Eye for an Eye

anything you—’
    ‘Let me ask the questions, Alex. All right?’
    Granton’s face flushed. ‘Fuck don’t I just tell you to take a shit in the Clyde?’
    ‘Give it up, Alex. You’re beginning to piss me off. I should have put you away years ago.’
    ‘You had nothing on me.’
    ‘You were only a petty thief back then. But despite your failings, you had a good upbringing and a father with friends in high places who could pull strings behind everyone’s backs. Even mine.’ Gilchrist tutted. ‘Now he’s gone, who’s there to help you now?’
    ‘I don’t need help from anyone.’
    ‘Oh yes you do Alex old son. Oh yes you do.’
    Veins bulged beneath Granton’s eyes like tiny worms.
    ‘Liz knows nothing about what you do, of course. That’s why she’s proud of you. You can see it in her eyes. She even thought you stood up for her against your father.’ Gilchrist shook his head. ‘Bill beat her throughout their married life. You knew that, though.’
    Granton’s eyes looked like red slits.
    ‘Not that it mattered one iota to you. As long as you received your regular payments from your old man you couldn’t give a toss about Liz.’
    ‘Fuck are you talking about?’ snapped Granton. ‘What regular payments?’
    ‘Going to deny it, are we?’
    ‘Fucking planet are you on?’
    ‘Earth,’ said Gilchrist. ‘Same planet as you.’ He fought off the urge to deck the fat slob, and took a sip to keep his distance.
    Granton reached for the decanter and poured another measure, and something in that movement told Gilchrist all was not what it seemed.
    ‘Should kick your fucking head in for what you just said.’
    ‘That would be silly, Alex.’
    Granton parted wet lips that revealed tiny teeth. ‘Been sillier.’
    Gilchrist finished his whisky with a gulp and held the glass, pleased at its empty weight. ‘Since your father packed you out of St Andrews all those years ago,’ he said, and returned an unpleased smile of his own, ‘you’ve developed quite a career for yourself.’ He shifted his glass to the flat of his hand, like a butcher guessing the weight of a cut of meat, and hoped Granton feared he might smash it into his face. ‘Illegal video distribution. Credit card fraud. Counterfeit passports. Fiddling tax returns. Buying and selling shifty goods. Nothing much to write home about. But all of it breaking the law.’
    ‘I’m clean now.’
    ‘Are you?’
    ‘Dead right.’
    ‘Prepared to go to court on that statement?’
    ‘Not a bit far from home to be making threats?’
    ‘Like me to move down here?’
    Gilchrist’s question hung in the air. One of the crimes he had chosen not to mention was GBH. Granton had been charged in the past with grievous bodily harm against minors, the case against him being not proven in the end. Granton was a bully by nature and a coward by heart. But despite that, Gilchrist found his bulk intimidating.
    Granton bristled. ‘Fucking cheeky bastard,’ he snarled. ‘Got fuck all on me. Never had. Never will.’
    It pleased Gilchrist to see his words were stinging home, like pepper in the eye. ‘How about your latest venture?’ he asked, and caught a stiffening of Granton’s posture, a quick dunking of the Adam’s apple.
    ‘What venture?’
    ‘Blackmail.’
    Granton’s fists clenched. ‘Repeat that in public, you smarmy fucker, and I’ll sue you for slander.’
    ‘It’s slander only if it’s not true,’ said Gilchrist. ‘The law’s a bit funny that way.’ But even as he spoke, a pinprick of anxiety nipped him. Granton’s reaction was not what he had anticipated. Did he have it all wrong? Or was Granton bluffing? Unsure of his reasoning all of a sudden, he took the top off another decanter. ‘Mind if I try something else?’
    ‘How about trying to fuck off?’
    Gilchrist needed to keep the momentum going, see if he could confirm his theory. He poured a generous measure and slipped the stopper back into the decanter with a careless clatter. He took a slow sip, caught a hint of peat and smoke. ‘Think I prefer this,’ he said. ‘Don’t you?’
    ‘You’re something else, Gilchrist.’
    ‘If you say so.’
    ‘Fuck am I supposed to have blackmailed?’
    ‘Past tense, Alex ...’
    ‘Do what?’
    ‘... which tells me you know damn well who you’re supposed to have blackmailed.’ Gilchrist decided to dig deep. ‘Sam told me,’ he said.
    Granton grimaced in disbelief. ‘Sam MacMillan?’
    ‘The very same.’
    ‘Sam knows fuck