Designer Crime

by Allen Whitehead

He got up, stretched and went to make them both coffee. He carried over a mug and put it down beside Joe.

  Neil pointed to the screen in front of him. 'What's that?'

  'Accounts spreadsheets going back for nine years, ' said Joe excitedly. 'This is good stuff. Look at the headings for Income! “GTS” – that's the haulage business, but then there's “Girls” – probably the street workers; “Loans” – I reckon that could be the loan-sharking; “Insurance” – under “Income”! I think that could be protection money because there are regular monthly payments, not fluctuating ones like the loans.'

  'No wonder the taxman doesn't get to see these accounts. What sort of things do they have under “Expenditure”?'

  '“People” – they could be ones who do work for them and get paid cash-in-hand, do you think? Then there's “Premises Costs”, “Maintenance” and “Incomers” again. What do you think that is?'

  'I dunno,' said Neil scratching his head. 'Do you think they pay cash to the gangs who transport the girls to Zeebrugge, for trafficking?

  'Yeah, that could be it.'

  'And look here,' Joe said smiling, “Carlo” - Now there's a surprise.'

  'Is he there? Let's see. That's fantastic – a connection to Carlo at last. Surely it'll confirm he's been laundering money for the gang, won't it?'

  The two worked on for another hour, finding records of investments in residential and commercial property in Central Scotland, together with names and addresses of agents who collected rents for buildings; Lists of equipment purchased, including trucks, cars, computers and furniture; and Individual Savings Accounts for both McNeil and Mannion.

  'Well, I reckon there's plenty here to incriminate Mannion and McNeil. Have you remembered to reinstate Frank's laptop to the way it was? Neil asked.

  'Yeah …well almost. I've removed Julia's “Wonder Woman” account and just left Frank's there – minus the password, though, 'cos we don't know what it was, so we can't put it back ... and I've given the whole thing a really careful clean, just to make sure it doesn't have any of our fingerprints on it. Now, all we've got to do is work out our next moves.'

  * * *

  It snowed during Friday night and the city glistened white. The next morning, Joe and Neil were eating breakfast in the kitchen.

  'I was thinking of going out to East Lothian, to give the girls their passports back,' said Joe, swallowing a mouthful of toast. 'They're working tomorrow, but they've both got today off.'

  Neil was looking out of the window. 'Good idea, I'll come with you. It's a lovely day – it should be great in the country.'

  By the time that they left, the snow on Edinburgh's streets was already brown with salt and grit, and beginning to turn to slush, but when they turned off the A1 and headed into the hills, the countryside looked pristine. Ana was outside, putting down food for wild birds and she gave them a wave as they arrived. She opened the door and ushered them inside. In the kitchen, Madalina was drinking coffee and reading a magazine.

  'Hiya, guys,' she smiled. 'Isn't it great! I love the snow, like when I was a girl.'

  'Yeah, It was a lovely drive over here ... and we're bringing presents,' said Joe. He handed each of them a passport that he'd taken from Mannion's study.

  'You got it! Oh, Joe that's fantastic,' she said, waving it in the air.

  'We did, Neil and me – with a little help from our friends – I said we would.'

  Ana smiled but, at the same time, looked on the verge of tears. Maddie put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze.

  'They won't get us again, Ana,' she said softly.

  'We've got more passports,' Joe added. 'In a week or two, you can help us give them back to the people they belong to.'

  'And doughnuts,' said Neil, lifting up a paper bag.

  Ana made coffee for them all, and they sat round the table for a while, chatting.

  'Come on,' said Joe suddenly. 'It's gorgeous outside, and I've been stuck in the office most of the week. Let's go for a walk. I know a place not too far away where we can go.'

  They piled into his Duster and he drove deeper into the hills, bouncing down a narrow stony track, heading towards a forested hillside. At the end of the track was a small area, where they left the car among the trees. Joe led the way down a footpath close by and the snow crunched softly under their feet. The slope went down for a short distance and then the space opened out, where a tree-lined path bordered a hidden lake. It's surface was a sheet of ice and ducks flapped away, squawking as they approached. In the distance, a buzzard gave a high-pitched cry as it wheeled away and flapped across the frozen water. One of the trees beside the path had branches weighed down with snow and, as they passed underneath, Neil gave it a shake, showering the two women who shrieked and ran away laughing. Joe picked up a stone and skimmed it across the ice. It made a ringing noise like a stick hitting a taut steel cable, and the sound echoed down the narrow valley. They took turns to see who could make the noise last the longest.

  Eventually the path left the lakeside and headed back into the forest. For part of the way, they found they were following slots in the snow – tracks made earlier by a roe deer. The path got steeper and Madalina, who was wearing shoes with smooth soles, began to slip. Neil took her hand and pulled her up to the top of the rise, where it levelled out into a wider track, used for access by the forestry workers. Joe called to them to turn right. He stayed back to help Ana up the slope and, as they reached the top, they saw that Neil and Maddie were still hand in hand as they sauntered along chatting.

  Ana looked wide-eyed at Joe and whispered. 'He's come over three times since we came here, bringing food an' stuff. I think he fancies her!'

  Joe nodded and smiled. They didn't hurry to catch up with the other two.

  * * *

  Sam phoned Joe at the office during his lunch hour.

  'Hi love, how's it going?' he asked.

  'It's okay.'

  'How's Jim?'

  'He's a lot better. Geordie's taken Maggie to Thurso shopping, and Jim's gone along with them for the ride.'

  'That's great, he's obviously on the mend – and how are you, babe? I keep thinking about you, you know.'

  'I'm fine ... No, not really ... Look, Joe, Maggie and Jim are great. I love them to bits, and they've done everything they can to make me feel comfortable here, but I'm missing you. When can I come back to Edinburgh, Loopy?'

  Joe's heart sank. 'I'm sorry, love. I'm really missing you too, but it's still not safe. I jogged down Ashley Terrace, past our flat the other night, and there was a young guy in a hoodie hanging around by the school playground. I think he's keeping an eye on the flat for M&M.'

  'But I'm getting fed up. I'm not gonna stay here in Burness for ever!'

  'No – it'll be soon, love. I promise. We've just got a couple of things to finalize, then we're going to make a move. So far everything's going according to plan.'

  'But what plan? You haven't told me what moves you're planning. It might help if I knew.'

  'Okay ... You know the guys that attacked you were working for McNeil and Mannion. Well, those two guys organize some really serious crime in the city. They work from a haulage depot in Granton that Mannion owns. It's a legitimate business and they make deliveries and collections all over – in the UK, but also in Europe and, every two or three months, it seems they arrange to bring back a few illegal immigrants. That's how Madalina got to Scotland.'

  'Why didn't she come in normally? I thought Romanians could come to Scotland to work?'

  'They can, but although Madalina says she's Romanian, she's really from Moldova and, like Albania and Syria, they're not part of the EEC. Anyway, we've found out that the next trip, in a couple of weeks, will be one of the ones when they'll be trafficking. We're going to arrange for the cops to catch them when they come off the ferry in Hull.'

  'That sounds good. Will McNeil and Mannion, and those two bastards that came round and got me, also be rounded up by the cops?'

  'Th
at's the intention, love. Mannion will definitely be fingered as the top man, and Maddie says that if either of the drivers is sick, McNeil goes along instead. We've just got to make sure that he does.'

  'And the two thugs?'

  'They are definitely mentioned on Mannion's payroll but, ever since they attacked you, they've been in hiding. We don't know where they are but we're trying to see if we can find out.'

  'So who's involved in the next part then?' Sam asked.

  'Neil and me, of course, Paul and George, Liz and Jules. The guys at the office have been really terrific. The only one who's been a bit of a disappointment is Fraser. Ever since you got hurt, he's been making excuses – anything not to get involved. He seems to have forgotten that it was him who started it all in the first place.'

  'You've always rated him higher than I did, love. I've always thought of him as a weak person. You're better off without him on your team.'

  'Maybe you're right. I'm certainly not confiding anything in him any more,' he added.

  'Can I come back home then, Joe?' Sam said in a small voice.

  'As soon as it's over, the first thing I'll do is come and collect you, babe. I promise. I love you and I'm missing you, lots.'

  * * *

  Chapter 20 February

  Paul burst into the office as Joe was getting ready to leave for the evening. He waited until Julia, who was shutting down her computer, picked up her bag and left, giving them a wave.

  'I'm glad I managed to catch you, Joe. You know we were discussing earlier how we could ensure that McNeil goes to Romania as a driver?'

  'Yeah. The options were – getting one of the other two arrested, hospitalizing him or kidnapping him – none of which we fancied very much.'

  'That's right. Kidnapping seemed to be the best idea, and you were wondering if George was still renting the old garage in Dalry.'

  'Yes,' agreed Joe. 'I thought that possibly we could hold him there, but the biggest problem for us would be keeping the guy quiet for a week, while still looking after him .... keeping him fed and letting him use the bog.'

  Paul smiled. 'I've just had a bit of a brainwave. I've got a friend who has renovated an old shepherd's hut – made a lovely job of it too.'

  'What's that?'

  'Shepherd's hut ... Like a large shed on wheels. They date from around the end of the nineteenth century. They went out of use a little while after the first World War. The newer ones had walls and a roof of corrugated steel on a wooden frame. Inside, though, they had a wooden floor and were completely lined out with timber. They're all different but generally they had a small window, a bed, some cupboards and a wood-burning stove, with a flue pipe through the roof.'

  'What were they used for?'

  'Back in the time when sheep were essential for the British textile industries, flocks were taken up into the hills in summer. The lowland fields were left to be cut for hay or to grow a winter feed of turnips. The huts were dragged up into the hills by horses or in later years by tractors, and the shepherds lived in them. They kept an eye on the flock. A simple existence, but peaceful enough.'

  'And you say your friend has got one?'

  'That's right,' said Paul. 'Charles bought it a few years ago. He's renovated it, and it looks great. He got a local farmer to put it in a lovely quiet spot, down in a valley beside a stream. It's a pretty remote location. He goes there when he wants to chill out. One or two of his friends have used it as well. It's not usually used in the winter because of the weather, although when the stove is lit it gets quite warm inside.'

  'It sounds really promising. Would he let us use it, do you think?'

  'Yeah, I think so. I could tell him that someone I know has written a book, and would like to rent a really quiet space – somewhere they could do a final edit. I think he might agree to that.'

  'Well, as you know Paul, I can't think of any better ideas. Put it to your friend and see what he has to say.'

  'Okay, I'll go and see him tonight. The stove is bolted down through the floor, so it doesn't shift when they're moving the hut. I thought that if we removed one of the bolts, we could use the hole and secure a length of chain with a padlock on the other end around his ankle. I could drop by occasionally, to check up on him and take food and water – make sure he's got logs for the stove. Apart from that we could leave him to look after himself. It would only be for a week or so after all.'

  * * *

  McNeil stood in the middle of the yard in Granton and looked into the back of the eight tons panel van. It was half past four in the afternoon and starting to get dark. There was a strong wind was blowing heavy clouds in from the east.

  He turned to the man standing beside him. 'Right, Gary. The quad bikes are in the back, 'cos they've got to go to the depot in Bucharest. The chainsaws, though, and all o' the Massey Ferguson parts that were picked up from Hamilton's this afternoon – they've all got to be dropped off in Brno. The same place yer went to last October.'

  'Aye, I ken, Jim. The one near the airport?'

  'That's the one. Where the hell's Rab? I've got a guy to meet. He's supposed to be here,' McNeil said irritably.

  Just then the figure of Rab Johnston came hurrying in through the open gates. He was a stocky man, overweight and red-faced from his exertions. His breath formed clouds in the cold damp air, although, as always, he wasn't wearing a jacket because he didn't like to cover up the Hibs football shirt, that he invariably wore.

  'About fucking time!' snapped Jimmy. 'Where the hell have yer been?'

  'Sorry Jimmy. I didn't get manage to get my hair cut on Saturday, so I just nipped along to the guy in the square.'

  'I don't pay yer to get yer fucking hair cut – next time get it done in yer own time.' McNeil snarled, taking a package from his pocket. He passed it to Rab. 'This's the cash to give to Stojan when yer pick up the whores in Zeebrugge. There's thirty thousand Ron, but yer can tell him from me, I'm not happy that he's put the rate up. Next time I'm over there, yer can say I want to talk to him about it.'

  Johnston nodded and slipped the packet into the back pocket of his jeans.

  'Right, I'm off. You lock up, Rab, and don't get pissed tonight. I'll see both of you'se here in the morning.'

  He climbed in behind the wheel of the Mitsubishi, reversed and, wheels spinning on the gravel, sped off through the gate leaving behind the deep roar from the exhaust.

  * * *

  Rab Johnston got up and turned off the television. He was just switching off the light in the living room and was heading for bed when his entry-phone rang.

  He picked up the handset. 'Aye, who is it?' he said in a weary voice.

  'That Rab?'

  'Yeah?'

  'Jimmy sent us. He told me to give you this package. He was goin' to give it you in the morning, but something's come up an' now he can't make it.'

  'He didn't say anything about a package to me, this afternoon.'

  'I don't know anything about that. He just said it's urgent an' I've to get it to you tonight.'

  Rab sighed. 'Yer'd better come in then.'

  He pressed the button for the entry-lock and went to open the door to his flat. Footsteps clattered on the tenement stair and two figures in a grey hooded jackets came up fast. As Rab started to open the door, it was slammed back in his face. The two burst in and a short fast punch hit him in the throat. He choked and spluttered, gasping for air, as he was grabbed roughly and pushed face-down on to the floor. A knee in the middle his back held him down, as his arms were tied with tape behind his back and duct tape was wound around his head and over his mouth. A hood was pulled over his head and he was jerked to his feet, where he staggered unsteadily. One of his assailants gripped him tightly by the shoulder and pushed him out of the door, while the other switched off the lights and closed the door to the flat. Unable to see where he was going, Johnston stumbled down the stairs with the man close behind still clutching him in an iron grip. He was shoved into the back seat of a waiting car, that had it's eng
ine running, and his assailants climbed in after him, one on each side, squashing him between them. The engine roared and the car sped off into the night.

  Half an hour of smooth fast driving was followed by winding roads. Johnston was thrown from side to side bumping his shoulders against the men beside him. No words were spoken and he was terrified. The car slowed and began to follow an uneven track, bumping and lurching over rocks and potholes. Eventually it stopped, he heard the doors open, and again he was frogmarched for around fifty metres, but this time over uneven ground, through wet grass which soaked the legs of his jeans.

  'Kneel down,' said a rough voice.

  He was pushed down by a hand on his shoulder and the hood was whipped off. He blinked and looked around at a sky full of stars and a three-quarters moon. A cold dampness was seeping through his jeans to his knees and, ahead of him, he saw a large black shape. The tape was unwound from his head by a gloved hand and he flinched as the last of it was ripped from his skin.

  'Yer've got the wrong man,' he pleaded, trembling. 'I don't know what you want. I don't know who you are, but I haven't done nothing to you – I promise – it's not me!'

  The three men surrounding him were all wearing masks, but he wouldn't have been able to see their faces anyway, as they were also wearing head-torches and the bright LED lights blinded him.

  'Shut up and listen carefully. We aren't going to kill you and if you behave yourself you won't get hurt. We've taken you so that McNeil will have to go in the truck to Europe tomorrow. When he comes back, with the illegal immigrants on board, they'll get picked up by the police in Hull, and we want him to be there. We can't risk you getting in touch with him, or Mannion, so the hut ahead of you is going to be your home for the next wee while. You're in a very remote location, so you can scream your head off and no-one's going to hear you. But, if you behave yourself and don't trash the place, I'll bring you food and water. There's a comfortable bed and a stove, so you can make simple meals and drinks, and I'll also provide a supply of logs for the stove ... Understand? ... If, on the other hand, you make a nuisance of yourself, make a mess or damage the hut in any way, you'll only have bread and water and no fuel for the stove. It'll be cold and miserable – It's entirely up to you.'