Death Trap: Rosie Gilmour 8

by Anna Smith

  The single line of police officers poking the grass with long sticks had been slowly plodding across the fields for the past three hours. Rosie and Matt sat close to the press pack and TV film crews that had gathered once word went out that cops were searching a specific area. She’d phoned Don down at the scene to ask him why they were concentrating on these fields in particular. All he could say at this stage was that they were working on information from the motorist who had seen them in the vicinity.

  ‘I hope we’re not going to be here all night,’ Matt said. ‘I’m starving.’

  Rosie looked out of the windscreen, where the sky was beginning to turn grey.

  ‘Me too. I don’t think so. It’s going to rain, and the light is fading. They won’t stay much longer.’

  She was hoping the search would be called off for the night. There was nothing more dreary than staking out one of these police searches, because half the time they came up with nothing. But it was a stick-on that if you decided to disappear for an hour, that’s when they would make some dramatic discovery. She scrutinised the action through the binoculars, and could see a couple of the dogs straining at the leash and becoming agitated.

  ‘The dogs are barking, Matt. Maybe they’ve found something.’

  ‘Maybe they’re just hungry, like me.’ He sat up and leaned out of the window, looking down the long lens.

  ‘You’re right. I can see the dogs pulling the cops towards that clump of trees in the distance. Can you see it?’

  Rosie scanned the field.

  ‘Yep. I see them now.’

  ‘Shit,’ Matt said. ‘The rest of the plods have obstructed my view now that they’ve all arrived at the top of the field. All I can see is a wall of cops. We’ll just have to wait.’ He turned to Rosie. ‘By the way, what are you going to do about the Kosovan?’

  Rosie sighed. ‘I don’t know yet. But I can see he’s terrified, as I told you. When I asked about his family, he freaked. I wonder if he means they’re here or somewhere else, maybe still in Kosovo. I can’t get anywhere on it unless he talks to me. I don’t think he will though. He was too scared. It’s depressing, because I know he’s being abused by that O’Dwyer mob. I just don’t know how I’m going to prove it.’

  ‘What about his lawyer? Has he said anything?’

  ‘No. He’ll probably never see him again. He was only the duty solicitor on the day, and he’ll have contacted the Refugee Council. I might talk to them tomorrow. I used to have a contact there. He must have been registered with them when he arrived, so they might be able to tell me about his family. But I’ve got to tread very carefully, because I’m not sure if it’s a good idea to let the refugee people know where he is right now, in case there’s something going on with his family. I want to see what I can find out. Maybe the lawyer’s got no intention of reporting to them about the court case. I get the impression he’s just disappeared off the radar – and not by choice.’

  Rosie stared out of the side window across the fields, her mind drifting back to Emir, the Kosovan refugee she’d met during the demonstration in a Glasgow housing scheme where the residents were complaining that refugees were getting too many handouts. Emir had been standing close by in tears, and her encounter with him then led to a massive investigation that refugees were being murdered and their body tissue sold for profit. Poor, tragic Emir had been killed in the crossfire, helping Rosie unmask the international criminal gang. Nearly three years on, it still haunted her. Now this refugee, with the same desperate look, had nowhere to turn either. Her mobile rang, bringing her back from the gloom.

  ‘Rosie. Are you still sitting up there?’

  It was Don, his voice not much more than a whisper.

  ‘Yeah. Still watching and waiting.’

  ‘Well, hold onto your hat for this, pal. Our dogs have just dug up what looks to be the couple’s dog.’

  ‘Christ! Seriously? We heard your dogs barking and I saw through the binoculars that they were straining like mad.’

  ‘Yeah, they were. Our boys have been combing the whole field, then when we get towards the end, the dogs start going mental. They dragged the handlers up to this clump of trees, then the dogs started digging. It’s looking a bit grim. We’ve pulled them back now.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Listen. I can’t say too much, but the lads started digging very carefully, and it’s looking like there’s more in there than the dog.’

  ‘Jesus, Don! Are we talking the couple?’

  ‘Don’t know, Rosie, and that’s the truth. It’s possible. Everything’s stopped and they’ve sent for forensics. Whatever they find, this whole place will be taped off soon. I have to go now, but things will start moving in the next hour, so this is an early shout. We’ll have to put something out tonight, but it’ll be very vague, so be careful.’

  ‘Will the statement mention the dog?’

  ‘Not sure yet. Once the real digging gets under way, we’ll see what we find. But if it is the couple, then obviously we’ll not be saying that – not til we get to the families.’

  ‘Shit, Don! This is awful. Their poor parents. Talk later.’

  Rosie hung up, and turned to Matt as she punched in McGuire’s number.

  ‘Looks like they’ve found the couple’s dog.’

  ‘Oh fuck!’

  The editor answered his phone in two rings.

  ‘Gilmour. I was wondering what the Christ was happening out there. It’ll soon be dark.’

  ‘Mick. They’ve found the couple’s dog.’

  ‘Fuck! When?’

  ‘About ten minutes ago. The dogs were going mental and started digging under a clump of trees. I got an early call from my cop pal. But, listen. He’s given me the nod that there might be more buried in there.’

  ‘You mean the couple?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘What a fucking result.’

  ‘Well, their families might not see it that way, Mick.’ The professional in Rosie was already planning the story in her head, but she couldn’t quite share her editor’s delight.

  ‘Yeah, right, but you know what I mean. Good shout though, Gilmour. I take it the cops will be putting out some kind of bland shite later in a statement?’

  ‘I’m told they will. But don’t know how much they’ll say. Hopefully we can at least say the dog has been found buried – so we’re looking at something very grisly here.’

  ‘They’ve been murdered, haven’t they?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Are they in that grave?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Poor bastards. Okay. Get something down and ping it over to copy when you can, then talk to me as it develops. We’ll change the front page.’

  *

  Tadi stood in the kitchen, trying not to look as O’Dwyer’s wife stirred a pot on the cooker. It smelled like beef stew, and he was so hungry, the aroma was almost knocking him dizzy. Usually, by this time of night, he’d have been back at his flat and would have eaten whatever meagre food there was in his fridge. But it was almost eight thirty, and after a long, hard day, he’d been waiting two hours to see the boss so he could tell him what he had seen up at the field. O’Dwyer’s wife looked over her shoulder, then went back to the pot. She took a bowl out of the cupboard and ladled some food into it, then put it on the table along with a chunk of bread. Tadi stood, his mouth watering, assuming she was about to have her dinner. But to his surprise she looked at him and pulled out a chair.

  ‘Here! Get stuck in.’ She put cutlery on the table. ‘He might not be too long now, so throw it down you before he arrives, or he’ll shoot the boots off me.’

  Tadi looked at her, not knowing what to say. He licked his lips and eyed the bowl.

  ‘For me?’ He went towards the table. ‘Thank you, Mrs O’Dwyer. Y-you are kind.’

  He sat down. He had barely spoken to the woman since he came here. She seemed to be in the kitchen cooking all the time, or coming back with shopping. Tadi assumed she was th
e same as the rest of them – cruel and bullying. But then one afternoon, while he’d been passing by the kitchen window, he’d overheard O’Dwyer shouting at her, and thought he could hear her crying. Then the other day, when he’d come to meet Ava and his son, her eyes seemed to soften. She was different from the others.

  She cleared dishes from the worktop as Tadi wolfed down the food, dunking the bread and savouring every mouthful.

  ‘This is the best food I have in months, Mrs O’Dwyer. Like the stew my mother used to cook for me back home.’

  She turned around and stood, folding her arms.

  ‘And where’s home?’

  ‘Kosovo.’

  Tadi could see from the look on her face that she didn’t really know where it was.

  ‘Is your mother still there?’

  ‘Yes, and my father. But he is very ill.’ He paused. ‘I . . . I miss them.’

  Their eyes met, but she said nothing, and he ate the rest of the meal in silence. She picked up the bowl when he finished.

  ‘You were hungry.’

  He smiled. ‘Yes. Thank you.’ Tadi got up and stood back at the door. They exchanged glances when they heard the truck coming into the yard.

  Mrs O’Dwyer gave him a sympathetic smile, then she turned back to the sink. They heard the back door open, and in walked her husband, his two sons at his heels.

  *

  Rosie had phoned over her piece for tomorrow’s front page, but there was nothing exclusive about it. The police had put out a brief statement saying that the police search had found a dog, with what appeared to be stab wounds, buried in a field outside Lennoxtown. The press office wouldn’t take any questions or confirm that it was the couple’s dog. They were continuing to dig the site and they would resume their search in the morning. She watched as one or two of the police cars began to drift away, leaving a patrol on for the night around the taped-off area.

  ‘I think we can call it a night.’ She turned to Matt, stretching her arms above her head and yawning. Then her mobile rang, and she saw Don’s name.

  ‘Rosie. Listen. Be careful how you use this, but it’s looking grim here.’

  ‘Jesus! Don’t tell me they’ve found the couple too?’

  Silence. She could hear Don’s breathing.

  ‘Not just the couple.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I can’t say any more. But it’s looking like there are more than two bodies. You should get here early in the morning. This is massive.’ He hung up.

  Rosie phoned the editor.

  ‘I’m coming back to the office, Mick. There are more bodies in this grave out here. Not just the couple. I’ve had a nod from my cop pal. Nobody else knows yet, I’ve been told.’

  ‘Oh fuck! Hurry up and get in here. We’ll keep it for the main edition.’

  Chapter Ten

  Tadi sat on the floor in the back of van as it turned off a main road and up a narrow country lane. It was pitch black outside, and the last road sign he had seen was when they came off the motorway and went through Giffnock. He had no idea where that was. All he knew was that he’d been in the airless van for more than half an hour and was beginning to feel nauseous, partly from the motion, but mostly from nerves. Finn sat in the front next to the driver, and alongside him on the floor were Timmy and two other men he’d never seen before. They’d been laughing and joking most of the way, ignoring Tadi as if he was invisible. He was glad of that, because his mind was in such turmoil, and his mouth was so dry, he doubted he’d have been able to form a sentence if they asked him a question. He was exhausted. It was nearly midnight and he’d been up since six working on his usual job at the farm, when he’d been told that tonight was the night when the big job was on. He was also weak with hunger. Finn turned around to face them as the van slowed down. He threw something at each of them, but in the darkness, Tadi couldn’t see what it was.

  ‘Right. Get these on now, lads. And keep them on.’

  As Timmy pulled one over his head, Tadi could see it was a ski mask. The two others did the same, and Tadi followed, adjusting his mask so he could see and breathe. But he still felt claustrophobic and tried to control his breathing as he looked at the others, feeling their eyes staring through the holes at him.

  ‘Right,’ Finn said in loud whisper. ‘Timmy, Dan, Sean – you all know the score and what you’ve to do. You know where the alarm is, so disable the fucker from the outside at the back before we go in. Tadi – you just do exactly what you’re told. I don’t want anyone to speak unless they have to, and if you do, then make sure you don’t use any fucking names. Got that?’

  Tadi didn’t answer or nod. He was almost choking with fear. He had to calm down, because if something went wrong, he knew it would be the end of everything for him, for Ava and for Jetmir.

  They stopped the van at the edge of the driveway and everyone piled out. Timmy handed Tadi a rucksack.

  ‘For the safe.’

  Tadi slung it on his back, not knowing what else to do. They crept around the house, keeping close to the perimeter in case any of the sensor lights came on. They seemed to be moving fast, especially the other two men who’d been in the back, disabling the alarm, as though this was all routine. Finn and Timmy followed behind, with Tadi in between the two of them. Nobody spoke. Tadi’s eyes were getting used to the darkness and he could see one of the men creep forward and quietly go towards the door. Then, almost silently, he pushed a jemmy on the edge and the door pinged open as though he’d used a key. Timmy and Finn looked at each other and smiled approvingly. Finn nodded Tadi forward, and he followed behind the other two men as they went in the back door. There was a stillness in the house, and the smell of old polished wood. Tadi glanced around – everything looked expensive and old – a carved hall table and elegant coat stand, and a heavy stained-glass door leading to a porch at the front. He crept behind the others as they stopped at the foot of a staircase and then moved stealthily up, like a team of storm troopers. Tadi felt his legs like jelly as they climbed the stairs, but the men in front seemed to know exactly where they were going. He wondered if they’d been in the house before, perhaps under false pretences, so they could find where everything was. They crept along the thick pile carpet at the top hallway towards a half-open door. The first man pushed it open and waved over his shoulder for the others to join. In the bedroom, as a shaft of moonlight shone through the window, he saw an old couple asleep. The man looked as though he could be in his seventies, and the woman with her high cheekbones and papery skin around the same. She slept, barely breathing. Then suddenly, one of the men went forward and there was a click as he pointed a gun at the bed. Tadi heard himself gasp.

  ‘Get up!’ the man said as he put the barrel of the gun to the old man’s head.

  It was the old lady who stirred first. Her mouth dropped open, her eyes wide in horror. Then her husband’s eyes opened.

  ‘Get up, before I shoot your fucking head off.’

  The old man’s face went whiter than the sheet he lay on, as he put one hand up and the other around his wife’s shoulder, pulling her towards him.

  ‘Please. Please don’t hurt us. We will give you anything you want.’

  ‘You’re fucking right about that. Get up, you Yid bastard.’

  He took a step back as the old man slowly pulled himself out of bed, holding his hands up above his head as though he were under arrest. Tadi stood shocked, watching the weak, old man in his pale blue pyjamas, his grey hair wispy, his skin sallow. The old woman stood up, but her legs went weak and she stumbled onto the bed again. Her husband made to help her from the other side, but he was hit by the butt of the rifle and almost knocked off his feet. Tadi swallowed the lump in his throat, as blood seeped from the side of the man’s head. He glanced at the others. Timmy’s eyes were on fire, as though he was relishing the violence. Tadi had seen him like that before.

  ‘Please . . . Please let me help my wife.’

  ‘Aron. It’s okay, my darling. I’m all right.
’ She looked at the gunman. ‘Please let me go to my husband. He’s not well. He has a heart condition.’

  The gunman stood back and jerked his head towards her, and she stumbled from the other side of the bed. She put her arms around her husband as they sat on the bed, her hands trembling, tears running down her face.

  ‘It’s all right, Aron. It’s all right,’ she whispered.

  Finn looked around the room and pulled a chair from the dressing table, then left the room, returning a moment later with another chair. He looked at one of the men.

  ‘Tie them up. And make a fucking good job of it.’

  The other gunman roughly dragged the old man onto the chair, then grabbed the woman as she stumbled and pushed her onto the chair next to him. Tadi watched as he and the other man tied them up, wrapping rope around their arms and legs, so tight the woman winced in pain. Finn pulled back a curtain and peered out of the window. Then he turned to the old man.

  ‘The combination. What is it?’

  ‘W-what combination? I don’t know what you mean.’

  Finn crossed the room fast and slapped the old man hard on the face. Blood spurted from his nose.

  ‘Now don’t make it fucking hard for yourself, old man. The fucking safe combination. You think I’m fucking stupid? Give me the combination right now.’

  The old woman was sobbing.

  ‘Give it to them, Aron. Please! Just give it to them.’

  ‘I will give it to you.’ The old man’s voice shook as he spoke. ‘Please, but don’t hurt us any more. Please. I beg you. Everything we have is in that safe. We have worked hard all our lives for everything we have. But take it all. Just please don’t hurt us. We have a grandchild.’

  ‘Hurry the fuck up, and don’t give me your worries,’ Finn spat, then he turned to Tadi.

  ‘You. Get over there by the safe. Behind the picture.’

  The old man’s voice was shaking.

  ‘Three, five, seven . . .’

  He paused. The gunman raised his hand and was about to strike him.

  ‘Please! I am trying to remember. Please . . . er . . . Three, five, seven . . . Yes . . . er, six, eight, two, zero, one.’