The Deep Dark Sleep

‘I tracked him down. I don’t fool myself that I wasn’t one of the many bastards that Strachan had fathered. I found out later that my Ma had been a real looker when she was young. And Joe Strachan always had an eye for the ladies. They have a thing going and she gets knocked up. She dumps me as soon as I’m born and I end up being raised in an orphanage. That’s where I learn that you’ve got to be top fucking dog or you’re nothing at all. It took me an age to find my Ma and then Gentleman Joe. I took a length of lead pipe along to our father–son reunion, but things turned out all weird. I swear he was nearly in fucking tears when I told him I was his son. He just had the twin girls, you see, and Strachan was full of that crap about passing something on. A son to inherit the empire. So yes, I was the Lad. But he didn’t call me that because I was his apprentice, I was his son. So when I told you I took over his wee empire,’ said Sneddon, ‘that’s exactly what I did. I inherited my father’s estate.’

I eased myself painfully to my feet and rubbed at my wrists. ‘Let me guess,’ I said. ‘You’re going to tell me I got everything else wrong.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Well, everything seems to fit: you tell Dunbar to spin me that line about seeing Strachan during the war … a smokescreen. And then you hire an ex-commando to warn me off, but when that fails, you tell him to kill me. But then there’s something that doesn’t fit.’

‘What’s that?’

‘That old razor scar of yours. A distinguishing mark, you might say. There’s a frightened little queer called Paul Downey who specializes in dodgy photography. He’s persuaded to do a blackmail job to pay off a loan shark when suddenly a knight in shining Bentley turns up and offers him a simple job, nothing illegal on the face of it, and in turn he gets an unreasonable amount of money. This rich knight calls himself Mr Paisley and he’s a flash dresser but has a razor scar on his right cheek, just like yours. By the way, I guess that you inherited your father’s taste for expensive tailoring. So you are the Lad, and you’re “Mr Paisley”?’

‘It’s your story, Lennox. Go on …’

’So there’s these two facts, added to the fact that I’m still breathing, that screw up my theories. Why would you pay someone to take photographs of some guy who we all think is Strachan, if you know for sure Strachan is dead?’

Sneddon took out a gold cigarette case and offered me a smoke. I took it. He lit us both up. ‘So what’s your take on it now?’

‘I don’t know why,’ I said, ‘but you needed to convince yourself that Joe Strachan was dead or not. You got a tip-off that he was going to be up meeting with the Duke of Strathlorne on his estate and you know that Downey’s going to be up there because you own the loan shark, and therefore the loan, that Downey had to pay off. You knew about the whole John Macready blackmail thing.’

Sneddon shook his head. ‘It was a mad fucking idea. They were never going to get away with it. But when I heard that they were using a cottage on the estate, it was too good an opportunity to miss.’

‘It was you who told George Meldrum to recommend me to the lawyer Fraser, wasn’t it?’

‘Aye. I knew you’d clear it up in no time and they’d pay you over the odds. I needed that whole thing tied up before someone found out about the photographs I hired Downey to take.’

‘So you didn’t put anyone else on it. You weren’t behind the killing of Downey’s boyfriend and the fire at the tenement?’

‘No. I couldn’t put anybody onto that. And I had no need to have them killed. You were my man on the case, even if you didn’t know it at the time. But then you got yourself involved with the twins and finding out who was sending the money. You’ve brought all of this shite down upon yourself, Lennox. Don’t blame me.’

‘I’m not. But I’m asking you for some straight answers.’

‘Then ask.’

‘Okay …’ I reached into my jacket pocket and took out the photograph I’d gotten from Downey. ‘In that case, in the name of Christ and all that’s holy, will you please, please tell me … is this man your father, Gentleman Joe Strachan, or not?’

Sneddon took a long, slow pull on his cigarette and smiled maliciously as he let the smoke go, savouring my frustration.

‘Yes.’

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

‘You were right about us all meeting up at the Bennie Railplane,’ said Sneddon. ‘And about everybody being worked up about the dead copper. We weren’t supposed to talk to each other, see each other until the meet. But the other three had got together and had planned out their own wee play. I reckoned Joe and me were to get it there and then, but there had been coppers at Maryhill Station and I had to take the long way round, meaning I turned up late.