‘Jim Reedly.’
Vinnie hadn’t seen that coming. ‘No need to guess now. But where did those two get a grenade, and how did they know Reedly would be there?’
‘Questions I’m hoping a further chat with Reedly might help answer.’
‘Where is he?’
‘North Manchester General Hospital, under armed guard. Incidentally, Vinnie, I think it’s time you called into a local armoury and re-equipped yourself for defensive purposes. I’ll get the relevant authorities signed by Darlington, to keep it secret.’
‘Ok Harry, if you text me when Darlington’s signed and informed the Greater Manchester Police, I’ll call in at one of the city centre nicks and collect a handgun and a clip of ammo. Then I’ll go and pay Reedly a visit. But why use a hand grenade? We know they have guns.’
‘Been wondering the same; perhaps it’s to do with the topography at the cemetery? As you know handguns are only effective close up, but if they could get hold of a bloody hand grenade you’d have thought a rifle would have been easy enough to source.’
‘Unless they wanted to make a show of it?
‘I’ll be able to sus it more when I get there.’ Harry said, before adding, ‘Any questions before I get going?’
‘Just one, Harry, whose funeral was it?’
‘Some bloke called Devers; apparently he was Reedly’s brother-in-law.’
‘He shouldn’t have attended without protection.’
‘I’m guessing he didn’t want to turn a sombre occasion in to a spectacle just because he was going,’ Harry said.
Vinnie could understand that on reflection, but still couldn’t work out how the bad guys could have known. ‘Fair enough I suppose,’ Vinnie conceded, before adding, ’But who exactly was this Devers bloke, anyway?’
‘I’ve only got the scantest of details yet, Vinnie, all I know for now is that he died of a heart attack within the last two days whilst going about his business.’
‘What was his business?’
‘Nothing significant; he was just a milkman from Preston.’
Chapter Thirty
‘How are you feeling?’ Vinnie asked, as he entered the private room on the first floor of the North Manchester General Hospital. The armed police constable, who had checked his warrant card before letting him in, popped his head back around the door.
‘The doc say’s you’ve got five minutes, sir, Mr Reedly’s been through a lot.’
Vinnie nodded at the constable before turning back to face Reedly, who was on his side with several pillows supporting his back, his bed up against a wall.
‘I’ve felt better Palmer, but I’m ok.’
‘Please call me Vinnie.’
‘Ok, it’s Jim, too.’
Vinnie noticed a distinct difference in Reedly, since they’d last spoke. ‘Ok Jim, we are on the same side.’
‘I know.’
‘I understand your reactions probably saved some of the group from certain death, including yourself.’
‘I just wish I’d kept my arse below ground level.’
‘How bad are your injuries?’
‘I’ll probably need some restoration work doing on my right buttock, which is a mess; but as I said, I’m ok, I’m alive.’
In any other circumstances Vinnie would have allowed himself a smile at Reedly’s injuries, but he knew now was not the moment. ‘I was hoping you might have had time to think?’
‘It can only have been the same two. But how did they know where I’d be?’
‘I was hoping you could help with that one.’
‘Look, I told no one I was attending. I even told my sister that I couldn’t make it. I just turned up.’
Vinnie thought for a moment before speaking. ‘Why was Devers buried so quickly?
‘He was Jewish; it’s part of their faith apparently, to have the burial as soon as possible and usually within twenty-four hours. I wondered if it was terrorist related.’
‘I’m sure the investigation team will be looking at all possibilities. But what did he die of?’
‘Heart attack apparently, which surprised us all, he was always so fit.’
‘And you told absolutely no one you were attending?’
‘No one.’
‘What if Quintel and his mate learned of Devers’ death and turned up hoping, but not knowing, that you’d be there?’
‘It’s possible, I guess, but they’d have done well to find out that he was my brother-in-law.’
This was true, Vinnie thought, then he remembered how well connected Quintel was with local petty crimes. Was it Dempster? Then another thought hit him.
‘Jesus. What if it wasn’t a heart attack? What if the attack on Devers was a pre-curser to getting at you? We’ll need to consider a full re-examination of Devers by a home office pathologist.’ Vinnie knew that if no foul play had been suspected, and the circumstances of Devers’ death pointed to a heart attack, then the post mortem operation would have been very limited. The doctor would have gone straight to the heart and probably nowhere else. A home office pathologist, however, as were used in all homicides, would have examined every inch of his body, and looked beyond the obvious.
‘You’re not suggesting what I think you are, are you?’
Vinnie nodded, and Reedly groaned. Both of them sat in quiet contemplation before Reedly broke the silence.
‘If these two twats are that serious, then I may have an idea as to motive.’
Vinnie pulled a notebook and pen from his pocket before asking Reedly to carry on.
‘I did some work for Carstair when he was the secretary of state for Northern Ireland back in the mid to late nineties. I was a DI, like you, but was seconded to the Royal Ulster Constabulary, with a remit to look at all killings by the security forces, to see which ones could be written off as “justifiable homicides”. I was supposed to give the issue an air of independence, but in truth the powers that be just didn’t want to see police or army being erroneously put on trial for murder in order to satisfy certain sections, only to be later acquitted because their actions had actually been lawful.’
Vinnie took a second to absorb what he was being told.
‘Look, this is all highly classified, so it stops with you, Delany and Darlington, ok?’
‘Of course,’ Vinnie answered, not sure whether he’d be able to keep that promise.
Reedly looked reassured, and carried on. ‘We had some highly classified cases to inspect back then, and that didn’t make me very popular with the Provos – Irish Republican Army. As to exactly who are behind these attacks and why now, after all these years, I honestly don’t know. But if Quintel is who I now think he is, you need to be very careful, Vinnie.’
‘Why didn’t you tell us this before?’
‘It was only really after Carstair copped it that I started to put it together. But if Quintel is working for some disgruntled Provo, then he’ll be a very dangerous man.’
‘Are you telling me that it was your job to make killings committed by the police or army into justifiable homicides, even if they were murders?’ Vinnie asked.
‘Don’t you dare insult my integrity. Even though it was war in all but name, the good guys had to play by Queensbury rules. A squaddie, or Special Branch man, would shoot a terrorist who was on his way to bomb the shit out of a shopping centre or wherever, and the tossers in Whitehall wanted to put the squaddie or whoever on-fucking-trial. I wasn’t there to cover things up, but to stop politically motivated false accusations.’
Vinnie knew he’d touched a nerve, but had had to ask the question. Whether he was convinced by the answer, he wasn’t sure. But that would no doubt be an issue for others to consider when this was all over. On the one hand, Reedly seemed to over-defend himself; but then he had opened up about it willingly. Even if a serious threat to his life was the incentive. ‘Look, I didn’t mean to insult you, but regardless of how honourably you did do your job, I’m guessing you were in “a lose-lose situation”.’
> ‘You can say that again. The killings of the pro-Unionist terrorists were a lot less in number, but that was only because they were a lot smaller in number than the IRA - who conversely made far more attacks so lost a greater number of their members to intervention by the security forces. But I did my job as honestly as I could, and without fear of intimidation.’
‘But I’m guessing the IRA in particular didn’t see it that way.’
‘You could say that.’
Vinnie knew it must have been a hell of job getting any terrorist to trial over there during the troubles. He remembered reading about the Diplock courts that had been brought in at the time, where the usual jury trial system had been suspended and replaced with a single judge. It had proved impossible to get an impartial jury due to the sectarian religious divides, so a report to government by Lord Diplock had recommended that trial by jury be abolished in terrorism cases. The courts had since returned to the normal jury system now, but certain cases could still be heard without a jury in exceptional circumstances. ‘I’m guessing the Diplock courts would have been used for a trial involving homicide, where the defendant was a policeman or a soldier? I mean, at least then just a judge would weigh the evidence on its facts without having to rely on a biased jury.’
‘No guarantees, but regardless, it was my job to prevent erroneous prosecutions from the outset, irrespective of whether any trial would have been by jury or judge alone.’
‘That was some poisoned shamrock you had then. Mr Unpopular from all sides.’
‘Would it answer your question if I told you that the IRA targeted me twice?’
Vinnie didn’t answer, but asked, ‘When did you leave?’
‘They pulled me out in ninety-eight as the peace process was being negotiated between the government and the terrorists.’
‘Why didn’t you mention any of this when we last spoke?’
‘Because I didn’t want to consider it. Many years of relative peace have passed since then. There is a power sharing assembly running Northern Ireland now, staffed by both Republicans and Unionists, so any grievances about my work should be well in the past. I still don’t understand why now?’
Reedly had asked a very good question, one that Vinnie couldn’t even guess at.
‘I mean, it still might be nothing to do with that, but when Quintel goes to these lengths, and starts lobbing grenades…,’ Reedly added.
‘Did you do any other sensitive work for Carstair?’
‘Yes, but only the usual stuff; preparing reports on organised crime and such when he became home secretary later on. My work in Ulster was the only operational stuff.’
‘Ok,’ Vinnie said, adding, ‘can you think of any individual case that stands out?’
‘Trust me, I’m thinking as hard as I can, but there were quite a few, and after I left all the files were shredded.’
‘Convenient,’ Vinnie added.
‘Just security. Though any that went to a coroner were obviously preserved, and will be locked away in various court vaults, but the vast majority that were not marked for investigation with a view to prosecution, were held by Carstair, who told me he’d disposed of them once the peace agreement had been signed.’
‘Should he have done that?’ Vinnie asked.
‘Not too sure if I’m honest with you, but he was the home secretary by then.’
And we can’t exactly ask him about it now, Vinnie thought. ‘But why now after all these years?’ he asked.
‘I only wish I knew, and that’s the truth,’ Reedly said.
Vinnie believed him. Then the door swung open and the constable popped his head in.
‘Sorry, sir, but the doc say’s your time’s up.’
Vinnie nodded at the cop before checking that Reedly still had his mobile number, and asked him to keep in touch before saying his goodbyes. As he made his way out of the huge hospital complex he was wondering how he was going to brief Harry with all this. It would no doubt trigger some serious head-rubbing.
Chapter Thirty-One
‘I didn’t really want to tell you all this over the phone, but as it’s getting late, I thought you’d want to know rather than wait until the morning,’ Vinnie said.
‘I’d rather not have heard all this at all, but yes, thanks,’ Harry replied.
‘If Reedly is right, at least the motive should open up new lines of enquiry.’
‘If he’s right. But potentially, yes. That said, the need for caution and a covert approach to this is all the more necessary now. Have you collected your sidearm?’
‘Yes, thanks, and two clips of ammo. I’ll be in the office early in the morning, if only to beat the traffic. Is there anything you want me to do before then?’
‘We’ll need to consider applying to court for an exhumation of Devers’ body, but I’ll get the original pathologist’s report faxed here first. My first task is to brief the chief constable; he will be pleased.’
‘I was thinking about paying Dempster a visit. I could do that tonight if you want?’ Vinnie said.
‘Leave it until the morning, Vinnie, he’ll more than likely be in his pit then and you may as well have an evening off while you can.’
‘What about you?’
‘I’ll be heading back to Manchester just as soon as I’ve been to see Darlington.’
Vinnie didn’t envy his boss on that one. If Reedly was correct, finding Quintel and his thug mate would only be the start of it. He ended the call and went into his kitchen to grab a cold beer before returning to the lounge. He relaxed into his leather recliner before musing over events. He purposely hadn’t told Harry about Christine’s evening with Paul Bury. What she was doing was all about life in Northern Ireland now, many years post the peace agreement of ninety-nine - or the "Good Friday Agreement” as it was known as. Although Vinnie knew that the power-sharing agreements had been made in Belfast on Good Friday in 1998 between the UK and Irish governments, it wasn’t until December 1999 that they came into effect. What Reedly was suggesting was from many years before that.
Vinnie made the short visit to his fridge and back before thinking about Paul Bury. He’s a man who traversed both these very different times, and it may be worth asking Christine to see if Bury could add anything that might prove helpful. He reminded himself of Reedly swearing him to secrecy, so he would have to give this one some thought first. Then his phone rang, and he couldn’t believe the timing when he saw who the caller was.
*
Quintel eased himself onto an easy chair with a beer from the mini-fridge, and took the top off it as Jason joined him. ‘We’ll have to get us some more of those things; I mean, how much fun was that?’
‘Well, we do have one left,’ Jason said, before taking a sip of his drink.
‘I know, but will your mate in Birmingham be able to supply us with a few more?’
‘We may have to leave it a while.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, when he sees the news about the cemetery he’ll probably not want to know us until the shit dies down. Just in case.’
Quintel could understand that - the man was a pro and wouldn’t want anything connecting them in any way - for now, anyhow. He’d turned Sky News back on, but there were still no details of the casualties. ‘You’d have thought by now that some fucker would have leaked the details of Reedly’s death?’
‘I wouldn’t worry, Boss, there is no way that he could have survived the blast. Not from that distance.’
Anger flashed through Quintel as he answered. ‘I’m not fucking worried, I just like things confirmed. Which is why I’m the boss. You’d be wise not to forget that, Jason.’
Jason put both hands up in surrender, and Quintel accepted his tacit apology, before adding, ‘It’s not you who will have to speak to that annoying Irish twat.’
Jason nodded, and Quintel’s phone vibrated and danced on the table in front of him. It was a text from the annoying Irish twat. He must have been watching the news.
Twenty m
inutes later, Quintel had gone through the security protocols and was stood in a phone box near their city centre hotel whilst Jason kept the hire car’s engine running nearby. He rang the two halves of the number for the client’s “B” call box. It was answered after the first ring.
‘Did you get the fucker?’ the client asked.
‘Awaiting confirmation, but it’s academic; it was from point blank range, damn near,’ Quintel said.
‘I hope the fucker lived in agony for a bit first. Like the agony him and his kind made me live in; except mine lasted for twenty fucking years.’
The client was off on one, it was time to intercept. ‘If only, but we had to make sure. We had one chance to get at him after last time, and you know what we had to do to make this happen.’
‘I know, I know,’ the client said, as his tone calmed. ‘I’m just thinking out loud, is all.’
‘As soon as we hear confirmation I’ll let you know, then we can discuss your next instructions,’ Quintel said.
‘On that, there might be a slight delay. The fooker is slippery and recent events will have made him more cautious.’
Quintel had no idea what the client was saying. He didn’t even know who the target was. The man had been very circumspect on the details thus far. ‘Ok,’ he said, ‘just let us know when you want us.’
‘Oh, I’ve a nice little job for you in the meantime,’ the client added.
Quintel recalled their previous conversation, when the figure of ten grand had been mentioned. ‘Is this the ten large job you mentioned earlier?’ Quintel knew it would be, but this was a good way to reaffirm the additional fee without being too crass. Only once that was confirmed would he be interested in whom.
‘It is, and it should be a piece of piss for you. Just someone getting in the way.’
Quintel guessed it was an informant of some kind, so knew better that to treat it as “a piece of piss”. ‘Over on our side of the water?’ he asked.
‘Been both, but on your side at the mo,’ the client said, before he gave Quintel the details.
The Badge & the Pen Thrillers Page 39