Then she delivered the lie. ‘Thing is, it was nothing to do with me or my section. We knew your brother was going south of the border, but where did the information come from? The NCA have been running a job on your pals down in Leeds and they picked up the story. They passed it up to a team here. I don’t have any control over how they handle it.’
She picked up the drink and finished what was left in the glass. She watched his face colour and realised he was about to unload on her. She stuck her hand up: ‘Let me finish.’
He sat back again and gave her the floor.
‘If we’d started our arrangement already then there might have been things I could have done. Understand?’ Her face had tightened; she was in no mood to engage in a slanging match. She would lay down the guidelines and he would have to take it or leave it. But she knew exactly what he’d do. He had no choice.
Grainger tried to analyse what she’d said but there wasn’t enough time to pick over it. ‘Okay, I get that.’ As far as he could work out, what she said made sense. There was no reason the information couldn’t come from south of the border. These things happened, so it was what it was and they needed to talk about the future. She took over.
‘Okay, you’ve had your answer. Now tell me – what the fuck was the bag of sausages about and where did that little plan spring from? I’m presuming you don’t have someone else on my side, so what happened?’ She waved to the barman for the same again.
Grainger knew that it was worth being as straight as possible on that one: it was an obvious set-up and something near the truth would give nothing away or an advantage. ‘My brother Paul is . . . ’ He hesitated for a moment and Hadden came in with an answer before he could.
‘He’s unstable; that’s how he’s described on our side.’
He nodded. That sounded a diplomatic but pretty accurate description of his brother. Despite his mistrust of Hadden, he felt they were in the process of forming some kind of relationship. They might have different ideas about what that was, but they were locked in now and both had feelers out hoping for a response that would suit them individually.
‘Okay, he’s manic about leaks.’ He couldn’t help smiling at the thought that manic didn’t quite cover it. ‘There’ve been a few problems recently and he’s convinced we have a security problem. You understand his business isn’t necessarily mine?’
She stopped him again and he knew it all sounded a bit limp. ‘Look. I’ve told you already this isn’t evidence gathering, and cards on the table, what I’m doing could land me in the shit. What you’re doing could land you in the pokey or under concrete. Can we just cut the nonsense? We’re both here for entirely selfish reasons, and in my case, it’s fuck all to do with the reputation of Police Scotland.’
If he needed proof that she was a bit different, she’d just delivered it on a plate. Even so, he had to stay cautious and move one step at a time to avoid the traps that might be set for him. He could work with her proposal up to a point.
‘We’ve lost a lot of gear so far, but then you know that. Just for the record, we do operate separately, although I do help my brothers out. Paul is convinced your side already have someone inside our business. I have a growing issue with Paul, and to tell the truth, it’s getting out of hand. You already know about my money problems and now my wife’s bringing in the lawyers. I don’t know how long I can hold it all together.’ It was an awful lot of truth; he seemed almost deflated after saying it, and the enormity of what he might be facing seemed to hit home with the act of disclosing it to the enemy.
‘So we need to help each other out here, Dominic. Correct?’
He nodded as she lifted her glass and held it ready for a clink, sighed, raised his beer and tapped sides with her wine glass. ‘To the future.’
It was her turn to nod.
‘I’ve told them I’ve a source inside the force. No names, no pack drill. I had to buy time. I need a favour. A big, fat fucking favour so I can put Paul back in his box. He’s full of it after taking the piss out of your gang.’
Hadden drew her eyelids together. She would have preferred it if he’d said nothing to his brothers, but they would easily work out he had a source if he started drawing rabbits out of hats. ‘Okay, but absolutely no names. Remember what we do means that we can have mutually assured destruction, right? You try to bury me then you go down at exactly the same time.’
‘First of all, did the runner you lifted talk? He was one of yours at one time so he might turn.’ Grainger felt nervous; he needed this, and it was dawning on him that this woman might be his only chance of getting through the shitstorm that seemed to be heading his way.
‘He hates the job after what happened to him. He wouldn’t even give the interview team his name. Does that help?’ She felt that was too simple and it just couldn’t be that easy if they were going to trade. ‘You said “first of all”, so what’s second?’
‘I need to know who you have inside Paul’s team.’
‘You have to be fucking joking! So you can rip the poor bastard’s heart out. No way. That’s too much.’ She couldn’t hide her contempt – it was a request well beyond what she expected or was prepared to concede.
‘In the same way I’ll protect you to the last, it’s the same for anyone else.’ It was shite on a stick, but she couldn’t really say anything else given he was putting his future health in her hands to do the same job.
Grainger took it like a slap across the coupon, although to be fair he knew it was a big ask when they hardly knew each other. Unfortunately he was desperate, but he couldn’t show it or she’d take advantage – and why wouldn’t she? He had almost no bargaining chips to lay on the table.
He began to sweat because without something from the meeting he was completely adrift. Despite the fact that what he’d been planning was beyond what she could work out, he needed what knowledge she had for reasons no one, including his brothers, could have imagined.
Grainger looked round; nobody was looking at them and the sound of the final minutes of the game would drown out anything they were saying. He was a gambler and about to play the first cards of the hand that would decide his future health prospects. ‘I can give you something big: bigger than anything you’re dealing with here.’
Hadden did her best to look unimpressed but she wanted to hear more. Sources or gangsters in custody promised the big one all the time – usually it was all bollocks and not worth the time of day. ‘Okay, impress me. A clue. I don’t expect you to throw it all on the table for me, but what does “big” mean? It had better be fucking monumental or that trade is off the table.’
He felt the palms of his hands go sticky and she saw the tension he just couldn’t hide. She guessed he was battling even more problems than she’d realised, which was all to the good as far as she was concerned. He was robbing the profits and it sounded like he was more concerned about Paul Grainger than she’d realised; however, there was clearly something else going on, and she would have to do some more digging into what intelligence was available on him.
‘It’s guns. Guns for Belfast Loyalists. I know or can guarantee that if you want it, you can intercept a shipment to the team I do some business with.’
He picked up his drink, swallowed a mouthful and decided he was having a short the next round. His heart was beating the fuck out of his breastbone because he was playing the biggest game of his life and it certainly concentrated his mind. He always played the game with a bit of safety, but this was dark arts, where the stakes were all or nothing.
Hadden tried her best to maintain a calm exterior as this was quite an offer, and still might be fantasy, but if there was a possibility then she had to grab it. There was a lot to think about, because if it was true and it was connected to terrorism then it might be taken out of her hands. However, Loyalists were not in the business of going back to the Troubles as far as she knew so it was more likely to be organised-crime related. That could work big time, and why not? She asked the same quest
ion that anyone looking at the claim would make.
‘Don’t mean to insult you, Dominic, but the clue’s in your name and background. Are you telling me that a boy from a good Catholic clan from the south would deal with these guys? Christ, this is seriously heavy-duty. Why?’
‘I don’t give a fuck about what happened over there. It’s that simple. Republicans or prods – it makes no difference to me as long as the deal is right. Paul feels the past more than I do, but business comes first and God doesn’t figure a lot in our lives, though I haven’t introduced him to the boys over the water yet. Is that big enough for you then?’
He stood up. ‘What you having? I’m having whisky, a double. Tell you the truth, I need it right at this moment.’
They both needed a lot and had a lot to offer each other. Hadden thought a turn like this would bury the damage done after the set-up. It had been a serious blow to her cred and this might just be the antidote. Arms trafficking was top-quality intelligence and would cover her in gold stars if she could pull it off. Yes, this might all work out fine. Hadden nodded. ‘Sounds good to me.’
When he sat back at the table, the noise level had gone down. Some overpaid ex-players were analysing something or other on the telly and saying Messi was a genius like no one knew that already. Grainger had watched them while he was waiting on the drinks. The barman had cracked the joke he made almost every week. ‘Could do that shift for half the price, state the blindingly fucking obvious – there, that’s basically it.’ He had laughed at his own joke and Grainger had managed a half-smile.
It was too quiet now for what they’d been discussing before he went to the bar. When she unexpectedly gave him a broad smile, he noticed she had almost perfect teeth. He might have expected a couple of fangs, but they were straight and even. He was impressed.
‘What do you think then? Bit too quiet here now? We could go to my flat. It’s only a short walk. At least it’s private.’ He didn’t expect her to go for it but he wanted an answer if possible. The problems were closing in, and if he didn’t go proactive, a chain of events might start that would be impossible to control.
‘Okay. I’m still thinking but let’s go there and see what we can work out. Two things though . . . You listening?’
He nodded as she narrowed her eyes and leaned forward.
‘We’re there for business. No fucking around, and believe me, I may have the body of a poor little woman but don’t be fooled. You try anything and you’ll wonder what happened to your arm, because I’ll break it off and beat you to fucking death with it . . . Cheers.’
The more obnoxious she became, the more she attracted him. Despite realising that she was just playing her game, he had the feeling that the threat of physical violence might have substance. He’d never been threatened that way by a woman, and had never expected to be, but Hadden was no straightforward example of the gender. He wondered what she would be like in bed.
As they threw back the drinks, Hadden continued: ‘Second thing is this. What you mentioned sounds good, but what if your name’s all over it? Do I take you as well?’ She stared at him for a moment, trying to see what was going on in his mind; watching for any little ticks and movements in his face that could expose a lie.
‘It’s workable. I arrange it through other contacts I use. Some straight and some not. For a job like this, they don’t even know what it is they’re carrying, and I’m far enough back for plausible deniability. Your side might suspect but they’ll toil to tie me into anything. I make sure I have the goods on whoever I use so if they try and throw shit in my direction, it blows back in their face. These jobs are complex and I’m careful to stay back from the danger zones.’ He seemed pleased with his answer.
‘Okay, sounds good and I’ll be covering your arse wherever I can as long as you’re not overexposed. Hope you have a fresh bottle up there.’ Her last comment threw him completely, her foot now running up and down the outside of his calf.
He struggled for a reaction; ordinarily he would have just taken it as a natural progression. This woman, however, didn’t do natural progression. A couple of minutes earlier she’d been threatening to rip his arm off and now she was playing footsie under the table.
‘You’re some piece of work.’
He was relaxing and decided that he would play his game too. He kept letting her take control and fuck with his mind. Being no mug, he reminded himself that she was a bent shot so every bit as vulnerable as he was.
He’d seen her hold her expression still when he’d mentioned guns but there had been a glint in her eye. Fuck’s sake, for a bizzie he was handing her a prize and a half. God knows what made her tick, but he suspected something not too dissimilar from every other player who wanted more than a nine-to-five job and two-and-a-half kids. It obviously wasn’t money in her case. No, she wanted the glory. He got that.
He put on his best smile again – the one he reserved for his pick-ups – and the small lines round his eyes scrunched up in the way that most of those women loved. He grabbed her knee under the table and squeezed hard, making Hadden wince and the smile disappear.
‘Just remember, Janet, that I fucking bite as well. I’ll see you at the flat.’ He stood up and headed for the door.
She hissed out a short breath and felt her heart race. She hadn’t expected his reaction and ordered another double, throwing it over her neck before she left. The barman grinned and said, ‘Take care.’
‘Go fuck yourself,’ was the reply he hadn’t expected.
She walked out of the bar and took in a few deep breaths of the cool, damp air.
Frankie Mason had watched Grainger leave the bar on his own and walk past him on the other side of the road, so he wasn’t heading in the direction he should have taken for home. The fact that two people had entered the boozer together and the female was still inside signified something: they were being careful. Why? He still had to find that out. Had anyone been offering odds, he would have put a few notes on their night being not yet finished. Maybe, like Grainger, she was married. But there was more to it, he was confident of that. His job was to stay on Grainger but the woman would appear, if not tonight then the next time, and her identity intrigued him.
Mason left his car and was able to keep Grainger in sight but a good distance ahead. Only a few minutes from the pub, he watched him turn up the steps to the flat and open the door with a key.
Nice place, Dominic. Very nice indeed, he thought. Arthur Hamilton had told him there was a flat, and he knew it was good property, but seeing Grainger go in gave him context in his mind. This flat was part of another life the top criminal was leading. His secret – or so he thought.
Mason walked past and managed to pull into a quiet doorway where he could watch for a while and any nosey bastard would just think it was some poor soul not allowed to smoke indoors. This street was quality.
The woman appeared before Mason had smoked half his cigarette. He stubbed it out and, although there was distance between them, it had to be the woman from the boozer. He watched the way she walked and moved. There was no chance of a photo, but this was still a result. She was looking along the numbers on the flats, checking. Mason guessed she hadn’t been there before as she took the steps up to the main door and peered at the numbers on the entry system.
‘No, you definitely haven’t been here before, darlin’,’ he whispered into the night air. He watched her touch her face and hair, then do something with her skirt and mouth something indistinguishable into the entry-system panel. She went in.
Mason was pleased. Very pleased. Knowing she’d likely be inside for a while, he headed back to pick up his car. It was getting late, and on this quiet street he could sit there long enough without attracting any attention. The feeling that he was in the middle of a rich vein made the decision about whether to hang around or call it a day a no-brainer: he’d stick with the job. A beer could wait, and it wasn’t as if his flat was somewhere he was dying to get back to.
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br /> ‘What guarantees do I have with this deal, then?’ He’d poured the drinks, which were home measures and a half. She tipped back the glass and didn’t pretend it was too strong.
‘Perfect, the right amount of booze to mixer.’ She looked flushed, and they were both just a bit pissed but still on guard. ‘No guarantees. As far as possible I look after you. One thing though . . . If you’re recording any of this, just remember we both go down the sewers. I’m the only thing keeping Paul away from your little financial problems.’
It was partly his own fault – he’d given away that he was worried about Paul and had dealt her a face card.
‘There’s no recording,’ he told her. ‘Look, I need what you can offer and vice versa. I think, whatever your reasons, you want what I can give you and you’re ready to risk it all. Strange one to me: you’re not the usual piss-head or coked-up suit who needs the money just to keep functioning. In fact, I’d take a bet money doesn’t mean that much to you. Anyway, we’re in this together as the Tories keep telling us.’
‘I would give you the name of the source inside Paul’s team, but what fucking good does it do to find someone I’m running with a severe case of death? Do you have any idea how much shit that would create for me?’ She seemed to be discounting the proposal, but he’d already worked out that if the offer was right, this woman would go a long way to accommodate a deal.
‘So you do run this character, but it wasn’t him that gave your side the Leeds run?’
She had to be careful with her reply and stick to the original lie because it wouldn’t do any harm. There was no way he could ever work out the truth. ‘No, the source didn’t give us that one. I told you, it was the Leeds team.’
He studied her as far as the excess booze would allow, unable to make up his mind whether that was true, but then for what he had in mind it didn’t matter.
‘Look, you already know I have Paul right in my coupon at the moment. I need to put him in his place and think we’ll go head-on before long. He’s my brother, but I want you to take him out at some stage. I’ll help you. Let’s face it, your side would love a rematch with a guaranteed result.’ He raised his glass. ‘How does that sound?’
Our Little Secrets Page 16
