As Karl was standing on Bull's table, the bodyguard stepped forward, his hands reaching out to pat Karl down. But before he could touch him, Bull's deep voice intervened.
"Don't do that, he's a friend," Bull said, his tone firm but polite.
The bodyguard apologized and stepped back, his eyes never leaving Karl's face. Bull gestured to an empty chair.
"Please, Karl, sit down."
Bull said, "Ladies, would you give these two gentlemen some time alone?"
The women laughed and nodded, gathering their things and leaving the table. Bull turned back to Karl.
"Sorry about your family, Karl. I heard it was a real tragedy."
Karl's anger simmered just below the surface, but he kept his tone neutral.
"Dead people can't come back to life, Bull. What's done is done."
Bull nodded sympathetically.
"So, Karl how have you been?"
Karl's eyes flashed with a mix of anger and bitterness. "I've been fine," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I've been eating soggy food in prison and hearing slurs from police officers. But now, I'm glad I can breathe free and eat real food."
Bull laughed.
"So, Bull where is your Mr. Dealer friend? "
Bull said, "Don't say it like that, the poor fellow didn't have a name."
Karl raised an eyebrow. "He never revealed his name, even to his active buyers like me. How was I supposed to know?"
Bull's expression turned neutral."His name was Ian Scott. He died in his late 30s, in January 2017."
Karl's eyes narrowed. "How did he die?"
Bull's face clouded over. "He died of a heart attack."
Karl's expression turned sombre. "Sorry to hear that. I didn't know."
Bull shrugged, his voice devoid of emotion. "Don't feel sorry, Karl. That mother***** was no good to society by selling drugs."
Karl's eyes narrowed. "So, do you run his business now, Bull?"
Bull nodded, his expression unapologetic. "Yes."
Karl's voice was laced with accusation. "So that means you're also a mother***** and no good to society."
But instead of getting angry, Bull's expression turned philosophical. "We c*nts who are devoted to the world of crime are of no use. We don't have any place in society. We die a dog's death and always stay hiding from the police."
Bull's gaze refocused on Karl. "Anyway, are you here to buy goods?"
Karl nodded. "Yes."
Bull's face split into a wide grin. "Once a c*nt, always a c*nt."
Karl's expression turned serious. "I don't have the money here. It's in my car. I want to buy a large amount of goods. If I bring the bag of money here, I'll attract attention. Would you accompany me to my car?"
Bull hesitated, clearly weighing his options. "I have to run the business here, I can't come outside. You can come to me after the club is closed."
Karl raised an eyebrow. "Aren't these bloody clubs open all night?"
Bull chuckled. "Yes, they are but I will close mine at 3 am, especially for you. I will be waiting outside."
Karl nodded reluctantly. "Okay."
As he stood up to leave, Bull called out, "Hey, Karl! Dance, drink, enjoy the night!"
But Karl shook his head and said, "I have work to do." and walked out of the club, feeling a sense of defeat wash over him. His plan had failed, and he was no closer to getting what he wanted.
Karl sat in his car, his mind racing with thoughts of what to do next. "What should I do?" he muttered to himself.
He picked up his phone and checked the time - 12:55 AM. He dialled Rick's number, and after a few rings, Rick picked up.
"Are you alive, brat?" Rick asked, his voice laced with amusement.
Karl rolled his eyes. "Yes, how would I call you if I was dead?"
Rick chuckled. "Fair point."
Karl's tone turned serious. "It's no time for laughs, Rick. My plan failed."
Rick's tone turned serious. "What do you want me to do, boy?"
Karl hesitated for a moment before responding. "I want you to go to 31st Street, to Sasha Booton's apartment, and tell her to call me."
There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Are you serious?" Rick asked, his voice laced with scepticism.
Karl's response was firm. "I am very serious. Now go."
Rick sighed. "OK," he said and hung up.
Meanwhile, Rick's eyes catch a patron who is sitting at the tavern."Can I borrow your vehicle?" Rick asked.
The patron, clearly drunk, looked up at Rick with a bleary gaze. "Why would I let you?" he slurred.
Rick smiled. "If you let me, I'll give you free rum for a month."
The patron's face lit up. "There you go!" he exclaimed, handing over his keys. "It's a bike."
Rick grinned, taking the keys. He stepped outside, removing his apron and revealing his waistcoat underneath. He started the bike and began driving towards 31st Street.
Rick arrived at Sasha's apartment and pressed the doorbell multiple times. Sasha woke up with a start, disoriented and groggy. She looked at the clock and saw that it was 1:10 AM.
"Who is it at this late hour?" Sasha called out, her voice firm but sleepy.
She grabbed her pistol from the drawer and approached the door, holding the gun at the ready. She opened the door to find Rick standing there, his hands raised in surrender.
"What do you want?" Sasha demanded, her eyes narrowing.
Rick kept his hands up. "I'm Rick. Karl Wilof sent me. He wants you to call him."
Sasha's expression didn't change. "How can I believe you?"
Rick shrugged. "You can call this number and ask him. He'll confirm."
He threw a piece of paper with Karl's number on it. Sasha lowered her gun, looking at the paper.
"Sorry, gramps," she said, a hint of a smile on her face.
She closed the door, leaving Rick standing outside. Rick chuckled to himself.
"My work here is done. Now I'll leave."
Sasha picked up her phone and dialled the number on the piece of paper. Karl picked up on the first ring.
"Thank God you picked up," Karl said, his voice urgent. "What do you want now, Karl?" Sasha asked.
"I'm at Bull Ramsey's club in Govan. He's the killer. I want you to arrive here with a team and take down Bull. I will send you the location."
Sasha's expression turned sceptical. "Chief won't allow me a team at this time, Karl."
Karl's voice was insistent. "Just get here."
Sasha nodded, even though Karl couldn't see her. "Okay, I'll try."
As she hung up the phone, her mind clicked. She looked out the balcony and saw Rick starting up his bike.
Sasha called out loudly, "Wait, gramps!"
Rick looked up, surprised.
Sasha rushed to get ready, putting on her uniform and grabbing her pistol. She rushed downstairs and approached Rick.
"Take me to 55th Street, to Serge Walter's house," she said.
Rick nodded and started the bike. They arrived at Serge's house after some time. Serge had just finished covering the cut on his hand with gauze. He was wearing a grey shirt.
Sasha rang the doorbell and Serge opened the door, looking horrified while his eyes widened in fear. But his face lit up when he saw Sasha. He was horrified because of the apparition he had seen before.
"Sasha, what are you doing here at this late hour?" he asked.
Sasha's expression was serious. "It's no time for talks, come on. Wear your uniform and grab your pistol."
Serge nodded and quickly got ready. He came out of his house, looking alert and focused.
"We're going to Govan, to Bull Ramsey's club," Sasha said.
Serge nodded.
He gestured to his car. "Get in."
Sasha turned to Rick. "Thanks, gramps."
Rick smiled. "My pleasure."
Sasha and Serge got into the car and drove off into the night, leaving Rick to watch them go and he started driving towards his tavern while smiling.