by Smith, Anna
‘I heard you do a bit of digging. You should watch some of the people you upset, or you could dig your own grave.’ He folded his arms, leaning against the worktop.
His tone was friendly and Rosie relaxed a little.
‘I have a few police contacts, Roddy, who I value and respect and who help me from time to time. People know the kind of things I dig into, and if sometimes I come up with some dirt on people on high places, then so be it. I don’t shy away from that, but that’s not why I’m here.’
The silence hung for a moment, then he spoke.
‘Jackie Reilly,’ he said. ‘She wasn’t a bad woman, you know. I’ve known plenty of complete bastards in my day – women who would sell their children for money without turning a hair. But Jackie was all right. She had a good heart.’ His eyes rested at the fire flickering in the hearth, then he blinked himself back. ‘Coffee?’
‘That’d be great.’ This was going much better than she’d hoped. ‘So, Roddy, can I ask you a little bit about Jackie Reilly and her kids?’
He stood with his back to her as he poured boiling water into two mugs.
‘What are you doing about her? Why do you ask?’ He turned around. ‘Sugar? Milk?’
‘Just black is great.’ Rosie cleared her throat. ‘Actually, I’m working on a story and her name came up. I’m sure you’ve heard about the murders of Rab Jackson in Spain and his old mate Malky Cameron here. Both burned to death in their homes.’
‘Good enough for them.’ He handed her a mug and sat down opposite, placing his coffee on the low table. His lips tightened. ‘Two bastards who should have been drowned at birth. The stuff they did to people – innocent people, some of them – would make you shudder, Rosie. Someone should have shot the bastards long ago. I’m surprised it’s taken so long, to be honest. But I celebrated anyway when I heard – and that’s the truth.’
‘They murdered Jackie Reilly, didn’t they?’
He nodded slowly.
‘Aye. They did. Burned her to death in her house. Raped one of her girls. Christ! I can see the faces of those two wee lassies yet.’ He shook his head. ‘And Jackie. Burned black. What a fucking thing to do to a woman. Or anybody, for that matter. Everybody and his dog knew it was Jackson and Cameron, but nobody would say a word. That pair of evil bastards had everyone in the scheme terrorized, so we couldn’t get anywhere near them. Nothing.’
They sat in silence, Rosie waiting, watching to see if he was going to volunteer anything. But he looked miles away.
‘I was told Jackie was killed because she helped police with tip-offs.’
He looked hard at her.
‘ “Grassing” is the word you’re looking for.’
Rosie swallowed and said nothing.
He sighed. ‘I don’t like to think of her in that way. It was all about survival. Jackie did what she had to do. She took people in.’ He flicked a glance at Rosie. ‘Men. They paid her. She was on her own – had to keep shoes on the kids’ feet and food on the table. They were hard times in Maryhill, Rosie, back in those days. Men like Jackson and Cameron – scum of the earth – they ran everything. People didn’t stand a chance, even if they wanted to play by the book.’
‘She was taking a real risk talking to the police, though.’
‘She was protected,’ he said, looking straight at her. ‘I protected her.’ His voice dropped to a whisper, and he shook his head. ‘I was sure I had her protected as tight as a drum.’ He ran his hand across his chin. ‘It shouldn’t have happened.’ He looked at Rosie, his eyes full of hurt. ‘It’s haunted me my whole life. The guilt. I blamed myself. Still do.’
‘You never found out how Jackson and Cameron discovered she was talking to the cops?’
He shook his head.
‘You were close to her, Roddy?’
He nodded.
‘Very close?’ Rosie ventured.
He didn’t answer.
‘Sorry.’ Rosie said.
Then he looked through her. ‘Too close.’ He swallowed. ‘It shouldn’t have happened, but it did. I knew what she did with men, how she sold herself, but the truth is, I just let it happen. It was like I couldn’t stop myself. I was married, two kids, but there was something about Jackie. She was like one of these old screen goddesses. Honest to Christ, Rosie. She should have been out of Maryhill when she was a teenager, before some bastard got her up the duff at fifteen and saddled her with two kids. In another world, with other opportunities, Jackie Reilly could have been anybody. She had a great mind as well. Sharp. A good human being.’
‘You fell in love with her.’
‘It’s a cliché, but I did.’
‘Did you ever hear what happened with the girls? I heard one of them – Judy – died and the other one was put in a home. Were you ever in touch with Ruby . . . or ever hear what happened to her?’
He said nothing but the muscles in his jaw tightened. He ran a hand through his thinning hair and looked back at Rosie.
‘Why do you ask? What’s it got to do with anything?’ He shrugged, staring at the fire. ‘She’ll be grown up now. She was the living image of her mother. A real beauty. And the same spirit. A cheeky wee bugger, and could fight like a tiger.’
‘You never saw her again? Any idea where she is?’
He shook his head.
‘Why?’
‘Just a crazy notion that occurred to me a few days ago when Jackson got torched in his home on the Costa del Sol and then Cameron’s house got burned down. Obviously old scores – somebody with a grudge . . . and balls like coconuts. And none of the cops I spoke to know anybody who’d have the wit or the courage to pull that off.’
He snorted, a smile on his lips.
‘Ruby? Is that what you’re asking?’
‘Just a thought.’
‘I can imagine her growing up with a rage burning inside her. That’s for sure. She was feisty enough before that night, so Christ knows how she ended up. Tell you what, though, I’d be well tickled if she did kill the bastards. That would be the kind of retribution that should be celebrated big time.’ His eyebrows knitted. ‘What makes you even think that? You must have a reason?’
‘Well, you see . . .’ Rosie examined her fingernails then looked at him. ‘I don’t know if you know this, but Ruby went on to do all right for herself. She went to university and studied accountancy but dropped out in her last year – just before she graduated, apparently, but she did all right. Makes you wonder how she managed it.’
Roddy’s face softened. He looked proud.
‘Maybe the kid had a secret benefactor.’ He smiled. ‘If ever anyone deserved one, it was her.’
‘Somebody told me that Ruby came up on the radar as working for Jackson,’ Rosie said. ‘It came from a good contact.’
Roddy shook his head.
‘Hard to imagine that, given what happened to her mum and sister.’
‘Have you seen her since she was a kid?’
‘No. Never.’
‘Did you help her? I mean, were you her secret benefactor?’
He looked at the floor and didn’t reply and they sat in heavy silence, but Rosie knew from the look in his eyes not to pursue the question any further. Then he looked straight at her and stood up.
‘I think you should go now, Rosie.’
Chapter Fifteen
Ruby thought long and hard about agreeing to meet Tony. Holed up in her West End flat, she went over the risks of sticking her head above the parapet. Here, she was safe as long as she didn’t venture into the city centre or any of the haunts where she might bump into one Tony’s sidekicks. She’d always been meticulous about keeping her whereabouts secret, whether it was Spain, Amsterdam, Rome or anywhere else she pitched up for a few weeks to make sure Rab Jackson’s money was safely laundered and banked. Ruby had worked hard at cultivating this enigmatic, elusive figure who flitted in and out of the game, only appearing when she was needed to discuss the intricate accounting or to move money around the world. Rab Jackson always knew ho
w to get a hold of her, but nobody else did and, now, he was history. Fuck him. She cursed herself for giving Tony her private email, because he was sending messages every two hours. His last email had sent a shudder of terror right through her.
‘I think Judy would want you to get in touch with me, if you get my drift.’
Brief, but toxic. She had no option but to answer the message.
*
As Ruby walked through the swing doors she spotted Tony lounging on the leather sofa in a secluded alcove at the far end of the bar off Glasgow’s Hilton Hotel foyer. Two shaven-headed gorillas sat on armchairs opposite, hanging on his every word. Tony clocked her when she arrived and put his coffee cup on the table as she strode confidently towards him. Attack is the best form of defence, Ruby told herself, but inside, her stomach was like jelly. She’d called the home this morning to inquire after Judy, terrified that something had happened. The sigh of relief she breathed when the nurse said Judy was well and sitting in her room by the window, as usual, had brought tears to her eyes.
‘Take a walk, lads.’ Tony dismissed his henchmen with a wave of his hand.
They both stood up, brick-shithouse frames bursting out of their shiny suits, and shot Ruby a fleeting glance as they slipped past her.
‘Sit down.’ Tony patted the sofa beside him.
Ruby stood for a moment, glaring at him, then moved towards one of the armchairs.
‘What’s the fucking panic, Tony?’
‘Where have you been? That’s the fucking panic. I’ve been phoning you for days. What’s the fucking score, Ruby? Don’t fanny around with me.’
‘Well’ – Ruby sat down, crossing her legs, knowing he was watching as her skirt rode up her thighs a little – ‘I’m here now. So what’s up?’
Tony’s eyes darkened and Ruby tried to hold his icy glare.
‘Rab’s dead, as you know. And now Malky Cameron, too.’
‘Yeah. I heard.’
‘You were in Spain with Rab before he died.’
‘Yeah. And what about it? I’m his accountant.’
‘One of the boys said you were at his villa the day before the fire. Having coffee at his poolside.’
‘That’s right, Sherlock.’ Ruby held her nerve.
Tony leaned forward, his eyes narrowing.
‘Well, have you any idea what the fuck happened? Someone torched Rab in his house . . . I . . . None of us can work out what the fuck’s going on. I mean, how can that just happen?’
‘No idea. How would I know?’ She gave him an indignant look. ‘The Costa del Sol’s full of all the shitbags from here to Istanbul, all robbing each other blind. There’s no such thing as loyalty. I don’t know what strokes Rab may have pulled in his day, or if he’s noised somebody up over there. I’ve only known him since he was more or less retired. I was moving his money around. That’s all. Who knows what’s going on out there? Not me, that’s for sure. I’m seldom there.’ Ruby paused, watching the words sink into Tony’s head, knowing he’d be clueless as to who would wade in and bump Jackson off. ‘You not picking anything up here? Somebody must know something.’
She prayed they didn’t. She was doing well with the aggressive front.
‘Nope. Fuck all. He was in the house by himself. Spanish cops, of course, don’t give a shite about him.’ He gave a little shrug, trying to look in control. ‘But anyway, Rab’s dead and that’s it. We just need to deal with it. I’m running things now. That’s why you’re here.’
Ruby looked at him and said nothing.
‘I’m here because you keep emailing me. You said the shit has hit the fan. But what’s that got to do with me? I worked for Rab, not you.’ She shot him a defiant smile then ran her fingers across the line where her tight blouse showed a hint of cleavage. ‘That pleasant little encounter that night in your flat . . . it doesn’t mean you own me.’
Tony licked his lips and Ruby could see the lust in his eyes. He was easy.
‘We’ll talk about that later,’ he said. ‘But right now I need to know where all the money is.’
Rosie took a long breath and sat back.
‘Don’t worry about the money, Tony. Surely to Christ you didn’t think I’d done a runner with it?’ She put on her best would-I-ever face, and leaned across and touched his knee.
‘Well’ – Tony put his hand on top of hers and kept it on his knee – ‘It did cross my mind when I couldn’t get hold of you.’
‘Don’t be stupid.’ Ruby massaged his knee a little. She could see that the hard-man bravado was slipping. ‘I’m not that daft. Rab’s money is all over the place and, by the way, I do know it’s not just his money – it’s the firm’s money. But it’s very complicated. It’s taken a lot of setting up – accounts and different firms I’ve created, all over Europe and beyond – to keep the operation looking legit. For that, Rab paid me decent money. I did a good job and all the money is safe. Rab trusted me. So what’s the panic?’
The waiter came over and Tony ordered more coffee. Ruby asked for water. ‘There’s a big problem, Ruby,’ Tony said, his voice almost a whisper. ‘That’s why I needed to get hold of you.’
‘What problem?’ Ruby’s stomach tweaked, not knowing what to expect.
‘One of the companies we invest in. Don’t know if you know them. They’re an export/import company.’
Ruby stifled a laugh.
‘Fuck’s sake. They’re all export/import companies. That’s the whole point. How else would you get the coke into the UK?’
‘No. Listen. One particular company, they’re arms dealers. It’s something Rab invested in a few years back. Owned by Tam Dunn. You won’t know him. He moved to London years ago and he’s connected, big time, to a lot of the villains down south. Rab and him go back to the early days, so he invested with him. Dunn owns this company, J B Solutions, and they’re legit – well, on paper anyway. Totally watertight, according to what Rab told me a few months ago. But they have another company, Damar Guns. And they’re arms dealers, too, but in a different way. The two companies work hand in hand, but not on paper. Tam runs Damar, too, and he’s in with some heavy-duty Russians. There’s a load of money – massive amounts – because them fucking Russians buy and sell a lot of gear. You know how it is – they’re into everything, spreading themselves all over the shop, and they need to be tooled up big time. They bring guns – and a lot more besides – into the UK through Damar. Sometimes Damar sells guns to them, better than the Russian ones. Plus, the Russians supply birds for the saunas and stuff.’
Ruby kept her face straight but her heart was hammering.
‘The names don’t ring a bell with me. I set up a good few companies for Rab – everything from property firms to petrol stations . . . Christ . . . even a wooden-pallet company in the Midlands. I moved a lot of his money through them in various places all over the world. But I’ve never heard of J B Solutions. Or Damar. Never even heard him talking about them. Anyway, what’s happened?’
‘Well, there was some big international police and intelligence operation to trap the arms dealers while they were in the middle of a deal, but it all got fucked up. Two people got killed. One of Tam’s and one of theirs. Over in Berlin. It was a right mess.’
‘You mean one of the Glasgow boys got killed?’
‘Yeah, but he’d been living down near London for years. He was really working with Tam and for Damar. But it’s worse than that. The cops got hold of the guy I sent down from here for a bit of extra muscle. Derek Murdoch – Del. So they’ll just pump the wee man for any information then probably fucking shoot him.’
Ruby nodded.
‘Presumably, you didn’t send some eejit who’s going to spill his guts the first time the cops punch his face on a job like that?’
‘Who the fuck knows? Once cops at that level grab somebody, they can put the frighteners on them. Threaten their family. Maybe offer the guy money if he puts the finger on anyone. And they know we’re not exactly going to report him as a missing person.�
��
‘So who is Del?’
‘A wee hard bastard from Possil. He’s a sound enough guy but he’s not been on a job like this before. He was coming through the ranks and doing well. It was Billy, the guy who got shot, who said he wanted to take him with him. He said he could handle it. And Tam approved it, so I sent him down. He was only there for a bit of muscle during the time they were in Berlin, in case there was any funny business with the Russians. They’re serious wankers to work with. You can trust them about as far as you can throw them.’
‘So you’re sure the cops grabbed him?’
Tony nodded gravely.
‘We got word from the Russians. The cunts got away. They shot some bird dead who was with the police. They told us the cops got the wee man.’
Ruby digested this information then folded her arms.
‘So, on paper, Del’s just another hoodlum caught up in a killing abroad? What do you care, if there’s nothing to link you to it? Just keep out of it – that’s my advice.’
‘But Tam’s shitting himself because, four weeks after this happens, there was a hit on some old geezer. The university guy in London. It was all over the papers. Guy got shot in the head in a café in the middle of London. They’re saying it was some Russian gangsters who did it.’
Ruby’s stomach lurched and she hoped the colour wasn’t rising in her face as she pictured the old guy slipping off his chair, his brains all over the wall.
‘I vaguely remember the story,’ she lied, re-crossing her legs, knowing Tony would focus his mind on them. ‘The papers will say anything. And even if it was Russians, what the Christ has that got to do with Tam? Or you?’
‘Because the fucking lecturer was in Berlin. He was there. He must have been working with the cops or the secret service or some fucking thing. He must have been part of the operation.’
‘I find that hard to believe,’ Ruby screwed up her eyes. ‘A university lecturer in a shoot-out with Russian mobsters and arms dealers?’
‘He was there. Definitely. And now he’s dead.’
‘How do you know he was there?’
‘The Russians told Tam.’