Betrayed (6 page)

Liz sighed and dabbed the sides of her mouth with her finger and thumb, ignoring the napkin on the plate. ‘I feel better now. I can’t cope if I’m hungry, and I haven’t eaten since last night. Rushing around like mad.’

‘I know the feeling.’ Rosie watched her patiently.

‘You know when I called you last night, about what Jimmy said,’ she whispered, ‘about Wendy getting raped by Eddie? I want to talk you through the whole conversation.’

Rosie nodded.

Liz told how they’d met for a drink after her shift was finished in the pub, and had ended up in a late bar in the city centre drinking until three in the morning.

‘Jimmy was on a real downer. He wasn’t saying too much about Wendy in the beginning – just that he really missed her and couldn’t get his head around why she hadn’t contacted anyone. At first I just listened to him and we kept the drinks coming. But after a while I said to him that I really have a feeling something bad has happened to her. He looked right through me and asked what I meant. I said that I didn’t trust Eddie.’ Liz looked beyond Rosie. ‘I don’t like Eddie. He’s a bully and a dangerous bastard. He’s the kind of guy who could put a bullet in you and not turn a hair. I’m sure he’s done plenty of people over. That’s why he’s untouchable with the coke. People are scared of him. He’s a cold bastard.’

Once more, Rosie was surprised at how easy Liz was with her information – and she wasn’t even drinking.

‘Do you have any personal experience with Eddie?’
she asked. ‘Has he ever done you a bad turn? Or harmed you?’

Liz shook her head.

‘No. But he scares me. That’s all.’

‘Go on with your story. How did Jimmy come out with the stuff about Wendy phoning him?’

Liz lit another cigarette and took a deep draw.

‘He went quiet after I was saying what a psycho Eddie was. I asked him what was up, and did he think the same as me. I know Eddie is his boss, and didn’t expect him to say anything against him. But I felt he was holding back. Then suddenly he comes right out with it. He looked me in the eye and grabbed hold of my arm, squeezing it so hard it hurt. He made me promise I wouldn’t go to the cops with what he was about to tell me, and I promised him. Then he said to me that Wendy had phoned him that night. Jesus, Rosie. I nearly died. I couldn’t believe my ears. Jimmy’s a really tough guy but he was on the verge of tears. He told me that Wendy had phoned him sobbing. And that she said Eddie had raped her in his car.’ Liz shook her head. ‘I didn’t know what to say. I know Jimmy was drunk. But I know he was telling the truth. He wouldn’t make a thing like that up.’

‘And did he tell you anything else?’

‘Yeah. He told me he went round to her house immediately and she wasn’t there. That’s what he said. And I believe him.’ She sighed. ‘The next day, after we were drunk, Jimmy
phoned me and made me vow again not to tell anyone. He said he shouldn’t have told me, and if I did anything crazy like go to the cops then I would be signing my death warrant … And probably his. But I’m not that stupid.’

Rosie looked at her and said nothing.

Liz puffed her cheeks and shrugged. ‘Then again, maybe I am. I’m sitting here talking to a fucking reporter about it.’

Rosie watched her, trying to work out how she was going to tell McGuire this one. Just being in possession of the rape information was dangerous, whether there was any truth in it or not. Passing it on to the police, which is what she should do, would be even more dangerous for Liz, and for Jimmy. And who knows, maybe even for Wendy – if she was still alive somewhere. Keeping it to herself could have consequences for everyone, including the paper.

Rosie drummed her fingers on the table.

‘This is dodgy, Liz. To be honest, right now, I’m not sure where we go from here. I want to have a think about it.’ She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘But I definitely want to pursue the story about the drugs on the football buses. I want to nail that down.’

‘Aye. And nail big Eddie down with it.’ She stabbed a finger in the air. ‘I’d pay good money to see that bastard locked up. Poor Wendy. She’s a skinny wee thing and that slimy bastard climbing all over her.’

Rosie nodded sympathetically.

‘There’s more than one way to skin the cat, Liz. Did you
find out any more information for me? Like where the bus leaves from?’

Liz nodded.

‘I did. As I told you, there’s supposed to be a few Rangers buses that do it, but the one Eddie will be on is leaving from the Tavern. You’ll know the pub. On the London Road. Big ’Gers pub. But it’s more than that. It’s a UVF pub as well. They have meetings there. Upstairs, so I heard.’

‘How do you know all that?’ For a barmaid she was pretty clued up.

‘My ex-boyfriend. He knows a lot of the boys. I still see him now and again. For a shag. He was over yesterday afternoon and I was spearing him for information about the bus that’s leaving from the Tavern. He’s going too. He says big Eddie’s on it. He didn’t say anything about the coke, but he told me once before that’s what Eddie does when he goes abroad. He always brings a few kilos back.’

‘Okay. Liz,’ Rosie changed the subject, ‘you didn’t tell me that Wendy had some problems years ago with her mum and dad. She ran away. Stuff like that?’

Liz said nothing. She looked at the table and pinched her bottom lip.

‘Yeah. She went a bit nuts a couple of years ago. Went through a bad patch. She was doing a lot of coke.’ She looked shamefaced. ‘To be honest, we both were. We got caught up in some stupid things, and did a runner to Spain – Costa del Sol – for a while.’ She shook her head, her lip
curling a little. ‘Wild days. We carried on with it over there. Got to know quite a few people. Bad company and all that.’

‘It’s not smart to get mixed up in the coke scene on the Costa del Sol,’ Rosie said, beginning to wonder what Liz was going to come out with next.

‘You can say that again. But that’s also how I know a bit about big Eddie. There’s UVF men over there too. A couple of bar owners. I know where he goes.’

Rosie said nothing. Even if Liz knew half as much as she seemed to know, the fact that she was talking about it so freely worried her. The last thing she needed if they were going to track a UVF drug story across Europe was a mouthy contact waving her arms around.

Liz gave her a knowing look.

‘You don’t believe me, do you? I can tell.’

Rosie put a hand up.

‘No, no, Liz. I do believe you.’ She spread both palms, trying to choose the right words. ‘But, cards on the table. I’m having a little problem here with the fact that you are talking about it so easily.’ She saw Liz’s eyes look downwards, then said quickly, ‘Don’t get me wrong. I totally appreciate what you’re doing, and I’m really impressed with the level of information. But you and I both know how dangerous it is to talk freely about anything involving these people. They are not just drug dealers and gangsters. This is the UVF. People pay them to get rid of people.’ She paused. ‘Look. I need to know that if we go into this
story, and start a full investigation, I can rely on you. No matter who comes to you or how circumstances might change. Do you understand where I’m coming from? It’s dangerous.’

Liz’s expression was part irritated, part on the verge of tears.

‘Rosie. I’m not stupid. I’ve told you that before. I know all about the danger. I’ve thought about this long and hard – agonised about it. I know that if Wendy phoned Jimmy and said Eddie McGregor raped her, then that is what happened. I have no way of knowing what happened to her after that.’ She swallowed. ‘But I’m worried sick that he’s done something to her. I’m worried he’s done her in and dumped her somewhere.’ She bit her lip. ‘So I have no way of getting to that bastard. Whatever he’s done, right now he’s getting off scot-free. Wendy had a lot of problems in the past. She’s a bit daft. But her heart’s in the right place. I’m going to make Eddie pay for what he did. That’s all I can do. I can’t go to the cops. I can’t get anything done myself. So I’ve come to you and spilled my guts on it.’ Her face flushed. ‘To be honest, I’m a bit disappointed that you’re thinking I might just start blabbing.’

Rosie could see where this was going. She had to rescue the situation and quick, before Liz got up and left. She’d been here before, with people who had come to her and trusted her with information. And they’d paid with their lives. Mags Gillick, the junkie prostitute, and Emir, the
refugee with nowhere else to turn. Part of her wanted to walk away now, but she couldn’t let it go.

‘No. Liz. Listen. Please understand this. I absolutely believe you and I know why you are doing this. I’m honestly grateful.’ She saw Liz’s lip quivering and reached across the table and squeezed her wrist. ‘I want to take a real run at this story. And I need you to help me. But you need to know what you’re getting into. Are you prepared to do that? Are you prepared to get involved in it with us? Because I’m thinking of tracking this all the way to Europe and exposing the whole shooting match.’

Liz’s eyes narrowed. ‘Of course I’m in. And you don’t have to worry about me. You don’t know me. But once I’ve made my mind up to do something, nothing will stop me.’

They sat for a moment in silence, then Rosie smiled.

‘Good. Then I’ll talk to my editor, and we’ll see where we go from here.’

They got up to leave, and Rosie went across to the counter and paid the bill, then followed Liz out of the door.

‘Oh. Take this other mobile number, Rosie. I bought it so I can talk to you if I hear any information.’ She gave Rosie a cocky look. ‘I was thinking ahead. Trust me. I’m not daft.’

CHAPTER FIVE

‘What you going to do with your cash?’ Mitch asked Jimmy as they moved away from the bar with their pints and sat in a corner.

‘Dunno,’ Jimmy shrugged. He took a long drink of lager and licked his lips. ‘Hold onto it for a bit, I suppose. Maybe go somewhere on holiday, after the Champions League matches.’

‘You going on the bus?’ Mitch looked at him. ‘Eindhoven first next week, then Seville. I can’t wait.’ He grinned. ‘Especially Holland, man. Them Dutch birds are filthy.’

Jimmy chuckled. ‘Aye, Mitch. And they’ll have been gagging for it all those years you were in the nick.’ He handed Mitch a cigarette and took one himself.

‘It’ll be brilliant. It’s party time all the way when you go with the boys to Europe on the bus. Totally mental.’

‘I flew the last couple of times, but the bus could be a good laugh. I’ll talk to the lads and see what the sketch is.’

‘Good,’ Mitch said. ‘We could go from the Victoria Bar.’ He took his mobile out. ‘I’ll phone Billy Whyte and ask him who’s running the show from there.’

Jimmy sat staring into middle distance as Mitch talked on the phone. They’d just come from making the drop to the lorry driver who was going on the late-night ferry from Stranraer to Belfast. Jimmy didn’t know the guy’s name and had never met him before. He and Mitch were simply told by Eddie where he would be and what they had to do. He told them that truck drivers were used nearly all the time by the UVF to take drugs, cash and weapons to and from Belfast, as they seldom got stopped.

The heroin from the contract on the two boys lying at the bottom of the quarry had to be delivered to Belfast where the UVF would make sure it disappeared into the growing smack market up and down the housing schemes. Jimmy had learned fast that drugs went beyond any sectarian divide. The heroin they were shifting to their UVF cronies could just as easily end up in the Catholic Falls Road as the Protestant enclaves of Ballymena or the Shankill. Same applied to the cocaine that big Eddie supplied in Glasgow. He had told Jimmy he didn’t give a toss who was snorting, any more than he cared about the punters who were making the crack cocaine that was upping the demand for coke. It was all money. Supply and demand. Just as long as nobody was late with their payment.

His mind had kept replaying the latest job – and how
Eddie had calmly shot the two guys through the head. He’d never seen anyone do that before. Afterwards, they’d come to Eddie’s house and stripped off the clothes they were wearing, giving them to his wife who he told to burn them in the diesel drum in the back garden. Then they’d got changed into clothes Eddie had bought for them, before going to a bar and getting drunk. Mitch had been high on the adrenalin kick that he got from violence. Jimmy tried his best to join in but was finding it hard to lift himself out of the downer he’d been on since Wendy disappeared. Late in the night, Eddie had insisted they go on to a club, where Mitch and he disappeared with two women. Jimmy eventually made his way home on his own. Eddie had given them two grand each, and they didn’t ask where the rest of the wedge that was in the bag went. Jimmy had a feeling that the package that they’d just delivered to be taken to the Belfast bosses didn’t contain much more than the heroin, plus the money that had been paid for the contract. He didn’t ask and he didn’t care. It was business, and he could deal with that.

He thought he might take his father on the Rangers matches to Eindhoven and Spain. It would be good for the old man. Since Jimmy’s mother died last year, his da hadn’t been out much, and the grief hanging over the house like a blanket was as raw and oppressive as the day his ma dropped down dead in the kitchen from a massive coronary. He missed her just as much as his father, though they’d not once had a conversation about her since her death.

Sometimes Jimmy still missed her so much it hurt. In darker moments, he tried not to dwell on how his father had often dismissed her as a half-breed. She’d been raised as a Catholic in Glasgow, but turned her coat when she fell for the big, brawny Belfast man who’d crossed the water to work in the Clydeside shipyards. His ma always hated the fact that he was filling their son’s head with Rangers and the Orange Walk, telling him Catholics were thick, lazy bastards. His da took him to Belfast every twelfth of July to see the Orange Walk, so he could see for himself what he came from.

Most of the time, as he was growing up, his mother had been silent and accepting. Only once did she make the mistake of taking him to a Catholic church when he was six years old. She was spotted coming out by the wife of one of her man’s workmates, who shopped her. When they got home, his father slapped her hard on the face. She knew what he was when he married her, he told her as he stood over her. She could walk away now, but she would never see her boy again. Jimmy had never forgotten the look in her eyes or the sound of the slap on her face. She never spoke about religion again to him, but he knew she hated his eagerness to follow in his father’s footsteps.