The Bad Fire by Campbell Armstrong Read Free Book Online Page B

little against the wind that came rushing up from the Clyde and shook the decorations in the streets. Caskie thought he had a quality few rogues possess; he could make you believe he was incapable of the lawlessness attributed to him. He had about him an unsettling air of innocence. Charm, Caskie thought. All charm.
    He blinked against savage sunlight. Unsteady as the launch shivered again, he wanted to tell Haggs – look, we didn’t need to meet on this boat, we could have talked over a glass of wine somewhere nice and private outside the city; but no, you have to drag me out to this bloody vessel because you know I don’t have the stomach for water . Haggs had a mean-bastard streak and enjoyed other people’s discomfort.
    â€˜There’s a son,’ Caskie said.
    â€˜He lives overseas. So I hear.’
    â€˜In New York,’ Caskie said. ‘He may come back for the funeral. He’s a cop, incidentally.’
    Haggs did another stretching thing with his arms. He looked like a figure made out of pipe-cleaners twisted by a child. ‘So what? Is this a cause for concern or something? An American cop, is that supposed to worry me?’
    â€˜I mention it in passing,’ Caskie said. He thought of Flora Mallon. Had the years been good to her? When he first met her he’d been more than a little smitten by her beauty; she had the kind of presence that would turn heads at parties, the rich black hair and the square jawline that suggested pride and self-assurance and an element of ferocity, the mouth that defied you to kiss it, the dark chocolate eyes that saw straight through you. He’d felt clumsy and inadequate in her presence, he remembered. But he’d been kind to her at a time when she needed somebody.
    How was she taking the news of Jackie’s murder? Had she ever stopped loving Mallon? Her notes never made any mention of him. The last time she’d written it was to say how very sad she was to hear of Caskie’s wife Meg dying. Meg had been sick for a very long time, clinging to an existence that seemed worthless to Caskie. Slow death had been a lonely experience for her. And for him too. That pathetic solitude. You sit in a room and hold the sick woman’s hand but you might be the only person on the planet. You want her to die. You pray for it.
    Then you wonder if you want her to die for all the wrong reasons.
    Haggs scrutinized Caskie for a moment. ‘You don’t like this, do you, Caskie? You and me involved in this. It makes you feel dirty. You think I’m a fucking lout, don’t you? Beneath your station in life. You’ve always looked down your fucking nose at me. For years you’ve made me feel like a turd.’
    â€˜I’m cooperating with you,’ Caskie said. ‘Isn’t that all you’ve ever needed? Feelings don’t enter into it.’
    â€˜I could buy and sell you and it wouldn’t make a fucking dent in my bank account,’ Haggs said. ‘In one month I probably go through more than your entire net worth. You know what this boat cost me? You any idea what I paid for my house in Rouken Glen? Did you know I have a villa in Lanzarote with a swimming pool?’
    Caskie said, ‘I’m deeply impressed, Haggs.’
    â€˜Fuck you. I have a real estate company that covers the entire city. I own six full-service garages and a car-rental firm with a fleet of forty. So don’t turn your nose up at me, mister. Don’t talk to me like I’m slime. What have you got, Caskie? Let me tell you. Qualms, right? You’ve got qualms.’
    â€˜I certainly don’t have a fleet of damn taxis,’ Caskie said.
    â€˜Qualms, for fuck’s sake,’ Haggs said. ‘I never trust a word that doesn’t sound the way it looks.’
    â€˜Can we go ashore now?’ Caskie asked.
    Roddy Haggs said, ‘Why? Don’t like the water?’
    â€˜I get seasick, Haggs.’
    Haggs said,