A Cold Killing (Rosie Gilmour) (25 page)

‘Listen to this, Mick.’ Rosie produced the tape recorder from her pocket as she walked into McGuire’s office the following morning. If she could get him to listen to Olenca’s account of Tam Dunn’s brutal murder of her friend, it would distract him from the bollocking she was expecting.

McGuire looked up from his screen, his eyes widening when he saw Rosie’s bruised face. He took off his reading glasses and tossed them onto his desk.

‘I knew you’d have a sore face. Christ almighty, Rosie! I fucking knew.’

‘It’s okay. I’m fine.’ She planked the tape on his desk and switched it on. ‘This is much more important. Just take a minute to listen to the tape, then I’ll explain everything.’

Rosie turned up the volume before he had a chance to say anything else, and sat on the sofa opposite his desk. McGuire screwed up his face as Olenca’s voice came on, straining to make out what she was saying through her heavy Polish accent.

‘You’ll get used to it, if you listen closely. Honest,’ Rosie insisted.

They both listened. Olenca’s voice broke with emotion as her graphic account of what happened in the restaurant that night filled the room. Rosie hadn’t made a big issue of convincing Olenca that she needed to tape the conversation, and she knew she was playing on the girl’s lack of knowledge of how these things worked. But to get her on tape with this kind of narrative was as explosive as it gets. It was even more valuable as Rosie had it before Olenca was handed over to the police. Olenca named the escort agency she worked for, and how many times in the past she’d been to Tony Devlin’s restaurant and entertained his friends in the private room.

McGuire’s face was impassive as Olenca described the sex scene with Dunn, how at first her friend and her were both kissing and fondling him, and then how he wanted to have sex with Lujca. He’d taken a lot of cocaine and alcohol, she said, and he wasn’t able to get a proper erection. Lujca had laughed at him. It was only one time she laughed, Olenca said, but Dunn exploded. He began slapping her, and then punched her hard on the face two or three times and she fell on the floor. Then he started kicking her. Olenca was in tears as she described how there was a lot of blood, and that she saw one of Lujca’s teeth come out and fall on the floor. She stepped in and pleaded with him to stop, that Lujca was sorry, that they were both very sorry. But he turned on Olenca and kicked her in the stomach and told her not to move. At one point Lujca had tried to crawl away, but Dunn had grabbed her by the hair and started kicking her head as if it was a football. Olenca said she was on her knees in the corner, sobbing, terrified, believing she was next. She could see that Lujca was by now unconscious, and every time he kicked her head, it just flopped, as if she was a rag doll. Then the door opened, and a woman who had been having dinner with them came in. She was screaming at Dunn, but he wouldn’t listen and was shouting back at her. And then Tony came in, and he was very angry. He and Dunn were shouting at each other. There was blood all over the carpet and some on the desk and the walls. Dunn said it was all Tony’s fault. Then two men came in and Tony told them to deal with it. One of them took Lujca away. For a few seconds there was only the sound of Olenca crying on the tape. Then she seemed to compose herself and went on to describe what she’d also told Rosie about the bouncer, David, and his plans to sell her to a friend in London.

McGuire shook his head slowly when the tape clicked to the end and didn’t speak for a moment.

‘Jesus Christ! Poor kid.’ He picked up the tape and let out a long breath, puffing his cheeks. ‘But that is dynamite, Gilmour. Good job. Unbelievable stuff. And the detail – Christ! I take it you’ve got a picture of her?’

‘Yeah. And she gave us one of Lujca – before you ask.’

‘Well done. I want these bastards strung up. Big time.’

Rosie didn’t answer. A sudden wave of depression swept over her.

‘What’s the matter with you?’ McGuire said. ‘You did well.’

Rosie sighed.

‘Yeah. But I feel for the girl, that’s all. She’s just a kid. Twenty-two.’

‘Yes. I know what you mean. But save your emotions for the piece you’re going to write when that bastard Dunn gets jailed. There’s no way he’ll go to trial with this. What do your cop pals think?’

‘My detective friend called a little while ago. He said they’ve already told Tony Devlin that he’s looking at life in jail, that he’s as guilty as Dunn because it was he who disposed of the body. He’s down at Stewart Street cop shop right now, sticking Dunn right in. Telling them everything to try to save his own skin. So much for honour among thieves.’

‘Scumbags, one and all. Well, they’ll be in jail soon. But we need to think about how we can write a story. Has anybody been charged yet?’

‘Not yet. But if Don’s saying that Tony’s grassing up Dunn, then there’ll be charges very soon. They’ve got Forensics people all over the restaurant and the private room.’

‘Okay. I think we should write a form of words that we can run past the lawyer. No other papers will know anything about this – or the girl that’s been kidnapped. So we’re bang in front. I think we have to just blast as much as we can get away with before the lawyers and the Crown Office come on and tell us we can’t write anything.’

‘I agree. I’ll go and make a start.’ Rosie got up.

McGuire looked at her.

‘And you haven’t told me what happened. How the hell did you end up going in there?’ Rosie shrugged.

‘It seemed like a good idea at the time.’

‘So was it Dunn who gave you the sore face?’

‘Yeah. He’s a right bastard, Mick. Real psycho.’

‘When did the cavalry arrive?’

‘Just as he was about to kill us.’

‘Who shot him?’

‘Believe it or not, it was Judy.’

‘Judy? I thought she was completely in another world.’

‘So did everyone. But something must have flipped, because we were all sitting there terrified as Dunn was going mental. Then I looked out of the corner of my eye and suddenly I saw her pick up the gun he’d put on the table. She started screaming. Then firing randomly. Any one of us could have caught a bullet. But she got lucky. Shot Dunn. Then shot him twice more.’

‘Give that girl a fucking coconut.’

Rosie laughed as she went on to describe how Boswell-Smith and the captain had burst in wearing balaclavas.

‘Then I stepped out to get a better connection on my mobile to call the cops. And all of a sudden one of the big gorillas – I’d forgotten about him – got a hold of me outside and it all went pear-shaped.

‘What happened then?’

‘Adrian. That’s what happened.’

‘Did he kill anyone?’ McGuire rolled his eyes.

‘No. Not yet.’ Rosie said, knowing by the look on Adrian’s face as Olenca had spoken last night that he had some retribution of his own in mind.

‘So what about this Ruby character?’

‘Haven’t spoken to her since last night. She’s planning to do a runner. Any time in the next few days.’

‘And what about Boswell-Smith and James Bond. Where are they?’

‘I’d say they got very pissed last night. I’ve to see them today. Lunchtime.’

‘To hand over the dossier.’

Rosie sighed.

‘Afraid so. I know we made an agreement. But it doesn’t feel right. We’re suppressing a story that we know is true, and there are people at the top of the heap who know what happened to Mahoney, and to Hawkins. I feel sorry for Hawkins especially. He wasn’t even a spy. He was just a nice old guy. It’s not fair. And now we can’t even bloody write about it.’

‘I know, Gilmour. But we both know that Judy’s life was at stake. Things are more important than this shit that we get out of bed for every day.’ He lifted the dummy of tomorrow’s paper and dropped it back on the desk.

‘Yeah. It doesn’t make it right, though.’ Rosie picked up the tape from his desk and went towards the door.

*

Rosie pulled on her jacket and headed out of the office after taking a call from Ruby asking to meet her at her flat.

‘I don’t know who looks worse.’ Ruby touched the bruise on her cheek as she stepped back in the hall to let Rosie over the doorstep.

They stood, looking at each other.

‘I know,’ Rosie said, shaking her head. ‘Jesus! I’m too old for all this.’

She automatically glanced down the hallway, wondering if Judy was in the living room, surprised at how excited she was at the prospect of seeing her.

‘How is she?’ she whispered.

A smile spread across Ruby’s face, and she bit back a tear.

‘Amazing. I still can’t believe it. She’s asleep now. She didn’t sleep much last night, kept waking up and crying a lot. Actually, I’m a bit scared now that she’s asleep that she’ll wake up and whatever happened inside her head yesterday will be gone and she’ll be back to the silence again.’

‘No. Don’t think that way,’ Rosie said, as they walked towards the kitchen. ‘It’s incredible, though, what happened, isn’t it?’

Ruby shook her head, smiling.

‘Coffee? It’s too early to drink – though I could do with one.’

‘Me, too,’ Rosie said. ‘But coffee would be great.’

A while later, they clinked coffee mugs and stood in the kitchen.

‘So has she said anything else at all?’ Rosie asked.

‘Not much. I think we’ve got a long way to go. I’ve been talking to her and telling her things, and I’m getting some responses now, more than ever before. She’s said a few words. Says she’s scared, mostly. But happy. She nodded and smiled when I asked, “Are you happy, Judy?”, and when I asked her did she want to come away with me so we can be together, she gave a big smile. I never saw that before.’ Ruby’s eyes filled up. ‘I can’t believe it, Rosie. I’ve got my sister back.’

‘So what are your plans?’

‘I want to leave tomorrow and get the ferry to France. I’ll go to my house in the village and then get to a doctor and the specialists I’ve already consulted with, and see where we go from here. As I’ve said, they filled her full of so many pills down the years without really addressing the situation that I’m not sure how much of her I will get back. But it’s a start. I’m looking forward to going away. I’m not even going back to the home to get Judy’s things. All that’s in the past now. I’ll fax them tomorrow and say she’s staying with me.’

‘You’re going to drive all the way to Dover then to the middle of France yourself?’

‘No choice. It’s a long trip and Ruby needs a bit of help and care.’

‘It’s a lot to take on.’

‘I know. But I’ve no option. I’ve got nobody.’

For two pins, Rosie would have volunteered, but she knew she couldn’t.

‘I’d love to help you, but I’m up to my eyes with this story now, it’s moving so fast.’

‘No, no. I wasn’t expecting you to. You’ve done enough. Really.’

They stood for a moment in silence, then a thought came to Rosie.

‘Ruby. Remember I asked you about Roddy Thompson? You said you didn’t know him?’

Ruby gave a confused look.

‘I vaguely remember you mentioning a name. But I don’t think I do know him.’

‘Can I ask you something? Just curious. How did you finance your way through university?’

Ruby folded her arms and leaned back on the worktop.

‘You really want to know? The truth is I’ve no idea. I was told by my social worker that when I turned eighteen, I had access to a trust fund that had been set up for me. Christ knows where it came from, because my ma had nothing, and I was raised in children’s homes. But when I was seventeen I got a letter sent to the home telling me to go to a solicitor, and there they told me there was a trust fund. For my university education. The lawyer said I had a benefactor who wanted to remain anonymous. No idea who it was and, honestly, I was always waiting for some pervert to come out of nowhere, but they never did. I just took the money and ran. Went to uni for a couple of years. I got part-time jobs, too, but the money helped a lot. I wouldn’t have been able to go to uni without it.’

‘I think I know who it is.’

‘You’re kidding. How would you know something like that?’

‘During part of my investigation I came across a retired detective. He was very close to your mum. I mean,
very
close. She gave him tips about things.’

‘My mum grassed to the cops?’ Ruby looked aghast.

‘Well, I think it was one particular thing – what got her killed. Rab Jackson.’

Ruby said nothing.

‘So who is this cop, this retired guy?’

‘I think you should meet him. I know he’d want to see you. I can call him, and perhaps he can even help you get away.’

‘I can’t imagine why he’d want to do that.’

‘I think he was in love with your mother. He was already married.’

Ruby said nothing, shook her head.

‘How would you feel if I got in touch with him? He remembers you and Judy as little girls. I mean, you’re leaving anyway, and I think he would be a good connection. Why not? You have nothing to lose. He’s out of the force for five years now, but from what I hear he was a good cop. I think he was your secret benefactor, but he didn’t admit it. I think you should meet him.’

Ruby shrugged and sighed.

‘Sure. What harm can it do?’

Rosie looked for Roddy Thompson’s number and rang it.

Rosie glanced at the envelope on the passenger seat as she drove to the Grosvenor Hotel and her heart sank. The dossier that Hawkins had died for was now about to be handed over to Boswell-Smith to be buried or destroyed. Sure, she was doing it for all the right reasons, and she also knew there was no other way. But it still felt as if something precious was being ripped from her. As she turned into the car park she spotted the captain loading up two small cases into the boot of a Range Rover, then get into the driver’s seat. Boswell-Smith emerged from the hotel and pulled up the collar of his raincoat as he crossed the car park. When he noticed Rosie he beckoned her to park next to them.

‘Morning, Rosie,’ he said as she got out of her car with the dossier under her arm. ‘How’s the face?’ He grimaced. ‘Looks a bit sore.’

‘Yeah. It is. But I’ll live.’

‘Climb in the back.’ He opened the door and closed it after her, then went round to the passenger seat.

‘So how’s your story going?’ He turned around. ‘You must have some good material now, after all that chaos yesterday?’

‘Yeah.’ Rosie knew she sounded downbeat. ‘A few questions have been asked by the police as to what we were doing there – but I’m hoping we got away with it. Dunn is in hospital under guard. I was hoping he’d bled to death, the bastard. They had to remove his spleen and a good bit of his stomach. So he hasn’t actually been charged yet – well, not with the murder of the prostitute. But he’ll get done for that no problem, because the girl’s friend is going to testify. She saw it all. Plus, so-called hardman Devlin is singing like a canary to keep himself from being an accessory to murder. So it’s all good stuff.’

‘Great.’

‘Yeah.’

There was an awkward silence, then Rosie held out the dossier.

‘So.’ She glanced at the captain, who was watching her through the rear-view mirror. ‘Here are the incriminating documents . . . Tom Mahoney’s inside story of everything that happened. The names in the frame. All the people who were part of the corruption.’ She handed it to Boswell-Smith and they made fleeting eye contact.

‘Thank you.’

He opened it up and took out the bundle of papers, firstly turning over the black-and-white pictures and examining the captions, then reading briefly over the first page of Mahoney’s notes. Rosie shifted about in the back, opened the window, feeling the damp air and soft rain cooling her face. Eventually he put the papers back into the envelope and sat silently staring through the windscreen for a few moments. Rosie wondered if she should just go. Then he turned his body around so he was facing her.

‘Okay, Rosie, thanks for being as good as your word. Much appreciated.’

She nodded.

‘Yeah, sure.’ Her hand went to the door handle. She just wanted to get out.

‘Right,’ Boswell-Smith said, ‘here’s the deal.’

Surprised, Rosie turned to face him. He tossed the envelope on the back seat beside her.

‘This conversation never happened. You understand what I’m saying?’

Rosie glanced at the document for a second before the penny dropped, then she nodded slowly, her eyes automatically going to the captain, who looked through her.

Boswell-Smith straightened his tie.

‘Here’s how this is going to play out. We drive back to London and, by teatime, all going well, I’ll meet with my boss at Whitehall and tell him the following . . .’ He paused, sniffed. ‘My journey north was largely a waste of time. No dossier. No information. No buried stories. They weren’t there – or if they were, then I couldn’t find them.’

Rosie swallowed, afraid to speak as he went on.

‘I’ll tell them the whole thing was fucked up by whoever went in and did Hawkins over in his flat that night.’

Rosie looked at him, not sure how to react.

‘No,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t us, if that’s what you’re thinking. But someone was sent there, and fucked up. That’s how we ended up on the scene.’

‘What do you mean, fucked up?’ Rosie asked tentatively, terrified to say the wrong thing in case he took the envelope back.

‘Just that,’ he said. ‘Don’t ask me the finer details, because I don’t know, but I can tell you that someone in the shady-bastard-department that is MI6 thought it would be a good idea to come up and eliminate Hawkins, as he was the only one they believed had the dossier. They saw you going into his flat and coming out at some stage, and at that point they thought perhaps you had it. Hence the reason you were run off the road that night.’

‘Jesus,’ Rosie said. ‘They tried to kill me?’

‘Well, I’m not sure really. But they wanted to stop you doing what you were doing. Frighten you. Without really knowing what the hell you
were
doing. It was ham-fisted, to put it mildly. Christ! Spies can be bloody thick at times. It’s not like the movies, you know.’

‘So who was this? Who tried to run me off the road?’

‘Don’t know. Someone from the other side.’

‘What other side?’ Rosie was bamboozled.

‘Well, it wasn’t one of ours, put it that way. It was someone from the Russian intelligence service, I think. Someone looking at the investigation into the gunrunning and organized crime. They sent one of their men to mop up the mess after the failed operation in Berlin and the murder of Mahoney. But they didn’t do it very well. All they did was bump that poor old bastard Hawkins off, and still come away empty-handed.’

Rosie shook her head, confused.

‘I’m not sure I really understand it.’

‘No. Me neither. But that’s how these guys work. Anyway, bottom line is they had wind that the newspaper might have the dossier. So they sent me up to try first of all to establish if you had it and, secondly, to get it from you . . . by whatever means it took.’

‘What do you mean, by whatever means?’

Silence. Then Rosie felt her mouth drop open in disbelief.

‘Hang on a minute! Jesus Christ! Don’t tell me it was you who kidnapped Judy?’ She shook her head. ‘You have to be joking. Christ almighty! Why?’

Silence. The captain opened his window and let out a little steam that was rising on the windscreen.

‘Leverage,’ Boswell-Smith said. ‘We needed leverage. We couldn’t
demand
the dossier from you – that’s if we even established that you had it – because we couldn’t actually be seen to be involved in anything at all, or even to acknowledge that there was a dossier. Best-case scenario for us was just to return with the document and no questions asked. But you and your editor wouldn’t give us it.’

‘So you kidnapped Judy and handed her over to Devlin? I mean . . . you can’t be working with him? Surely not!’

‘No. But one of his minions is working for us now – Del Boy, I believe he was called.’

‘Wee Derek. The one who got captured during the Berlin shoot-out?’

‘That’s the one.’

‘But how?’

‘People do all sorts of shit when their life is at stake, Rosie. Especially if you throw in a few quid and a new identity and a new life far enough away from here. Del Boy is all set up.’

Rosie shook her head, incredulous.

‘But how the hell did he know about Ruby and her sister?’

‘He was in Ruby’s company about eighteen months ago – in a photograph we had of her with that plonker Jackson during an earlier surveillance job. Then, we had CCTV pictures of her coming off the Eurostar when we were trying to trace the mystery women who left the café. Del Boy was also in the earlier photograph and now we had him in our hot little hands. We established, or at least had good enough suspicions that it was the same woman who came off the Eurostar as the woman in the picture with Jackson eighteen months ago.’

‘So why connect her to Devlin and all this stuff?’

‘Del was able to tell us that she is the accountant for Jackson and his mob, moving his money around the world. And he told us that she was also involved with Devlin. So it was a question of bringing them together. By the time we put the screws on Del, he would have done anything to save his skinny little neck. He got in touch with Devlin to tell him he’d managed to give the cops the slip and was on his way back from Europe – all bullshit, of course. He knew that Devlin was desperate to get Ruby to move on the money – and that she was stalling – and he needed to get control back. So Del told him that the only way to get to her was to take the sister – that was sure to bring her running.’

‘So where did I fit in?’

‘Well, you were the one with the dossier. You were seen with Ruby in the bar that night and a couple of other times.’

‘You’ve been watching me?’

‘Well, the good captain here has. I don’t do that kind of stuff any more. Too old for stake-outs. But yes, you were being watched.’

‘So are you seriously saying that when you came to our office that day at the
Post
you knew that we had the dossier and you had to find a way to get it because you knew we wouldn’t give you it? So
you
arranged for Judy to be kidnapped? How?’

‘Del Boy told Devlin that was the best way to get to Ruby. So we kept track of her, then when the time was right got the word to Devlin of where she was. He did the rest.’

‘Christ.’ Rosie could hardly take it in.

‘But how did you know I’d be with Ruby when she went to meet Tony?’

‘Well, we did advise you that you should be . . . or don’t you remember?’

Rosie recalled the conversation they’d had when they’d promised her she’d be safe if she went in with Ruby. She shook her head.

‘But you couldn’t have known that Tam Dunn was going to turn up and how it all went after that. You couldn’t have known that, surely?’

‘No. We didn’t know that. It did get a little messier than we’d expected. We’d hoped you would be grateful enough that Judy was safe to give us the documents. Then, when Dunn came in, it got more difficult.’

‘Jesus! All to get this dossier.’ Rosie shook her head.

He raised his eyebrows, glancing at the envelope.

‘The dossier, which, of course, you don’t have.’

‘Yes. Of course.’ She almost smiled. ‘The dossier I don’t have.’ She folded her arms and looked him in the eye.

‘But, Superintendent, we nearly got killed in that bloody place the other day. Dunn was ready to kill us all. Why in the name of Christ did you not come a few minutes earlier, before he beat the shit out of us?’

‘Well, I’m sorry about that, Rosie, but these things happen. We had a bit of a logistic problem getting discreet access to where you were inside the building. Yours wasn’t the only bottom that was twitching. It was a pretty close shave that we got there at all – I’ll tell you that.’

‘Yeah. I’ll bloody say it was.’ Rosie shook her head. She glanced at the envelope beside her.

‘But why? I mean, why give it back? After everything?’

‘Give what back?’ He said, deadpan.

Silence. Boswell-Smith examined the back of his hands.

‘You know something, Rosie . . . I reckon I’ve had a few good breaks in my life. My old dad was a newspaper editor, and he’d come from Fleet Street back in the tough old days. He left the front line for family life and took the editorship of that paper down in Eastbourne. But he never lost his sense of determination or justice. He was working for a paper where the main stories of the week were reports about coffee mornings, tourism and parish councils, but now and again his young reporters smashed a few stories, and one or two of them went on to better things. So, put it this way, maybe it’s the frustrated journalist in me . . . Maybe I did it as a nod to his integrity, or maybe I’m just too old for all this crap and it’s time I retired to pruning my roses in the home counties. But the truth is, once I met you and that mad bastard of an editor, McGuire, it restored my faith a little. I took a view of this entire caper and thought, Fuck it, I’m going to do something else for a change – rattle a few cages that need to be rattled.’

‘Jesus! I can’t believe this.’ Rosie picked up the envelope and held it close to her. ‘Now I’m not even sure if, when I walk out of here, if I’m going to get arrested or shot. There’s so much underhand shit going on. I don’t know whose side anyone’s on any more.’

‘You know what, Rosie? Neither do I. And that’s maybe the real reason I’m doing this. Because the bastards at Customs, and the civil servant who was working with Dunn, turning a blind eye and faking licences – they should be in jail too. They collaborated with a firm which brings guns in for gangsters, as well as exporting them to places where they are used to kill innocent people. These bastards are part of the establishment, and they’re supposed to be on our side . . . But they’re not. Especially the high-ranking civil servant who was smoothing the way. It’s all about money and how much he can stick away in his offshore account while he’s pretending to be one of us, and getting away with it. And when the powers that be found out about it, they were prepared to cover that up. Well, that’s not on in my book.’

Rosie pushed her luck a bit further.

‘Do you know who he is?’

His lips curled to a smile.

‘I thought that might be your next question.’ He put his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket, took out a piece of paper and handed it to Rosie.

She read the name, afraid even to say it aloud. Written down was his full name, his extension at work, his home address in central London and his home telephone number.

‘I can hardly believe this is happening. I honestly don’t know what to say.’

‘Believe it.’ He winked, then nodded at the captain, who started the engine.

‘Off you go now. I’ll be looking out for your story when the shitty house of cards starts to collapse.’

‘I’m speechless. But thanks . . . I suppose that’s the only thing I can say.’

‘Don’t thank me. This never happened. Good luck, Rosie.’

As she opened the door, the captain turned and smiled at her.

‘See you around. All the best, Rosie Gilmour.’

‘Thanks.’ She closed the door, got out and into her car and watched as they drove out of the car park and onto Great Western Road. Almost dizzy, she rang McGuire.

‘Mick, you’ll never guess what’s just happened.’