The Aden Vanner Novels

by Jeff Gulvin

  Webb and Westbrook were silent. Eilish sat with her head bowed. Westbrook said, ‘When you visited your mother … July 1994. Did he go off on his own?’

  ‘For two days yes.’

  ‘Did he say where?’

  ‘Walking, he told me.’

  Webb scratched his chin. ‘Where did he get the gun, Eilish? If he was turned down — where did he get a Tokarev? It’s a PIRA weapon.’

  She did not answer him.

  ‘Where, Eilish?’

  Still she did not answer.

  ‘Come on. If you want us to believe this you have to tell me.’

  ‘It’s true. Every word I’ve said. Ask Mary-Anne Forbes. She knows what he’s like.’

  ‘The gun,’ Webb persisted quietly. ‘How did your brother get his hands on a Tokarev?’

  Eilish bit her lip. ‘Once,’ she said. ‘Only once. I brought over a bag.’

  ‘From Belfast?’

  She nodded.

  ‘What was in it?’

  ‘I don’t know. I knew enough about Tommy’s mates not to look.’

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘January ’94.’

  ‘Where did you take it?’

  ‘Victoria station. I left it in a locker.’

  ‘So what’re you saying?’

  She looked keenly at him then. ‘It was in my house overnight.’

  Vanner sat with Webb, Westbrook and Chief Superintendent Robertson in the DCI’s office at Scotland Yard. Vanner had one ankle crossed over his knee, staring at Westminster Abbey through the window. Westbrook was briefing Robertson on how James had got the Tokarev. ‘Pretty simple really — whoever picked up the bag was just another gopher.’

  ‘She had no comeback.’

  ‘No. Quarter Master couldn’t have known what he was getting.’

  ‘Happens,’ Webb said.

  Vanner was only half-listening. The phone rang on his belt and he pressed it against his ear.

  ‘Vanner.’

  ‘Feel my pain.’

  He sat up straight. ‘Hello, James,’ he said.

  ‘Feel my pain.’ The phone went dead in his ear.

  Vanner switched off his phone and laid it on the desk. For a long time he did not say anything. Robertson stared at him. ‘James McCauley?’

  Vanner nodded.

  ‘What did he say?’

  Vanner glanced up at him. ‘Feel my pain.’ And then he knew for certain why Jessica Turner had been killed and not Raymond Kinane. He went a little cold as suddenly he recalled his flippant remark when Ellie said there was a man looking up at the bedroom window. Reaching across the desk he picked up the phone and dialled the nurses’ station. It rang four times and then somebody else answered.

  ‘Ellie Ross please.’

  ‘She’s with patients.’

  Vanner let go a breath. ‘When she’s free. Get her to ring Aden Vanner on his mobile. It’s very very important.’

  He put down the phone and looked at them. ‘Jessica Turner was killed because killing Quigley was no good.’

  Webb looked puzzled.

  ‘Three shots and dead. No more. Nothing.’ Vanner stood up. ‘For ten years McCauley lived with his teenage memories of Quinlon dying. PIRA blew him out. His sister failed him. So when he got the gun he went after Quigley. But it was no good.’ He stopped. ‘That’s why he killed Jessica Turner — so Kinane could feel his pain. Only Kinane didn’t come forward because he had a wife and two kids. Phelan was a possible but what good would it do him to shoot a man blown up already. Priestley’s dead. That only leaves me.’

  ‘You’re a target, Vanner,’ Westbrook said.

  ‘No I’m not. My girlfriend is.’

  The phone rang and Vanner picked it up. ‘Ellie?’

  ‘What do you want that’s so important?’

  ‘Do not go back to your flat tonight.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Just don’t. Wait for me at the end of your shift. Stay inside the hospital and I’ll come for you. Do not leave without me. And do not go outside.’

  ‘Aden, you’re scaring me.’

  ‘Good, then you’ll stay inside.’

  He put down the phone and looked at Robertson. ‘Her name’s Ellie Ross. She’s a nurse at Barts. She’s going to need a safe house.’

  He drove to the hospital, watchful. He was early. Ellie not yet down. He stood in the foyer, wondering what exactly he was going to say to her. People moved about him, buying papers, sweets and chocolates. Visitors. Vanner saw a man coming out of the florists with a bouquet under his arm. He stared at the shop window, thought for a moment and then walked inside. The girl behind the counter smiled at him. He nodded briefly and looked about him. A stack of single roses wrapped in polythene with red bows on them stood in a bucket by his feet. Tightly curled buds, just beginning to flower. He felt the girl at his arm.

  ‘Can I help you?’ she asked him.

  He looked round at her, muttered something about waiting for someone and looked again at the roses.

  ‘Visiting?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Are you visiting someone?’

  He shook his head, glanced at his watch then looked out into the foyer once more. ‘I’m waiting for a nurse,’ he said.

  ‘Oh.’ Again she smiled. ‘Roses are very nice.’

  He looked at her, grinned and looked at the floor.

  ‘Special is she?’

  He made a face.

  ‘Course she is.’ The girl lifted a single rose from the bucket and held it out to him. ‘Make her feel special,’ she said.

  He had never bought roses. The only time he could recall being in a florist’s was when he bought a wreath for his father’s coffin. He glanced through the open doorway and saw Ellie walking down the corridor with another woman he did not recognise. ‘Another time maybe,’ he said, and walked outside.

  Ellie spotted him and came over. Vanner looked at her across the fifty yards that separated them. The woman she was with was a little older, dark hair, lots of make-up. Ellie said her goodbyes, the woman glanced at him briefly and then went outside. Ellie came up to him.

  ‘Who was that?’ he asked her.

  ‘Anne,’ she said. ‘Just a cleaner. I have my tea with her now and then.’

  Vanner nodded.

  ‘What is it, Aden? What’s going on?’

  He took her arm and led her out to the car, gaze shifting across the faces of those coming into the hospital entrance. An ambulance pulled past them and they waited before walking up to his car. He had parked it on double yellow lines, the Met warrant book stuffed against the windscreen.

  He drove, Ellie sitting next to him, her coat over the back seat. ‘How come you went home last night?’ He glanced briefly at her as he said-it.

  She stared through the windscreen. ‘I don’t know. Missed my own space I guess.’ She touched his arm. ‘What’s going on, Aden? Why all the fuss?’

  ‘I’ll tell you when we get home.’

  He parked outside his house and glanced briefly at the scaffolded building still being renovated across the street. The workmen were all but finished now and soon the poles would come down. He looked up and down the road for cars that shouldn’t be there.

  Inside there was a message to phone George Webb. Vanner paged him while Ellie made coffee. Webb called him straight back.

  ‘Got her?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. Safe house is ready. How’d you want to play it?’

  ‘Give me the address. I haven’t told her yet.’

  Webb was quiet. ‘Better if somebody else took her, Guv. Bring her in and we’ll sort it from there.’

  ‘You got a PROT set up?’

  ‘On standby.’

  ‘Good is he?’

  ‘They’re all good, Guv’nor.’

  Vanner thought for a moment. Ellie came up from the kitchen with two mugs of coffee. ‘I’ll bell you back in a little while. She’s safe with me for the time being.’

  ‘Don�
�t leave it too long.’

  Vanner put down the phone and went through to the lounge. She was standing in front of the window, one arm cupped round her waist, staring out into darkness.

  ‘Come away from the window, Elle.’

  She looked round sharply at him. ‘Why?’

  ‘Just do it. Please.’ He moved beyond her and pulled the curtains. She sat down in the chair against the far wall. Vanner sipped coffee and lit a cigarette.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Her face was fearful. For a moment he did not look at her.

  ‘There’s something going down,’ he said after a moment. ‘It’s a long story and I’m afraid it might involve you.’

  ‘Involve me? You’re not making any sense, Aden.’

  He held up his hand. ‘Bear with me. Question of where to start.’

  She looked irritated. ‘Why don’t you try the beginning?’

  Vanner sat back, drew on his cigarette and exhaled. ‘You know I was a soldier,’ he said.

  She nodded. ‘A long time ago.’

  ‘A very long time ago.’ He looked at the floor, remembering, a dark street, a ford full of water with raindrops caressing the surface. He swallowed coffee and looked up at her. ‘I served time in Northern Ireland. Captain. Left in 1984, resigned my commission and joined the job.’

  ‘I know all that.’

  He nodded. ‘For the few months before I came out I was an intelligence officer assigned to RUC Special Branch. One night …’ He tailed off, drank more coffee and went on. ‘One night we were out. Five of us, four police officers and me. That was how we did it. Always an army presence on an intelligence job.’

  ‘Armed?’

  He looked up at her. ‘Yes. I was always armed over there.’

  Ellie’s face was still. She sat upright in the chair, hands cupping the mug in her lap. ‘Go on,’ she said.

  ‘We were after a particular target. IRA man, working with a cell in South Armagh. We knew he was responsible for at least three deaths and we had word that he was about to go active again.’

  ‘How did you know that?’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. We know things. We get to know things. Information, intelligence gathering. That’s how wars are fought.’

  ‘What happened?’

  Vanner sighed. ‘This man. We came upon him or rather he came upon us at a place called Brindley Cross. It was raining. We were parked by a ford in the road—bottom of a hill.’

  She was staring at him now. ‘What happened?’

  ‘He broke a roadblock. We shot him.’

  She chewed her lip and watched him. ‘Who shot him?’

  ‘We did.’

  ‘Who exactly?’

  ‘I don’t remember.’

  ‘Yes you do. Who shot him, Aden?’

  ‘What does it matter, Ellie?’

  She was bug-eyed now, face set very hard. ‘It matters to me.’

  Vanner could not look at her.

  ‘He was unarmed wasn’t he?’

  ‘As it turned out, yes.’ He looked away from her. ‘We weren’t to know.’ He looked up again. ‘In those situations you don’t take any chances.’

  ‘What was his name, Aden?’

  ‘Quinlon,’ he said. ‘His name was Thomas Quinlon.’

  Tommy. Anne’s words from the hospital. Ellie was shaking. ‘What’s this got to do with me?’

  Vanner told her then, everything about Eilish McCauley and James and the deaths of David Quigley and Jessica Turner. ‘That crippled guy we met in Yorkshire. He was part of the squad. The killer went looking for him but he was all blown up already’

  Ellie still stared at him. ‘Who killed Quinlon, Aden?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘You did didn’t you?’

  He looked at the fireplace, then deep in her eyes. ‘No, Ellie. I didn’t.’

  Then she hugged herself. Vanner made to get up but she held up a palm as if to keep him away. ‘I’m all right.’ She gathered herself. ‘So this James is after me now?’

  ‘I think so. Just before I phoned you he phoned me on my mobile. God knows how he got the number.’

  Ellie stood up and walked toward the window. She checked herself and looked at him. ‘He dresses up as a woman?’

  Vanner nodded. ‘We think he took his sister’s clothes the night he shot Jessica Turner.’

  ‘Why does he dress as a woman?’

  ‘He was in love with Quinlon. Quinlon was sleeping with his sister.’ He moved his shoulders. ‘I don’t know, Elle. Maybe in some warped way being a woman makes him acceptable to Quinlon.’

  Ellie sat down again. ‘Aden, there’s something I’ve got to tell you.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘There’s a woman at the hospital. Anne.’ Her eyes widened then. ‘Jesus, you saw her.’

  Vanner bunched his eyes. ‘The cleaner?’

  She nodded. ‘She told me her lover, boyfriend whatever, was shot by policemen in Northern Ireland.’

  Vanner stared hard at her.

  ‘She was with me,’ Ellie went on, ‘once when you paged me. Your mobile number flashed up on the screen.’

  Vanner stared at the wall. Black hair. Too much make-up. ‘How long’s she been working there?’

  ‘A month or so.’ She made an open-handed gesture. ‘She just turned up one day. Cleaners come and go so much.’

  ‘Employed by the hospital?’

  She shook her head. ‘That was all contracted out ages ago.’ She bit her lip then, blinked hard and tears filled her eyes.

  Vanner stood up, went over to her and crouched down in front of her. ‘Look,’ he said. ‘I know this is bad, really bad.’ He took her hands, but they remained limp in his grip. ‘Can you handle it?’

  ‘What do I have to do?’

  ‘Nothing. But you can’t stay here. He phoned me, Elle. He told me I’d feel his pain. That means he’s after you. He shot Jessica in the hope that Ray Kinane would feel his pain, but Ray didn’t come forward. He needs the visibility of it. He’s waited a long time. He’s grown up with this.’

  ‘You mean he wants to kill me?’ Her eyes filled with tears then, no sound, just rolling over her cheeks. Vanner brushed them away.

  ‘I’ve arranged for you to go to a safe house,’ he said quietly. ‘That’s a police premises where you’ll be looked after and guarded by a Close Protection Officer.’

  Her eyes balled again and she squeezed his hands with hers.

  ‘They’re the best, love. Trained. But you’ll have to stay inside.’

  ‘A prisoner.’

  ‘Safe, Elle. Just until we get him.’

  ‘Will you kill him?’

  He shook his head. ‘We’ll arrest him. The Anti-Terrorist Branch are dealing with it. They do it all the time. They’re very very good at it.’

  She looked at him then. ‘If he can’t get to me he’ll go after you, Aden.’

  ‘Probably.’

  ‘What’re you going to do?’

  ‘I don’t know yet. But you don’t have to worry. I’ve been here before, Elle. Just stay safe until this is over.’

  She pushed him away then, gently, and stood up. She hugged herself once more. ‘I’m not sure I want a life like this, Aden. Guns and killing and everything. I’m only twenty-five. I want a normal life.’

  And then he knew he was losing her. He bit down on his lip and stood up. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘It’s all right.’

  In the hall he stood a moment by the phone, one hand fisted, knuckles pressing into the wall. He phoned George Webb. ‘I’m going to bring her to the Yard now. You can sort it from there.’

  At Scotland Yard they were met by a Special Branch Close Protection officer and a WPC. They took Ellie away in an unmarked car. Vanner watched them pull onto Dacre Street. Webb was at his side.

  ‘Hard on her.’

  ‘She’s not that tough, George.’

  ‘Who is?’

  Vanner looked at him then and they took the lift to the fifteenth floor. ‘I want
to be armed,’ Vanner said.

  Webb stroked his moustache. ‘They won’t go for that.’

  ‘I’ve got my ticket.’

  ‘You know the game, Guv. They won’t allow it.’

  Vanner scowled at the floor. ‘What’s happening with Eilish?’

  ‘Released. Back home with her kids. We’ve set up an OP over the road and we’re wired into the phone. If her brother contacts her we’ll know.’

  ‘She knows she’s clear then.’

  Webb nodded.

  Upstairs Westbrook and Robertson met them. ‘Everything sorted?’ Robertson asked.

  Vanner nodded.

  ‘Go home, Vanner. Get some rest. We’ll figure out what we can do in the morning.’

  Vanner looked at him. ‘As soon as he knows he can’t get to her he’ll come after me, Sir.’

  ‘Probably’

  ‘I’m up for it. I want to be a target.’

  ‘I’m speaking to SO19, Vanner. We’ll talk about it tomorrow’

  Vanner went home to his empty house and sat in the bedroom with the light off and Elbe’s chemise in his hands.

  His mobile rang at three o’clock in the morning. He was dreaming of fishing with his father when he was a child. Ellie was there, watching their boat from the bank. Vanner woke up feeling the ringing inside his skull. He switched on the light and held the phone to his ear.

  ‘You are going to feel my pain.’

  Vanner sat up. ‘Who is it—Anne or James? Who’re you tonight, you faggot?’

  Silence. Breathing. ‘She’s safe, James. No-one’s going to feel any pain but you.’

  ‘I’m coming for you.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘You won’t know where and you won’t know when, but I’m going to kill you. Vanner.’

  ‘Look forward to it.’ Vanner switched off the phone.

  Twenty

  VANNER WAS ON THE fifteenth floor at eight o’clock the following morning. He had not gone back to sleep after James McCauley telephoned him. Robertson and Webb were on their way in, Westbrook was at his desk in the DCI’s room.

  ‘He phoned me,’ Vanner said. ‘In the middle of the night. Little bastard’s enjoying himself.’

  ‘Say the same thing?’

  ‘That and the fact that he’s coming after me.’

  Westbrook grinned at him. ‘Say when and where did he?’