Evidence of Death

by Peter Ritchie

  ‘We should wait – we need backup,’ he pleaded but knew he was wasting his time. He got out of the car beside her.

  Nelson was opposite the mosque when he noticed her. He frowned when he realised how badly hurt she was. ‘Jesus, Grace Macallan. I didn’t expect to see you here. You’re the smart one, right enough.’

  She couldn’t hear him and struggled with what it was she was going to do. She tried to raise the gun, but her arm couldn’t lift it. McGovern tried to take it from her, but it was as if her hand was moulded onto the grip.

  Nelson lifted his weapon and pointed it at them. ‘Just leave it there.’ He took a few steps towards them to close the gap. ‘This didn’t need to happen, and I’m sorry, but you should have kept out of it.’ He intended to kill the policeman first, because although he was hurt, he looked like he could still handle himself.

  Macallan couldn’t see it through her blurred vision, but McGovern did. Walking behind Nelson, almost at a trot, was a man in leathers and a crash helmet. About fifty yards back another man sat calmly on a motorbike, watching the events unfold.

  Just as Nelson was about to pull the trigger, the man behind him put one into the back of his skull. Nelson fell forward and was dead before he hit the ground. The gunman put another two into what was left of his brain for good measure, looked up at Macallan and McGovern and then walked backwards, keeping his eye on the gun still dangling at the end of her arm. He jumped up onto the bike and the two men took off to pick up their van.

  Macallan fell to her knees for a minute then keeled over before losing consciousness. McGovern dropped down beside her, turning Macallan on her side in case she threw up and choked. He thought about his wife and promised himself he would buy her that dinner before he called the office, told them what had happened, then piled Macallan back into the car to get them to a hospital.

  45

  Within ten minutes of killing Billy Nelson, the gunmen had put the bike in the back of the van. Less than an hour later they pulled into a scrapyard on the outskirts of Glasgow where two men were waiting for them. They stripped off all their clothing and it was burnt as they were washed down with a hose. They changed into fresh clothes and then took separate cars for the rest of their journey. One of them was taken to a safe house in Larkhall and the other to Govan, within spitting distance of Ibrox Stadium. They would be kept there till the press coverage of the events in Edinburgh had dropped off the front pages and then they would return quietly to Belfast.

  As the unknown assassins were being driven to their safe houses, another team were in a van parked about a hundred yards from the gates of Dominic ‘Magic’ McGinty’s home. He’d just eaten breakfast and clapped the neck of his favourite Rottweiler, who was nuzzling his leg under the table.

  ‘Come on, darlin’; I’ll take you into the garden for a wee pee.’ He smiled at the dog, who was his favourite creature in the world.

  He walked out of the front door of his house and the dog ran to the edge of the bushes where he squatted down happily. Gordon the minder stood at the door and thought once again that working for Magic wasn’t a bad life.

  Magic was standing only a few yards behind the gates of his home, which were open. He was annoyed when he noticed that. He kept telling his minders to ‘keep the fuckers shut at all times’, but he knew they had shit for brains and shook his head at the dog.

  The two men in the back of the van saw their chance. ‘Let’s go for it, Frankie.’

  The other man nodded and the back doors were opened a few inches, which was all the sniper needed to give him a clear sight of his target. Like Nelson he’d been trained in the British Army, and he was good at what he did. It had been a while since he’d made a hit and wasn’t going to pass up the chance. A hundred yards was nothing, but he ran through the drill, making sure he was ready before pulling the trigger.

  McGinty felt the chill through his thin shirt; he called to the dog and smiled as it lumbered towards him. The bullet entered his left eye and exited the rear of his head together with half his skull. Gordon froze as Magic twitched on the ground, and he watched the dog yelp in confusion before pushing his master’s dead arm with his nose.

  Gordon grabbed the dog by the collar and pulled it back inside. The other dogs in the kennels behind the house sensed something terrible and panicked.

  The van containing the gunmen was already driving steadily away, taking them towards their own safe houses. The driver shouted to the two men in the back: ‘Jackie will be pleased, boys. Good job.’

  46

  Macallan became aware of light as she regained consciousness. She still had her eyes closed, but she felt warm and safe, and she wanted to stay there for a while. There were voices and sounds but they weren’t clear. Eventually she knew she’d have to re-enter the world, but she was afraid of what she would find. Part of the events at Fettes and the mosque had flooded back into her mind, and she wasn’t sure what damage she’d suffered. The thought that any of her limbs were gone or that her face might be scarred terrified her, and she moaned involuntarily.

  ‘Grace, can you hear me?’

  It was Jack Fraser. She opened her eyes and sobbed. He took her hand gently. It was still wrapped in bandages.

  ‘You’re okay. Everything’s fine, I promise you.’

  She realised there weren’t any bandages on her face. ‘How do I look?’ she said in no more than a croak.

  ‘Terrible, but the doc says you’ll make a full recovery.’

  ‘What about Jimmy?’

  ‘He’s fine and the same as you. Lesley Thompson is quite badly hurt, but she’ll recover – though she’ll carry a few scars. Just rest.’ He bent over and kissed her gently. ‘The other main thing is that the baby is fine, though God knows how.’

  ‘The baby?’

  ‘The baby. You’re pregnant.’ He smiled, and he wasn’t joking.

  ‘I can’t be.’

  ‘Well, it beats that fucking budgie, Grace.’ Harkins had come up behind Fraser and put a hand on his shoulder.

  ‘Mick told me the budgie story, and you’re right – he takes the piss something rotten.’

  She smiled weakly at the two men then dropped back into a deep sleep.

  47

  Mick Harkins still had his sources, and his relationship with Felicity Young looked like it might be back on the cards, so when she’d told him all about the chief super’s treatment of his friend, Harkins had known exactly what to do. He’d always kept his sources onside and they’d reported any misconduct they’d come across, particularly among senior officers. His ability to drop people in the shit was legendary and had saved his skin a few times. He hadn’t told Macallan the full story about the chief super – there was more; much, much more – but he’d told her enough. He was addicted to renting young men as well as young women, and sometimes both at the same time. He’d done a good job of keeping it quiet, but not from the extended reach of Mick Harkins, who was about to royally fuck him over.

  He called Jacquie Bell and told her the news about Macallan.

  ‘Jesus, who’s the father, Mick?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, it’s not me if that’s what you’re asking.’

  They both laughed, knowing that motherhood would be a shock and a half to the woman who’d always been married to the job.

  ‘Anyway, Jacquie, how would you like to ruin the life and career of the chief super?’ he said, getting to the real reason he’d called.

  ‘Bring it on, big boy – I can’t stand the bastard.’

  Epilogue

  Pat Fleming tried again to call Kristina Orlova, but she wasn’t answering. It was the same for some of her regulars who’d come back to the city with no idea what had happened to her at the hands of Billy Nelson.

  Pat turned to his brother, who was pissed off hearing about it. ‘Still not answering, Eddie. Just don’t get it,’ he said mournfully.

  ‘Fuck her. It’s over so just deal with it.’

  Eddie turned to his team, who were
back together and had re-established a grip on the drugs business in Edinburgh. ‘I’ll never let what happened with those Belfast bastards happen again. Anyone takes us on in future, we go in hard and finish it before there’s a problem.’

  His team nodded and what they saw was strength. Eddie was young, but he definitely had the balls to do the business. As long as he could keep proving it – he would be safe until the day he forgot that or a younger ambitious beast came along.

  His phone warbled the tune of The Sweeney. It was Cue Ball Ross.

  ‘Hear you’re back in charge, Eddie. Never did like those Belfast bastards – just too fuckin’ macho for me.’

  Eddie smiled at Cue Ball accusing someone else of being too macho. ‘What can I do for you?’ he asked, already knowing the answer.

  ‘Put me back on the list for a regular order. Same as before.’

  ‘The rate’s gone up a bit.’ Eddie was testing the water, and the phone went quiet for a moment.

  ‘That’s fine, but I need it sharpish.’

  Fleming put the phone down and nodded to his team. Order had been restored.

  Orlova walked through the concourse at the airport and looked at the departures. Only twenty minutes to boarding for the flight to Vilnius and home. A few men had to turn their heads as she passed, and for all the world she looked like a successful businesswoman living the dream.

  When she sat down on the plane she leaned back and closed her eyes. She was going home.

  Macallan was ordered to take at least a month off by her doctors and there was no point in fighting it, given her injuries and the baby growing inside her. Fraser rented a cottage on the Antrim coast of Northern Ireland, and for a few short weeks they got to know each other again and lived like normal people. That’s all they wanted. The only bit of excitement came when she checked the news online one day and saw that the chief super had resigned following revelations in the press about his grubby sex life. The article had been written by Jacquie Bell, and Macallan shook her head.

  ‘I see the long arm of Mick Harkins in this,’ she said to the computer screen. But it was the footnote to the article that made her sit back – John O’Connor had been promoted into the vacant post.

  ‘The games people play,’ she said, prompting Fraser to turn from reading his paper.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Nothing. Nothing at all. Let’s go for a walk along the cliffs.’

  GRACE MACALLAN RETURNS IN

  Shores of Death

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