Designer Crime

by Allen Whitehead

  'No way! You mean you haven't told Jimmy and the boys?'

  'Nah. Maddie says she's finished with them, an' I am too! …. We're off this afternoon – but don' say nothin' about it.'

  'Sure, but they won't like it, you know.'

  'They won't find us in Dundee. We'll keep our heads down 'til they forget about us.'

  Janika shook her head. 'They won't forget, Ana. I think you're wrong an' making a big mistake.'

  'Nah, don' think we are. We'll be well rid of them ... Look, Jani, I've got things to do, now. See you round.'

  She left the cafe, walked quickly around the corner, to the room that she rented, and picked up a rucksack. She had packed it earlier that morning. Then, she caught a bus heading for the city centre, but stayed on it as it passed Waverley railway station and continued up North Bridge Street. It was still raining heavily when she got off the bus opposite the Festival Theatre. She ran across the street, dodging between the slow-moving traffic, and joined Neil and Madalina who were sitting at a table in the foyer. It was almost empty at that time of day. They got up as soon as she arrived.

  'What did Jani say?' Maddie asked.

  'I think she was a bit in shock. After Mario cut you, she think we wouldn't dare run away.'

  'She won't keep quiet though. I bet she's been on the phone to Jimmy already.'

  'Is that Jimmy McNeil?' asked Neil.

  'Yah. He's a nutcase – in the nasty way. They say he got in a fight once, and bit the end of the other guy's nose off!'

  'Charming ... We'd better get going then,' he said, getting to his feet.

  They went out of the theatre, crossed at the traffic lights and, turning down Hill Street, tracked along the back streets to Neil's flat.

  'Right, girls,' he smiled. 'Make yourselves at home and keep out of sight. I've got work to do this afternoon but I'll be back again after five. I'll bring takeaways for us, and then we'll go over to East Lothian later on this evening.'

  * * *

  'Get your fucking foot down – we've a train to catch' snarled McNeil to the taxi driver.

  'I'm doing the best I can. The traffic's bad,' replied the man with a shrug.

  He turned left down Waverley Bridge and drew into a vacant space at the back of the taxi rank.

  'Run on ahead, Boz, an' get tickets for the three of us, while I pay him. Get 'em for Dundee in case we have to get on a train.' McNeil snapped.

  He peeled a ten pound note from a roll and passed it through the glazed screen to the driver. 'Keep the change – just this once, though pal, 'cos we're in a hurry.'

  Jimmy McNeil and the other youth jumped out of the taxi and ran down the ramp into Waverley railway station. It was 14.53pm.

  The second young man was waiting for them in the concourse. 'Fuck me, Jim, it cost me over a hundred quid for returns.'

  'Shut yer gob. I'll see you right later.' He snatched a ticket from his hand. 'Come on, spread out and keep yer eyes open. 'Gie me a call if either of you'se spots the two whores.'

  The men hurried off through the automatic barrier and on to the platforms, scanning the waiting travellers. A train was arriving and, as it came to a stop and the doors opened, there was confusion as people getting off mixed with those trying to get on, eager to get the best choice of seats.

  Suddenly, further along the platform, McNeil saw the familiar figure of a young woman with long dark hair. She bent to pick up the handle of a bag on wheels. He raced through the crowd in front of him, elbowing an elderly man aside in his haste.

  'Hey, watch it,' he said, stumbling.

  'Fuck off,' Jimmy snarled.

  He grabbed the woman by the arm and jerked her round. 'An, where do yer think you'se goin'?'

  She stepped back, startled. 'Who the hell are you!'

  'Oh, fuck it. I thought yer was someone else,' he replied.

  'What do you think you're doing?' protested a fair-haired man.

  He had been standing behind the woman, allowing her to board the train ahead of him. He stepped towards McNeil looking outraged. Jimmy turned and launched himself at the man, grabbed hold of his jacket, and butted him in the face. The man staggered back, with blood pouring from his nose and mouth, into a space which opened up as the crowd of passengers moved back in alarm.

  'Get stuffed, the lot of yer!' McNeil shouted as he ran back along the platform, meeting up with the two others near the barriers.

  'Have yer seen either of them tarts?' he called. They shook their heads. 'Well get yer arses on the train, and bloody well check it out properly. They could have changed their plans, to get on at Haymarket instead … If you grab them – make sure you bring 'em back. They'll fucking pay for pissing me about, the little whores. They'll regret it when I get hold of them – the fuckers!'

  'Aren't you coming too, Jimmy?'

  'Nah, I'll hang on round here – yer never know, they might be catching the next one.'

  * * *

  A few days later, Joe drove out to East Lothian. It was a cold evening and the thick cloud cover in the starless sky promised snow. He turned off the A1 dual carriageway on to a narrow road, and headed up into the Lammermuir Hills. The road was in poor condition with potholes and deep ruts on both sides, caused by tractors and other heavy goods vehicles. The car climbed steadily upwards, entering a rolling landscape of fields bordered by dense hawthorn and blackthorn hedges. He rounded a sharp bend and, at the foot of the hill, he saw lights in the windows of the stone farm buildings, owned by Paul's friend Scott. He and his family lived in part of the old steading, and the remainder had been converted into three self-contained holiday apartments. Joe drove into the farmyard, that was now a landscaped parking area, and was surprised to find Neil's Mercedes already there. He'd been on a site visit in Jedburgh all afternoon.

  Ana answered the door. 'Hi Joe. Come in. Neil's here and he got food from supermarket. Maddie's made coffee and put a couple of pizza in the oven. We'll be eating soon.'

  He walked through into an open plan area. It had a range of kitchen fittings to one side and a dining table in the centre. A black stove, against the opposite wall, radiated heat into a cosy sitting area, and birch logs crackled as they burned brightly.

  'This looks cosy,' he said. 'It's cold out there ... might snow tonight.'

  Neil was sitting on a sofa in front of the stove, with Maddie beside him.

  'Neil, man – you never said you were visiting the ladies tonight – we could have come together if I'd known.'

  'You never asked,' Neil said with a shrug. 'I knew they didn't bring much food with them, so I thought I'd get some supplies and call over with them.'

  'Hi Joe,' Madalina said smiling. 'Neil brought a lotta stuff, an' pizzas, some salad an' a cheesecake, so sit down and get warm. We'll be eating soon. We got a couple of bottles of wine too!'

  They took their time over a simple meal, and the women chatted away, happily. They were clearly delighted with their new surroundings.

  'The boss man at the Golf Club say we can start next week,' Ana said, reaching out for another slice of pizza.

  'Yeah, he seems a nice guy,' Maddie added. 'An' we've been lucky, 'cos there aren't any buses coming up here, but one of Scott's neighbours works at the brewery in Dunbar. He said he'll give us a lift down with him.'

  'What are you going to do there – at the Golf Club?' Joe asked.

  'I'm goin' to help the chef with the meals. Just doing what he wants – getting the foods ready for when they come back from golf, and clearing all up afterwards. Ana's helping the cleaners tidy up the lounge and changing rooms. It's a bran' new building and looks pretty swish. He say they might need us to work behind the bar, when they're busy, as well.'

  After they had eaten, Maddie, Neil and Joe moved over beside the wood-burning stove, while Ana cleared the table. Neil stoked the stove with a couple of logs and sat down beside Madalina on the sofa.

  'You know, we've got to get Mannion off our backs, once and for all,' Joe said, getting round to the main reason for h
is visit. 'And I want to try and get your passports back from him as well, so you could help by telling us how he got you into Scotland?' asked Joe.

  'Yah, Okay,' Maddie nodded, filling up their wine glasses. 'People back in Bucharest said they could get us into UK. We give them our money an' they take us in cars an' vans through Hungary, Czech Republic an' Germany up to Zeebrugge. When we get to outside Zeebrugge, they take us into a big warehouse and tell us not to drink any more, 'cos the ferry trip will be around twelve hours at night, an' we won't be able to pee 'til we get off in Hull. There's M&M's big GTS truck waiting there in the shed, an' it has a special little room in the back of the cab. If you open up the back door, it just look like one big space, but we have to go through a little hatch behind the drivers seats, an' down a ladder into really narrow space – only big enough for five people to lie down. It like a chest of drawers for people.'

  'So they've converted the truck specially to accommodate people wanting to get into the UK?'

  'Yah, that's right.'

  'How many guys are on the truck to do the driving?' said Joe.

  'Two – always the same ones – Rab and Gary. They say Frank and Jimmy did driving once, but now Frank the boss, and Jimmy only goes over if someone is sick.'

  'So what happens when the ferry gets to Hull?' asked Neil.

  'They bang on the wall. It's to tell us we not gotta move or make any noise, but it's okay, the Customs guys seem to know them. They talk a bit an' then we drive off – not far. There's a yard near the docks that they drive to, an' we can get out. Bloody glad as well. It awful tiny space and we was busting to pee. They laugh at us when we get out.'

  Ana joined them, drying her hands. 'It got better from there, though, 'cos we could ride in the back with the boxes. Inside the boxes they got cupboards, tables and stuff – pack flat - or electric stuff like phones an' tv's.'

  'So you got to Edinburgh, what then?'

  'The truck goes into Mannion's yard and in the big shed. Frank an' Jimmy was there, an' so was Antonelli an' Pit Bull. Frank say the cost of getting us into UK had gone up. The guys from Bucharest an' Budapest wanted more cash, an' if they hadn't got it, they'd have take us back into the middle of Belgium and left us there. Frank said Rab an' Gary had to hand over twelve an' a half thousand Leu for each of us, so we'd have to pay the money back.'

  'That's their racket! A bloody lie to keep you indebted to them and under their control,' said Neil angrily.

  'Yah. We didn't know that, then, but I think so,' agreed Maddie.

  Outside, the wind got up and the fire in the stove began to roar.

  'I think we'd better be making tracks before we get snowed in,' Joe said, looking at the clock and stretching.

  'I dunno. That might be quite nice,' Neil replied, and winked at Madalina.

  Ana raised her eyebrows while Maddie pretended not to have noticed.

  * * *

  'Okay, Joe. Talk us through it again,' said Paul.

  He was standing in the conference room, looking out of the window at the melting snow dripping off a tree in the small courtyard. He returned to the table and sat down with his back to the winter scene. Also in the room were Joe, Neil, and George, together with Fraser and Liz who had returned from holiday.

  'My plan is to break into Frank Mannion's house and try to get hold of incriminating evidence, that we can give to the cops.'

  'Just like that!' George said cynically.

  'No, not “just like that”,' snapped Neil. 'Joe's idea deserves a proper hearing. So far, he and Sam have lost more than anyone else in the room. They still remain at risk and I, for one, intend to help him. I know he's already given it some thought and checked out some of the angles – so don't just dismiss him out of hand.'

  'Thanks, Neil. I have done a bit of homework,' Joe continued. 'I've got a lot of photographs of the GTS yard, from Google Earth, and also from the road and round the back. I jogged along the beach to get those. Also I've got photo's and plans of Mannion's house.'

  'How on earth did you manage that?' asked Liz.

  'He lives in a big stone house in the Grange. It's semi-detached, and there's a similar one, further down the road, that was on the market a year ago. I've got a copy of the selling agents brochure. Mannion's house won't be identical, but he's only been there for six years so it'll be pretty close. And I checked the Electoral Roll to see who's registered for voting. He lives there with a Cheryl Brodie, who I guess is his current partner, and Mark who Maddie said is his son from his first marriage.'

  'It's sure to have a burglar alarm, though.'

  'Yeah, George. There is a unit mounted on the side wall, but I'd like to bet that it won't ring an external bell, and isn't linked to the police. Knowing what he's into, my guess is that if someone broke in, the last thing he'd want is for cops to be tramping around in his house. My bet would be that, if the alarm was triggered, it'd sound in the Granton office, McNeil's house and possibly Doig and Antonelli's flats as well.'

  'Aye. Well, that makes sense.'

  'What if he keeps all his records in the office in Granton, though?'

  'It's just a hunch, really. He might ... but he told Madalina that he didn't have their passports in the office – they were in his desk at home. That was before he found out about Smythe. And it'd be a much greater risk keeping valuables including paperwork on an industrial estate. They get broken into a lot more frequently than houses.'

  'I don't know,' said Fraser, avoiding Joe's eyes. 'I think it's all too great a risk. I'm not happy about us getting in deeper.'

  'Well, fuck you!' exploded Neil. 'You're the one who started the ball rolling in the first place – and now you want to back out?'

  'It's not that – I'm just not convinced that it'd work or achieve anything,' he protested.

  'That's okay,' said Joe quietly. 'I'm not going to push anyone into helping if they don't want to. But I've found out the hard way that Mannion and his gang are really nasty people, and the more I learn about them, the more I want to do what I can to dump on them from a great height.'

  'Yeah,' said Neil. 'Some of you haven't seen what they did to Madalina, but I have. They need to be taken off the streets. Edinburgh'd be better off without them.'

  Everything went quiet for a few minutes. Fraser looked steadily down at the table. Neil looked fierce. Eventually, Paul lifted his head, nodded firmly and looked around at the others.

  George sighed and said 'Okay, I agree. I'm with you.'

  Liz pursed her lips and also nodded once.

  * * *

  Chapter 18 January

  An elderly man walked slowly down Stonehall Road. The black labrador beside him wanted to stop at every driveway and lamp post but, as he wasn't in a hurry, he allowed the old dog to take it's time. It was a bitterly cold evening and frosty underfoot, so he was wearing gloves and a scarf around his mouth. He pulled his knitted cap down over his ears.

  Stonehall Road, in Edinburgh's Grange district, contains large detached and semi-detached stone-built Victorian houses. Considered to be a desirable address, most of the properties sell for over £1 million.

  The old man walked to the road junction at the bottom of the street, crossed over, and started to return on the opposite side. Ahead, he saw the electrically operated steel gates from number 22 open and, a minute or two later, a red Mazda sports car came out of the drive and turned left. He watched it as it went past, then reached into his pocket.

  'Okay, that's Cheryl off to her pilates class. Mark met his mates in the pub as usual, so that's Mannion at home alone. Over to you now, Liz.'

  The elderly man was George Henderson and he repeated the call to Joe and Neil, who were sitting in Neil's car three streets away. He stamped his feet briskly in an attempt to warm them, and reached down to pat his dog.

  'Not too long now, boy.'

  In CAT's office, in another part of the city, Liz picked up the phone again and called the number written on the pad in front of her. A handset on the desk in Frank Mannion's
den began to trill.

  He reached out and picked it up. 'Yeah?'

  'Is that Mr Mannion?'

  'Yeah, who's this?'

  'Mr Mannion ... I'm Sergeant Mackenzie at Police Scotland, sir. Within the last few minutes, we've received a call from a member of the public, telling us that she's just seen figures moving around in your yard in Granton – even though she says the fence gate's locked. The most recent word is that they have disappeared behind a large warehouse. Sir, we've every reason to believe that a break-in is currently underway at the premises and, if it's possible, we'd like you to come down and open up the gates and the buildings for us. We think that we should be able to catch the intruders red-handed.'

  'Bloody hell! Okay, right. I'm on my way right now ... the buggers!'

  * * *

  Outside in the cold, George watched the gates open again and, this time, Mannion's black Range Rover sped out of the drive and away down the street.

  He called Joe again. 'Right lads, that's him away. You've got fifteen minutes max. once the alarm goes off, so get cracking ... Come on, boy,' he said, giving the dog's lead a tug.

  He quickened his pace and soon turned the corner at the top of the hill. Paul was sitting patiently in his Kia Sportage. George opened the boot for the dog to jump in, then he slid into the passenger seat.

  'Right, Paul. Everything's moving. Mannion's off to Granton and the boys should be in his house by now. It's time for your party piece.'

  Paul nodded. He got out of the car and put a small rucksack on his back. He began jogging down the street until he reached Mannion's house, then raced across the road, checked that no-one was watching, and moved quickly down the driveway of the house opposite. Pulling on a ski-mask, he passed a Land Rover Discovery and the main house-block as he headed towards a large double garage at the foot of the garden. There, he took a hammer from inside his jacket and smashed a window with a sharp blow, cringing at the noise of breaking glass. He paused, listening to see if anyone had noticed, then quickly enlarged the hole using the handle of the hammer and one of his gloved hands. Opening the rucksack, he lifted out a plastic bag. It contained paraffin impregnated cloths and cardboard. He dropped most of the contents through the hole in the glass, on to a workbench. Paul lit the remainder of the oil soaked cloth and pushed it in through the window. Flames lit up the space inside, and he was pleased to see that it didn't contain a car, but appeared to be used as a store. Satisfied but rather scared, he ran across the garden, climbed over a fence into the garden of the adjoining house and, ignoring an automatic security light which came on, raced up their drive and back into the street. Whipping off the ski-mask, he stuffed it into his bag and, feeling relieved, jogged back up the road to join George and his dog. As he climbed back behind the wheel, George was already speaking into his mobile phone – reporting the fire to the Fire & Rescue Service.