A Cold Killing (Rosie Gilmour) (19 page)

‘You have some good material here. I think we can do business. We can talk again soon about financial arrangements once you work out a price.’

‘Good man.’ Dunn shook Adrian’s hand vigorously. ‘Look, are you in town for the night? If you fancy dinner I’d be delighted to take both of you to a great little place where you get the best steaks this side of London.’

Adrian glanced at Rosie, who blinked what she hoped was a yes. There wasn’t much option. Dinner with this scumbucket was the last thing on her agenda – they already had great material, as long as the secret camera and recording devices had worked – but you never knew what he’d blab about once he had a few drinks.

‘That seems perfect . . . Tam.’ Adrian said.

They were already two bottles of red wine down by the time they’d finished their main course, and Dunn ordered another. Rosie nursed her half-full glass, careful not to drink much, terrified she’d lapse into her normal voice. But she was impressed at how Adrian had matched Dunn drink for drink, including the large whisky they’d had before dinner, and still looked sober. Dunn was flushed and talking continuously, becoming more and more animated as the night wore on. The fact that he kept nipping out to the toilet confirmed Rosie’s suspicion that he was coked out of his nut. Everything was going perfectly, as long as Dunn didn’t flip. Rosie would be glad when this night was over. It was just a question of getting through the next hour.

‘So you have a lot of connections in the Balkan region? You must have a good reputation in the security industry,’ Dunn asked.

‘Yes,’ Adrian nodded. ‘My staff are well trained. Most of them are former comrades and fought together in the war. They know what they are doing. Our reputation, it is growing – that is for sure.’

‘Clients expect quality,’ Rosie chimed in. ‘Sef is a respected company, and it constantly delivers. Put it this way, we’ve never lost a client we were protecting.’ Rosie flashed Adrian a knowing smile. ‘And with some of the clients we’ve protected, that is a surprise.’

‘I’m sure you see all kinds of people,’ Dunn agreed.

‘Well, the ethos of the company is that we will protect whoever asks to be protected. We don’t judge people for what they do as a business, if you know what I mean.’ Rosie hoped to draw him out.

‘You can’t survive as a security and bodyguard firm any other way.’ Dunn spread his hands and shrugged. ‘If, let’s say, your client was shifting thirty kilos of coke or heroin across Europe in lorries and they needed protecting, then, of course, you’d have to make a judgement call. If you said no to that, then you’re in the wrong business.’ He paused, eyeing one of them then the other. ‘That’s just my opinion.’

‘As Melissa says, we don’t make judgements.’ Adrian was deadpan.

‘That’s good. Believe me, you’ll become a bigger player by treating everything as business. Nothing is ever personal. Everything is done for one reason – to make money and to keep the firm alive. That’s my philosophy.’ He sniffed and touched his nose. ‘And let me tell you one thing . . . there isn’t anyone out there who won’t take a bung. And I know that for a fact. Everyone will take a backhander.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Listen. Between us, I have people in my pocket, on my payroll, that go all the way to Whitehall – the MoD. They’re
greedy
bastards, mind you. But they’ll turn a blind eye, do any fucking thing, as long as you stick the money in their offshore accounts.’

Rosie shook her head in mock disbelief, glancing at Adrian.

‘It’s incredible, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘You know what they say – the people in power are bigger gangsters than anyone. The MPs, the civil servants. It’s one rule for them and another for the rest of us.’

‘I agree.’ Adrian gave a measured nod. ‘If we’d waited for the politicians to make life better for us then we would all have starved to death in Bosnia during and after the war. We have had to go out and fight for our living.’

‘Exactly,’ Dunn agreed. ‘In fact, I’ll let you into a secret, now that I know we’re on the same wavelength. J B Solutions is operating and making more money now than ever – and we’ve not been short of problems.’

Rosie and Adrian nodded and said nothing.

‘We had some hassle with the Home Office after our sister company sold a container-load of weaponry to Nigeria. Some big bastard dictator over there wanted them to shore up his regime in the civil war. Me? I don’t judge, as I told you. A deal is a deal. But we didn’t have the proper paperwork at the time . . . well . . . put it this way . . . I didn’t put all the facts down on the paperwork we had. I took a chance and shipped it. But it got rumbled and that was it. Big problem with the licence after that, and we were nearly out of business. You have to laugh at the government really. They don’t give a fuck what regimes they bankroll quietly, who
they
sell arms to, and who is killing who with the guns
they
sold to these dodgy tyrants. They just don’t want us to get a slice of the action.’

‘So what did you do?’ Rosie asked. ‘I mean, how did you survive?’

Dunn grinned.

‘By paying the fuckers to turn a blind eye.’

‘You mean the Customs and Borders people?’

‘Yeah. Them too. But also we have someone inside the MoD, some mid-ranking civil servant who does the paperwork. He’s in our pocket – took a bit of organizing and plenty of dosh, but he’s in, because he couldn’t resist the money.’

‘And you can ship arms without any problems?’

‘Well, as you saw today, they’re all boxed up, so when we sell a lot, they go in a lorry from our haulage firm next door – you may have noticed it when you came in.’ He grinned. ‘They’re not delivering to supermarkets, I can tell you that. So, the guns and hardware go in among a whole load of other things we ship abroad. Mostly car components, steel, metal and rods for the construction trade – that kind of thing. It’s all very well camouflaged, so that unless they take the whole container apart, nobody knows a thing. They accept what is on the paperwork. When we have a shipment going out, I make a call to my man, and off it goes. Simple as that. I know it sounds unbelievable, but that’s how it happens. That’s how the world goes round, not by hard graft. Fuck that for a living. There’s money in everything except hard work. It’s dog eat dog.’

Adrian nodded and raised his glass in a toast.

‘To good business,’ he said. ‘Without frontiers.’

‘Well put, big man. Our game. Our rules.’ Dunn knocked back his drink.

Rosie checked her watch again. It was almost midnight. The restaurant was empty apart from one table, and the waiters were hovering near the bar, looking bored.

‘We should be getting back.’ Rosie looked at Adrian. ‘We’re flying in the morning, so we have an early drive to Heathrow.’

Dunn waved the waiter over and Rosie watched as he paid the bill, pulling a wad of notes out of his inside jacket pocket. The tip must have been at least fifty quid. He stood up, turning to Adrian.

‘I was going to take you to a club if you fancied it. I have a little share in a place where they have a proper VIP room with no riff-raff and plenty of birds. It’s only twenty minutes away.’ He gave Adrian a playful dig, gesturing to Rosie. ‘You can send the help back to the hotel. You won’t be short of action, big man.’

Adrian smiled at him, and for a moment Rosie thought he was going to go.

‘Next time,’ he said. ‘Not tonight. We can celebrate once you tell me you have weapons ready and when is the delivery, and, of course, when we pay the first part of the money.’

‘Yeah. Right. Good idea. We need to work out how to do that. Probably best if I drive somewhere, say Belgium or Amsterdam, and bring the cash back that way. It’s a lot of money, so I don’t want to leave it to anyone else. I can get a couple of the lads to drive me there, and we can meet.’

‘Perfect.’ Adrian said. ‘Maybe we will take you to some nightclubs in Amsterdam.’

‘You won’t be taking me to any I haven’t already been to. That much I can guarantee.’

‘Or if you prefer,’ Adrian said, ‘I can come back here. Or anywhere in the UK – in Scotland if you like. You are Scottish?’

‘I am. But Amsterdam is better for nightlife. I was in Glasgow the other night and the place is crap, no good clubs. Just crap. I left all that behind years ago and only go now for a bit of business.’

He stretched out his hand with the grazed knuckles and Rosie felt sick as she had to shake it.

*

Matt was asleep in the driver’s seat when they got back to the car. Rosie knocked the window.

‘Try to keep up, for Christ’s sake,’ she grinned when his eyes snapped open. ‘You’re supposed to be a chauffeur. Not kipping at every turn.’

‘Christ! It took you long enough. What were you doing? Lap dancing at his table?’

‘Thankfully, it didn’t come to that.’ Rosie got into the passenger seat.

‘How did it go?’ Matt rubbed his face with both hands to wake himself up.

Rosie swivelled her body around to face Adrian.

‘Couldn’t have been much better, could it, Adrian?’

He let out a long breath from pursed lips.

‘Was good. I think he believed us. He is a piece of shit. I wanted to punch his face all over the table.’

‘You did brilliant. You should get an Oscar for that performance.’

‘By the way,’ Adrian said, ‘when I examined the guns earlier, I can see that some of them have been converted from replica guns so they can fire live bullets. It happens. Mostly they are used by crime gangs. There is a market for them. It is only a matter of making some changes, such as the barrel. I didn’t want to mention it to Dunn, but I think he is aware that I noticed that. He thinks I am a criminal, which is good.’

‘Yeah. While you two are congratulating each other . . . what about me?’ Matt said. ‘I’ve been sitting out here all night. All I got was a takeaway pizza and a bottle of Irn-Bru.’

‘What have I told you about eating in the car, driver.’ Rosie gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. ‘Any more of that and I’m going to have to let you go.’

‘Aye, right. Where to, madam?’

‘The hotel, and if you don’t give me any more backchat I’ll buy you a drink in the bar.’

‘You’re all heart,’ Matt said, driving out of the restaurant car park and onto the main road.

Ruby could see the difference in Judy, even if it didn’t look like much to anyone else. Small things like the slightest movement in her facial expression were treasured, because every tiny flicker meant she was responding. In the very beginning, after Ruby had found her sister in the locked ward of a grim psychiatric hospital, there had been nothing behind her dead eyes. Even when Ruby was telling stories of them growing up, talking to her as though everything was perfectly normal, Judy’s gaze had been locked straight ahead, stuck in whatever world she was trapped in. But now, when Ruby spoke to her, enthusing about everything, even if it was just the ice cream they were eating or the coffee they drank, she sometimes caught a glimmer that Judy was listening, that things were registering. Now and again, she even turned her head and looked straight at her. Today had been like that, and Ruby was elated, the happiest she’d been since she came back.

She’d collected Judy from the home mid-morning, and with the help of one of the nurses had carefully strapped her into the passenger seat of the hired car. Then she drove down the coast to Ayr, where they’d gone on day trips on the train from Glasgow with their mother during summer holidays. Ruby was hoping it would trigger a response – anything at all.

They sat on a wooden bench on the promenade, watching the waves, choppy in the autumn winds. A kid ran up and down the beach, flying a kite, and Ruby saw her sister’s eyes following the path of the bright blue-and-gold bird shape as it danced and dived under a cloudless sky. It was still sunny and surprisingly warm for the time of the year, and the promenade was busy with families, kids playing on skateboards and bicycles, joggers. She was conscious of people staring at her sister as they passed, because of the way she sat leaning against her as though she couldn’t sit up by herself. Ruby linked her arm in hers, talked to her, telling her everything they used to do here and how the town had changed so much in recent years. She reminded her of the fairground, of the candyfloss, of the time they won a coconut, which they brought home and smashed against the cooker, drinking the milk and pretending they liked the taste. Ruby could see the pitying little glances from people as she talked but got little response from her sister, who stared blankly out to sea. But she didn’t need their pity. She knew different. She was happy, because once or twice the corners of Judy’s lips turned upwards in a smile. This was progress.

Ruby lit a cigarette, her mind drifting back to the other night with that evil bastard Tam Dunn. She couldn’t get the image of the battered girl out of her head, or the thought of what must have happened to her friend. She wished she could tell Rosie to bring in the police. In the last few sleepless nights it had crossed her mind to put her hands up, tell everything. But she couldn’t. She was in so deep with all the work she’d done with Jackson, hiding his money all over the place. If she went to jail, what would become of Judy?

She hadn’t answered any of Tony’s emails, and he knew she didn’t have a mobile phone, as she’d stressed she was taking time out and didn’t want to be contacted. He’d emailed her again this morning, demanding to know where she was, telling her he needed to see her, that he was as angry as her about what had happened in the restaurant. He wanted to take her to dinner again, just the two of them. But also, he needed to talk business. There were things happening and he needed to free up some money, so they wanted things sorted out pronto. She couldn’t just disappear, he told her. Ever.

Ruby had blanked his emails. Fuck him. She would answer him when she was ready – once she’d spoken to the various banks and other places holding investment accounts which she’d set up and had to decipher. She needed to spend a whole day at her flat to work it all out.

She stood up, took Judy by both hands and gently eased her to her feet.

‘Come on, Judy. Let’s have some lunch.’

She linked her sister’s arm through hers and walked slowly, aware that Judy’s steps were faltering and unsure.

They ate in a café a couple of streets off the seafront, where the smells took Ruby back to her childhood. She cut up a piece of fried fish for Judy, coaxing her to hold the spoon, putting it into her hand. But when she didn’t move a muscle to do it, she fed her.

‘Where are you, Judy?’ She pushed her sister’s fringe back. ‘Where are you in there? I want you back, Judy. I need you. You are coming back. I know you are.’

When they finished eating, they went out to the patio in the back, deserted apart from one old man reading the newspaper. Ruby drank tea and helped Judy with some lemonade, which she sipped through a straw. They sat for almost half an hour, Ruby telling stories about friends they had from primary school. Eventually, she got up and went inside to pay the bill, leaving Judy sitting on the bench.

At the counter, she waited impatiently until the couple in front of her had paid, slowly counting out their money in coins. Then, as she was about to pay, a shout came from the kitchen and the girl excused herself. Ruby shook her head impatiently. She could see the girl talking to her boss in the kitchen and arguing over something. After what seemed like minutes, she came back and Ruby glared at her and paid without leaving a tip. She went back along the corridor and into the garden.

She opened the door and stepped outside. The place was deserted, the picnic benches and tables empty. Nobody. Judy was gone.

‘Oh Christ!’ Ruby looked around her, bewildered. ‘Oh Christ, no, Judy! Oh, please no!’

She turned fast, stumbling as she sprinted back into the café, along the corridor, then ran back out again, confused, lost in her panic. She dashed to the open patio gate and outside. Nothing. The pavement was quiet, but the road was busy with traffic heading out of town. Ruby ran along the street, then crossed on to the seafront and scanned the promenade. The sea suddenly looked angry and threatening, and a chill ran through her.

‘Oh, God. No. Please . . .’ Ruby ran twenty yards and grabbed a woman who was feeding the pigeons. ‘Have you seen a woman? I mean . . . a woman walking up along here by herself?’

The woman looked at her puzzled.

‘Whit? Are you lost, hen?’

‘No . . . No . . . I’ve lost my . . . Oh God!’ Ruby turned away, ran back to the other end of the street, gasping for breath as shouted.

‘Judy! . . . Judy! . . .’ Her voice trailed off as tears came to her eyes.

Her head began to swim amid the din of the traffic, the bustle of people coming and going, lorries, day-trippers, buses making their way home. She felt faint, and she could hear the thud of her heart as she turned and sprinted back towards the café and burst in the door. The woman behind the counter gave her a surly look.

‘The . . . the girl . . . The woman I was with . . . My . . . My sister. Has she come back in?’

She knew it was a pointless question. Judy could walk, but her steps were always hesitant. She wouldn’t have gone anywhere by herself.

The woman shook her head slowly.

Ruby went back out and stood on the street again, her eyes everywhere. Nothing. She felt her legs buckle, and she steadied herself on a lamp post.

‘Tony . . . You fucking evil bastard! I’ll kill you for this.’

She ran to her car and opened the door, getting into the driver’s seat, trying to catch her breath as she exploded in sobs.

*

Matt had made good time, so they stopped for a coffee at the service station on the M74, just over the border after Carlisle.

They sat in the conservatory, going over all the material they had, delighted they had come out of it unscathed. McGuire would be happy. Now all Rosie had to do was sit down with him and work out how they’d write the story.

Rosie’s mobile rang, and she answered it.

‘Rosie . . . Rosie . . .’

The voice was breathless, desperate, and Rosie’s heart skipped.

‘Ruby? What’s up?’

‘She’s . . . Judy . . . She’s . . . Oh my God . . .’

Rosie stood up and walked away from the table.

‘What? What’s wrong? Is Judy sick? Just calm down.’

‘They . . . They took her. Judy’s been kidnapped.’

‘Oh my God! Kid— . . . Kidnapped? Who by? Listen, Ruby. Just calm down a bit. Take a deep breath. Where are you?’

Ruby heard the sobbing. Matt and Adrian looked anxiously at her.

‘Ayr. I’m in Ayr. We came down for the day. Oh Rosie! What am I going to do? She’s gone!’

‘What happened? Just take your time. Tell me what happened. It’ll be okay.’

‘No, it won’t! Rosie. No, it won’t! They’ve taken her.’

‘What happened?’ Rosie asked again.

‘I . . . I drove her down here for lunch . . . I went inside to pay the bill, and Judy was in the patio garden at the back . . . and . . . Oh God! . . . When I came out she was gone.’

Rosie didn’t know what to say. From what Ruby had told her, Judy walked with difficulty.

‘Christ! . . . Listen. We’re on our way back from London. We’re over the border now. We’ll come and get you.’

‘It’s Tony who’s done it! I know it’s that bastard. He’s been emailing me all the time since the other night, but I didn’t get back to him. He wants all the business wrapped up. But I just ignored his emails. He’s done this because he knows that’s where he’ll hit me hardest. The bastard! I’ll fucking kill him.’

‘Okay, just sit tight till we get there.’ She turned to Matt. ‘We need to do a detour to Ayr. How long till we get there?’

‘Forty-five, fifty minutes. Not long.’

‘We’ll be there in an hour. Just try to stay calm. Don’t do anything. Don’t phone Tony.’

‘I can’t even go to the cops. What am I going to do?’

‘We’ll be there soon. If Tony’s got her, he’ll get in touch with you. Can you go to a hotel or somewhere and get on the Internet, check your emails?’

‘I’ll try.’

‘Right. We’ll phone you when we’re nearly there. It’ll be okay, Ruby. We’ll get her back.’

As Ruby hung up, Rosie could hear her weeping.

‘What’s happened?’ Matt said.

‘Ruby’s sister, Judy. She’s been kidnapped.’

‘Oh fuck!’

‘Ruby’s hysterical. And she can’t even go to the cops. We need to get to Ayr fast and then work out what we do.’ Rosie puffed. ‘This is as bad as it gets. Knowing what they did the other night . . . These scumbags will stop at nothing.’