A Cold Killing (Rosie Gilmour) (15 page)

Rosie was pleased that Ruby had trusted her enough to invite her to meet her sister in the nursing home, but she was also a little nervous, not quite knowing what to expect.

As she drove through the sleepy village of Bridge of Weir, she reflected on what Roddy Thompson had told her of the night Ruby had witnessed her mother being burned to death and her sister raped. How do you survive something like that and go on to function in the world? Rosie knew what it felt like to be alone and abandoned as a little girl, having witnessed her own mother’s suicide, and after the agonizing years that followed in the children’s homes, waiting, praying her father would come and take her back home. Everything that had happened to her from the moment she’d seen her mother hanging on the end of the rope had made her the person she was. You functioned in the real world as best you could after something like that, but you could never really be the same as everyone else. There was too much damage.

Rosie rang Ruby’s mobile as she turned into the tree-lined driveway leading to the Foresthill Nursing Home, which nestled at the edge of a vast pine wood. As instructed, she parked her car and walked down towards the lake. In the mid-afternoon autumn sunshine, she passed a couple pushing an elderly lady in a wheelchair who stared straight into space in her own little world. She nodded sympathetically to them, wondering what it must feel like to watch your mother grow old and disintegrate before your eyes. Maybe she was lucky she’d be spared the trauma of caring for an elderly parent. The scene brought a lump to her throat, but she had to quickly compose herself, because Ruby was waving at her from a bench at the edge of the lake. A woman in a wheelchair was next to her. Rosie took a deep breath and braced herself.

‘Good to see you again, Ruby.’ Rosie glimpsed at the woman in the wheelchair. Her eyes didn’t even register her arrival.

‘My sister, Judy,’ Ruby said. She crouched down and took her sister’s hand. ‘Judy . . . I want you to meet . . .’ She looked up at Rosie. ‘I want you to meet a friend of mine. Her name is Rosie.’

The woman’s pale eyes blinked once and Rosie thought her head moved just a fraction in acknowledgement.

‘Rosie’s all right,’ Ruby said softly to her sister. ‘She’s on our side.’

Rosie watched the two of them, pondering what it would be like to have a sister, even if she didn’t speak to you and her eyes were miles away. You could still hug her, even if she didn’t hug you back. She swallowed.

‘I see the resemblance.’ It was all she could think of to say.

Ruby sat on bench and motioned Rosie to sit next to her.

‘I wanted to meet you here, away from Glasgow, but also so you could meet Judy.’ She rubbed her hand along her sister’s arm. ‘She’s . . . well . . . she’s everything to me.’

Rosie nodded, glancing at Judy then back to Ruby. ‘Is she . . . I mean, does she . . .’ She was suddenly tongue-tied and awkward. ‘What I’m trying to say is, will she get better in time? Have you seen any improvement over the years?’

‘Yeah. Definitely. And the nurses told me that in recent weeks she’s been a little more communicative. Well, when I say communicative, I mean she’s actually acknowledged their presence and their words when they speak to her. She’s registering things, they think. That’s a big improvement. And she can walk a bit more, although she gets tired. They pumped a lot of drugs into her years ago, because they didn’t know what they were dealing with. For such a long time she was sedated, because that’s what they thought was best. There’s all sorts of damage been done, muscles wasted and stuff. Things are a little better now, but I’m scared to hope that she will ever really come back to me.’

Rosie wanted to ask if there was brain damage.

‘Her brain is functioning,’ Ruby said, as though reading her mind. ‘They’ve done tests and there’s no brain damage there. But it’s the trauma. That, and the fact that for years after it all happened she was left with no proper care.’ She leaned over and touched her sister’s arm. ‘She was shunted from pillar to post, notes getting lost . . . all that kind of shit. Given anti-psychotic drugs when what she needed was a good psychiatrist. They just wrote her off as a hopeless case. At one point they were treating her for schizophrenia. I mean, how the hell does that happen to a kid? There’re probably a lot of people like that in institutions who shouldn’t really be there.’ She gazed out towards the lake. ‘But that all changed a few years ago, when I found her. And now, day by day, things are getting better. I feel I can get to her. I hugged her when I got back a couple of weeks ago and whispered to her and – and she actually hugged me back. That’s the first time that’s happened. So I have to believe that there is hope.’

‘What made her improve?’ Rosie asked.

Ruby looked at her sister for a long moment but said nothing.

They sat watching a flock of birds swoop across the lake, the peace of the countryside filling the silence. Three people, Rosie thought. Surviving.

‘So,’ Ruby said, taking a cigarette out of her handbag and lighting up. ‘You wanted to talk about your investigation.’

‘Yes.’ Rosie turned to her. ‘I want to ask if you will work with us.’

‘Go on.’ Ruby blew a trail of smoke and watched it rise and disappear.

‘Obviously, what I’m going to tell you now puts me in a lot of danger if it ever gets out, Ruby, so I’m placing a whole lot of trust in you.’

Ruby glared at her.

‘Listen, pal. You’re here. With my sister.
I
brought you here. Who’s trusting who?’

Rosie nodded.

‘Okay. Fair enough. Then here’s the situation.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I have a dossier given to me by Gerard Hawkins – Mahoney’s friend – the one you saw that day.’

Ruby raised her eyebrows.

‘Really? I did see Mahoney pass something to him in the café.’

‘You did? Good. At least that proves Hawkins didn’t make it up. Well . . . I think Hawkins was murdered because he was about to make this information public, which is what he told me Mahoney had asked him to do that day.’

‘Mahoney did look agitated.’

‘The dossier is full of a lot of damning allegations. Some of them we may be able to back up but a lot of them we won’t. That will be the editor’s call, at the end of the day. But Mahoney has written a lot about the arms dealing and this company we talked about, J B Solutions, and the guy who runs it . . . You mentioned him.’

‘Tam Dunn,’ Ruby interrupted.

‘You know him?’ Rosie asked, surprised.

‘I don’t know him, but I know a man who does.’

‘Really? That’s useful. Who is he?’

‘His name is Tony Devlin. He runs the show here for Rab Jackson. Took over when Rab moved to Spain, and now he’s the man in charge.’

‘How well do you know him?’

‘Well enough.’ Ruby shot Rosie a lazy-eyed glance then looked away.

Rosie let the silence hang for a moment.

‘Does he trust you?’

‘Put it this way, I think he’s scared not to trust me.’ Ruby’s lips curled a little. ‘He
needs
to trust me. I’m the only one who knows where all Rab’s money is, which in turn is his money, and the mob’s money, too.’

‘Right.’ Rosie nodded slowly. This was better than she’d hoped for. ‘Has he talked to you about Tam Dunn?’

‘You bet he has. I was with him yesterday, and he’s spilling his guts on this whole fucking story. He told me a lot of stuff, actually – about the shooting of Mahoney . . . how it was an arms deal that got fucked up. And how one of their men got killed – Billy. He’s from Glasgow but lived down south for years. And another guy was captured.’

‘By who?’

Ruby shrugged.

‘By whoever was on the operation. Cops, MI6? Who knows? But the wee guy captured is called Derek . . . Del Boy. He’s from Glasgow, but he knows Tam’s minder, Billy, who was on the job, so
he
wanted to take him on the job for a bit of muscle. Tony told me Del got sent down in case the Russians were at the capers. Turns out someone else was at the capers. Tony doesn’t know how it all went tits up, but he said they lost a lot of money and the Russians were not happy. Tam works with the Russians on a lot of deals. It’s how things are these days, apparently. He’s pretty big stuff now – Tam Dunn. Left Glasgow years ago and Rab worked with him while he built things up down south. Rab invested in one of his companies.’

‘Tony told you all this?’

‘Yep.’

‘Did he say the name of the company he invested in?’

‘Yeah. Damar Guns . . . They’re the ones that sell guns to Africa. Dunn has no proper licence. Tony says someone is on the take and issuing fake papers.’

‘Christ! That’s pretty much what Mahoney’s saying.’

‘Great. So you know I’m not bullshitting.’ Ruby sat back, giving Rosie a sideways glance.

‘Never thought you were. But I need to get some inroad into this guy and blow the whole thing.’ She paused. ‘Would you be willing to help us on that? If we set something up?’

‘Like what?’

‘I’ll tell you more once I work it all out. But we would be undercover.’

‘Not me, though.’

‘No. But you could maybe help if Tony gives you any information.’

‘Sure. If I can.’ She looked Rosie in the eye. ‘But I want something in return. Are you working with the cops?’

‘Not yet. I know they’ll want to talk to us after this morning’s story in the
Post
. The editor has still got to see them, then we’ll decide what to do.’

‘I don’t want to work with the cops. Because once this is over I’m out of here for a while. Maybe for ever. With Judy.’

They sat quietly.

‘But can you do that with her? Is she okay to travel the way she is?’

‘Yeah. I’ll go to France. I have a place there. I can look after her. I’ve already looked into it.’

‘You have money?’

Ruby looked at her and stubbed out her cigarette on the grass.

‘I have money.’ Her eyes smiled a little. ‘I’m the accountant. I don’t have to worry about money.’

The trees rustled as the wind rose. Ruby looked at her watch.

‘I’m going to have to take Judy back up. She gets her dinner at five. We eat together . . . I have to help her . . . then I’ll stay here till she’s asleep.’

‘Okay.’ Rosie stood up. ‘But I’ll be in touch. And I appreciate your help.’ They shook hands. ‘I’ll give you a call when I know more.’

‘Likewise,’ Ruby said, getting behind her sister’s wheelchair.

Rosie bent down.

‘Good to meet you, Judy.’

Judy’s blank gaze seemed to veer slowly away from the lake, and she made a slight turn of her head. Her eyes didn’t smile or show any emotion, but for a fleeting second they looked straight at Rosie. She was in there. Somewhere.

McGuire was in rant mode, pacing around his office as Rosie’s eyes followed him from the sofa.

He turned to her, rolling up his sleeves. ‘I’m not in the mood to take any crap from these guys.’

‘Me neither. Did they give any indication on the phone of what’s going on?’

‘Nope. I only had a brief word with the boss man. Chief Superintendent Boswell-Smith. A pretty fancy name for a plod.’

‘Special Branch plod, though, Mick. Some of them are a bit top drawer. If he’s that high up the chain, he’ll have seen a bit of action in the field.’

‘Well, he’ll not be throwing his weight around here.’ He folded his arms. ‘What about Mahoney’s dossier? Have you got it all sorted?’

‘Yes. All copied twice and hidden away. I took everything I gave you, just in case they ask you for any paperwork . . . In case they have a search warrant.’

‘There was no sign of that from the brief phone call. They said they just want a chat about our front page.’

‘Well,’ Rosie said, ‘I’m deeply suspicious of them anyway. It was probably them who bumped off Hawkins. And I wouldn’t be surprised if it was them who ran me off the road in Kilmaurs. I’m not just being paranoid, but there’s some dark stuff going on.’

McGuire’s phone rang and he picked it up.

‘Send them in, Marion.’ He turned to Rosie, squaring his shoulders. ‘So, here’s your chance to ask if they did Hawkins in and made you crash.’ He gave her a mischievous grin.

‘I might just do that.’

Rosie always felt intimidated when police came marching in on an investigation, because it was never to tell her to keep up the good work. Far from it. In the past when they’d pitched up at the
Post
it had been an attempt to monster her, push her for her information source or make her hand over evidence. It usually ended with a bad-tempered senior cop storming out, threatening repercussions.

A knock on the door, and Marion appeared ahead of two men then backed out. ‘Hello, Mr McGuire.’ The big man in the blue pinstripe suit stretched out a hand. ‘Thanks for agreeing to see us. Chief Superintendent James Boswell-Smith.’

He didn’t sound as though he had picked up those clipped tones pounding the beat in London’s East End, and he looked more like a politician than a detective.

‘Not at all.’ McGuire shook his hand. ‘Always ready to help out Her Majesty’s finest.’

His expression said the opposite.

‘And this is Captain Martin Banks.’ The superintendent gestured towards his colleague.

‘Captain?’ McGuire raised his eyebrows. ‘Have we sent for the troops already?’

Nobody moved for an awkward moment, then McGuire went on. ‘And this is Rosie Gilmour, my Investigations Editor, and all-round top operator.’ McGuire had a glint in his eye, and added cheekily, ‘She’s even been known to noise up the cops from time to time . . . so you’ll want to watch her.’

‘How are you doing, chaps? Welcome to Glasgow.’ Rosie smiled at the big cop as she shook his hand, but her eyes were drawn to the captain.

He was all chisel-jawed and rugged good looks, with close-cropped hair and a broken nose. He looked like the kind of guy you’d want on your side if you had to fight your way out of trouble. His icy blue eyes locked with Rosie’s, and she hoped she didn’t look as impressed as she felt.

‘So’ – McGuire motioned them towards his conference table – ‘take a seat.’ He turned to the captain. ‘I’m a little confused here. Are you army?’

The captain opened his mouth to speak, but Boswell-Smith intervened.

‘Yes, he is. Captain Banks has been seconded from Hereford to the MoD investigation.’ He tugged at the cuffs of his white shirt as he sat down. ‘On occasion in the international fight against organized crime, all forces come together. It’s not a fact that we shout from the rooftops – but it does happen.’

‘I see.’ McGuire shot Rosie a look.

Hereford meant the SAS, and if they were bringing
them
in then something serious had gone down. If it came to a fist fight over Mahoney’s documents, she wouldn’t mind if the captain wrestled her to the ground.

‘So, Superintendent’ – McGuire took a breath – ‘what can we do for you here?’

Boswell-Smith cleared his throat.

‘Your story in the newspaper yesterday . . . About Tom Mahoney the university lecturer being a spy.’ He clasped his hands on the desk. ‘We’re very interested in that.’

‘Yes.’ McGuire nodded. ‘So are we . . . and our army of readers.’ He waited.

‘So . . . er . . . what is that allegation based on?’ He looked at Rosie inquisitively. ‘I’m aware you’ll not want to reveal your sources. But do you have actual evidence to back that up?’

‘It came from documented evidence,’ Rosie said. ‘From information that Tom Mahoney had given in writing. Before his . . . er . . . murder.’ She wanted to say ‘execution’, but thought better of it.

‘You mean a written testament from Tom Mahoney? And do you have that in your possession?’

‘No. I don’t, actually,’ she said quickly. ‘It was shown to me by a contact. And I don’t have access to that information any more. I took notes from it at the time but I don’t have the documents.’ She hoped the lie wasn’t written on her face. ‘And I don’t have access to that contact either.’

‘So you don’t have a contact you can go back to? Even if you want to check your facts again?’

‘No.’

‘Why?’

‘Because he’s dead.’

The silence hung over them, and Rosie crossed her legs and sat back, clicking her pen. She was conscious of the captain watching her.

‘Can you say who the contact is?’

Rosie caught McGuire’s eye, then looked at the cop.

‘I don’t really think I have to tell you that, Superintendent. I’m sure you already know.’

Again, the silence, Rosie holding her nerve.

McGuire gave an impatient puff.

‘Look, chaps. Let’s cut to the chase here.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I’ve got an editorial conference in fifteen minutes. What exactly do you want from us? Do you want us to help you with your investigation? Because if you do, then we may be in a position to do that, but that will depend on how you want to play this.’ He turned to Rosie.

‘Rosie. Tell the chief super a bit of what you’ve been told happened in Berlin.’

Rosie was a little surprised that McGuire was going in boots first.

‘Okay.’ She sat forward, leaning her elbows on the table. ‘I have good, solid information that Mahoney was a spy, or had been many years ago, as our story says. But apparently he was also working for MI6 over the years, and lately was used in the international fight against crime. He was part of an operation – a sting operation – in Berlin, to bust open a crooked illegal arms deal with a UK operator and Russian mobsters.’ She paused for effect, feeling confident. ‘How am I doing so far, Superintendent?’

He said nothing but Rosie saw the muscle in his jaw tighten. She continued.

‘Now, for some reason – I don’t know why – the sting went wrong and a Russian woman was caught in the crossfire. Her name was Katya.’ She paused again, raising her eyebrows. ‘I’m also told that the police – the joint international operation – also took a prisoner. One Derek . . . Del.’ Their faces were blank. ‘Well. He’s gone missing. That much we know. And he was definitely in on that arms deal, working for UK gangsters. So, at the moment, I’m trying to establish more about the man behind the UK arms company. We want to nail him. And obviously we want to find out who killed Mahoney. Was it the Russians, or someone else . . .?’

‘It appears that there was some Russian mafia involvement in the murder of Mahoney,’ the cop said.

‘Yeah,’ Rosie said flatly, shooting him a sarcastic look. ‘It would
appear
that way. But I’m not sure that’s the case. Anyway. We’re going to expose this arms dealer. I’m sure you know who we’re talking about?’ Rosie flicked over a page in her notebook, glancing at notes more for effect than necessity. ‘Because the operation that the police were involved in to nail this guy went – for want of a better expression – belly up, if my information is accurate.’

The cop said nothing. They sat in tense silence.

McGuire cleared his throat.

‘Well, if that’s all, gentlemen, I must be getting on. I’m not sure we were of any help to you. But . . .’

‘Hold on.’ The chief Superintendent put a hand up. ‘We may be able to assist you – perhaps we can help each other on this. I will have to consult with my department and the various bodies involved. This a very high-level inquiry.’

‘Yes. I’m sure.’ McGuire rolled his eyes. ‘Well, once the left hand reveals to the right hand what’s going on, you chaps know where we are.’ He looked at Rosie. ‘Oh, and I think my Investigations Editor has something else to ask you. Rosie? Tell the chief super how you were forced off the road the other night.’

‘Yes. That’s correct,’ Rosie said. ‘I’d been meeting a contact down in Ayrshire, and when I was driving home I was run off the road by another car. A bit of a close shave, actually. Very strange. I don’t suppose you can shed any intelligence on that?’

‘No. Absolutely no idea. I’m not even sure why you’re asking.’ The chief superintendent shook his head, looking straight at her.

‘Yeah. Thought not.’ Rosie gave him a sarcastic look.

‘Did you report it to Strathclyde Police?’ The cop bristled.

‘No. I didn’t think there was much point.’

The two men stood up. Boswell-Smith stretched out his hand to McGuire.

‘I hope we’ll be seeing you again, sir.’ He nodded to Rosie, shaking hands. ‘And you, Rosie. Thanks for your information.’ His mouth was tight.

Rosie said nothing and shook both their hands.

When the door was closed, McGuire turned to Rosie as he walked across to his desk.

‘What the fuck was all that about?’

‘Fishing expedition,’ Rosie replied. ‘They’re trying to find out what we’ve got.’

‘They must be rattled to come all the way up from London. And what’s with the SAS guy? What’s that all about? At least they didn’t get all heavy-handed and ask me to turn out my drawers. They’d have been told to GTF if they had.’

‘I’m guessing the SAS man was, as the big man said, there as part of the international fight against crime. They do work together on certain things, but I’ve never heard of SAS involvement.’ She paused. ‘They might be working on the basis that we have Mahoney’s dossier. Because if what Hawkins told me is true, then Mahoney had already threatened to expose them. Maybe he even told them he had a dossier that could blow them all out of the water. And that’s why they got rid of him.’

‘We’ve no evidence whatsoever that they killed Mahoney – or Hawkins. Do bear that in mind, Gilmour.’

‘I know. But they’ll be shitting themselves in high places if they believe Mahoney has got some kind of dossier exposing the dodgy arms company, and drawing attention to the fact that people who work for the government are turning a blind eye so it can get a fake licence. Can you imagine the blood on the walls if that gets out?’

‘But it’s not going to get out, because we don’t have proof.’

‘Not yet. I’m working on it.’ Rosie felt a little impatient. ‘But we’re obviously on the right track, Mick, or they wouldn’t have sent someone scurrying up to Glasgow.’

‘So you’ll have to watch your step.’ He turned to his computer. ‘Oh, and by the way, I noticed James Bond giving you the eye.’

‘You don’t need to look so surprised,’ she said over her shoulder as she headed for the door.