by Anna Smith
‘Yeah. Makes you wonder what might be in your pies though,’ Matt grinned.
‘Thanks for that, Matt. I think I’ll just have the fish fingers for lunch.’
‘Or you could have just the fingers, madam. They come in all sizes. And I’m told the braised thumbs are particularly tasty, not to mention the poached penis sweetbreads …’
‘Right, Matt,’ Rosie stopped him. ‘I get the picture, you sick bastard.’
‘Just saying, that’s all.’ Matt chucked a peanut into his mouth.
‘But I do get your point,’ Rosie said. ‘It must be hard to keep everyone quiet – though if it’s only the trusted foot soldiers from big Al Howie’s mob, then I think they’ll know to keep it really tight. Especially after they’ve been told what happened to Tam.’ She turned to him. ‘How the hell are we going to get inside that place?’
‘Well, other than go to the Refugee Council and declare yourself as an asylum seeker who’s lost the will to live, I’d say it’s impossible.’
They needed some luck, Rosie thought. Although the breaks had come, there was a long way to go. She already had Tanya revealing the details of her affair with Murphy, but that in itself was a story more for titillation than a major revelation. Tanya had given her a lead with that list of names and addresses of refugees, and Rosie had already been around most of them, managing to glean from neighbours roughly when they disappeared. All of them had vanished without trace – not even a word to neighbours that they were moving out. But in the world of refugees, keeping quiet about yourself was how they lived – just in case they did decide to slip off the radar and go to work illegally. There was no way of telling why they’d vanished. Her mobile rang and she pulled it out of her pocket. No name or number.
‘Rosie?’
‘Yes?’ She didn’t recognise the voice.
‘Hey, Rosie. Christy Larkin. Howsit going?’
‘Fine, Christy, thanks. Working away. You okay? Did you manage to make that wee enquiry I asked you about?’
‘I did, Rosie,’ he said. ‘That’s why I’m phoning you. Can you talk at the moment? I’ve come out of the office to speak to you.’
‘Sure. Fire away.’
‘Okay. I looked up that name – Milosh Subacic, the one you gave me. I checked it for refugees coming in here to Glasgow and there’s nothing. No trace. I even checked over the past three years, but nothing.’
‘Really? That’s a bit strange, isn’t it?’
‘Well, not really, Rosie. If he didn’t come through Scotland or Glasgow, then we wouldn’t have him on our register, unless he’d come to us later, got registered and was living here.’ He paused. ‘Well, I checked with one of my colleagues down in London. I’ve got a mate down there who kind of thinks along the same lines as me. He’s a good guy, so I asked him to check, and he did.’
‘And?’
‘He found him. Milosh Subacic. He came in here about five years ago, towards the end of the Bosnian war. A Bosnian Muslim apparently, arrived like a lot of others at the time, during all that ethnic cleansing. He came in through London and was living somewhere in Hackney.’ He paused. ‘But the thing is, Rosie, that’s all there is on him. Just basic details of when he came in and stuff, then his file seems to stop dead. But my mate knows other ways to track people through the system, so he tried to find his file through another means. But when he got it, the name came up with this no access red line through it.’
‘No access?’ Rosie asked.
‘Yep. No access. It’s a kind of flag that means everything from there on is shut down on him. When you come across a no access on a refugee it usually means something dodgy. Like maybe they’ve discovered something about his background, or he’s a criminal on the run, and he’s disappeared. They like to keep that quiet.’
‘Christ.’ Rosie could see all sorts of possibilities. ‘Maybe that’s not even his real name.’
‘Took the words out of my mouth, Rosie,’ Christy said. ‘He came here as Milosh Subacic, but I suppose he could be anyone. Or he could be who he says he is, but they’ve found he’s a thief or something, or a rapist – anything.’
‘But why no access, Christy?’
‘Can’t know for sure, Rosie, but it could be because he’s gone missing and they have something on him and are trying to find him. Could be something like that. But it’s not right. My mate says he can’t go into the file any more because if you hit on someone like that and it comes up no access and you do it any more than once, then it registers somewhere and you get your collar felt by one of the suits.’
‘I see. That’s a pity,’ Rosie said. ‘But you did brilliant anyway, Christy. What you’ve found is great and is definitely a help.’ It wasn’t really, Rosie thought, it was inconclusive, but it was useful. And it deepened the mystery over who this Milosh character was.
‘No problems, Rosie. But hey, do you want the good news?’
‘Oh, yeah,’ she said. ‘From where I’m sitting right now, I’d love some good news.’
‘Okay. But it will cost you a drink – maybe even dinner?’
Rosie could picture his cheeky grin. ‘Depends on what you’ve got.’
‘I’ve got a picture of him.’
Rosie made a little triumphant clenched fist.
‘You have? What a star! How did you manage that if the file was closed?’
‘There are ways. My mate says there was one on his early file that he was able to access. It was obviously somebody’s mistake and the picture should have been removed before they made the file no access – but it’s a result for us. The pic is about maybe five years old. He emailed it to me. So what’s your email? I’ll send you it right now.’
Rosie gave him her email. ‘That’s absolutely brilliant, Christy. Really. You are definitely getting a good dinner.’
‘I’ll be looking forward to that Rosie. You bet I will. Listen, I have to go now. I’ll nip round to a friend’s office and email it from there, as I don’t want to do it from work.’
‘Thanks, Christy.’
‘And, Rosie, I take it there’s something well dodgy about this character Milosh?’
‘I’m looking at him, Christy. It’s part of the investigation. But it’s all very top secret at the moment, so if you can just forget this conversation?’
‘What conversation? See you.’ The line went dead.
Rosie turned to Matt. ‘We need to get to the nearest hotel where I can get to the internet.’
‘So let’s go.’
*
It was nearly seven, and only the Vauxhall Carlton remained parked outside the building. The jeep had gone an hour earlier with two thirty-something men who had locked the gate behind them as they left. Rosie and Matt waited.
‘I wish he would hurry up,’ Matt said, ‘I’m starving.’ He kept the lens fixed on the area.
‘I think we should follow him at a distance, if it’s at all possible, when he does come out. See if we can find where he lives.’
‘Might be difficult in this road, but once we get out onto the main drag, if we can keep him in our sights, that’s if he’s our man, we—’ Matt straightened up. ‘Someone’s coming out, Rosie.’ He zoomed in. ‘Looks like it’s him. Come on my son … Game on. It’s him!’ He kept clicking away.
Rosie sat up and shook herself to life.
‘Brilliant.’
They waited until the car was well down the road before they sped out of the farm road and followed. There were two cars in front of them, but Matt could still keep his eye on the Carlton, as they tailed him all the way into the city centre.
‘It’s too busy in here for him to even think anyone’s behind him,’ Matt said. ‘Doesn’t look like he’s going to the West End though, he’s heading down towards the Clydeside.’
‘Yeah,’ Rosie said. ‘My money’s on the quayside flats. You can just disappear in there and nobody knows what you’re up to. A lot of the hookers work out of there.’
*
Rosie’s hunch was
right. There were two cars in front of the Carlton, and both turned into the car park on the River Clyde. They watched as he parked close to the front entrance.
‘I’m going to see if I can nip in along with him,’ Matt said, unbuckling his seatbelt. ‘See if I can see what flat he goes into.’
‘That’s dodgy, Matt. He might be suspicious.’
‘No he won’t,’ Matt said. ‘People always forget their keys and get through the main entrance. I’m going to wing it.’
‘Be careful.’
Rosie felt it was a little reckless, but she didn’t stop him. She watched as Matt went up to the front door just a second or two behind their man. Now that she had a full view of him, she knew from the picture Christy had sent her that this was definitely Milosh – or whoever he was. She saw him glance at Matt, his face without expression, as Matt seemed to be telling him he’d forgotten his key. They went in together. Rosie waited, her heart in her mouth. She breathed a sigh of relief as Matt came out of the front door and headed towards the car.
‘Got him,’ he said, clenching his fist as though he’d scored a goal. ‘Second floor, number five. I went up to the second floor along with him and the flat was just as you go into the main hall, So I carried on up the stairs until the next floor.’ He smiled at Rosie. ‘So now we know where he lives.’
‘Well done, Matt. What did he seem like when you were trying to get in?’
‘Hard-looking bastard,’ Matt said. ‘Pale, but kind of well built. Looks quite tough. I’d put him at around about forty-something.’
‘I wonder if he’s really who he says he is.’
‘C’mon I’m starving, Rosie. Fancy a curry?’
‘No thanks, Matt,’ she said, looking at her watch. ‘I’ve got to be somewhere.’
‘Knocked back again,’ he shook his head. ‘One of these days you’ll take up my offer and I’ll not turn up.’
‘Sure,’ Rosie laughed. ‘Can you just drop me in the city centre.
CHAPTER 13
Rosie was wishing she hadn’t arranged to meet TJ for a quick drink on the way home. She’d expected him to suggest they have dinner, but he told her he’d arranged to meet Gerry and Kat for a practice session to go over some numbers they’d been working on. She was already smouldering with resentment by the time TJ came through the door, his sax case over his shoulder. A smile spread across his face when he saw her.
‘Hey Rosie,’ he bent down and kissed her on the lips. ‘You all right darlin’?’
‘Yeah. Long day. Staking a place out since ten this morning. Gets really tedious.’
‘Ah, you love it, Gilmour,’ TJ teased her. ‘All that sneaking around.’ He ordered a beer when the waitress appeared at the table, then sat back stretching out his long legs.
Rosie had hardly touched her wine. She felt awkward. Sitting anywhere with TJ had always been the most natural thing in the world, but right now she had no conversation, because the only thing that was burning her up she couldn’t talk about.
‘What’s up, Rosie?’ TJ’s eyes scanned her face, as he leaned across and ran his hand over her hair.
‘Nothing,’ Rosie lied, but she knew she wasn’t good at it. She puffed. ‘Just tired, TJ. This story. I think it’s going to be a tough one to crack.’
‘Want to tell me about it?’
Rosie told him everything over the last few days, and the latest information that had come from Christy.
He lit a cigarette and blew out a trail of smoke.
‘Bit of intrigue there all right, Rosie.’ He gave her a warning look. ‘Of course I know you won’t listen to me, you never do, but I’ll tell you this, Rosie. You go digging too deeply into these people – this dodgy Bosnian and the likes of Al Howie, then it’s just going to get crazy. You know that. It might be your lungs they’re pulling out.’
‘I know, I know.’ Rosie gave a bored sigh. This wasn’t what she wanted to hear – even if he was right.
‘Yeah, you know, Rosie, but you keep on doing it.’ He shook his head, half smiling. ‘Christ. You’d think after that stuff in Spain and Morocco last year, you’d be glad to have survived. You know, you might not actually have nine lives. You don’t need to do all this crap, Rosie. I mean, you’re just back from Kosovo. Give yourself a break, woman.’
Rosie sipped her wine and looked at the table. ‘I can’t, TJ.’ She looked at him. ‘What can I tell you?’ She shrugged. ‘It’s what I do. I can’t walk away from things like this.’
TJ smiled and touched her face.
‘Same old Gilmour. You’ll never change.’
‘Anyway, enough about me,’ Rosie said changing the subject. ‘What you been up to?’
‘Nothing. Just chilling. I don’t live on the edge like you, Rosie.’ He gave her a sideways glance.
Rosie was quiet, but she was simmering inside. They sat in silence, and she was aware TJ was watching her.
‘Okay. What’s up, Rosie?’ He stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray and leaned forward.
Rosie examined her fingernails, knowing he wouldn’t let it go.
‘Look at me, Rosie.’
‘TJ, I …’ She looked at him, then away. ‘Last night, after I saw the guy at the Refugee Council, I called you.’
‘Yeah, I got a missed call from you. I was calling your mobile all night, but you didn’t answer. Didn’t you get my message?’
Rosie nodded and took a deep breath. ‘Well, I was in town and when I didn’t get you on the phone I was going to pop round and see if you fancied going out for dinner. Surprise you. So I drove towards your flat.’ She paused, feeling her face flushed. ‘And … Well, er … and then I saw Kat coming out of the building.’ She swallowed and waited, her heart racing.
TJ said nothing. He looked through her and they sat in heavy silence.
‘And?’ Finally he spoke, raising his eyebrows.
Rosie said nothing. She squirmed a little in her seat.
‘Well, I … I just wondered. I mean … I wondered …’
TJ shot her a look that was a mixture of disappointment, hurt and anger.
‘Yeah, Rosie, I know. You just wondered. The way you’ve been wondering ever since you clapped eyes on Kat.’ He shook his head. ‘I know what you wondered, Rosie, and you’re wrong. Okay? Understand that and forget about it.’
‘But you didn’t say she was at your house. That’s all. I was surprised to see her.’
‘Rosie, she was at my house, and we were going over some songs. We are friends. You know that, for Christ’s sake. We worked together in New York and we became friends.’
‘Friends?’ Rosie looked at him. ‘Is that all?’
TJ shook his head and sighed. ‘Aw, Rosie. Don’t do this, sweetheart.’ He looked at her. ‘Don’t do this to yourself, and don’t do this to me.’ He turned away.
Rosie wanted to speak, but her throat was tight. She looked at the floor.
‘I was just asking,’ she said eventually.
‘You can’t know everything about everybody, Rosie. You can’t allow yourself to be consumed with stuff like that. I don’t ask you about every friend in your life. You spend more time with guys than I do with women. Do I get paranoid?’
‘I don’t know. Do you?’
He shrugged. ‘I can’t run your life for you, Rosie. Apart from anything else you wouldn’t let me. You’re your own woman. You only let me so far into your life. Always have.’
Again, the silence.
‘You went away, TJ.’ The words were out before she could stop herself.
‘Christ! I pleaded with you to come with me.’ He snapped back, his hands held out. ‘I waited for you.’
‘Well. If I could have phoned you I would, but I was in the bloody hospital with my face wasted.’ Tears sprang to her eyes. She got up. ‘Look, TJ, I’m sorry. I think I should go. I’m saying all the wrong things.’
‘Wait, Rosie.’
‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘I have to go.’ She lifted her bag and left, the image of his hur
t look making the tears come as she rushed out of the door and hailed a taxi.
*
‘Well played, Rosie,’ she said aloud to herself as she slung her bag on the sofa when she got into her house. ‘The one good thing to happen to you in your life, and you screw it up.’ She was still berating herself as she poured a glass of red wine and went out onto the balcony. She took a long gulp and swallowed, then let out a long sigh, suddenly reflecting on that first moment when TJ had turned up.
Rosie had just held the hand of her father as he died in hospital, and was sat in a cafe where she always seemed to end up. She felt like the loneliest person in the world. Then the phone call. TJ was back. There were no questions or explanations on the phone – he just asked, where are you? She told him to come to her flat.
When he’d turned up on the doorstep, Rosie took one look at him and they fell into each other’s arms. He was so sorry, he told her. But he’d been too hurt to get in contact because by her not turning up at the airport, he knew they could never make it together. He was close to tears when she told him what had happened to her. They would never allow anything to come between them again, they promised each other.
And so it had been for the past six months, not moving in together – Rosie always resisting it, because she needed some space and believed that deep down TJ needed his own space too. But it had been just about perfect. Then came Kosovo and Rosie volunteered to go. She knew it meant being away for at least two months, but she wanted to be there.
When she returned, she felt worse than ever before. She hadn’t been prepared for the level of human suffering she witnessed when she got there. Back home, there had been nightmares, and when she’d woken up crying, TJ had been there to hold her. They’d spent great weekends together getting drunk, having a laugh and lots of sex. Everything was fine until last week at the Blue Note when this redhead walked onto the stage. Rosie knew that this was her problem, not TJ’s, and that even if they had been lovers in New York, she wasn’t there, so she had no rights. They weren’t together. She’d had a bit of a fling in Kosovo with a doctor anyway, so who was she to judge? But she did, and that was always Rosie’s problem. She told herself she should try to find some place in her head where she could deal with it, or she should walk away. She was going to be up to her eyes in the next few weeks, and every time she’d have to cancel dinner she would be paranoid he was with Kat. Take it or leave it, she berated herself. She went into the house and ran a bath, soaking for a while, planning how to end it. She cried.