by Val McDermid
‘Let’s get down to business,’ Carlyle said, making for the chair at the head of the table seconds ahead of Visocchi, who scowled and pretended he’d been targeting the one with the best view all along. ‘Mr Torrance, thank you for your assistance. I don’t know what we’d do without you at times like these.’
Torrance dipped his head with a cat-like smile. ‘Happy to oblige, Mr Carlyle. We’re all on the same side, after all.’
Allie wasn’t sure how comfortable that made her feel. Torrance continued. ‘But in this particular instance, you’re ahead of the game. None of these three men has any criminal record. We pride ourselves on having our finger on the pulse of dangerous radicals, and they’ve attracted no attention whatsoever either from the Branch or from Strathclyde Police. Congratulations, Mr Sullivan.’
‘It was me that spotted them,’ Allie said.
Torrance raised his eyebrows. ‘I do apologise, I was led to believe Mr Sullivan had infiltrated the gang.’
‘I did,’ Danny said. ‘But only after Allie had sussed them out.’
Torrance spread his hands out. ‘Whoever’s responsible, well done. And I know from working with Gordon in the past that the Clarion will do the right thing once you’ve got your story.’
‘We will,’ Carlyle said. ‘But I need a guarantee that you won’t move on this till I give you the say-so.’
Torrance’s expression was blander than a government minister denying a crisis. ‘So long as they don’t do anything to attract our attention. And so long as you make damned sure they don’t get the chance to use the materiel they’re acquiring. I’d hate to have to arrest Mr Sullivan and Miss Burns for conspiring to cause explosions.’
The silence was awkward. Carlyle leaned forward, his beefy forearms planted on the desk. ‘I’ll concentrate on my job and you concentrate on yours. That’s what we pay you for, after all.’ There was no mistaking who was the big beast in the room.
Torrance stood up. ‘Keep me informed,’ he said. ‘Gordon knows where to find me.’
‘As soon as the paper hits the street, you’ll have everything you need,’ Carlyle said.
‘All I need is their whereabouts. And where the explosives are. Otherwise all bets are off and this will be the last favour I do the Clarion.’ He gathered his coat around him and stood up. He pointed two fingers at Danny, like a pistol. ‘Walk me out, Mr Sullivan, and take me through it one more time.’
Wee Gordon Beattie looked as if he’d been slapped. And Allie wondered whether Thomas Torrance’s memory had inconveniently returned.
38
‘That was a bit high-handed,’ Visocchi said. ‘You need to keep your boy on a tighter leash, Gordon. Remind him who’s boss.’
‘They like to make out they are,’ Beattie said. ‘He’ll be fine.’ He turned to Carlyle. ‘So, Angus, what’s the plan?’
‘I’ve got a team beavering away on background. Burns too,’ he acknowledged with a tip of his head. ‘The Razor’s coming in later to legal what we’ve got and what we’re planning to do with it. Soon as Danny comes back, we’ll run the strategy for tomorrow night. See how many holes we can pick in it. Are your boys ready to go out and get snatch pics of the three bombers?’
Visocchi waved an expansive hand. ‘My boys were born ready. Soon as you’ve got addresses, we’ll stake out the wee bastards.’
Beattie took an ostentatious look at his watch. ‘I hope that sleekit wee boy Sullivan isn’t trying to steal my contact.’
Allie wanted to remind him it had been the Special Branch man who had asked Danny to walk him out, but she thought better of it. No need to point up a possible connection between them.
‘How did you get on to this in the first place, Burns?’ Visocchi asked. ‘Was one of them chatting you up?’ A sly smile.
‘Yeah, because that’s what terrorists do. “Do you fancy coming for a curry so I can tell you all about my plans for the revolution?”’ Allie rolled her eyes. ‘I got it by putting myself in the right place and keeping my eyes and ears open.’
Carlyle smiled approval. Before anyone could say more, Danny reappeared, a little pink around the cheekbones. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered. He caught Allie’s eye and drew his brows together in a slight frown.
‘Tomorrow night, then. Danny, you’re supposed to meet the other three at the Spaghetti Factory at half past seven, right?’ Carlyle raised his eyebrows and Danny nodded. The news editor pulled a pad of paper towards him. ‘So, one team in the restaurant. A pic man and a reporter to follow Malloch and Farquhar when they leave.’ He noted it down. ‘We know where Danny and Bell are going, so no need to be on their tail at that point. What about in the pub?’
‘I’m wary about that,’ Danny said. ‘It’s pretty much a dive. We drew some funny looks last time. I got the feeling they don’t get a lot of passing trade. Anybody we put in will stick out like a sore thumb.’
‘Plus,’ Allie weighed in, ‘it’s not beyond the bounds of possibility that the IRA guys will also be staking out the pub. They’ll want to make sure Danny and Bell haven’t brought back-up with them. If they spot a possible tail, it could end really badly.’
‘The lassie’s got a point,’ Visocchi said. ‘I know some of our lads are on the scruffy side, but they’re not going to pass for one of the coffin-dodgers from the Calton. Better to stay on the street, Angus.’
Carlyle frowned. ‘That’s the sensible option. But I hate to send any of my reporters into the lion’s den without anybody at their back.’
‘I’ll be careful,’ Danny said. He gave a half-laugh. ‘I mean, I’ve been there before, I’m practically a regular myself.’
Allie couldn’t help admiring his attempt at bravado. ‘They’ll be pouring your pint as you come through the door.’
‘The serious business starts when you and Bell walk out the pub,’ Carlyle continued. ‘We’re doing this mob-handed. But in the shadows. We know the route the pair of you took last time, and where you got picked up. We’ve no way of knowing if they’ll follow the same pattern, but it’s a start. So I want one man walking down on the other side of the street so he’s passing the pub just after the half hour.’ He tore off the top sheet and began to draw a rudimentary map. ‘So he’s coming down the hill a wee bit behind the pair of you. Further up the street, I want a car with two guys in it to follow your route from a distance. Behind that, another car with one guy in it. When you get to the first turning, that second car will pick up the man on foot. At the next turning, the first car peels off, cuts round the block and drops off its passenger.’
He held up the sheet of paper and pointed out what he meant. ‘He emerges further down the street you and Bell are on, walking slowly so you pass him. The second car will drive past you and take a slightly different route to the far end of the lane where you got picked up. Make sense so far?’ Everyone nodded.
‘Tony, that lad of yours – Willie, is it? Runs about on a motorbike?’
Visocchi chuckled. ‘Willie Suttie. Fancies himself one of they paparazzi.’
‘I want him for the third follower. There’s a wee vennel almost opposite that lane, and that’s where Suttie’s going to be waiting.’
‘How do you know a detail like that, boss?’ Allie was startled into asking.
Carlyle gave her a measured look. ‘I could say, “I know everything, Burns.” Truth is, I grew up in the Calton. I know these streets better than I know my own wife.’ He saw her surprise and gave a wolfish grin. ‘Surprised? I might have started off a rough diamond, but I’ve polished up since then.’
‘I didn’t mean—’
‘So, Suttie’s in the vennel. When the black taxi turns into the lane, he’s going to come in behind it, overtake it when it stops to pick up Bell and Danny. When he emerges from the lane, that’s the signal for the second car to get ready to follow. The first car follows the second car. Not right on its tail but close enough no
t to lose it. Suttie tucks in after the first car, and behind them all is a third car. The four are the long tail. Is that clear?’
‘You’re taking this seriously.’ It was hard to tell whether Beattie was impressed or resentful.
‘It’s a serious business, bombing.’ Carlyle glowered. ‘I’m taking no chances. Danny’s safety is our number one priority.’
‘I thought preventing these clowns setting bombs was our number one priority?’ Beattie pursed his lips primly.
Carlyle paused, fixing him with a level stare. ‘Don’t be a cunt, Gordon.’ He turned back to Danny. ‘Danny, you said it was your impression that you took quite a few turns on your journeys in the cab?’
‘We got thrown around a lot, the way you do when you’re going round corners in a black cab,’ he said. ‘It was hard to keep track, but I reckon it was seven or eight times.’
Carlyle nodded. ‘So here’s the plan. Every second turn, the lead vehicle does not make the turn and the tail closes up. Then the lead goes back to the end of the tail. We stay as far back as we can, but if the driver is keeping an eye on his rear-view mirror, he’ll see a series of different vehicles behind him. It’ll be too dark to make out any details, so we need to go for cars that look noticeably different. I’m thinking a Cortina, a Mini, a Land Rover, something like that.’
‘Dave Thornton’s got a Land Rover,’ Visocchi offered.
‘I’ve got a Morris Minor,’ Allie said.
Beattie scoffed. ‘Perfect. Nobody would ever suspect an old banger like that of being involved in a car chase.’
‘And we’ll use one of the office Cortinas,’ Carlyle said. ‘We do this right, we find out where the IRA house is.’
‘What about afterwards? Do we wait and pick them up again?’ Allie asked.
‘I think that could be pretty risky. We don’t have any idea what the layout might be. All we know is that it’s a house or a ground-floor flat. It could be a quiet residential street where any strangers are immediately obvious. Or it could even be somewhere on the outskirts where there’s no cover,’ Carlyle said. ‘Danny, your memo said they told you you’d have to pick up the explosives yourselves?’
Danny nodded.
‘That sounds to me like they’re not going to take you there. It’s my best guess that they’ll dump you somewhere with instructions on where and how to get the bomb-making equipment. I think we have to chance it. We’ll know where the IRA suppliers are living and we’ll know where the pick-up is. I say, let’s be guided by Danny. As soon as you can get to a phone without causing suspicion, fill us in.’
Allie raised a finger to catch his attention. ‘Just a thought, boss. When you all meet up earlier, howsabout if Danny pushes for them to get together at Malloch’s flat after they’ve been dropped off by the Irish guys? He can sell it by saying they’re all in this together, they should be together when they pick up the explosives. And we’ll have time to stake out Malloch’s flat after we’ve tailed Danny to the IRA safe house.’
Carlyle beamed at her. ‘That’s a great idea, Burns. You think you can pull that off, Danny?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t see why not. They’ll be gagging to get back into the thick of things. I doubt they’ll take much persuasion to hook up.’
‘Good. That’s that sorted. We’ll iron out all the details and brief the teams tomorrow afternoon.’ He beamed at Danny. ‘This is a helluva story, coming on top of your Paragon exposé. I’ve been thinking about setting up a specialist investigation team for a wee while now. Play your cards right, and it could be your baby, Danny Boy.’
Beattie gasped. ‘You said—’
‘I changed my mind, Gordon. Obviously you’d have a role to play, but if we’re going to be taken seriously, we need somebody running the show who can’t be accused of being in the pocket of the polis. You can see the sense of that.’
Beattie flushed dark red. ‘He’s only been in the door five minutes.’
‘Three years,’ Danny said quietly.
Carlyle stood up. ‘Jeez, my bairns fight less than you lot. Danny, away home and stake out your phone. Burns, get on to Maggie McNab. When you’ve done with her, get back here and we’ll look at what the diggers have turned up on our bombers. Gentlemen, thank you for your time.’ He made for the door, Visocchi and Beattie in his wake. Beattie gave them a last poisonous glance as he left.
‘You dropped lucky with this one,’ he said. ‘But don’t forget who has the real sources round here.’
Danny watched him go. ‘He can’t help himself. He hates it when he thinks anybody’s treading on his toes.’
Allie laughed. ‘Male insecurity. He’s probably got a willie the size of a chipolata.’ Serious again, she said, ‘What did Torrance want?’
Danny groaned. ‘To tell me to keep my fucking mouth shut. He knew the second he saw me where he recognised me from. He pointed out I had more to lose than him if I tried to drop him in the shit. And that he has the power. “I can always find an excuse for being somewhere the perverts hang out,” he said. Bastard.’
‘Is he going to be a problem?’
Danny shook his head. ‘Not if we keep our side of the bargain and hand him Scottish and Irish terrorists on a plate. And there’s no reason why we won’t be able to do that, is there?’
39
By the time Allie made it to Danny’s flat, it was early evening and she was exhausted. She eased herself out of the car, back stiff and shoulders tight, wondering if this was what it would feel like when she grew old. Out of the darkness, a figure materialised at her elbow. ‘You look pure dead knackered,’ Jimmy said cheerfully.
‘You do know that’s not how you impress a woman?’ Allie fished in her bag for coins.
He clicked his fingers. ‘That’s where I’ve been going wrong all these years. You’ve missed your pal, though,’ he added as she dropped a 50p piece into his dirt-ingrained palm. ‘He said to tell you he was just away to the shop for a pint of milk.’
‘Thanks, Jimmy.’ When she’d phoned Danny to say she was on her way over, he’d told her he needed to pop out and that there was a key on a string attached to the inside of his letter box. ‘I’ll wait for him inside. Much as I’d like to have a wee blether with you, it’s too bloody cold.’ She scuffed a lump of snow frozen to ice with the toe of her boot.
‘Layers. That’s the secret in the cold,’ he said, falling into step as she crossed the uneven ground. ‘See me? Under all this, I’m actually half the size I look. I keep myself insulated with layers. A semmit, two T-shirts, a shirt, a sweatshirt and a jumper underneath my coat. And then there’s my long johns . . . ‘
This was more information than Allie needed. She didn’t want to think about the state of Jimmy’s layers. The miasma was bad enough. ‘Spare me the details.’ They’d reached the pavement. ‘Thanks for taking care of the motor.’ She sketched a wave and walked into the close.
The key was where Danny had said and she was inside in the warm in a matter of moments. By the time Danny returned a few minutes later, she was curled up on a sofa, boots kicked off, a sheaf of copy in her hand. He stuck his head round the door, greeting her with, ‘Tea or coffee?’
‘Tea, this time of night. Any word from Ding-dong or the others?’
‘Silent as the grave. You hungry? I made a big pot of corned beef stovies last night, there’s plenty left.’
‘Thanks. I’ve not eaten since this morning. I could eat a scabby dug if it was warmed through.’
‘Yuck,’ Danny said as she followed him through to the kitchen. ‘I heard things were a bit different in Fife but I never knew it had got that bad.’
She chuckled and playfully punched his upper arm. ‘Your stovies better be up to scratch, Edinburgh boy. If that smell doesn’t go round my heart like a hairy worm, you’re in big trouble.’
While Danny brewed a pot of tea and heated up the pan of food, All
ie brought him up to speed. ‘I was careful with Maggie McNab. She’s very dismissive of their views – she says they’re not representative of the group. Which, let’s face it, we knew already. The rest of them are a bunch of hand-wavy academics and politics geeks. But I’ve got some quotes that’ll sit nicely in the background piece.’
‘That’s handy. I wouldn’t like to be in her shoes up at the university when the story breaks, mind you.’
Allie shrugged. ‘She should be more careful about the people she encourages to join her group. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the rest of the guys are playing a blinder on the background stuff. I swear, I wouldn’t have known where to start to get the detail they’ve picked up.’
‘It’s harder for women. You walk into a pub or a corner shop and bring up some guy’s name, right away you’ve got everybody’s attention for all the wrong reasons. Whereas I can go, “Does Deke Malloch still drink in here?” and nobody bats an eyelid. No alarm bells ringing. What have we got?’
Allie spread the pages out. ‘Addresses. Workplaces. Can you believe Roddy Farquhar is a maths teacher in Bishopbriggs?’
‘All the more reason for him to stay deep in the closet,’ Danny said. ‘Even a whisper and he’d be out the door and on the dole before you could say “Tom Robinson”.’
‘That’s ridiculous. Surely people know that being gay isn’t the same as being a paedophile?’
‘Your faith in humankind is touching,’ he said bitterly, ‘but it couldn’t be more misplaced. Don’t let the poofs near the weans, that’s the mantra. What else have the guys dug up?’
