Swan tried to get his brain into gear and think, but his heart was hammering in his chest. They either had a grass inside the kidnappers’ team . . . but if they did then why the fuck phone him? No, it must mean his phone was bugged. What had really sent his heart rate up was the suggestion that he could be killed. He’d been working on the theory that this was about his discs and if that’s what it took to get his daughter back off the bastards then so be it. But why would they kill him? That would only bring down an investigation . . . and the police knew about his discs, just not (and more importantly) who was performing on them. They’d tear up the city looking for them. There was no point pissing Macallan about but he needed to know what the fuck she was on about.
‘Look, they only want what’s on these discs I’ve got. I just want my daughter back so you need to stay out of this. You said it made no difference to you what I’ve got on people anyway.’
Macallan was caught off guard. As far as she was concerned this had to be Handyside’s work – and why would he want the discs? ‘Ricky. You need to think very carefully because if you get this wrong then you lose big time. What exactly did they say and ask for?’
Swan began to pour sweat into his clothes, once again caught between forces he could do nothing about. He realised with numbing shock that the words used during his call to the kidnapper could be interpreted different ways so as far as he could, he told Macallan exactly what had been said and asked for.
Macallan and Young looked at each other and saw the crossed lines sticking straight up into the air.
‘They don’t want the discs, Ricky, they want what’s in your head: they want to know what you know about them. They want to know it all just before they kill you.’
It was time to get Ricky Swan on-board.
‘The other thing is that they’ll torture you before they put you in the ground. You stuck an undercover officer into them. He’s probably dead and buried and they’ll put you in beside him. Is that clear enough?’
‘Okay, I did the business with the undercover, but what the fuck have I got in my head that can hurt them?’ He was confused and becoming more frightened by each disclosure.
‘They believe on top of everything else that you have information linking them to the Flemings’ business. You’re the last problem still alive, Ricky, if we discount Big Brenda, who’ll never talk to us.’
Macallan knew what his next question would be and it was time to twist the knife all the way round.
‘Why the fuck would they think that?’
‘Because I fed that information to them. You’re the bait, whether you like it or not. If you want this finished you have to work with us or I’ll drop you off at their front door myself.’
He whimpered like a small dog and Macallan knew she had his full attention. ‘Now, we’re going to finish this once and for all. One of my team will be on their way shortly, but when the next call comes in you have to buy time.’
The voice at the other end of the phone was like a beaten child. ‘How?’
‘When they phone, you tell them the murder team have been in touch and want to interview you and take a witness statement. Tell them they’re on their way. Tell them you can do the business tomorrow. They’ll buy it, and that’ll give us time to get to you and wrap the bastards up. Can you do it?’
Swan felt more tired than he ever had in his life. It was too much, and if he survived then he was going to fuck off abroad and live the dream. He lit up a cigarette, saw Gnasher staring at him and realised the dog he’d been kicking about the place was the only friend he had. He patted the seat next to him and Gnasher’s eyes lit up as he jumped onto the sofa.
He sucked in a lungful of air as he rediscovered his balls. ‘I can do it.’ His voice had steadied; there was no choice, and he was tired of being everyone’s pet target.
‘Someone’s on their way and they’ll be with you soon but maybe not before the call. I have something to do and then I’ll be straight there myself. There’s enough heavy squad to protect you from a tank regiment so go with us, Ricky. No more running away. Okay?’
‘Okay, Superintendent.’
She ended the call and looked back at Young.
‘Get your coat, Felicity, we’re going to Newcastle. First things first though – I need to make a call to our best mate, Tony Harrison.’
Macallan saw the analyst’s expression change to ‘why on earth are we talking to that man?’ She didn’t ask, but Macallan gave her the answer anyway. ‘Harrison is going to deliver Handyside to us, but we need to act the part: you should meet up with their analyst as normal and exchange a bit of information while I play kneesy under the table with Harrison and drop a story in his lap that he’ll have to deliver to Handyside. It’s simple.’
She felt nervous energy pulse through her at the opportunities she saw opening up. They would only get one shot at this and she was going to take it. ‘I’ll explain on the way down, but when we’re finished I want you to drop me off outside Newcastle and I’ll get picked up by the chopper. Okay?’
‘I think so.’
When Young left to pick up their car Macallan made a call to Jack but only got his voicemail. She told him she loved him and that it would be a long day and night but he wasn’t to worry.
‘Kiss the wee man for me,’ she said before she put the phone down, picturing how they’d looked walking on the Antrim cliffs.
She took a couple of deep, steadying breaths then called Tony Harrison.
46
When his phone rang, Harrison stared at it for a long moment and wished he could avoid answering. The earlier call he’d had from Turner requesting he make himself available to advise on a kidnapping was a fucking nightmare, but he had no choice – he knew that if they went down on this one he’d burn just as brightly. He picked up the phone and had to suppress a sigh of relief when he recognised Grace Macallan’s voice. She sounded warmer than she had the last time they’d spoken, so maybe his idea to make a move on her wasn’t so daft. For a moment he forgot that he was running with the dogs as she reeled him in gently.
‘Good to talk to you, though I’m actually about to head down your way. There’s a development, and we might need to move quicker than we thought on Handyside. You available?’
It was an offer he couldn’t refuse – in more ways than one. If she had something good and he could drop it on Handyside then maybe his feeling that things were going south would calm down.
‘I’ll be waiting,’ he replied, ‘and anything you need you’ll get if it helps to put that bastard away.’
She had to work hard to swallow his words, but there was big prize money at the end of this game and she knew how to do it.
‘We’re just leaving. Felicity wants to have a quick meeting with your analyst when we arrive if that’s possible?’
‘Of course,’ he replied.
‘Great. I’ll see you soon then, and if this goes well you can buy me dinner when they’re all locked up,’ she said, giving him that first hint that she might be interested in getting to know him more intimately.
He swallowed it whole, grinning down the phone. He’d have to cancel an appointment he’d made with an escort for one of his special massage sessions, but that could wait.
Macallan didn’t speak for the first half hour as they drove down the A1 towards Newcastle. When she’d run it all through her head for the third time she was satisfied and feeling more confident. Thompson was already on her way to Loch Melfort with a small team to babysit Swan till Macallan could get there, and she’d planned for everything she could reasonably anticipate. It was a good feeling, and this was why she struggled to turn her back on the job. There was a gamble when people’s lives were at stake; it could all go so very wrong, but that was why people gambled in the first place – when the dice landed the right way up there was nothing like it.
As Macallan wrestled with her thoughts, Ricky Swan stared at the clock as it wound down towards the time the next call was due, stroking Gna
sher’s head as he did. He wasn’t frightened any more. He believed Macallan; he’d underestimated her, but now he knew she was a ruthless bitch, and, what’s more, she was a ruthless bitch who made sense. He’d realised how vulnerable he was in the lawless world he inhabited and he wanted out of it. There was no going back. Christine might escape all this, but Handyside was doing a cleaning job and he would be taken out no matter how long it took. He might as well fight back while he had the chance.
The phone rang.
‘Okay, Ricky? You ready to do business?’
‘There’s a problem.’
‘What do you mean, “there’s a problem”? You have thirty seconds to convince me you’re not messing me about or I start to work on Christine.’
Swan felt cold hatred for the man on the end of the phone. This was what he’d faced all his life as the runt, the weed who couldn’t fight back. He wasn’t going to let Christine die terrified and alone, buried where he could never mourn her, so he put on the best act of his life.
‘What the fuck do you expect me to do? The murder squad are on their way to take a fuckin’ witness statement. They didn’t ask. If I fuck them around it’ll look worse and they might get a warrant for me. Give it some thought, you cunt!’
The final expletive surprised even Swan, but it was just what a man in his position would say and Handyside could see where he was coming from.
‘Okay, I’ll call you again, same time tomorrow – but that’s it,’ he said. ‘No more delays after that. Any new problem crops up then you know what happens.’
‘One last question.’ Swan had to ask it. ‘What exactly do you want from me?’
‘We just want to talk to you about the Flemings. Do that and you’re on your way.’
‘Nothing else?’
‘Nothing else.’
Meanwhile, back on the road to Newcastle, Macallan snapped out of her thoughts as she realised Young was talking to her. ‘Sorry, I was away somewhere else. What’s happening with the team’s work?’
‘We’re making real progress,’ she said again. ‘Ronnie took you at your word and got right on top of Billy Drew. House search, overt surveillance, the lot. Pulled him in and questioned him about every unsolved crime in the city. Last night Ronnie went back to see him for a witness statement in relation to the Flemings and wound him up so tight Drew took a swing at him. He was locked up for police assault. No evidence to connect to our investigation, but I don’t suppose that was your point.’
Macallan knew that Young didn’t quite approve of this kind of stroke, but she also knew that deep down she liked the idea of the bad guys getting it tight. That was what had first attracted her to Harkins. It certainly hadn’t been his sharp dress sense or urbane line in conversation. Harkins was a rough bastard and the truth was that the men who’d inhabited Young’s previous life at the badminton club and bridge nights bored the arse off her – and one thing you could never accuse Harkins of was being a bore.
‘Anything else?’ Macallan asked.
‘Couple of developments. Ronnie’s team interviewed a couple of junkies who were lifted the night the city went mad. Sweated them a bit and they admitted that they’d been paid by some of the Flemings’ team to create havoc. I think we can be sure now that it was all a diversion, and a good plan when you think about it. The positive news is that the evidence is piling in from the financial investigation into Ricky Swan. There’s enough to detain him as it stands but there’s more to come. The point is that when you’re ready you can take him. That’s about it for the moment.’
‘That’s good enough for me. Think we need to get Ronnie on the team full-time when this is finished. There’s a bit of the Mick Harkins in that boy.’ She turned, smiling, to check Young’s reaction.
The analyst tried to suppress a grin but it was there and Macallan thought again how lucky Harkins had been to find this woman. The way things were going he would probably have drunk himself into an early grave otherwise.
‘Better dresser though,’ Young replied. ‘And he has some manners. Mick’s never been good with manners.’
They saw the edges of the great North-east city starting to form on the horizon and lapsed into silence again as they headed on to the meeting.
‘It’s good to see you.’ Harrison was all smiles and Macallan noted the glint in his eye, which was exactly what she’d wanted to see.
‘Tony.’ She shook his hand and held it for a moment longer than necessary.
Young was shown to the analysts’ department while Harrison took Macallan into his office and closed the door behind him.
‘Can I get you anything? Tea – or something stronger?’
‘Next time, and over dinner. Too much to do and things on the move up there.’ She watched him stiffen slightly – he was waiting for the pay-off. All the bastard had to do was pass the bait to Handyside.
‘We’re going to see Ricky Swan tomorrow; we think we can turn him now. We’ve been working on his financial background and it looks like there’s enough money laundering and revenue avoidance to sink him several times over. On top of all that, we’re finding links through trafficked women to other criminals all over the country. Prison would break a man like Swan so it looks good. The murder squad are on their way to see him today, but that’s only a routine action because they need his statement for their system. I’m going up tomorrow to work this one on him. He’ll break, trust me.’
‘What can I do for you then?’ He wanted to ask her where the bastard was but that was too upfront.
‘I need you to get surveillance on Handyside and Turner so that if we get in position we’re ready to lift them straightaway.’
‘Consider it done.’
Macallan watched his face pale and knew he was trying to find a way to get the answers she was going to give him for free anyway. Not all of it, which might spook him, but enough for a resourceful man like Handyside to work with.
‘Sticks in my throat,’ she said. ‘Swan has a place to die for up there. Looks right down on Loch Melfort and only ten minutes’ walk from the local boozer. Ever been up there? It’s beautiful.’ She watched him take it, his greed overcoming his survival instincts. ‘Don’t mention that outside the door,’ she added. ‘You know how it is with need-to-know.’
She hadn’t given him an address, but it was enough for them to work on – a result as far as Harrison was concerned. ‘How long will it take you to get the surveillance started?’ he asked.
‘It’ll be up and running later tonight. Tomorrow morning at the latest. I’ll email you with a few more details when I get back, and as soon as we get Ricky in I’ll call you. When it’s all done you can come up to Edinburgh for the piss-up.’
She stood up and squeezed his hand again before heading out the door.
Harrison watched her leave, pondering the gem she’d dropped in his lap with the reference to Loch Melfort. He’d never thought women made good detectives and it looked like she was no different, however much she pressed his buttons.
By the time Macallan was heading back out of the city she’d arranged for a team of specialists to head for an RV point near Oban. It was a race for time, because if she was right Harrison would have already made the call to Handyside. The information she’d fed them meant they only had what was left of the day to trace Swan and the cover of the brief summer darkness to move on him. A lot could go wrong and she needed a lucky break, but sometimes she got them.
On the way back she got the call she’d hoped for but didn’t quite believe would happen: Swan had given an Oscar-winning performance when he got the call from the kidnapper on the other end of the line.
Macallan had been right about Harrison. He left the station as soon as he saw the tail of her car disappear from the yard and made the call. Handyside had been wondering whether Swan was at it, but Harrison was able to confirm that the murder squad were on their way to take a statement. The crucial information for Handyside was that Macallan thought she had enough to take Swan out and d
evelop lines of investigation that might burn all the way back to his front door. He said, ‘Good man,’ but didn’t mean it, when Harrison gave him the rough location for Swan. It was enough though, and when he looked up Google maps and a description of the area afterward he believed they should be able to find the little bastard with a bit of work. There were only a limited number of places Swan could be in the sparsely populated area round the head of Loch Melfort, and he would have had no reason to use a false identity when he bought the place so that gave them another angle to work on.
He called Harrison back and told him to get to work on his contacts in the telephone companies and postal services to tie it down and within an hour Turner and the other two men on his team were on the road to Argyll, two in a car and one in the van. They headed for Oban and then the road south to Loch Melfort.
Handyside gave Turner one last order before he left. ‘Remember, I want a call no more than thirty minutes after you tell me you’re going in. If it goes dead then I clean it up here. You understand?’
‘Got it. Take care.’ Turner knew exactly what ‘clean up’ meant. If something went wrong at Melfort the girl wasn’t going back to see Daddy.
The first of the police specialists were on their way to an RV point where they could brief and deploy to Melfort. Macallan was in the chopper when she got the call that O’Connor was going to meet her there. It surprised her, but it was his last show and in a way she was glad to have him beside her. They’d both made long journeys, but the past was where it was and she wanted to leave it there.
The rushing air froze her as the aircraft beat its way over the Scottish Borders and she wished she’d put more clothes on for the ride. She pulled out her wallet and grinned at the passport-sized picture of Jack and Adam smiling back at her.
Shores of Death Page 33
