A Cold Killing (Rosie Gilmour) (16 page)

Rosie walked up from her flat to St Vincent Street to meet Adrian. She wasn’t quite sure what to expect. She’d toyed with the idea of inviting him to stay at her flat for the duration of the job, but she didn’t want awkward questions from McGuire or Matt. She needn’t have worried. He declined the offer of a hotel, saying he was staying with Bosnian friends he hadn’t seen since he left Glasgow a couple of years ago. Decision made. Rosie’s paranoia kicked in. Had he gone cold after their encounter in Sarajevo, which, on reflection, probably shouldn’t have happened? Jesus! She was behaving like a teenager on a first date.

She saw him through the window as she approached the bistro. He was sitting in an alcove, his arm resting on the cushioned wall seating, gazing into the middle distance. He looked cool and relaxed, but knowing Adrian, that was only half the story.

He stood up when she opened the door and stepped inside. It was always hard to tell what was going on behind his flat, naturally gloomy expression, but his eyes softened and she knew it was as close to delighted as Adrian got.

‘Rosie.’ Towering above her, he tilted his head to the side and reached out both hands.

‘Adrian.’ Rosie automatically slipped into his arms.

They hugged for a long moment, and she could feel him squeeze her tight against his body. Then he pulled back and his eyes searched her face.

‘Rosie. My friend.’

Then he kissed her. A soft, glad-to-see-you kiss on the lips, pulling back after a second as though not sure. Then they kissed again, this time longer, and Rosie felt his hand grip her hair as she kissed him back. She could feel his heartbeat. They eased apart, and Adrian gazed down at her. Now he did smile.

‘It’s good to see you.’ He brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek.

‘You, too.’ Rosie put her hand over his. ‘Come on. Let’s sit down. People are staring at us.’

The waiter showed them to a table in the corner and Rosie ordered a gin and tonic and Adrian a beer. Rosie also asked for a bottle of house red, too, as she knew she would need a few drinks to get through this. For a long moment they just sat looking at each other.

Rosie reached her hand across the table so that their fingers were almost touching. She wasn’t quite sure what to say. What she really wanted to ask was how he felt. They’d ended her sixweek trip to Sarajevo with an explosion of sweltering passion for the final three nights, but they’d barely spoken about it while it was happening and it was clear they weren’t an item, which suited them both. But what were they?

‘Adrian . . . I . . . Er . . . How are things with you? . . . Is everything okay? I’m so glad you’re here. This will be a big job, if a bit dodgy.’ She felt awkward, conscious of Adrian studying her.

‘Yes . . . I am also glad.’ He ran a hand over his face and sat back as the waiter arrived and put his beer on the table. Adrian raised his glass towards her. ‘Thank you for asking me. I have done already some work on this.’ He shrugged. ‘But we can talk about that in a minute.’

He took a long drink of his beer and brought his cigarettes out of his top pocket. Rosie watched as he lit up, sucking in the smoke and letting it out slowly. She wasn’t comfortable with lingering silences. She wished she could be in control here, be her usual strident self. But here she was, sitting, waiting to be addressed by a man she had developed feelings for, even though right now she wasn’t sure how deep those feelings were. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

‘Rosie. I wanted to ask you. Are you . . . I mean . . . Are you okay with what happened between us in Sarajevo?’ His hooded eyes locked on hers. ‘I thought maybe you would feel that . . . well, maybe that it should not have happened . . . You know . . . between friends. To be lovers like that.’

Rosie swallowed, partly taken aback by his frankness and partly glad it was out in the open.

‘And you, Adrian? Are you okay? She threw the question back at him.

He shrugged. ‘Of course. I was very happy.’ He placed his hand on top of hers. ‘I like being with you very much. I enjoy it . . . But then you . . . and I think maybe you don’t want any more . . . and I worry we have ruined the friendship.’

Rosie gulped a mouthful of gin and tonic and put her glass down.

‘No . . . I mean yes . . . I’m . . . I’m okay with everything. No regrets, if that’s what you’re asking. But if I’m really honest, I’m not great with relationships and I’m still not really sure where I’m going with anything in my life.’ Christ! She was close to babbling.

Adrian put his hand up.

‘Of course. I understand this. We are friends first. Always. That is what I mean. I . . . I don’t want to make a plan.’

‘Good,’ Rosie said, glad the air had been cleared. She hoped her face didn’t show the little stab of upset she felt that he seemed to be playing down their encounter. ‘Then let’s just not worry about it. Take things as they come.’ She picked up the menu. ‘Let’s eat. I’m starved.’

*

After dinner they sat drinking wine and Adrian listened as Rosie went over the full story. She’d briefed him on the phone while he was still in Bosnia, but face to face it was easier to fill him in on the latest developments. He explained that he’d set up a bogus security company in Sarajevo, as Rosie had instructed, with a fake address, and he’d already emailed J B Solutions in London requesting a meeting. His cover story was that he supplied bodyguards and minders to various figures in the Balkans, and that his company was expanding at a swift rate and required more weaponry, which he preferred to source from outside of his own country. Mickey Kavanagh had told Rosie that was how a lot of dodgy arms deals were done.

Adrian reached into the zipped pocket of his green safari shirt and pulled out a piece of paper.

‘I have this.’ He handed it across the table. ‘It came this morning before I left my house. He has taken the bait.’

Rosie’s eyes widened as she read the email and saw the name at the bottom. Thomas J. Dunn, Managing Director. The email thanked ‘Sef’ – the name of the bogus company Adrian had set up – and said Mr Dunn would be happy to talk about assisting a growing enterprise such as theirs, and would be delighted to meet their representative when he was in the UK in the near future. It was well written and professional, so, regardless of what else Tam Dunn did, he was also smart and literate enough to pass himself off as a pro.

‘Brilliant!’ Rosie said. ‘He writes like he knows the game. Anyone reading this who didn’t know Dunn would think he was a legit businessman supplying legit companies – not the gunrunning, toerag gangster he really is.’ She scanned it again. ‘This is a great start.’ Rosie checked her watch and signalled the waiter for the bill. She felt a twinge of desire as Adrian sat back, stretching out his long legs in jeans and scuffed cowboy boots. For a moment she considered being reckless and inviting him back, but she thought better of it. He was here to work. They had an important job to do. And anyhow, perhaps he was no longer interested. She knocked back the remains of her wine.

‘We best get moving.’ Rosie stuffed the receipt for the bill into her bag. ‘We’ve got a lot of planning to do. I think you should email our man back and say you can see him the day after tomorrow. That gives us time to get organized.’

Adrian nodded. He stood up and pushed his cigarette packet into his breast pocket.

‘I will walk you to your flat.’

They strolled to Rosie’s flat like two old friends, chatting about Sarajevo and the people Rosie had met during the weeks she’d just spent there. Adrian looked relaxed, giving her all the news of his mother, and that his sister was now pregnant, bringing great excitement to everyone in their village. But she detected a sadness in his eyes as he talked about how wonderful it was to have a little baby. It must bring back the agony of losing his own child, Rosie thought, ripped from its mother’s womb during the Bosnian War. As they got up the steps, Adrian was still at her side, and for a moment they stood on the stair as Rosie pushed the key in the door.

‘I make sure you are inside your house,’ he said. ‘To be safe.’

‘It’s fine,’ she said, stepping into the hallway. ‘My flat is like a fortress these days. I can’t allow myself to be spooked out, Adrian. I’ve put a lot of that crap behind me now. I’ll be okay from here. Honest.’

He nodded. ‘If you are sure.’

They stood looking at each other, the air crackling with tension.

‘So,’ he said. ‘Thanks for dinner. I will see you tomorrow?’

‘Yes. Before twelve. We’ll talk. If you send the email early in the morning, we’ll start making plans.’

He stepped forward and touched her hair, then bent to kiss her, and Rosie wrapped her arms around him. He kissed her again, and she tasted the tip of his tongue as she kissed him back. Then he stopped.

‘Sorry.’ He released her. ‘I forget we are working.’ He let out a breath.

‘Yes.’ Rosie composed herself, feeling the taste of him on her lips. ‘Let’s . . . er . . . leave this for the moment. We’d better get some sleep.’

His eyes fixed her for a few seconds, then he took a step back. She resisted the urge to throw caution to the wind.

From the private room of the rooftop restaurant Ruby could see the lights twinkling across the city and all along the banks of the Clyde. Tony Devlin had opened Santino’s last year in a blaze of tabloid publicity. It was the place to be seen in, frequented by footballers, gangsters and minor celebrities – and anyone who could afford its exorbitant prices. Tony was obsessed by Hollywood gangster films and had adorned the restaurant with tacky Mafia movie memorabilia, from Al Capone to
The Godfather
. He’d even named the place after the James Caan character of Santino ‘Sonny’ Corleone from the blockbuster films. He’d watch them again and again, copying Sonny’s walk and demeanour. Tony really was
that
unhinged. He’d invested a lot of money in the restaurant, poached a top chef from one of the most established restaurants in Glasgow, boasting that he’d made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. People sniggered behind his back – but never to his face. His palatial office was on the top floor, off the private room, where he sometimes entertained other hoodlums, bent lawyers or cops he wanted to impress but who didn’t want to be seen by other diners.

Ruby wished to Christ the night would hurry up and be over, because this Tam Dunn character that Tony had brought along for dinner gave her the creeps. When they’d been introduced when she arrived a couple of hours earlier, he’d given Tony a dig in the ribs, declaring he was horny as fuck and that he shouldn’t present a beautiful bird to him if he wasn’t allowed to shag her. Charming. Tony had joked that Ruby was out of bounds, but a couple of girls would be along later once they finished their shift at the sauna. And so they were.

Tony racked up a few lines of coke on the table and everyone hoovered it up – except Ruby. She never touched it, she told them, deadpan. They’d looked at her as though there was something wrong with her mind, and as the coke kicked in the party – Tam Dunn style – got started. The half-naked Eastern European girls spoke little English and apparently worked as hookers in one of Tony’s two saunas in the city. The blonde girl, with the Marilyn Monroe hairstyle and stunning looks who’d been snogging Dunn, was now rubbing his crotch in full view of everyone. But it was Ruby, in her crimson figure-hugging dress that the lecherous bastard was looking at as the bulge swelled in his trousers.

‘Hey Ruby, darlin’,’ Dunn said, his eyes heavy as the girl pleasured him. ‘I’m sure Tony wouldn’t object to a wee threesome. I mean, we’re all friends here.’

‘No way, big man,’ Tony chuckled, picking up his ringing mobile from the table to answer a call.

Dunn kept his eyes on Ruby as the girl unzipped his trousers and bent over to take him in her mouth. Ruby glared right back at him, her eyes full of contempt for this piece of shit as he closed his eyes, grabbing the girl by the hair and pushing her head further down on him as he let out little gasps. A flush of anger rose in Ruby’s chest as a vivid image came to her of a little girl being raped by two men – a lifetime ago. She stood up and mouthed to Tony, who was still on the phone, that she was going to the loo.

She walked through the glass doors onto the roof terrace. She lit a cigarette and stood gazing across the Glasgow rooftops, black and shiny in the steady drizzle, and reflected on the conversation around the table earlier, before the evening had descended into the orgy it was becoming.

Tam Dunn was everything Tony had told her he was, only more so. He’d regaled them with stories of growing up in Glasgow’s East End and rising through the ranks when Rab Jackson was one of the biggest players in the city, and he reeled off a few names who had crossed them, saying they were buried beneath the foundations of the famous Kingston Bridge. The difference between Rab and Big Jake Cox, he said, was that Rab knew when it was time to pull back, look at the long game, and reinvest sensibly. That was what Rab was all about. He was the first of the hard men to plough the money into property, to take it offshore and put it in banks across Europe. Rab had properties and apartments across the Spanish resorts, and also in Amsterdam and Liverpool’s docklands. The money was being expertly cleaned, and Rab was out of the picture, living the good life in Spain.

Not any more he isn’t, thought Ruby, as she played along, nodding at all the right moments, as if she were impressed. Tam was surprised that Rab hadn’t told him about Ruby, but said now that he’d met her he could see why the old bastard didn’t want to share her with anyone else. Ruby swiftly pointed out that she’d been Rab’s accountant and nothing else, that she only visited when she had to. She was her own woman, she’d said, clocking Tony watching her and hoping she hadn’t gone over the score. She’d been keeping everything on an even keel with Tony, especially now that she’d agreed to help this reporter. She liked Rosie Gilmour, and had a bit of respect for the way she was committed to her job. But for Ruby the most important thing was the future. She was getting out of this altogether. If things worked out, and if this Rosie had a proper plan, then all of these bastards would get their day. She was looking forward to that, big time.

Tam Dunn was puffed up with his own importance, bragging about the arms dealing and that he had people in high places in his pocket. Ruby had listened hard as he talked of a fake arms-dealing licence. He ranted about some recent big deal that went tits up in Berlin, saying there must have been a grass. They’d been dealing with the Russians for years, but suddenly there were cops everywhere and one of their own boys got done over. As well as that, Derek ‘Del Boy’ had been captured by them. They might never see him again. If he opened his trap to them, Dunn spat, he’ll be better off dead anyway.

He also bragged about a new potential customer who’d contacted him and that, if it worked out, they’d be breaking into the Balkans, and that could bring in megabucks in the future. Tony piped up that he wasn’t quite sure where the Balkans was, and Dunn had called him a thick bastard and told him to get a fucking atlas. The Balkans was big business, Dunn said, and to get a foothold in that region would open up all sorts of opportunities. But they’d have to cut the Russians in, because they also supplied him with some of the most popular guns, which would end up on the streets of the UK. But apart from that, the Russians had a lot of the Balkan region sewn up. It was all about scratching each other’s backs – you worked together because you had to.

Ruby flicked her cigarette end into the distance and headed back to the restaurant. She wouldn’t be staying long. She’d already made her mind up to tell Tony she had a splitting headache and would go home early. Tam Dunn’s exploits with the blonde bird had dulled her appetite for sex tonight.

When she opened the door to the room, Ruby stopped, her mouth dropping open. There was blood everywhere. Dunn was stamping viciously on the bloodied head of the blonde girl, who was lying lifeless on the floor. His sweating face was contorted with rage, his eyes crazed as Ruby heard the sickening sound of his boot tearing open the girl’s cheeks and her teeth bursting out of her blood-soaked face. The other hooker cowered in a corner, shivering and sobbing.

‘Fuck’s sake!’ Ruby shouted. Her hands went to her mouth and she steadied herself against the wall. ‘What the fuck . . .? Oh Jesus Christ almighty! Stop! . . . You’re killing her!’

Tony suddenly arrived at her back and burst past her, stopping in his tracks as he took in the scene.

‘Aw, for fuck’s sake, Tam!’ He was across the room in a second. ‘Fuck me, man! Stop! Enough! Enough, for fuck’s sake!’ He dived across to his desk and pressed a red button on the phone. ‘Davey, get up here now. Bring Pete with you. Hurry.’

Ruby’s legs turned jelly as Dunn suddenly stopped kicking and stood over the girl’s body, his eyes wild, saliva dripping off his chin.

‘Wee cunt!’ He gave her one last kick then turned to Tony. ‘Wee slag gave me a lot of shit. Making a cunt of me. Fucker.’

‘What happened, for Christ’s sake?’ Tony knelt down beside the girl.

He lifted her hand, but it fell limp on to the floor.

‘Is him, Tony,’ the other hooker sobbed in broken English, pointing to Dunn, ‘He couldn’t . . . fuck . . . and Lujca made a joke . . . and he goes like fucking crazy. He starts punching her face, and then kickng her.’ She wept. ‘Oh God . . . I think he’s killed her. She is my friend.’ She rocked back and forwards, her arms wrapped around her knees.

The door burst open and two burly minders in dinner suits came in. They turned to Tony in disbelief.

‘Fuck me, man!’ one of them said as he rushed across to the girl. He put his hand to her neck for a second then looked up at Tony. ‘She’s dead, boss.’

‘Aw, fuck me, man!’ Tony shouted. ‘Fuck me, Tam! What the fuck, man! Look what you’ve done! Christ all-fucking-mighty!’

Dunn suddenly looked shaken, as though he’d come back to the real world. Ruby stood, her hand still at her mouth, as he stared down at the girl.

‘It just . . . It just got out of hand, man . . . I fucking cracked up . . . She was making me look like a cunt, slagging me for losing my hard-on. I just lost the place. Sorry, mate.’ He looked down at his light-grey trousers, splashed with the girl’s blood. ‘Look at the state of my fucking trousers.’

Tony was still kneeling on the floor, shaking his head.

‘What a fucking mess.’ His voice was barely audible. He stood up and turned to the two bouncers. ‘Right, boys, listen. You need to deal with this. Just get rid of her.’

Ruby looked down at the girl’s Marilyn Monroe hair, now matted with blood. Her face was battered to a pulp, her skinny white arms so translucent you could see her veins. At some stage she had left home in whatever country she came from in search of a better life, Ruby thought. But the dreams got lost along the way, in saunas and massage parlours or any of the other shitty dens that had become a way of life for girls like her.

‘Wait a minute.’ Ruby couldn’t help herself. ‘Just get rid of her? Fuck’s sake, Tony! She’s a wee girl – she’s just been kicked to death by that fucker!’ She looked at Dunn. ‘What kind of fucking animal does that?’

‘Shut the fuck up, Ruby! Keep out of it! Right?’ Tony’s eyes blazed as he jabbed a finger to her. ‘Just keep the fuck out of it! It’s nothing to do with you. Shit happens! You never saw this. Remember that . . . Unless you’ve got some kind of fucking Plan B for the rest of your life.’

Ruby glared from one to the other, then to the minders, and finally looked at the girl on the ground and her friend weeping in the corner.

Her chest felt tight as she fought back tears of rage.

‘Who is she?’ She looked at the friend.

‘She’s nobody,’ Tony barked. ‘Illegal fucking immigrant. From East Europe somewhere. Junkie. If it hadn’t happened now it was going to happen sometime. Just forget about it.’

Tony went across to the other girl and pulled her to her feet. She cowered, covering her face with her hands, waiting for the blows to rain on her.

‘It’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you.’ He made her face him. ‘Listen. You keep your mouth shut about this, and I’ll look after you. All right? You’ll be well looked after.’ The girl nodded, shaking. He went into his pocket and took out a fat wedge of twenty-quid notes. ‘Take this tonight and come to the sauna tomorrow and we’ll sort you out with a place to stay. And a new job.’ He touched her face. ‘All right, darling? This . . .’ He looked down at the girl. ‘. . . This was just a wee mistake. Shouldn’t have happened. But you’ll be all right. Now on you go. The boys will get you a lift to your flat.’

She took the money in her trembling hands and nodded, her face gaunt and sweating, tears spilling out of her big blue eyes.

Ruby stood, swallowing back tears.

‘I’m going home, Tony. I’ve had enough. My head’s splitting. I need my bed.’ Ruby tried to sound as matter of fact as she could.

Tony came over to her. ‘Okay, sweetheart. I’ll talk to you in the morning. Sorry you had to see this.’

Ruby said nothing, pulled away when he tried to kiss her.

As the girl walked towards the door, Tony turned to one of the guys, lowered his voice and spoke behind her back.

‘You need to take care of her, lads. Know what I mean?’

The men nodded.

Ruby waited till they were out of the room then gave Tam Dunn one last look and left. She felt vomit rising in her throat but managed to hold on until she had raced to the toilet at the top of the stairs. Then she threw her guts up.

*

Back at her flat, Ruby poured herself a stiff gin and sat down, her hands still trembling as she lit a cigarette. She knocked back half her drink and slumped on the sofa. She felt so utterly alone. She had the same sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that she remembered from all those years ago when they had taken her away the night of the fire, after she saw her mother’s charred face and her sister raped by those beasts. And later, when they held her in the children’s home and they put her to bed, Ruby had lain staring at the ceiling, the acrid smell of smoke still in her hair, unable to cry until eventually her chest burst and she wept and sobbed so hard they had to come in and sit with her until she fell asleep, exhausted. She was alone then, and the same feeling of desolation now overwhelmed her. The tears came and she wiped them away. She needed to be strong. Then they came again, and she couldn’t stop weeping, her sobs crashing the stillness. After a few minutes she composed herself and sniffed, blowing her nose and trying to think straight. She picked up her mobile.

‘Rosie?’ She sniffed. ‘Sorry it’s so late.’

‘No problem. That’s okay, Ruby. What’s wrong?’

‘I need to see you.’

‘Now? What’s happened? Is there some kind of trouble? Are you crying? You sound upset.’

Ruby was so choked she couldn’t answer when Rosie asked again if she was okay.

‘I’ll come now. Where are you?’

‘No,’ Ruby said through tears. ‘Tomorrow. First thing. I’ll call you.’

‘You sure? I can come now. You sound terrible.’

‘I have to go. Tomorrow morning, Rosie. I’ll phone.’

She hung up, wiped her eyes and finished her drink.