to myself. There was no way I could have stopped the beating. I wasn’t even sure I’d wanted to. Gillespie had dragged my brother into this mess and was now paying the penalty. I realised I didn’t give a shit about Gillespie, even when he was being beaten by Palmer. What did that say about me? Maybe Sutherland was right. Maybe I wasn’t so different to him after all.
CHAPTER NINE
I’d slept on the settee again and was woken by the sun pouring into the living room. I made a coffee and stared out of the window and thought about the previous evening. I told myself I needed to get a grip. I was under no illusions as to the danger Sutherland posed to me. He would continue to push me, but I had to protect Niall from him. I searched through my mobile and found the number I had for Coleman. I wasn’t sure what I could do about Sutherland. I needed to think about it, but I also needed to focus on Don’s problem. Coleman was working an active case and he had an interest in Don. It was time to take a chance, see if I could make something happen. I sent a text message containing the name Reg Holborn to Coleman and sat down and waited.
The reply came quickly. Fifteen minutes later, he was in my flat. I brewed a fresh pot of coffee as Coleman paced around my living room, flicking through the CDs and books. I’d suggested meeting him close to the station, but he was adamant he would come to me. We were both playing our cards close to our chests. I was sure he had something to tell me. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be here.
‘Like The Clash?’ he said, pointing to London Calling .
I nodded. ‘What’s not to like?’
‘One of my favourites, too.’
I was surprised, but didn’t show it. ‘Must be a bit different to your house, I’d imagine.’
‘Maybe.’ He walked across to the window. ‘Nice view.’
‘It does for me.’
‘It might do for me, too.’
I was puzzled. ‘What does that mean?’
‘My wife’s kicked me out.’
I said nothing. I wasn’t sure why he was telling me this, but I listened. I saw him glance at my photo of Debbie. ‘I’ve moved into a flat on Park Avenue. We’re practically neighbours now.’
‘Right.’ That was why he’d
Similar Books
