Eye for an Eye

spittle at the corners of his mouth. ‘And do you know what the answer to that one is, Kev, old son? Boy wonder doesn’t have a clue. Not a fucking clue.’
    Kev pulled himself up. In the distance, he watched a skinny figure walk down the side of the house, hesitate at the street, then look left and right as if deciding whether or not to cross the road. ‘What’s he doing?’ he asked.
    ‘He’s thinking we’ve gone, is what the fucker’s doing,’ said Robbie, his grin crushing his neck into folds of flesh. He slapped the steering wheel. ‘I think we’re in business.’
    ‘Hang on,’ said Kev. ‘He’s going back inside.’
    ‘You know your problem, Kev? You’re a worrier. That’s what your problem is. You worry too much.’
    Kev had nothing to say to that. Of course he worried. Battering their way into someone’s home when they were out was against the law, no matter what the lease agreement said about annual inspections. But as usual, he said nothing, just slid down in his seat and tried to catch another forty winks before he was ordered to do his stuff.
    Thirty minutes later, they stepped into the damp evening air. ‘Ready to do the necessary?’ Robbie asked, and cracked his knuckles.
    ‘Fuck sake, Robbie. One of these days you’re going to pull the lot off if you keep doing that.’ Kev tucked the head of the sledgehammer under his donkey jacket. But he was short and the handle thudded against his thigh with each step as he followed his employer.
    In the dark by the back door, an overgrown hedge offered some protection from the neighbours’ eyes.
    Robbie turned to Kev. ‘Give it one.’
    The first blow splintered the door frame and cracked the panel. The second buried the head of the sledgehammer into the wood. Kev struggled to pull it back out.
    ‘The lock,’ complained Robbie. ‘How many times do I have to tell you? Hit the fucking lock.’
    Kev gritted his teeth, lifted the sledgehammer, held it for a second, then swung it hard with a step to the side.
    The frame splintered. The door burst open.
    Robbie kicked his way inside and placed a hand over his nose and mouth. ‘Fucking hell, Kev. Open a window. Get some air in here.’
    Kev fought back the need to gag.
    Robbie turned, eyes ablaze. ‘Don’t just stand there, Kev. Open the fucking windows. All of them. And the front door.’
    Kev stomped along the hallway and opened the front door.
    Back in the kitchen, strips of plaster showed where the wallpaper had peeled off. Tin cans, black toast and clotted baked beans littered the floor around an overflowing bin. In the sink, crusted plates lay in scum as thick as vomit. Kev toed a furred slice of green bread and stepped back as maggots crawled from beneath it.
    ‘Fucking hell.’
    Kev looked up. He had seen many a sight, but he had never before seen his boss on the verge of throwing up.
    ‘I’m going to have that fucker’s balls,’ growled Robbie. ‘What did I tell you? I knew something was up. And tomorrow morning I’m going to see my lawyer and charge that fucker with vandalism.’
    Kev stared at the mess around his feet, pleased at least that they would probably not be charged with forcing their way into a private residence. ‘Good on you, Robbie,’ he tried, then stepped outside and threw up.
    ‘We’re going to get that fucker’s stuff and toss it all out into the back. And d’you know what else we’re going to do? We’re going to have ourselves a bonfire, a right good fucking bonfire, Kev, old son. D’you hear?’
    ‘I hear you,’ Kev said, and threw up again.

CHAPTER 18
     
    ‘I’m in the Central,’ Gilchrist said. ‘Fancy a pint?’
    ‘Love to, boss. But that numbskull’s got us working all hours. And besides, you’re suspended. You know the rules.’
    ‘No one’ll miss you for five minutes.’
    ‘Want a bet? DeFiore’s got eyes in the back of his head. And there’s more coming up from Edinburgh.’
    ‘What about Sa?’
    ‘Hang on. I’ll go find her.’
    Gilchrist sipped his Eighty Shilling. The bar was already filling up, and he was squeezed into a seat just inside the main door. From the street, he heard the sound of a scuffle, voices rising. He was back on his feet as Sa came on the line.
    ‘Some things’ll never change,’ she said.
    ‘What’s that?’
    ‘You having a pint.’
    ‘One of life’s few pleasures.’
    On the road, a small crowd stood in a haphazard circle. Two drunks were grappling with each other, swinging wild punches,