‘Not necessarily. There was a member of the Empire Exhibition team who was even more of a ruthless son of a bitch than Strachan. The one they called the Lad. He sits tight. Maybe does his war service, while all the time he knows that when demobilization comes he’ll be sitting on a gold mine. Enough money to … well, what could he do with money like that? He could set himself up in some far-flung part of the world, but keep looking over his shoulder, or he could build a power base that would make him the one to be feared. The one whom others look over their shoulders for. So that’s what he does. He becomes the richest, most powerful organized crime boss in Glasgow. You’re the King of Kings, after all, aren’t you, Mr Sneddon? You had the viciousness and the ambition all along, but now you had the working capital. It was you:
I grinned. I was a smart guy. I had it all figured out and I had to go and prove I had it all figured out. I was so smart that I’d talked my way into an early grave. Sneddon didn’t call for Twinkletoes. He would do this himself. No one could know what I knew.
‘And what makes you so sure of that?’ he asked in a quiet, calm voice.
‘I came to you to ask where I could find Billy Dunbar, and during our talk, I tell you that I’m looking into Joe Strachan’s disappearance. The next day, I’m jumped in a foggy alley by someone who tells me to drop the whole thing. The only people I suspect of having dropped me in it are the police: I never, for a second, think that it might have been you. Then I see Billy Dunbar who spins me an elaborate line of bull that just might be true. But he lets it slip that you put him onto the gamekeeper’s job because you knew about the vacancy. You knew about it because you created it when that gamekeeper stumbled on you, Strachan and the others practising for the Exhibition job.’
Sneddon laughed. It was something I’d never seen him do. ‘You know, Lennox, you’re really something. You really want to rush headlong into an early grave, don’t you?’
‘Maybe I’ll get some peace there,’ I said. It wasn’t a wisecrack.
‘Go on,’ said Sneddon.
‘My guess is that you killed Strachan when you went back to the hangar, and probably Mike Murphy too. Then you hunted the others down, ending with a bomb in Stewart Provan’s car today. But back to Dunbar … you and Billy Dunbar are old mates, and Dunbar doesn’t have two pennies to rub together, so you concocted the whole Strachan as an officer crap. You knew that I would have found out about Strachan’s gimmick of impersonating officers at the end of the First War, and how he could pass himself off as anyone, anywhere. It was wild enough for me to swallow it. In the meantime, you hire some officer-type ex-commando to scare me off and when that doesn’t work, you tell him to kill me.’
‘You think you’re such a clever cookie, don’t you, Lennox?’ said Sneddon.
‘I was just complimenting myself on that very fact.’ My voice was dull now. I was exhausted. And I knew that I was going to die.
‘Why do you send the money to the girls, Sneddon?’ I asked. ‘I can’t believe you have any kind of conscience. Sending that cash exposes you, so why?’
He smiled. I didn’t like that. Not one bit. He came around behind me. I was going to get it in the neck, or the back of the head. I looked up at the chains: there was nothing I could do. At least it would be quick.
Suddenly I was on the grimy floor, coils of chains cascading down on me. Sneddon had unhitched the gear, releasing me. He was round in front of me again. He pocketed his gun and sat back down on the chair. Twinkletoes burst through the factory door.
‘Everything all right, boss?’ he asked, looking across to me. ‘I heard some
‘Everything is fine. Twinkle. Mr Lennox and I have sorted out our misunderstanding. Wait outside, we’ll be out in a minute.’
‘I don’t get it …’ I said, for once out of wisecracks. I eased the chains from around my wrists.
‘No you don’t, Lennox. You’re right: I was “the Lad”, all right. Joe Strachan taught me everything I know.’
‘So you
‘There are some things I’m not going to admit to. Some things that are locked up tight for good. You draw your own conclusions. But know this, Lennox. I didn’t kill Joe Strachan. Yes, it’s me who sends the twins the cash every year. You’ve asked why, and I’ll tell you. I send them the money because they’re my half-sisters.’
‘You’re Strachan’s son?’