The Betrayal

by Linda Tweedie

  As Erin walked back through the compound, she drew the attention of many of the inmates who reacted with jeers, catcalls and ribald comments. Erin, thankfully, could not translate them, but she knew exactly what they meant.

  Her cellmate was Cindy Fairchild, a petite blonde who hailed from Texas, serving ten years for drug smuggling. Cindy had been a naïve eighteen-year-old who had been groomed by some guy twice her age, and who she still believed would be waiting on the outside for her.

  This is who I’ve to take heed of? Erin thought to herself. She must be as mad as a box of frogs. Shit. I’m doomed if she’s my best hope.

  Although Cindy seemed crazy, she knew everything that was going down on the wing and, small as she was, she could take on all-comers. Everyone on the wing, prisoners and officers alike, liked Cindy. She never complained, never caused trouble, was always ready for a laugh and could procure anything.

  Although she didn’t know it yet, Erin Coyle had just won first prize in the prison lottery.

  Finally allowed to shower and dress, Erin was accompanied to her new cell by the same prison officer she had thumped when she arrived. The woman maintained a stream of vitriolic threats on the journey, but of course Erin had no idea what was being said, which was just as well.

  Her introduction to Cindy wasn’t much better. The officer pushed Erin into the cell with such force that she fell sprawling into the small room, knocking over all of her cellmate’s possessions.

  “For God’s sake,” shouted the little blonde bomber, pushing Erin with equal force so that she fell backwards and knocked over the prison officer.

  “Shit, I’ll probably go straight back to solitary for this.”

  “No, you’ll be okay,” came a genuine Texan drawl. “Wanna start over?” the girl held out her hand to Erin.

  “We don’t have much choice, do we?”

  “Oh, we have a choice okay, but I don’t think you’re gonna like the alternative. So, we gonna start over again, missy?” Again, she held out her hand.

  Unbelievably Erin was laughing at her companion. “For a tiddler you’ve certainly got gumption.”

  “Gumption? What the hell language are you speaking, girl? They said you spoke English.”

  “I do. This is the Scottish version,” Erin smiled at her.

  Hidden Treasure

  His plan couldn’t have gone any better. Bobby had spiked Erin’s last cocktail with a shot of Rohypnol, the infamous date rape drug. For someone like Bobby, obtaining this drug was as easy as buying sweeties.

  As soon as he had seen the drug beginning to take effect, he had led Erin outside where two police officers were already waiting. To any observer it would simply be a case of another drunk being ejected from the club, nothing unusual in that. He had paid off enough people to ensure his plan was carried out to the letter and that she would remain in custody for the foreseeable future. But, just in case there was a hiccup and should something go amiss, it was imperative he hid the boy immediately.

  “Bobby! Leave him till the morning, you can’t wake him now, it’s the middle of the night.”

  “He’s going now, Ma. I’m well aware of your plans. Did you really think Munozo wouldn’t tell me what was going on? Especially since I’m the boy’s father. So go back to bed and let me deal with this.”

  “Surely there’s some other way, Bobby? We can’t let him go to strangers. What if they don’t treat him properly? Your father would have a fit if he knew what you were proposing.”

  “My father would agree entirely with me. I vowed to get even with Coyle and there is no better way than this. The boy won’t come to any harm and they’re being well paid to look after him.”

  “You can’t guarantee that. He should be with us, we should do it legally.”

  “Enough! It’s all in hand. I promise it’s only for a while. As soon as it’s possible, I’ll bring him home.”

  “Well, in that case I’m coming with you.”

  “We’ve been over this before. The less you know, the better.”

  “Do you think I’m some kind of mug?” she asked. “Listen, boy, I was pulling scams with your father before you were even thought of, so I’m coming. Get over yourself.”

  “Well, if you know all the dodges, you’ll know I’m right. Remember, Coyle will do anything to find his grandson, and if he thinks you have any knowledge of his whereabouts, he’ll get the information out of you one way or another and take great pleasure in doing so. This is for your own good, Ma.

  Reluctantly, Diane had to concede to her son’s request.

  The child and all his possessions were packed and transported to a cruiser with O’Farrell already on board. Ryan did not appreciate being wakened in the middle of the night and certainly not by a strange man. The boy screamed for the whole journey; nothing and nobody would calm him down.

  “Shit, if anything was ever going to put me off kids, this one would,” Bobby groaned.

  “He’s certainly got a healthy pair of lungs,” remarked the canon.

  The foster family were waiting on the jetty for their arrival. With the least amount of ceremony, the child was handed over, along with the balance of the cash and Bobby and his accomplice made their way back to Marbella.

  Just as the club was closing, Bobby hooked up with his latest paramour, the Swede, who would swear he’d never left the club that night. Across town, his partner-in-crime poured himself a generous measure of cognac and made a silent toast to Mr Patrick Coyle. Revenge was sweet.

  Bobby received news the following afternoon that Erin had been remanded in custody and transferred to the infamous women’s prison in Malaga. Thanks to a generous backhander to the sister of one of his staff, he’d already been informed that prisoner Coyle had been causing ructions.

  The apple didn’t fall far from the tree in her case. Sweet and demure though Erin looked, she had the steel core of the Coyles and she would fight her corner. Even better, he learned there would be no chance of her being released early. Her first three days had been spent in solitary.

  Towards the end of Erin’s first week in prison, Diane received a call from Bridget, looking for her daughter. Diane had managed to avoid speaking to her for as long as possible, but Bridget eventually caught up with her at the club.

  “What the hell is going on, Diane? I’ve been trying to reach you for days. I need to speak to Erin. We’ve had a bereavement in the family.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Bridget, but I’m a busy woman. Why would you want to speak to me about Erin? She left last weekend. I did try to persuade her to stay on longer, but she had a family party or something to attend.”

  “Don’t talk rubbish, Diane, of course she’s with you. Where else would she be? She didn’t return home. She texted me to say she was staying with you and would be back the following week.”

  “I’m sorry, my dear, I don’t know what to say to you. I would have loved to have had her and the wee lad here for longer, but it was a no go. I don’t think she and Bobby hit it off too well. Maybe she met someone? You know what young girls are like.”

  “Not my young girl,” snapped Bridget.

  “No? Let’s face it, she managed to bring home more than a donkey and sombrero as souvenirs from her last trip.”

  Diane’s sarcasm was certainly not lost on Bridget.

  “So you’re trying to tell me that my daughter and your grandson went to the airport, waved their friends off and vanished?”

  “I’m not trying to tell you anything, Bridget. I haven’t seen them since they left my home the night before they were due to fly out. I’m sorry I can’t help you any further, but if I hear anything I’ll be sure to call,” and she replaced the receiver.

  “That bitch is lying, Paddy. She knows fine where Erin is, but for whatever reason she’s not being forthcoming.”

  “Maybe they’ve gone off and got married?” Paddy ventured. “You know, I wouldn’t put it past her. She’s changed.”

  “No, Paddy she hasn’t. It’s you w
ho’s changed.”

  “Me! How do you make that out?” He didn’t really want to hear the answer.

  “Look, this isn’t about you, Paddy. There’s something wrong here. You know full well she would never be out of touch for this long, especially now she has Ryan.”

  “I can’t do anything until the funeral is over tomorrow. If we haven’t heard anything by then, I’ll go and find them. Keep trying her number and I’ll get somebody to check the hospitals, just in case.”

  “Oh, Paddy, surely not? She’s had enough trauma in her life already.”

  “Stop worrying, I’ll sort it.”

  There was a line of black limos along the street and round the corner to where Tommy Riley plied his trade. For any other funeral Tommy would have stopped trading out of respect, but not this time, not for that wanker. The shitebag had beaten him to the chase. Before he could report his suspicions, the fucker had gone and overdosed. They were all trying to keep it quiet, but if Theresa knew, the world knew. She didn’t mean to open her gob, she just couldn’t help it. It didn’t explain why Sean’s big mate, the quiet one, had climbed out of the ground floor window the night Sean died, but that information would keep for now.

  St. Jude’s was packed to the rafters and all of Glasgow’s top families were out in force. All contrite and professing their sorrow at the family’s loss. These were the same faces who, only a short while ago, had been ready to string him up for a measly ten grand.

  Much to Paddy’s disgust, Sean was given a funeral fit for one of Glasgow’s finest, but for his mother’s sake he went along with it. If it had been up to him the fucker would have been dumped in the Clyde for fish food.

  He and Bridget had to endure hours of the wake, and play the game for Lizzie, Marie and Michael, when all they really wanted to do was go and find their daughter.

  “I’m coming with you, Paddy, so don’t argue. She’s my daughter too,” insisted Bridget.

  For once Paddy put up no argument. Arrangements with his old pilot pal, Ritchie, had been finalised the day before and by five a.m. the day after the funeral, the Coyles were in the air.

  Before most people had finished their breakfast, the pair had arrived in Marbella and begun their search.

  The Long Wait

  The days dragged interminably. Prisoners were on lock-up for twenty-two out of twenty-four hours, which created a virtual pressure cooker of emotions, and fights were constant.

  On her first day in the wing Erin had been accosted by the wing’s top dog and her posse. She’d been cornered in the rec room where the gang of women set about her for no other reason than the fact she was foreign. But Erin was no soft mark; years of self-defence classes meant she was well equipped for such a situation. She had fought back as if her life depended on it, which it may well have done. She took out three of them, including the ringleader, before the fight was stopped by one of the screws who had been watching from the sidelines. Apart from a few other minor incidents, Erin was more than able to defend herself.

  Her biggest frustration was not being able to contact anyone on the outside. She was desperate to get in touch with her family. Her mother would be beside herself with worry that she hadn’t called or texted since the message saying she’d be back at the end of the week. Paddy, despite his gruff exterior, would be just as bad, especially since Ryan was involved too. There had to be a way to get in touch with them, but how? Despite several requests, the governor would not permit international calls. Erin would have to make contact through a third party here in Spain and, other than the Macks, there was no else she could turn to – or was there? Of course. Her son’s godfather, the mayor. Why had she not thought of him before now?

  Her request to phone Mayor Munozo was denied by the governor as being inappropriate, despite the fact that he was alleged to be the godfather of the prisoner’s son. Erin assumed that the mayor was in the pocket of the Macks and would not help.

  “Is there no-one at all you can think of?” asked her cellmate.

  “Well, a couple of guys who live here helped my dad out last year.”

  “Surely they’re worth a try. Would they know who you are?”

  “Oh, they’d know who I was alright. I know it sounds a bit far-fetched, but I was kidnapped here and held hostage by the family who have Ryan.”

  “Jesus, girl, life sure as hell ain’t boring around you. You were kidnapped and now you’ve been set up as a drugs mule? Shit, don’t offer to meet up with me on the outside. We’d probably be sold to the white slave trade.”

  “That’s nothing. I also lost my voice for nearly ten years.”

  “What?” laughed the American. “You just mislaid it for a while, or you really lost the ability to speak?”

  “I lost the ability to speak. Don’t you notice my voice comes and goes when I get stressed?”

  “Lady, everyone in here is stressed to the max, so a little ole frog in your throat ain’t gonna alert the National Guard, honey. How did it happen?”

  “A bunch of gunmen shot up my First Communion party and I was so traumatised I was struck dumb.”

  “Jesus! How did you fix it?”

  “I’m not sure if I want to tell you,” laughed Erin. “It sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud.”

  “Go on, tell me.” Cindy was enthralled and it certainly made her own story seem tame.

  “Well, the father of my baby’s father was about to shoot my father and I managed to warn him and save his life.”

  “Get out!” said the American. “Hey, I’m supposed to be the one protecting you, not that that’s an issue. You can certainly stand up for yourself. I have to say, I was worried when I heard Roseanne and her bitches were planning a reception committee, but you were like something out of a Bruce Lee film. I’m sure you dislocated her jaw.”

  “Yeah, I probably did. Look, this is all very well, but it’s not helping me get in touch with my folks.”

  “No problem. For a small fee most of the screws will help out. There’s Marta, for instance,” Cindy pointed to an officer standing by the snooker table. “She’ll do most things for the right price.”

  “I’ve got no money, but I’m sure these guys would see her okay, they’d know my dad would be good for it.”

  The prison officer leaned against the door jamb, listening to what the girls had to say. “And who exactly is it you want me to get a message to?”

  “Two of my father’s associates. One is called Charley Taylor, he owns a bar somewhere in the old town.”

  Marta’s eyebrows shot up when Taylor was mentioned. “So, Scotty, you know people in high places, do you?”

  “The other one I only know by his nickname, Nick the Greek.” The officer’s eyebrows almost shot to the back of her head.

  “You want me to go and meet with this man? I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?” asked Cindy.

  “He is probably the most feared man on the Costas. I can’t help you, sorry,” She made to walk away.

  “Hang on, Marta. If he’s so feared, would you not worry that if he discovered you wouldn’t help me, he’d be very angry with you?”

  “I don’t think you have a choice, Marta. You have to get a message to him.” Cindy smirked at her cellmate.

  “Come back before the end of your shift and I’ll write him a note. I’ll make sure you are well compensated.”

  “I don’t want anything.”

  There was no such thing as a private conversation in the prison and by now most of the wing was in the know. The bitches who had threatened and bullied Erin during her short stay were now desperate to get into her good books.

  As expected, Marta collected Erin’s letter and reluctantly agreed to deliver it. Her first thought was to contact Charlie Taylor and endeavour to get him to pass the note on. She was anxious not to have to deliver it in person.

  “I’m sorry, but Mr Taylor is out of town,” the barman informed her. “He won’t be back until early next week, is there something I can do?” />
  “No, I don’t think so, I have something I must deliver to one of his associates,” the officer didn’t dare use the name she’d been given.

  “Well, Charlie won’t be around, so if it’s urgent you can leave it here. Most of his mates come in at some point during the day. Who is it addressed to?”

  She showed the young man the envelope and he smiled. “I understand why you don’t want to deliver this yourself, but sorry, I can’t help you.” He looked at his watch, “You’ll catch him in the Double Deuce. He usually stops off there on his way home, but you’ll have to be quick.”

  Marta dashed back out into the street. She wanted this errand over and done with. Preoccupied, she didn’t see the car speeding down the road. The envelope fluttered away on impact.

  The Visit

  “Hold on, I’m coming.” Diane Mack pulled on a silk dressing gown.

  Who the hell was banging on the apartment door this early, before her housekeeper was on duty? Diane peered through the spy-hole and her heart almost leapt into her mouth. Christ, they were here already. She opened the door to Paddy and Bridget Coyle.

  Paddy grabbed her roughly and snarled right in her face. “Okay, missus, start talking.” He pushed her backwards into the huge open lounge. “And don’t give me any bullshit, I’m sure you’ll remember what I told you the last time we had a situation. Well, the same applies. Where are my daughter and grandson?”

  “I told her,” she pointed at Bridget “I don’t know.”

  “Shame I don’t believe you,” growled Paddy.

  “I’ve not seen or heard from Erin since the night before she was leaving.”

  “That’s not what we’ve been told,” Paddy bluffed.