Wicked Leaks

by Matt Bendoris

  This is Kelly Carter. You wrote about my mother. What if I told you the car bomb was directly linked to the bombing on the Southside of Glasgow and the death of Diana, Princess of Wales?

  And no, I am not a nutter and this is not a hoax. I wish it was.

  34: An email

  Connor was walking from the staff car park to the Peccadillo for breakfast when he felt his iPhone vibrate. He fished it out of his pocket to see he had a message. What he read stopped him in his tracks, before he punched the air and mouthed, ‘Yes!’ He now had a perfect follow-up to the story.

  He decided to skip breakfast and headed straight into the office instead. All he wanted was Kelly’s story about the car bomb and her mum. Frankly she could keep the Diana stuff: that was nutter territory. He felt that his best ploy would be to string her along. Pretend he wanted the Princess conspiracy theory stuff but leave with what he was really after. It was how he had treated people all his life and why, at the age of forty, he only had passing acquaintances instead of friends. Not that he really cared.

  Connor wrote back to Kelly as he typed and walked. This is mind-blowing. He wanted to hint that he was buying into her conspiracy: We must tread carefully. How do you propose we proceed?

  By the time Connor had reached the office’s front doors, Kelly had replied: Carefully. Very carefully. I’ve seen what these people are capable of.

  Connor had learned a long time ago to get the story there and then, and not to let people sleep on it, in case someone talked them out of bearing their soul to a newspaper journalist.

  First of all I need to prove you’re the real deal to my editor, let me give him what he wants. Please tell me what happened the morning your mother died and the night of Doctor Shabazi’s death.

  • • •

  CAR BOMB VICTIM’S DAUGHTER HORROR

  World Exclusive

  NURSE Kelly Carter has revealed how she has been caught up in the double terror explosions that rocked Glasgow.

  The 39-year-old mum of two was on duty on Tuesday night when a huge car bomb killed her colleague Doctor Mohammed Shabazi on the city’s Southside.

  Then two days later her own mother, Caroline Carter, 65, was murdered when her car was blown-up outside the family home in Kilsyth on the outskirts of Glasgow.

  Last night Kelly told the Daily Chronicle: “In the space of a week my whole life has been changed.

  “I’ve found myself at the centre of sinister goings-on, having no idea who has decided to attack me, my family and my colleague in such a cowardly fashion.”

  Kelly and her children, William, 12, and nine-year-old Beth are being held by the authorities at a rural safe house not far from their Kilsyth home.

  The report ran to a full page inside, which was basically full of speculation and rehashed information of what was already known.

  But although the information about the safe house had been just a throwaway line in the article, repeated parrot-fashion by Connor from one of Kelly’s emails, it proved to be a vital clue for her pursuers. With an intricate knowledge of all the safe houses in Scotland, it was all they needed to know where she was being kept.

  And, like the Battle Of Bannockburn in 1314, another fight to the death was about to take place in the shadow of Stirling Castle.

  35: The book

  Kelly had been on the receiving end of a stern ticking off from a senior policeman for the best part of half an hour. Now she’d had enough.

  ‘Finished?’ she snapped.

  ‘I just want you to understand the danger of speaking to the press to you, your family and my officers. We’re going to have to relocate you tonight,’ Superintendent Donohoe repeated yet again.

  ‘I asked if you were finished.’ This time it wasn’t a question. ‘This…’ she said, sweeping her hands around the room, ‘…won’t last forever. We will need to return to the real world away from men with machine guns. Whoever is behind all this knows what they are doing – and I presume it is “they” as no one individual could have planned and carried out these attacks. They obviously think I know something, which I don’t. Hiding forever isn’t an option. Not for my kids. My only hope is to let them know I’m fighting back. That I have a voice and I’m not afraid to use it. So I’m not sorry for going to the newspaper and I’m not sorry that it’s proved a real pain in the arse for you. My one and only priority is my kids and everything else can go to hell.’

  Kelly turned around without saying another word and headed to her room.

  The children slept as she packed the meagre belongings they had fled with a couple of days before. It didn’t take her long. The last item was the book Monahan had given her, Lady Diana’s Last Days. She had no idea why she had packed it in her rush to leave her own house, but something Monahan had said about keeping it with her at all times must have registered deep within. Kelly sat down on her bed and opened it for the first time. Her gasp caused the children to turn in their sleep. When they had stopped moving she turned the book upside down and patted the back cover. Into her lap fell a black box. Written on the side was, Samsung portable hard drive. M3 4 Terabyte.

  Kelly didn’t know what a terabyte was, but she knew it would be big. She also knew now why their lives were in imminent danger. Whatever was on this hard drive, people were prepared to kill for. She had no time to explain her find to the officers below. Kelly needed to get herself and her kids out of the house now.

  She woke the children and wrapped them in their warm jackets over their pyjamas. She had just replaced the hard drive in the book and locked it in her suitcase when the first gunshot made her jump.

  ‘What’s that, Mummy?’ asked Beth.

  ‘Just a firework,’ Kelly said unconvincingly.

  William wasn’t buying it. ‘That sounded like a gunshot.’

  The unique rat-a-tat sound of machine gun fire filled the air. It was followed by panicked shouting from downstairs as the police officers came under attack. Kelly remembered her late dad saying how war strategies went out the window as soon as the first shot was fired. She wondered how often the officers below had come under real live fire: by the sounds of things, this was the first time. In contrast to their muffled shouts, the machine gun fire seemed controlled and disciplined. It came in short bursts and in multiple directions.

  It was also getting louder as they closed in on their target: Kelly. She turned to the kids and hugged them tightly. ‘Now listen. I want you to do exactly as your mum says. No questions. We’re going to get in our car and drive away from here as fast as possible. I want you to lie down on the seats and don’t look up whatever happens. Understand?’

  Both children nodded immediately. Kelly grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder then took each of the children’s hands.

  ‘Let’s go.’

  Kelly tiptoed with the children swiftly downstairs. A cold wind hit her full in the face from the front door, which was open. A trail of shiny red blood led inside. But Kelly was committed and heading for that door.

  ‘Stop!’ screamed Superintendent Donohoe. ‘We’re surrounded.’

  The man who had looked so purposeful and commanding in his uniform was now dishevelled with a haunted look across his face. ‘Don’t go outside. You’ll die.’

  Kelly’s eyes were drawn down to the cuff of his shirt, dripping with blood. ‘And if I stay here I’ll die anyway,’ she replied.

  There was more machine-gun fire, and this time it seemed to be directly outside the door. The sharp, single, repetitive shots of a police Heckler Koch MP5 returned fire, followed by the unmistakable thump of a body hitting the ground. Kelly and Donohoe both knew this was her moment to flee.

  ‘Here, take my car,’ he said, throwing a set of keys in her direction from his uninjured arm, ‘It’s the silver Volvo right outside.’

  Kelly caught them in mid-flight, turned and headed to the front door with her kids i
n tow. Her feet slipped on the trail of blood, reminding her of her days when she worked briefly in the operating theatre. Outside it was cold and dark, with a body illuminated by the light from the house. It was of a man dressed entirely in black, wearing some sort of night vision goggles and clutching a machine gun in his dead arms. Kelly did not know if he was a police officer or one of the attackers. She unlocked the Volvo with the key fob, making the indicator lights flash, drawing unwanted attention. She flung open a rear passenger door and hurled the children into the back seat. But just as she opened the driver’s door, rapid machine gun fire opened up in her direction, shattering the Volvo’s windows.

  Kelly hollered into the night air, ‘Don’t shoot – there are children in the car.’

  Her pleas were met with more shots and the sound of metal hitting metal as bullets ripped into the vehicle. William and Beth screamed in terror as their mum crouched helplessly on the ground. She heard the shooter’s footsteps running in her direction, and from underneath the car she could see a pair of black boots closing in on her. The boots came skidding to a halt less than six feet from Kelly and she couldn’t help but look up at her would-be executioner. The man in black pointed his gun directly at Kelly’s head with what she was sure was a wry smile on his face.

  Like a rabbit staring at a predator, she couldn’t draw her eyes away.

  The man in black was then lifted clean off his feet and sent flying through in the air, finishing in a crumpled heap at least 10ft away from where he had stood. A deafening boom shook Kelly, the car and everything else in the vicinity. A second boom went off, and this time a figure to Kelly’s left was sent crashing backwards into one of the safe house’s windows, his body lying limp and lifeless amongst the shattered glass.

  It was a blood bath, but someone was fighting back. Suddenly a Land Rover roared up beside Kelly and the shredded Volvo. A voice ordered, ‘Get in,’ and Kelly didn’t hesitate, pulling her terrified children into the waiting vehicle. The wheels spun on the dirt as the Land Rover lurched forward, gaining speed. Kelly cuddled her children tightly in the back seat, refusing to let them go or look at her saviours. She vowed she wouldn’t let go of them until they were far away from this place.

  They bumped along the rough track for what seemed an age until the thick tread tyres hit smooth tarmac. Kelly could sense the passing motorway lights through her eyelids. She opened them to take in her surroundings: there were two men in the car, dressed in similar attire to the ones who had attacked the house.

  ‘Thank you,’ Kelly croaked, unheard over the noise of the engine and the various rattles of the well-used Land Rover. She repeated herself, louder this time: ‘THANK YOU.’

  ‘You’re welcome, Nurse Carter,’ replied a familiar voice from the driver’s seat.

  The man’s face was completely blacked up, but there was no mistaking the cocky smile of Mad Malky Monahan.

  ‘I hope you’ve still got my book.’

  36: Safe house

  Connor came to a roadblock and decided to ditch the car and hike as far as he could on foot instead. Jack Barr was on his way and, for once, Connor had arrived at a scene before him. He had wanted to get as close to the action as possible before day broke. Connor checked his watch. It had just gone 6am. He kept a spare pair of boots in the car, as every good reporter always comes prepared for every scenario. He slipped them on, grabbed a waterproof jacket, slung his man-bag over his shoulder then leaped a farmer’s fence. It wouldn’t be too hard to find where he was going as all he had to do was follow the flashing blue lights.

  He walked for more than two miles, which, on the rough and uneven ground of a ploughed field, took nearly forty minutes. He stuck as close as possible to the hedge and tree lines as helicopters kept buzzing overhead, no doubt ferrying the injured and dead away from the scene. The farmhouse where all the activity was taking place was still about half a mile away when Connor spied a nearby cottage and made a beeline for it. Judging by the immaculate garden and abundant flowers, he guessed this would be the home of a retiree. He knocked on the door, and heard a voice ask, ‘Who’s there?’

  Connor introduced himself, and got the reply, ‘Do you know what’s going on?’

  ‘Not really, I was hoping you could tell me,’ he said truthfully.

  The door opened to reveal a frightened-looking elderly lady still in her nightgown. Her rheumy eyes struggled to focus.

  ‘I just need to know if you saw or heard anything,’ Connor said.

  ‘My eyesight is not so good, son, but I heard everything. It sounded like a fireworks display. Explosions everywhere.’

  Connor knew already that quote would be the headline. ‘And it came from that farm over there?’ he asked, pointing in the direction of the neighbouring farmstead.

  ‘It used to be the Finalyson’s. But they moved out around five years ago. Never did meet the new owners. Just saw lots of cars coming and going. Someone once told me it was a “safe house”, but I’ve no idea for who or what. I think the person who told me had been watching too many television shows.’

  The words ‘safe house’ went off like a firecracker in Connor’s head. He now knew exactly who had been staying here. This had been the safe house Kelly had mentioned to him and the one he had wrote about in his copy. A dreadful feeling gripped his stomach tightly. He thought he had kept her whereabouts vague in his report, but he obviously hadn’t been ambiguous enough. Someone knew where to look and Connor had dutifully supplied them the clue. He retched and choked back the urge to be violently sick on the old lady’s porch.

  37: The North

  The Land Rover trundled on for over two hours, heading north. Monahan kept to the 60mph limit imposed by the average speed cameras on the A9. The only thing that would arouse suspicion, Kelly figured, was his blacked-up face. But she reckoned these weren’t the type of men to stop for any traffic cops, anyway.

  Kelly recognised some of the passing place names as towns and villages she had visited in her youth: Pitlochry, Killiekrankie. She loved how they rolled off the tongue and reminded her of day trips with her mum and dad. Kelly missed her dad. She hadn’t even started to mourn properly for her mum.

  ‘Are you still in touch with the children’s father?’ Monahan asked over the noisy sound of the Land Rover.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Call him. Tell him to pick them up at the House Of Bruar. Duggie here will stay with them until he arrives. We need to keep going north.’

  ‘I’m not leaving my kids anywhere,’ Kelly insisted.

  ‘The café will be opening soon. They’ll be in a safe public place.’

  ‘Every time I’m told somewhere is safe it turns out to be anything but.’

  ‘They’ll be safe with Duggie. They are not after your kids. So let’s take them out of the equation.’

  Kelly looked at the well-built man in the passenger seat. Despite his bulk Duggie had kind eyes. He smiled at William and Beth and said, ‘Fancy some bacon and eggs, kids? My treat.’

  The children remained silent, holding their mother tightly as they stared at him. Kelly could see the logic in letting them go. She didn’t want to, but people had been shooting at her over that damn hard drive. She rummaged in her pockets for her iPhone, then called their dad. Everyone in the vehicle listened to the one-sided conversation.

  ‘Brian. I need your help. Can you pick up the kids from the House of Bruar as soon as you can? … Yes, I’m alright, but I need to go away for a while. … Yes, it’s to do with Mum. … No, I can’t say anything else. It’s for the best. House Of Bruar, as soon as. They’ll be with a man called Duggie. … Yes, Duggie. You don’t know him. Text me when you have them. Bye.’

  Kelly hung up. No one else spoke. There was nothing to say. She hugged her children, who whimpered and cried. They understandably did not want to leave their mum, but she assured them she would be alright and was amazed how convincing she sounded.


  • • •

  After another round of hugs in the car park, Kelly returned to the Land Rover and waved goodbye. A few cars were arriving, probably staff preparing to open up the famous tourist spot. Kelly knew it wouldn’t be long until they were in the safety and warmth inside, tucking into the bacon and eggs Duggie had promised. Their father wouldn’t be far behind. For all his faults, he was a loving dad, when he was there. Weird, she thought, how men can just open a new chapter in their lives and barely blink at the past.

  The past. What a peculiar notion that was turning out to be. When she was happily married with a young family and still had both her parents. Now? She almost laughed at her predicament as she drove north with an armed and terminally ill man having just narrowly survived a shoot-out that claimed the lives of God knows how many. Now she had left William and Beth in the care of a complete stranger.

  Kelly must have drifted off. She was woken by a text message on her phone. It was Brian: Got the kids. They’re fine. They told me what happened. Please take care. And text me where you’re staying. Xxx.

  Brian never put kisses after his texts. He must really be concerned for her. Kelly straightened up as she re-read the message, a slight frown on her face. She wrote back: Thanks, Brian. I knew I could rely on you. How’s your mum doing? Sorry I forgot to ask.

  There was a long pause before she received another text back: She’s fine. Thanks for asking. Kelly stared at the words, her hand beginning to tremble.