Savage Night - Allan Guthrie [37]
"We have to do something, Phil."
"How about this, then?" Phil said, ignoring him. "Grant did show. But we gave him a doing and he told us where to meet Smith."
"If that's what you want."
"We have the money. And we wanted Smith's identity. But maybe we can go one better."
Tommy didn't know what he was talking about. "Let's get Grant some help."
"Fine," Phil said again, shining the light up and down the glass, tracing what looked like paint drips. "Just tell me what you want to do."
"I told you. Call an ambulance."
"They'll contact the police."
"It was an accident."
"Yeah," Phil said, "but I hit him. Kidnapped him. Taped him to a chair. And then we scared him. So much, he tried to do a runner. Through a plate-glass door. The police might not agree it's an accident."
Tommy couldn't think. He felt as if somebody'd taken the top off his head and drizzled honey all over his brain. He said, "So what do you think we should do?"
"Well, first, we don't tell the cops anything. I'll phone in. Won't give my name. Tell them I heard a disturbance. Shouts and screams. I'll exaggerate. Make it seem urgent. That way, Grant's got a chance. If he has enough blood in him."
"And then?"
"We have a choice, Tommy. One option is to do nothing. You take the money. Go home. Wait for Smith to get in touch. Wait for him to do whatever it was you were so scared of before tonight. Cause nothing's changed. Apart from how mad he'll be when he finds out about Grant. The boy's got to be somebody he knows. Might be his little cousin. Or his nephew."
"You have to be so fucking negative?"
"Or we can do what I suggested," Phil said. "Go to the cemetery and nail the bastard. Get him out of your life once and for all."
"Nail him?"
Phil nodded. "Yeah."
"You mean what I think you mean?"
"Nobody'll know."
"I'm a businessman. I can't go around … nailing people."
"Look at Grant here."
"He's an accident."
"So I heard. You're making a mistake, Tommy."
"I can't take the chance."
"You never could."
"Fuck you," Tommy said. "Let me think about it."
"There's no time to waste thinking."
Phil was right. Besides, Tommy couldn't think. "Maybe we could just scare him a bit."
"Now you're talking," Phil said. "We'll need weapons."
"Oh, Jesus, Phil. That's too much."
"We're not going to scare him by pulling faces. And he might not be alone." He paused. "Just for show."
"You know where to get guns?"
"You any idea how hard it is to get guns in this city? And at this kind of short notice?" He smiled. "Tell you what I can get, though."
***
PHIL DROVE. HE'D always been the better driver and speed was essential.
Tommy clutched the bag on his lap, listened to the revs of the engine. He felt better now, more together, although there was an odd pressure in his head like he hadn't slept in days, and his hand was shaking and he didn't seem to be able to stop it. At least he was able to think straight. Enough to know that he had to take charge. Couldn't have Phil in control or they'd both be fucked. "What're we going to do with the money?" Tommy asked. He couldn't take it home, stash it somewhere safe. No time for that.
Phil glanced at him, at the bag. "Maybe we should have left it with Grant."
"The police would find it."
"Not if we don't call them."
"Jesus, Phil," Tommy said. "Keep your eyes peeled for a phone box."
It was safe to make the call now. They'd put enough distance between themselves and Grant that there was no fear of getting flagged down in the vicinity, asked awkward questions like why they were in possession of fifty grand in cash.
"You sure you want to?" Phil said.
Tommy just looked at him.
Took a couple of minutes, but they found one. It was empty. Probably meant it was broken, though.
"You mind doing it?" Tommy said.
Phil didn't say anything, just opened the door and scuttled out of the car. While he made the call to the police, Tommy watched some drunk lads walk past, scooping chips into their mouths. He had to look away or risk throwing