Vendetta Part 4 - final Part

Back in the hallwey, Ryan’s jist wrappin up a caw oan his iPhone, ’Ah’ll tell him’’ he says, tae whoever’s at the other end ae the line. He then turns tae face me, grippin his mobile in his hand.

‘’That wis Louie Di Marco, gaffer’ he says. ‘’If anyboady wants tae contact that William’s pair ae mutts inside then they’ll need a fuckin Ouija board. It wis handled cleanly like yae wanted, though. What’s oor nixt move?’’

Ah ruminate this piece ae info, ‘’That quick, eh?…We’ll take that. Listen bud, ah want you tae help Markie clean up the mess through there. Phone a couple ae the lads and git thum tae bag up the Ganja. Frankie and his troops at the Inch will take the lot’’

‘’Consider it done’’ he says, removin his specs tae rub his eyes ‘’So, what aboot Williams?’’

‘’Deal wae him later. But ring up oor Cockney pals’’ ah command him. ‘’Say it’s been confirmed that the snake is hidin somewhere in Chelsea and ah want him foond quickly’’

‘’Then what?’’ checks Ryan.

‘’Then we git this prick dressed fur church. But make sure Louie kens ah want his best tailor tae fit him fur his suit. Ah’m gonnae pack a toothbrush cos ah’ve goat a sudden urge tae catch the premier ae Chelsea’s number yin show. Tell him they dinnae make a move until ah’ve gave thum the greenlight’’

He then turns and enters the livin room whilst ah make a hasty exit oot ae this dive.

Forty-eight hours later and ah’m aboot tae winde up this game ae hunt the cunt. Word came back fae the haime ae, Danny Dyer. The far right’s retarded version ae Lex Luthor hus be foond. Suttin that inspired me tae take a road trip intae the deep south. That’s why Nate’s sat behind the steerrin wheel ae his Ranger Rover. We’re jist parked up fae this French restaurant cawed ‘Cote’ oan Chelsea’s snooty Sloan Square. This place resembles yin ae those up market cafes spread acroass Gay Paree. Yae ken the type ae place, eh? a fuckin gang hunt fur oligarchs, Saudi princes, and tax dodgers. Where it wid coast yae a small bank loan fur a gless ae a water. Every order probably comes wae a blowjob fae some honey fresh oaff the catwalk at Paris Fashion Week. Spent many a time in this neck ae the wids representin the Capital City Service when we’d tear it up wae the London firms. Ma only problem wis when ah smashed yin cockney. Two minutes later ah needed a repeat performance. Anyhow, ah’ve no been this far behind the auld enemy’s gates since Shadow sent me doon here back in the day tae bring the war tae these ‘faces’ fae the east end. Silly cunts thoat comin up tae Edinburgh tae piss oan oor shoes wis a wise move. They soon realised though that a fuckin Lion hud entered their chicken coop. When ah went aw John Wick oan thum whilst Keanu Reeves wis still finger bangin cheerleaders.

Twinty minutes soon pass since we assumed our Starsky and Hutch roles and began this stakeoot. Goat tae say, likes. This game looks a loat maire fun in yin ae those movies oan the boax. Dafties jist sittin drinkin coffee and muchin warm sugary doughnuts while chasin doon the bad guy. We’ve goat the brew covered thanks tae a detour through Costa’s drive thru. Except there’s nae sweet treats in sight and the villain ae this tale is still tae make his presence known. Ah’ve certainly no goat the light herted comedy routine ae Axel Foley either tae lighten the mood. Insteed, ma compadre is a juiced-up sociopath who’s constantly gruntin and groanin.

The fuckin nut is grippin the steerin wheel sae tightly that he seems as if he might jist rip it oaff

‘’Nine o’cloack, they said, right?’’ he bites.

‘’Aye’’ ah inform him, straightenin masel up in the passenger seat.

Another couple ae minutes breezes by and jist as ah’m tryin tae git maire comfy in the leather. Ootae naewhere, Nate violently starts shakin me withoout even peerin in ma direction. His sausage fingers are pointin through the windscreen doon the street.

‘’That’s him, Aldo’’ he spouts, excitedly. Signallin tae nane other than Williams who’s hoverin aboot the entrance ae the place. Ah wid recognise that weaselly puss blindfolded. The lowlife is decorated in aw Stone Island gear. Servin as a rather timely reminder ae his past hooligan days. Ah cooncil restraint since he’s slid inside the buildin tae seek oot his mornin refresher. Mere minutes later, however. He emerges tae snap up a seat ootside as he sets aboot enjoyin his skinny latte. Oor sources confirmed awready that his preference is tae enjoy a cuppa in the fresh air. Ah fetch his boay Matty’s phone fae the glove boax that Sunshine hud retrieved. Yince it’s switched oan ah instruct Nate tae yaise the burner phone in his possession tae pit the triggerman oan standby.

Ah caw this rat’s number whilst maintainin ma eyes oan the target. Two rings and he picks up.

‘’Matty, where the fuck have you been, mate?’’ he says ‘’I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for days now’’

‘’You daft cunt’’ ah tell him ‘’Yur man’s gone and trust me, eh? he’s no comin back’’

‘’Who the fuck is this?!’’ utters the Reich chancellor. Beltin doon the phone.

’Ah’m the yin responsible fur the boom in yur local undertaker’s trade’’ ah explain tae him. As causally and assured as ah possibly kin ‘’Ah heard two ae yur pals inside ended up swingin fae the ceilin, n aw. Ma condolences. Suicide wis it? Well, at least that’s what the coroner’s report will say’’

A bombshell ah kin see hus goat him standin up tae attention. The phone cuts oot briefly due tae him pacin aboot the pavement.

He finally picks up oor chat, though. Desperately and pathetically seekin answers ‘’This is me getting ready to hang up unless you fucking reveal yourself?’’

‘’Ah widnae dae that if ah wis you, eh? Otherwise, ah promise yae that skinny latte yur huddin will be yur last drink’’

‘’What?’’ he chokes, starin aroond aimlessly, clearly freaked oot by ma admission. Ah honestly feel like a cat toyin wae a moose at the minute. It’s fuckin class.

‘’Edinburgh? Ring any bells, daft cunt?. But, here. Ah’ll gie yae a clue, shall ah? Ma parent’s restaurant recently met an untimely end. And word tae the fuckin wise? Before yae start settin fires you really should check if the owner’s huv any sons wae bloody hands’’

‘’All this because of a restaurant?’ he pleas. ‘’Listen, I can pay you a hundred thousand, cash? But only on the condition that you promise to back off?’’

‘’Listen, scumbag’’ ah tell him ‘’Mibbe if yae throw in a weekend wae yur missus tae but even then you’re still no gittin oaff the hook. There’s some people oot there that yae really dinnae fuck wae. And even they fuckin idiots ken no tae dance wae me.’’

His line goes deid, briefly. And he’s completely blind tae the Moped weavin it’s wey through the backed-up traffic. His voice soon sizzles through the other end ae the line, though.

‘’So’’ he says ‘’Did you just call me to throw threats about? ’’

‘’ Naw’’ ah snap ‘’Ah jist wanted tae say gidbye!’’

This fud cannae even construct a response before the moped comes screetchin in front ae him. Two lads wearin helmets pull up and the yin hitchin a ride quickly draws his pistol. A barrage ae shots dually ring oot. Williams ’s lifeless boay slumps tae the concrete. Blood oozin acroass the walkwey. Frantic shoappers start runnin aboot aw oor the place. And in their blind panic they duck behind cars, ducking desperately fur cover. The two hitters are burnin rubber before anyboady kin even breathe. Removin the phone fae ma ear ah hang up the caw and as we’re aboot tae pass his bullet riddled carcass. Nate slows doon the motor which allows me tae admire the handywork ae a loyal son’s vengeance.

If you enjoyed this story and would like to read more of Aldo’s exploits.

My novel titled Who’s Aldo? can be purchased from Waterstones, WH Smith, Blackwells, Amazon. Who’s Aldo? eBook : Burnett, Colin: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store

It’s much better to purchase a copy directly from my publisher Tippermuir Books. The book is cheaper from them and free p/p. Plus, it’s better for me personaly when people buy from my publisher, This is the link to their website/shop Who’s Aldo? — Tippermuir Books Ltd.

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