Throwaways

by Jenny Thomson

  I was marching out the door when he called after me.

  “Nancy, I’ll tell you everything. Just come back.”

  There was something about the way he spoke that made me stop.

  “Okay, you’ve got 2 minutes. Talk and don’t leave anything out.”

  “How much do you know about the military campaign in Iraq?”

  We were sitting at the kitchen table across from one another. We were within touching distance, but we might as well have been thousands of miles apart because I no longer knew the man sitting opposite me. I never had.

  “As much as anyone,” I said, answering his question, whilst wondering why the hell it mattered when I was sitting across from a liar. “The weapons of mass destruction were never found. Tony Blair took us into the war on a lie.”

  Tommy frowned. “I meant the actual operations on the ground.”

  “Same answer,” I snapped. I didn’t need a lesson on the military operation in Iraq. I wanted to know why Tommy had faked his own death.

  Tommy reached his hand out across the table as if he was going to place it on top of mine, but the sour look he got from me made him think twice and he withdrew his hand as if a crocodile had snapped at it.

  He settled for giving me a sincere look instead.

  “I need to explain how things were so you’ll understand why…”

  I jumped in; I couldn’t help myself. “Why you let your own mother believe you were dead and she was alone in the world with a husband who can’t even remember her name. You even lied to me about her being dead. How could you do that?” I probed his eyes for a sign that he felt some shame, but there was none. His gaze was steady. “What else have you lied to me about? How the hell could you lie to me after all we’ve been through together? Right now, there’s a lot of things I don’t understand.”

  The words streamed out and I knew as I hit Tommy with a barrage that I was being a judgmental bitch without being in possession of the facts, but I was so angry at his lies that I wanted him to hurt, the same way I was hurting. After the hell I’d been through I thought I’d never trust a man ever again, but then Tommy came into my life like he’d been parachuted in by my guardian angel and he saved me from certain death and I trusted him implicitly. There had been a few “wee misunderstandings” along the way, like the time I’d tasered and tied him to the bed, but we’d got past that.

  Now I’d discovered the only person I thought I could trust was a filthy liar.

  Tommy’s eyes bored into mine. “You asked for an explanation and I’m gonna give you one.” His voice was no nonsense. “But, before I do you’ve got to promise me that you won’t tell a soul about what I’m going to tell you. I mean it, Nancy. If this comes out, I really will be a dead man and so will Eric.”

  Now I was confused – what did Eric have to do with it?

  Seeing the serious look on Tommy’s face, I decided against making a jibe about me having to sign The Official Secrets Act. “Fair enough.”

  It wasn’t like I had anybody to tell. Having your parents and brother murdered had a tendency to repel people. Even my own aunt had abandoned me. The last time I’d seen her I’d been in the loony bin.

  “I wasn’t in the regular army,” said Tommy. “I was in the SAS. A mission went wrong. One of our lot turned, betrayed us. He gave us up for a big payday. We had to pretend to be dead to protect our families. Eric too.”

  “I don’t understand.” And I genuinely didn’t. “What kind of mission?”

  Tommy eyed me as if I was stupid. “The mission was covert. We were ordered to take out one of the top members of the Iraqi government. He was feeding the enemy intel; intel that cost British lives. We were given the order to take him out of the picture. Our mission was compromised. The target found out what was about to go down from a member of our four-man team and used a decoy. After that, he was going to come after us no matter where we were. That’s why we had to stage our deaths. They had to believe that we were dead. Not just to protect us, but to protect our families. Eric had a wife and two kids he had to leave behind.”

  Of all the thoughts that had been trampling through my mind, this wasn’t one of them. To say I was punch-drunk was an understatement.

  Tommy gave me a disappointed look. “I know it sounds farfetched. Like something out of an Andy McNab novel, but it’s the truth. Haven’t you noticed the mail that comes here isn’t in my real name?”

  What? I hadn’t paid much attention to his mail.

  Tommy went on. “Why I never use the name Tommy McIntyre?” We always ordered pizza under my name. “I’ve got a new identity. For all intents and purposes, Tommy McIntyre is dead.”

  “But, you gave me your real name. Why did you do that?”

  He reached over and used a finger to softly lift a stray hair from my face. This time I didn’t try to stop him. My anger had dissipated, replaced by sorrow at what Tommy and Eric had to give up.

  “As coy as this may sound,” said Tommy, “when I saw you I knew I couldn’t lie to you. You’d been hurt enough.”

  Kissing two of my fingers, I placed them on his lips. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

  There was no doubt in my mind that he was telling the truth. There was one more question I needed to ask.

  Something didn’t add up. “You said you were part of a four-man team. What happened to the guy who wasn’t a rat? Is he still alive?”

  Tommy grimaced. “Joey Boy never made it out of Baghdad alive. He was playing football with these kids. One had a suicide vest. It was remotely detonated as soon as the kid got near him.” A cloud came over Tommy’s features. “Don’t let anyone fool you into believing the Taliban are freedom fighters. They strap bombs to kids for Christ’s sake.”

  Reaching over, I placed one of my hands on top of Tommy’s. “Shit, I’m sorry, Tommy. I didn’t know.”

  And, I genuinely was sorry even though there was no way I could have known.

  “Well, now you do.”

  There was no reproach in his voice; he spoke as though he was stating a fact.

  “Tommy, what happened to the guy who betrayed you? Did you get him?”

  Tommy’s lips curled into a sneer. “Aye, we got the mother fucker, me and Eric and we drilled two bullets into his skull.”

  “Good,” I said and I damned well meant it. The traitor deserved all he got.

  Exhausted by our showdown and feeling that we needed some breathing space, I told Tommy I was going to stay at my place tonight, but he was having none of it.

  “It’s out in the open now and you know, so let’s not make a big deal out of it or have you start acting weird on me.”

  “Okay.” I was relieved. After what he’d told me I didn’t want him to be alone.

  Tommy put a hand on my arm. “And, Nancy, promise me one thing.”

  His face was serious.

  “What?” I asked, dreading what he was going to say.

  “If anyone comes for me, leave it be. Don’t come for me. Don’t try to find me. If you do, they’ll kill you.”

  My head was birling. “What do you mean come for you? Who’s coming for you?”

  I probed his eyes for an answer, but I already knew. Men working for the man he was supposed to kill. “Surely they wouldn’t do that? Not on British soil?”

  Tommy’s face gave me my answer. “Nancy, those people don’t care about borders or international law. They’ll trample over everything and anyone to get what they want. They won’t care if that means killing you.”

  Now I was scared. This was an enemy that even with my training I wasn’t equipped to dealing with. So, when Tommy pleaded with me yet again not to do anything if they came for him, I agreed. But I was lying.

  Come hell or high water, he’d saved me and if it came to it, I’d do all I could to save him or die trying.

  Chapter 20

  “Kim’s been spotted.”

  Tommy peered up from his c
rossword and gave me a so what glance before going back to his paper.

  “Didn’t you hear me?”

  For four long nights, I’d been out here, freezing my barely covered backside off as I waited for Kim to resurface and now she had Tommy was acting as if it was no big deal. He’d feel differently if he was the one tottering about in high heels, wearing fishnets and a leather miniskirt, with enough make-up plastered on to be in the Rocky Horror Show.

  “Aye, I heard you, but you know what that girl’s like. It’s as though she’s got a sixth sense about us wanting to talk to her.”

  Two nights ago, we’d missed her by about 60 seconds. She’d climbed into a red BMW that sped off. There was no time to get the number plate.

  Although Tommy was right about Kim being elusive, this time was different.

  “I was talking to Mandy. You know the older girl with the greasy hair, the nose and lip ring and Cleopatra makeup?”

  Tommy made uh huh noises. Quite a few of the girls looked like that.

  “She says Kim owes her money and she’s meeting her in Takeaway Alley at 11 o’clock.”

  Takeaway Alley was the name given to the most rubbish strewn alley in Glasgow. It was always covered in takeaway boxes, polystyrene cups and plates and decaying food. Most people avoided it because of the stench of mouldy takeaway and the fat rats that feasted on the remnants. This made it the ideal place to meet away from prying eyes.

  Tommy put his pen down. Finally I’d got his attention. “Good. Hopefully she can help us.”

  Kim was the only person we knew of who’d escaped the clutches of the creep who took Sheena and Suzy. She had to know something.

  By ten to eleven we were in position. Whilst Tommy parked at one end of the alley, Eric blocked off the other as I stood in a doorway that reeked of urine and stale takeaway waiting for Kim to show. I’d paid Mandy off, telling her I needed to talk to Kim because we’d done a job together and Kim had run off with my share. All it took was 30 quid to get her to let me go in her place.

  I’d dialled Tommy’s number and put him on speaker so he could hear everything. The last thing we needed was Kim to spot us and bolt. If she ran we’d probably never see her again.

  Two minutes past eleven and Tommy told me a woman was heading my way. Bracing myself, I stepped out of the shadows and came face to face with a living doll.

  “Who are you?” The speaker scrunched up her face as she glared at me through blue beads for eyes. Even in her heels, she was a few inches shorter than me and had cropped orange blonde hair. Her accent was Eastern European.

  “I’m Nancy,” I said, keeping an even tone despite her icy stare. “Mandy can’t make it, but I have your cash and a wee bit extra. I just want to talk to you. It’ll just take a few minutes of your time.”

  I held out a wad of notes.

  Kim scowled at me, but before I could say any more, she stuck out a dainty hand and snatched the money. Then she turned on her heels.

  “Hey,” I shouted.

  That’s when Tommy appeared at her back. He’d been so quiet, I hadn’t heard his approach. She almost walked into him. She yelped and took a few steps to the side as though she thought that’s all it’d take to avoid us.

  Realizing she was cornered, she took off one of her heels and wielded it in one hand like a club.

  “It’s okay,” I said, gently holding out my hands to show I wasn’t carrying anything. “He’s a friend of mine. We don’t want to hurt you. We just want to talk.”

  She didn’t look convinced.

  “We’ll pay you for your time.”

  Tommy handed me more cash and I started to count. Her eyes were trained on the cash; her initial trepidation had gone now the greed had kicked in.

  Her shoulders slumped. “Okay.”

  Despite taking our cash she made it sound like she was doing us a favour.

  “Three weeks ago, you did a job. You and another girl called Sheena.” No reaction, so I carried on talking. “She hasn’t been seen since. We want to find out what happened to her. Her and the other missing girls.”

  Kim’s features were blank. So, this was how she was going to play it.

  Tommy stepped forward with a big grin on his face. “Ditch the accent, Kim. It’s no very good. Where are you fae – Maryhill?”

  A faint smile crossed her elfin features. “How did you know?” Her voice was pure Glaswegian; her face tough rather than doll-like.

  How had Tommy known?

  He could see the question in my eyes. “I’ve been around enough Eastern Europeans to know when I’m being had.”

  “Okay, smart arse,” said Kim. “I’ll answer your questions. But only if you do something for me first. I owe this guy money. Not a nice guy. I owe him 200 quid, but if I give it to him myself he’ll beat seven shades of shit out of me.” She paused, and then said, “If I had the cash to give him.”

  “Is he your drug dealer?” said Tommy.

  Like him, I’d seen the track marks on her hands when she’d grabbed the money.

  Kim tapped her nose. “None of your business pal.” She paused to look at me. “Do this for me and I’ll tell you everything I know.”

  “If we do this how do we know you won’t just disappear?” I said. “We’ll be almost 300 quid out of pocket and without the answers we need.”

  “We,” she said, her eyes lingering on Tommy. “Lucky bitch. Wouldn’t mind giving the hunk a test drive and I wouldn’t even charge for the privilege.”

  She spoke about Tommy like he wasn’t even there.

  It was difficult to be certain in the dull light, but I thought I saw Tommy’s face flush.

  Kim removed a ring from one of her fingers. “This belonged to my baby sister. She’s all grown up now.” She held the gold band with a little horseshoe engraved in a black stone. Take it. It’s the only thing I have of value left. The only thing that means anything to me. After you pay this guy off come and find me here, tomorrow night at the same place and I’ll answer your questions. All of them.”

  Tommy and I exchanged glances. We hadn’t expected this kind of boulder in the road. But there was no way around it. She was the only one who could help us. And she’d be putting her life on the line if she did speak to us. If he found out she’d talked, he might come back to shut her up.

  “Okay,” I said, “give us the details.”

  Her lips curled into a grin.

  Giving her the full focus of my attention, I said, “You better not be messing with us, Kim.”

  Chapter 21

  The name Kim gave us was Francis Colquhoun; a perfectly normal name for a guy who was anything but normal.

  Normal folk don’t try to throw you out of a window after trying to strangle you first, and when you managed to cling on to the window ledge by your fingertips, they don’t use a hammer to try and break your fingers so you’ll plummet to your death.

  Normal people don’t grind cigarettes into a woman’s face because she owes them money or threaten to burn their house down with their children inside.

  Nor do they use drills on people’s skulls to get them to reveal their PIN numbers.

  Yes, our Francis was quite the man for creative inducement.

  We didn’t need to ask Tommy’s contact for these background details – we got the lowdown on Colquhoun when we entered his name into a search engine and added Glasgow court. Just a hunch. Somebody that scared a tough nut like Kim had to be a complete psycho. Because he’d be expecting a woman I’d have to hand over the cash, but Tommy and Eric would be close by and my trusty taser was in my shoulder bag. I was eager to use it on the weasel.

  Francis Colquhoun had a face that could have been moulded out of clay by a five-year-old trying to make a monster; his mouth was twisted in a sneer and he’d bug eyes.

  “Okay, doll,” Colquhoun said when I met him in a street near the old Anderston Bus Station telling him that Kim had sent me, “Hand it over.”

  He took the cash I held out with a grubby paw then ma
de an elaborate play of counting it. “That’s no enough,” he said, eyeing me with disdain. “Skanky bitch has sent you here short.”

  Kim warned us he’d pull that one.

  Keeping my voice level and giving him my best fuck you stare, I said, “No, it’s all there. Every penny she owes.” Then I turned to leave.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Colquhoun curl a greasy paw into a fist and I managed to dodge out the way before he smacked me one. The idiot had telegraphed it.

  “If I say we’re no finished, we’re no finished. Get on your knees, now, bitch. We can come to some arrangement. Go on, help your pal out or I’ll give both of you a wee skelp.”

  He grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me round. His fingers dug into my arm and it bloody well hurt. He was really starting to piss me off.

  Tommy appeared just in time to see me swing my head wildly at Colquhoun. My skull connected with his nose and there was an almighty crack. Blood spurted out, showering the gutter in bloody jam.

  “Fuck, fuck. You broke ma nose.”

  “Aye,” I hissed, “and I’ll cut it off with a rusty blade and feed it to some dogs if I ever hear you’ve hurt another woman again.”

  Even in his disorientated state, he spotted Tommy. He pointed at him with one angry hand whilst he used the other hand to hold his busted nose. The effect was almost comical. “You seen that, you seen that. You’re a witness. Call the cops. She’s a psycho.”

  Tommy winked at him. “Quit whingeing. Could have been worse. She could have used her taser on you.”

  Tommy was chuckling away as we left Colquhoun in the alleyway muttering away about compensation and headed back to the car. But I knew Eric wouldn’t be happy with me. All that training and I’d still resorted to my signature move that he called “street fighting.” But, screw that. What did it matter how I survived as long as I survived?

  I turned to Tommy. “If Kim doesn’t cooperate, I’m sticking the head on her too.”