by Jeff Gulvin
Eilish drove through Belfast city centre, passing the Europa Hotel where Bill Clinton had stayed, at one time the most bombed hotel in the world. At twelve noon she pulled over by The Crown and lit a cigarette, watching her mirror for anyone watching her. On the corner a motorcycle courier talked into his radio.
Four cars back two Drug Squad officers from Antrim Road watched her in their door mirrors. Eilish moved off again, leaving the city centre and heading for west Belfast. Behind her the Drug Squad officers followed.
She left the centre, driving slowly along Divis Street. The first phone box she came to she stopped and got out of the car. The Drug Squad officers pulled over behind. Eilish was dialling, money in her hand, her back to the road and her car. The officers checked through the windows and spotted her grey, flat, travel bag. They exchanged a short glance then stepped up to the phone box. Eilish put down the receiver and looked into their faces. ‘Oh shit,’ she said.
Vanner sat in his office, smoking a cigarette. His bag packed and ready at his feet. Jimmy was in the squad room making phonecalls. The phone rang on Vanner’s desk. For a moment he stared at it then lifted the receiver to his ear.
‘Vanner.’
‘DC Killiner, Antrim Road. Your runner’s in custody.’
‘Gear?’
‘Crack. Over a kilo. We’ve sent it off for emergency analysis.’
‘We’ll be there.’
Vanner put down the phone, picked up his bag and went through to the squad room. Jimmy was talking to China. He looked up as Vanner walked in.
‘Antrim Road, Jimmy. Only it’s not coke it’s crack.’
Jimmy frowned. ‘They obviously don’t have a wash man.’
Sammy drove them to Heathrow, Vanner on the mobile organising their change of tickets. There was a flight at four thirty. They would be on it. As the plane took off Vanner wondered what would come of the trip. Eilish McCauley was looking at a ten-year stretch for intent to supply. The best he could hope for her was information in mitigation with the judge. He wondered if it would be enough.
They were met at Belfast International Airport by DC Killiner from the Antrim Road Drug Squad. He placed their bags in the boot of his Rover and then drove them towards the city. Vanner sat in the front and looked out on a landscape he had not seen in twelve years.
The city lay in a valley, the airport to the north. They could see the sprawl from the road that drifted down from the escarpment.
‘Been over here before have you?’ Killiner asked them.
‘I haven’t,’ Jimmy said.
Killiner glanced at Vanner. ‘Sir?’
‘Yes.’
‘Job?’
Vanner shook his head. ‘Parachute Regiment.’
Killiner lifted his eyebrows. ‘I reckon you know the form then.’
‘I reckon.’
Killiner scratched his ear. ‘Big deal is it — back in London?’
‘The biggest,’ Jimmy told him. ‘Been working on it for almost two years. Team working out of Harlesden, British blacks with connections in Jamaica.’
Killiner grinned. ‘You know this is the biggest haul we’ve had over here. My bosses are delirious.’
‘I bet they are,’ Vanner said. ‘How is she — Eilish?’
‘Very pissed off. Redhead. Spits like a tiger. Doesn’t want to tell us who she was meeting.’
‘Now there’s a surprise.’
Killiner stopped at red traffic lights and tapped out a rhythm on the steering wheel. He looked at Vanner. ‘Something came up in the strip search, Sir.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Tattoo.’ Killiner touched his thigh. ‘Here.’ Again he looked at Vanner. ‘Cumman na mBan’
Jimmy leaned over the seat. ‘What does that mean?’
Vanner looked back at him. ‘Women’s wing of the IRA,’ he said.
Killiner’s mobile rang where it lay on the dashboard. Vanner reached forward and handed it to him. He pressed SND and fixed it to his ear.
‘Killiner,’ he said. ‘What?’ His eyebrows arched then. ‘You’re joking aren’t you?’ He paused again. ‘Right. No, they’re in the car with me now.’ He switched off the phone and sighed. Vanner stared at him.
‘What?’ he said.
‘We’ve got a problem. The crack.’
‘What about it?’
‘It’s melted down candlewax.’
Eilish McCauley smoked white-filtered cigarettes one after the other in the interview room at Antrim Road. A woman RUC constable was with her, standing by the door with her hands behind her back. Vanner closed the door, Jimmy moving to the table. Vanner glanced at the WPC who smiled. He looked over at Eilish, long red hair and green eyes like a cat. She sucked her cheeks in hard and blew a steady stream of smoke. Vanner moved to the vacant chair. Jimmy was already seated. The tape machine was switched off.
Vanner sat down slowly and held Eilish’s stare with his own. ‘Hello, Eilish,’ he said. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Vanner. Northwest London Drug Squad. This is Detective Constable McKay’
She looked from one to the other of them. ‘Long way from home aren’t you.’
‘So are you, Eilish.’
She sat back and folded her arms.
For a moment Vanner did not say anything. He glanced at Jimmy Crack who leaned both elbows on the desk and steepled fingers under his chin.
‘You’ve been arrested with a kilo and a half of crack cocaine in your possession, Eilish. Intent to supply. If you’re convicted — which you will be — you’ll go away for ten years.’ Vanner looked at her then. ‘That’ll make your kids all but grown up when you get out.’
Eilish did not say anything. Her eyes betrayed no emotion, but she lit another cigarette.
Vanner cast his eyes over the gathering butts in the ashtray. ‘I’m going to tell you a little story, Eilish, and when I’ve finished I want you to think long and hard about those ten years.’ He took out his own cigarettes, lit one and snapped closed his lighter. He laid it on top of the cigarette box on the table.
‘In Harlesden there’s a black man called Stepper-Nap. He’s married with three kids and he’s on the dole. Funny thing is he drives a green Mercedes with a personalised number plate.’
Eilish was not looking at him. She sucked on the cigarette and blew smoke over his head.
‘Pretty Boy,’ Vanner said. ‘He’s part of the team and he’s got takeover plans. That’s probably why you’re sitting there. Stepper-Nap used to have some body armour called Young Young. Trouble is Young Young’s a bit wayward, likes to put it about a bit. Carries an Uzi because it makes him a hardman like his father. His father got killed in a knife fight. Young Young’s got a half-brother called Little Bigger. Then there’s Bigger Dan, and Thin Hand Billy and Jig. There’s a tame doctor in Neasden. Stepper-Nap takes his patsies there when they swallow. The doctor gives them suppositories. Am I making sense?’
‘You tell me, lover.’
Vanner smiled and put out his cigarette. ‘Young Young didn’t like a Jamaican illegal called Holden Biggs. Biggs called him a pussy so Young Young took his gun into Jimmy Carter’s snooker hall in Kilburn. He whacked Biggs and shot a few holes in the ceiling. That really pissed Carter off. It really pissed Stepper-Nap off — so you went to see Carter and made a deal for Stepper.’ He looked her up and down. ‘I bet you make good deals, Eilish.’
She did not say anything.
‘Stepper let Carter’s mob beat seven bells out of Young Young. But you don’t do that to Young Young. You either kill him or leave him alone. When he got better, he went to see Carter again — only this time he decided to shoot holes in him. He also shot the bouncer. The bouncer gave him up. You used to sleep with Young Young didn’t you. I bet that really wound old Stepper up.’
‘I don’t know what you’re on about.’
‘No? That’s up to you, Eilish. I’m just telling you how it is so you can think about your ten years some more.’ He glanced at Jimmy Crack. ‘Stepper has a little hotel on Willesden Lane wh
ere he gets a white guy called Ginger Bill to wash coke into crack for him. Stepper’s got a brother in Jamaica who owns a nightclub where deals go down with men from Miami. The men from Miami know men from Colombia and they sell coke to them. The coke goes to Jamaica and then it gets on aeroplanes to Heathrow and Gatwick and that’s where Pretty Boy comes in. Making sense, Eilish?’ His voice was harder now, an edge to it, reflected in the black of his eyes. ‘Ten years, Eilish. Your children won’t know who you are.’
Eilish lit another cigarette and snapped the spent match in two. Vanner saw that her hands were shaking just a fraction.
‘You can help yourself, Eilish,’ Jimmy said softly. ‘That—believe it or not— is why we’ve come all the way over here. Do you really want to go away for ten long years?’
‘Your children will be taken into care,’ Vanner said. ‘You know what happens to little girls in care.’
‘Shut your mouth.’ She spat the words at him and squashed her cigarette in the ashtray.
‘It’s a fact, Eilish. You know it is. They’ll never let you see them again.’
‘My brother can look after them.’
‘For ten years? No chance. Their mother a convicted drug trafficker. Probably runs in the family. You really believe the social services’ll let James look after them? Grow up, Eilish.’
She bit down on her lip, hands trembling now. She looked at Vanner’s cigarettes on the table. Her own pack was empty. Vanner picked up his packet and placed it in his pocket. ‘We’re going to put you back in the cell now, Eilish. Then we’re going to hang around for an hour. If you don’t ask to see us by then we’re going home — and you — lady — are history.’ He swivelled round in his seat and nodded to the WPC by the door.
Downstairs in the canteen they drank coffee. Jimmy shook his head. ‘They must’ve ripped him off,’ he said. ‘The first time. He wouldn’t do this otherwise.’
‘Bloody stupid to do it at all,’ Vanner said. ‘You think she’ll go for it?’
‘If she doesn’t she’s walking anyway.’
‘Yeah, but she doesn’t know that.’ Vanner looked at the clock on the wall. They had been sat there for fifteen minutes. ‘If we play this just right Antrim Road might yet get her contact.’
‘You mean give her back the box — let her make the deal?’
‘Why not?’
‘Risky. What if they figure it?’
‘The wax is wrapped in clingfilm. If the contact is good enough they’ll pass over the funds and walk.’
‘Yeah, but what about later — when they find out it’s not crack?’
Vanner pursed his lips.
‘Word’ll get back to Stepper, Guv. Then it’ll get to her.’
‘Not necessarily.’
‘It will. They only contact him through her. If that happens we’ve lost her.’
Vanner sighed. ‘Delicate.’
‘I reckon we ought to leave it, Guv. Keep the box. Let her go thinking we own her life. She won’t know procedure. She’ll tell Stepper she was busted.’
‘But he knows it’s just wax.’
Jimmy made a face. ‘Then we need something from her now.’
They sat in silence for a few minutes then Jimmy said, ‘That tattoo — you reckon she’s a player?’
Vanner pursed his lips. ‘Maybe once upon a time.’ He sat forward. ‘Who knows, Jimmy. A lot of them go through the phase. Tattoo is a statement. No-one on the fifteenth floor knows her.’
A man walked through the swing doors in plain clothes. Vanner bunched his eyes as he looked at him.
‘You know him, Guv?’ Jimmy asked.
Vanner thought for a moment. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I do.’ He stood up and wandered up to the counter where the man was looking at the specials on the blackboard.
‘Billy,’ Vanner said.
The man turned, tall with thin blond hair and pale eyes. He squinted. ‘B’Jesus. Vanner.’
They shook hands. ‘How are you, Billy?’
Billy Callaghan. Vanner knew him from his days as an army intelligence officer with 90 Section, just before he resigned his commission. Callaghan was B Squad Special Branch. They sat down at a table. Vanner glancing once more at the clock.
‘What’re you doing here?’ Callaghan said. ‘You were out last time I heard.’
‘I am out, Billy. The army that is.’ Vanner showed him his warrant card. ‘Old Bill,’ he said. ‘Northwest London Drug Squad. Your boys lifted a patsy I’m after.’
‘Well there you go — small world isn’t it.’ Vanner nodded. ‘What’re you doing these days?’
‘Ex-branch, now. Other duties.’ They looked at one another and Vanner nodded.
‘How’re the boys?’
‘Boys?’
‘Yeah. The ones I used to know.’
Callaghan sipped coffee. ‘You don’t know?’
‘Should I?’
‘Dave Quigley got shot in Morne.’
Vanner’s face furrowed. ‘When?’
‘1994. July. On holiday with his family. Close quarter. Tokarev .62mm.’
Vanner stared at him.
‘They found him floating in Spelga Dam.’
Vanner was suddenly cold. ‘You said Tokarev?’
‘That’s right.’
‘You get them?’
‘Nope.’
Vanner sat back again and took out his cigarettes. He offered the pack to Callaghan.
‘We’ve got a shooting with a Toky in London.’
‘I know,’ Callaghan said. ‘Same gun, Aden.’
Vanner stared at him once more. ‘You sure?’
‘Course I’m sure. Lambeth sent it over here for checks. The cartridge cases that is. They matched Quigley’s murder. Ejection marks, firing pin, the works.’
Vanner looked at the clock. Half an hour. He glanced at Jimmy who made a face. Again he looked at Callaghan. ‘The others okay?’
‘Others?’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘Tim Phelan’s disabled. Got blown up in ’88.’
‘Bad?’
‘No legs. One arm. Lives on your side now. Yorkshire.’ Callaghan sat forward. ‘Funny thing that — DPOA took a call from him a while back. Reckoned he was being looked at. Woman in the park by his house. Three times she was there. No kids with her.’
Vanner bunched his right hand in a fist. ‘What happened?’
‘DPOA phoned SO13 and they sent a couple of lads up to see him. Found nothing though. Reckoned it was just the cracks.’
‘You heard from him again?’
‘No.’
Vanner looked at the clock, then glanced over his shoulder as the WPC from the interview room came into the canteen. She spotted Jimmy Crack and went over to him.
Vanner scraped back his chair. ‘Got to go, Billy. You got an address for Tim?’
‘I can get it.’
Vanner peeled a card from his wallet. ‘Phone Campbell Row. Ask for Sammy McCleod and give it to him will you?’
They shook hands and he went over to Jimmy’s table. ‘Result, Guv’nor,’ Jimmy said. ‘I think she wants to play.’
Eilish was back in the incident room. Vanner took out his cigarettes and handed the packet to her. ‘Okay, Eilish?’
‘Have to be don’t I.’
‘What can you tell us?’ Jimmy said.
‘What can you tell me?’ she replied.
Jimmy glanced at Vanner who blew out his cheeks. ‘If you play ball, Eilish,’ he said very carefully. ‘You can walk out of here, collect your car and go home to your kids.’
The relief stood out in her eyes.
‘It’s not quite that simple though.’
Her eyes clouded again.
‘You see we’re in Belfast and this is the largest haul of crack they’ve ever had over here. They think it’s a right result. Does morale no end of good. The two guys who nicked you—they’re on cloud nine.’
‘So?’
‘So you have to prove to us you can really help us b
ig-time. I mean all the way help us. Otherwise we’ll never convince them to play.’
‘But I will be released.’
‘Police bail. You mess up once and your ten years become twelve.’
She sat back in the chair, face white, bags beginning to draw under her eyes. She scratched at her hair with long-nailed fingers and smoked for a while in silence.
‘What d’you want to know?’ she said finally.
Vanner looked at her and smiled. ‘I want to know everything that you know about Stepper-Nap, Eilish. I’m going to talk you through what we have and I want all the gaps filled in. When we’ve done that we’ll work out how you can help us nick him.’
Sixteen
ELLIE WAS STILL UP when Vanner got home the following night, the lounge lights burning at one in the morning. He thought it odd when he parked his car. She greeted him in the hall, face pale, red about the eyes as if she had been crying. Vanner looked at her. ‘What is it?’
For a moment her lip trembled. ‘Your father’s dead,’ she said.
Vanner looked down at his father’s face, upturned toward him in the coffin. The silence of the room gathered about him. No breath. He stood with his hands in his pockets, the wall lights bright all at once against his eyes. His father’s face had colour, eyes closed, hands resting on his stomach. For the first time in his life Vanner noticed his fingernails. His hair was combed, shirt black, priest’s collar very white at his throat. He would have wanted to be buried that way.
Outside the chapel of rest he lit a cigarette and walked through the city. The funeral would take place at the cathedral, a mark of his days at the school. It would be the first time that Vanner had set foot in the place since he had left twenty years ago. He walked towards it now, aware of the echo of his footsteps on the pavement. So many thoughts to contend with, so many memories and yet at the same time an emptiness in his mind he would not have expected. He had seen death before many times. But his father. Ever since Ellie had told him of the heart attack he had thought about this time, the first moments alone when he would know he was gone for ever.
And now it was here he could not put words to it. He walked along the towpath towards the bridge by the station. A pair of swans traced patterns in the water, one after the other, feet moving soundlessly beneath the graceful weight of their necks.
