11
Z ayn
I’m on my way back to the mansion, a black bag full of Leila’s clothes and a few books on the back seat of the four-by-four. It took me a while to locate everything she asked for in her message. Leila Mansour could never be accused of being a domestic goddess, exactly. Her place was a mess. Does she never tidy up?
Well, I shall soon find out since she’s likely to be with me for a couple of weeks at least. I doubt if we’ll manage to ‘neutralise’ her charming cousins earlier than that.
My phone rings. I send it to speaker. “Casey? Hi. That was quick.” It’s only been two hours since I phoned her with the request to ferret out some details of Iftikar’s and Mehrban’s daily habits.
“I have some information for you. More to follow. Not sure how deep you need me to go.”
“Let me have what you’ve turned up so far.”
“They both live with their parents in Greenock. Iftikar works at the docks in Port of Glasgow. He’s a warehouseman, with a handy sideline in counterfeit tobacco.”
“Oh. You went that deep, then?”
“He’s an amateur and not a big cog. Sloppy. I’m surprised the border authorities haven’t lifted him already. Or, more likely, the big lads he works for haven’t rumbled him and got rid.”
“Well, his luck just ran out. What about the other one?”
“Mehrban works in one of those high-end barbershops. No sign of illicit goings-on there as far as I can tell. He’s a stylist, and apparently quite a good one.”
“The brains of the family, it would seem. What’s their daily routine?”
“Iftikar’s supposed to clock on at six-thirty in the morning. He’s on time, mostly. Leaves the house at quarter to and drives to the docks.”
“What about?—?”
“His car? Twenty twenty-three Toyota Vision. In silver-grey.”
I let out a low whistle. “Expensive.”
“At least fifty grand. Counterfeit ciggies obviously pay well, even if you are at the bottom of the heap. I must mention that to my husband, and my brother. Still, the fool would do better to at least try not to draw attention to himself.”
“Yeah, well, it won’t be a problem for long. What about the other one?”
“Not such regular hours. He tends to get in at around ten, finish around four. He drives a twenty twenty Hyundai Tucson, in red.”
“Not so flashy, then. Can you send me the registration numbers. It would be a pity to target the wrong vehicle.”
“On its way. I’ll dig out some more details over the next couple of days.”
“Great. Also, could you acquire me a staff pass for the University of Edinburgh Medical School. I think security would be fitting.”
“Yeah, I can do that. It should be with you later today.”
“Thanks. I appreciate this, Casey.”
“You’re welcome, it gives me something to do. And Ethan said to help you all I can.”
“Thank him, too, will you?”
“Sure. That all for now?”
“Yes.” I signal to turn into the huge iron gate onto the Caernbro Ghyll property. “See you soon.”
I lug the black bag up the stairs to my studio apartment, not at all convinced she’ll still be there. It might not be a bad thing if Ruth has scooped her up and taken her down to the games room or something, though I do find it hard to imagine Leila playing Fortnite .
I’m wrong. She’s there, in my apartment, perched by the window, looking out. She turns to regard me.
“I thought it was you. In the black car.”
“I got your stuff.” I dump the bag on a chair. “There should be room in the wardrobe, and you can use that table over there as a desk. Or you could use the lounge downstairs if you fancy a change of scene. It’s usually quiet.”
“Here’s fine. Can I move the table over here, to the window?”
“Sure. Do you want me to do that now?”
She shakes her head. “I can do it later. Did you say I could get food from the kitchen?”
“Are you hungry?”
“A bit. I missed lunch. And all I could find here was a packet of cream crackers.”
“Come on, then.” I offer her my hand. “I’ll show you where everything is. Including some cheese for those crackers.”
I don’t expect her to take my hand, but she does, then trots quietly beside me down the two flights of stairs to the kitchen. The hubbub of voices reaches us as we approach. It must be busy down there.
We enter to find Rome, Tony, Nico, Tony’s wife, Jenna, and their foster son, Robbie, clustered around the oak table tucking in to three huge pizzas. Tony waves when we appear in the doorway.
“Fancy some? We got pepperoni, tandoori chicken, and a farmhouse.”
“Ha-ha.” He knows I wouldn’t touch a farmhouse pizza or anything with ham. Some habits die hard. “Wouldn’t mind a slice of chicken tandoori, though.” I happen to know that this particular chain serves halal chicken.
He shoves the box towards us. “Help yourselves. There are wedges, too. And cookie dough.”
I tug Leila to the table and settle her in a chair, then I drag another one over to sit beside her. I grab a paper plate from the pile on the table and place one in front of each of us.
“The dips are here.” Rome passes a paper bag full of little sealed containers.
I select a couple of ketchups for myself, and Leila takes sweet chilli. There’s half a chicken pizza left, three pieces each, and a mountain of herby potato wedges. A feast, and by the way Leila tucks in, she obviously agrees.
“I have some money in my bag,” she whispers to me. “I can pay for my share.”
“No, you don’t need to do that. We have an account, and Jenna settles up at the end of the month. Take as much as you want.”
“Oh. But?—”
“Just eat, Leila. And enjoy it.”
She does as she’s told, which I take to be a promising omen.
Jenna, bless her, is keen to make small talk and welcome the new face. “I gather you’re a trainee doctor,” she remarks. “Will you be some sort of specialist or a GP?”
“I fancy paediatrics,” Leila replies, happy to chat. “Especially babies.”
Jenna nods in approval. “Hard work, I imagine. Lots of studying.”
“I’ve just finished my second year. If I pass my exams, I move into clinical practice next year.”
“Oh? What does that involve?” Jenna seems genuinely interested. And so am I.
“I get allocated a particular branch of medicine and follow a consultant about on the actual wards, listening and learning about how to deal with real patients. All being well, I’m on the cardio ward from September to December, then on to geriatrics. I’m not sure what comes next after that.”
“Do you get to do them all?”
“Yes. It’s important to get a taste of everything and pass each specialism before progressing to the next. The hours are long, and you have to move around different hospitals, too.”
“Demanding. But worth it in the end, I suppose.”
“I think so,” Leila murmurs. “I just hope…”
I squeeze her arm. “It will be okay,” I assure her. I intend to make sure of it.
The meal over, everyone else heads off to the television lounge to take in a movie for a couple of hours before Jack, Tony, and Rome need to head off into the city to do the rounds of our various establishments. It’s important to show our faces, remind the managers who work for us where their loyalties lie, as well as mop up any problems. I’d normally go, too, but Jack said I could take the night off to get Leila settled.
“You go with the others to watch the film if you like,” Leila says as we leave the kitchen. “I have an essay to write, though I’ve no idea how I’ll get to hand it in if I can’t go to the university.”
“Email?” I suggest.
“Could do, but Professor Evans is a bit of a dinosaur. He prefers it typed and printed out.”
“I’ll take it in for you, then.”
She turns on the stairs to frown at me. “You? How will you?—”
I grin. “Meet the latest recruit to the security staff. I get to move round the university at will, so locating the good professor won’t be a problem. When does it have to be in by?”
“End of the day tomorrow.”
My smile widens. “Best get on with it, then. You can’t keep him waiting.”
The table set up by the window, Leila settles there with her laptop and pile of medical tomes. The only sound is the rustle of pages and the rapid-fire click of fingers on keyboard. She gets on with her mission, and I have the chance to study my own special project.
Casey has forwarded a lot of useful information, including recent pictures of the brothers, their vehicles, their workplaces, plus more on their habits, associates, regular activities. Iftikar is a gambler, apparently. Likes poker, though he’s not especially adept at it, and works out a lot at one of the high-end gyms in Glasgow. I check; it’s one of ours. An idea begins to take root.
Mehrban’s a bit of a gym bunny himself but is a less frequent visitor and uses a place in Greenock as and when he feels like it. He has no established routine I can rely on, so I’ll need a different strategy for him, but I do have an idea. I’ll need to have chat with Jack.
Leila sits upright and stretches. “It’s done,” she announces and shoves her chair back to stand up. “I just hope Professor Evans is satisfied now. Oh, is that the time?”
“Nearly eleven,” I mutter and set my phone aside. “I’ll make sure he gets it by close of play tomorrow. Right now, I’m taking a shower.”
“I had one earlier, while you were out. Was that okay?”
“Course. Want any supper?”
“I couldn’t eat a thing after that blowout earlier. Tea would be nice, though.”
I drag my T-shirt over my head. “You should find everything you need in the kitchen. Mine’s black, no sugar.”
She doesn’t move, doesn’t reply. I turn to check she heard me.
Leila is standing, transfixed, gaping at me.
I pause, my lip quirking. “Like what you see?”
“I…I…”
I stroll over to where she appears to have become rooted to the spot. “Leila? You’re staring. You’re a medical student, you must have seen a man without his top on before.”
“I have, yes. But…not like that. Not like you.”
I look down. I do my share of working out—Jack insists on it for all of us—and I like to think I look good, but the expression on her face is not one of admiration, exactly. I doubt if it’s lust either. It would be better described as stunned amazement.
“What does that mean?” I ask her.
“The…the tattoos,” she manages at last. “They’re…they’re…wow!”
I slant a glance at the mirror on the front of the wardrobe. True, my ink is pretty extensive, and I like it. I have two full sleeves as well as a vibrant tangle of intricate designs on my chest and shoulders. Not so much on my back, yet, but I have plans. Some of the images denote my allegiance to the Savage cause, the oath I took to serve, obey, and support Ethan and his family. Several rites of passage are depicted, too. My first kill on Ethan’s instructions, and each one thereafter. Five in all. Not that many, considering. The boss tends to prefer to do his own dirty work. I just take the specialist stuff, the jobs calling for long-range accuracy with a rifle.
She closes the gap between us, one hand raised. “May I?” she asks.
“Go ahead.”
She traces a tiger’s head ensnared by a snake, emblazoned on my left pectoral. “This is beautiful,” she gasps. “Did it hurt?”
I give a non-committal grunt. “They all hurt like fuck at first.”
“Then why…?”
“Because I like them. It’s worth it.”
“Oh, well, yes, I suppose… I wanted a tattoo. A lotus design, I fancied. On my shoulder.”
“Sounds cool. Why didn’t you?”
“My uncle. He said only whores and criminals had tattoos, by which he meant women. He has some, and my cousins do, too. Not lovely designs like yours, though. Mehrban has a skull on his wrist, and Iftikar has his name on his neck.”
“In case he forgets it?” I offer.
Her answering grin is wry. “Probably.”
“Get that lotus,” I encourage her. “If it’s what you want.”
She considers for a moment. “Perhaps I will.” She steps back from me. “I’ll get changed while you’re in the shower.”