‘Hello Dave, who’s there,’ she smiled at his frivolous telephone manner, despite her feelings.
‘It’s me Una,’
‘Oh hi, how wonderful to hear your voice. How goes it, no problems I hope?’
‘No, no I was just calling to make sure that we are still on for Friday. I am really looking forward to seeing you again,’ There she had said it, now there was no turning back. ‘I have been making inquiries and the word on the street is that the restaurant is first class,’ she lied.
‘Me too, we seem to be on the same wavelength. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed the pleasure of a female companion, that is if you don’t count you know who,’ he chuckled.
‘Well so long as you are not having second thoughts,’ she said fishing for a compliment.
‘Who me? Pass up the chance to dine with a beautiful lady. Who am I to argue with what fate has decreed? I am really looking forward to spoiling you because I have a small confession to make.’
‘Oh do tell,’ she giggled, her mood having lifted considerably.
‘I hate Walt Disney movies, you saved me from a punishment akin to the rack. Being next to you that night made me feel better than I have since, well,’ he gushed. ‘Did anyone ever tell you that you are great to be with?’
‘Not lately,’ she replied earnestly, certain that she had made the correct decision. ‘I’ll see you on Friday evening Dave, in the Arms okay?’
‘Brilliant, counting the days, bye.’
‘Bye Dave, until Friday then.’ After hanging up she could not resist a final admonishment, ‘What a coward you are Una Reeney,’ using her maiden for the first time since her wedding day. What made me say that? she wondered. That
man does things to me, he’s probably right, it must be fate.
CHAPTER 29
From Scott’s database, Nathan deduced that three of the children were school age, so in all probability she would accompany the youngest pair in the interests of safety. He was correct in his assumption, giving a satisfied sneer as the BMW passed his parked car heading down the Antrim Road. The killer was amazed by the detail in the late policeman’s files. So comprehensive were they indeed that he was aware of the children’s names and dates of birth, even the schools they attended. In the interest of safety he allowed the woman’s car to travel a few hundred yards along the road before pulling out into the traffic. The vehicle had disappeared from view but he was unperturbed having determined its final destination. Approaching the school he was gratified to witness his confidence in Maurice’s information was not misplaced. The bitch’s car sat parked exactly where he expected it to be. So predictable, and there she was, a brat in each hand, every inch the caring parent. ‘My goodness but haven’t you kept yourself in condition, very pretty that is if one’s tastes sway in that direction,’ he scoffed. Nathan was taking his time savouring the excitement of the coming festivities, basking in the power of controlling another human’s destiny. He was tempted to leave a few telltale clues, just to let the silly cow know that she was in danger. What a buzz that would be, he was positively glowing with anticipation. No, this was not the way, there must be no mistakes this time he owed Jason the application of a professional. Gratification will come soon enough when he had the woman and her tribe, he sneered at the noun, totally at his command. Meanwhile he would survey the daily routine of the woman. His objective was to gain entry to the house in order to plan the operation properly. Timing was imperative after all, he did not want her to come home unexpectedly whilst reconnoitring the house. Killing the woman alone would defeat the object therefore he wanted to be ninety nine percent certain of her movements. Women, he had noticed, were creatures of habit and were willing to wager that such would be the case with Una. Twenty minutes elapsed and there she was, so far so good, it stood to reason that she would return home to deal with daily housekeeping chores. His assumptions were way off the mark as she unexpectedly moved off in the opposite direction, stopping at a small café a mile or so down the road. Black frowned, annoyed at his miscalculation, as he watched her take a seat at a table already occupied by two other women. ‘Well well,’ he murmured, ‘I wonder is this a regular tête-à-tête?’ Waiting patiently for her exit from the establishment the Englishman took careful note of the time spent there. At last she was on the move. ‘Excellent, the mother’s meeting took another forty minutes. Where to next one asks?’ In answer to his query she halted adjacent to a newsagent’s shop where she purchased the daily paper and a magazine. Only then did she re-enter the vehicle to make her homeward journey. Approximately one hour and twenty minutes had elapsed since she had initially set foot outside the house. Black was ecstatic, he had concluded that one hour should be ample time to fulfil his requirements. He would be in, find his way around the house and out again with only minimal risk of exposure. ‘Well I believe that takes care of everything for today Nat old boy,’ he told himself. ‘Lamb for dinner,’ he decided, the Breens already a fading memory.
CHAPTER 30
With furrowed brow Walter Dane scrutinised the postcard held in the palm of his left hand. The stamp was undoubtedly French, depicting a skier hurtling down a picturesque slope. Scribbled on the back in an unfamiliar hand was a message, which was the reason for his consternation. The inscription read, ‘Having an abominable time. You have positively ruined my holiday. In my naively I assumed you to be a journalist of integrity. When reporting my ensuing endeavour, in the interest of public awareness, please omit nothing. Remember that hell awaits the devil’s hand servants.’ Dane reread the card with little success and once more to be absolutely sure. No, he could not make top nor tail of it. After one final attempt he gave up trying dropping the intrusion into his already cluttered desk drawer. ‘Jees but the world is full of nutters,’ he grumbled, as he typed the concluding paragraph describing the hilarious attempts of the local RSPCA to apprehend a donkey that had run amok, disrupting peak traffic, in the city centre. The hapless creature had wandered into the path of a corporation bus, causing said bus to swerve before coming to rest in the window of a funeral parlour. Walter had been tearing his hair out trying to think of an adequate pun for the story and the postcard’s arrival had destroyed his train of thought. The best he could come up with was, “Donkey Sends Bus On Abray Day Excursion.’ Adding to his frustration the phone was screaming to be answered, interrupting him for the umpteenth time, ‘Belfast home for the terminally insane, how can we help you,’ he barked.
‘Very funny mister. Is your name Dane?’ Came the mirthless reply.
‘Yes that’s me, sorry about that. How can I be of assistance?’ said the journalist sheepishly.
‘You wrote the article concerning the death of the Blackmore family.’ He was brusquely informed.
‘That is correct, what of it? Do you have relevant information regarding the crime?’ prompted Dane, displaying an improved degree of interest.
‘Mr. Blackmore and I are members of the same organisation. It would give me great pleasure to have you as a guest this evening perhaps we could discuss matters further then, if that is convenient of course.’ The journalist could tell from the voice’s tone that he was being summoned rather than invited. He decided to be cagey, string the man along and possibly glean some information, even an explanation for the meeting.
‘Look, what is all this about? You’ll pardon me if I appear a little uneasy with the arrangement.’ He was gently rebuked by the other whom, in a persuasive manner, added, ‘Mr. Dane, you more than most must be aware of the sensitive nature of this conversation. With all due respect, you can hardly expect me to discuss the matter on the telephone. I hate to be overly insistent but it really is imperative that you meet with me this evening. Furthermore, it should prove more advantageous to you than us. You have my solemn word that you are in absolutely no peril whatsoever.’
‘Under the circumstances, how can I refuse.’ Overriding his apprehe
nsion, Dane began to feel the tingle that always precedes the smell of a major story. ‘It will be my pleasure to meet with you. Just tell me where and-’ he was checked mid sentence.
‘Dear me no Mr. Dane, that is not how we do things, security and such, I hope you understand. Attend to your business as you would normally and rest assured that transport will be provided. By the way, I shall not insult your intelligence by informing you that this conversation has been in the strictest confidence. Should the information regarding our rendezvous leak into the wrong hands, well I think you can draw your own conclusions. Until our meeting then, goodbye Mr. Dane.’ There was no mistaking the implication of the voice’s last remark. Dane was nobody’s fool, he knew that a breach of trust would not only jeopardise himself but he had to take into consideration the safety of his wife and daughter as well. Still the reporter was intrigued, he had covered many stories but this was the first time he had actually spoken with a paramilitary leader, from either side of the divide.
CHAPTER 31
A documentary concerning the life and subsequent death of the film icon Bruce Lee was holding Clements’ attention. Before him on a small glass table sat a recently opened can of lager. With his shoeless feet splayed across the arm of his chair he lay totally relaxed and was content to vegetate as the history of his boyhood hero unfolded. Consequently it had taken a major effort to drag his body to the phone which was insisting on destroying his entertainment. Casting a withering glare at the instrument he grudgingly snatched it from the cradle. ‘Clements, what de ye want?’ he snapped at the device.
‘Now that’s no way to answer the phone son. I could be a long lost uncle calling to tell you that I was leaving you a fortune.’ Billy’s teeth ground as he recognised the irritating, nasal tones of Tommy Cairns.
‘Agh it’s yerself Tommy, ye caught me in the middle of a TV show. Life and times of Bruce Lee, ye know how I am when it comes te karate.’
‘That I do son, no problem. Throw on yer coat and meet me down at the club. I’ll be there in an hour, the big man wants a word.’
‘See ye in an hour,’ agreed Billy, heaving a sigh. He had a premonition about what awaited him later that evening. John was becoming impatient and who could blame him. As requested the word had been relayed to operatives to be on the look out for perverts or homosexuals in or around the Blackmore’s locality. So far there was little to enthuse about, ‘What do they expect,’ he mouthed petulantly, ‘I’m no inspector Morse.’ He dressed in front of the television determined to miss as little as possible of the presentation. Lee had always been his favourite star for as far back as he could remember and he was devastated to hear of the great man’s demise. Tonight he was going to learn the truth behind Bruce’s death but instead he was heading for an ear bashing from John, ‘Some fuckin swap,’ he complained, as he reluctantly cut the power to the appliance. As he was about to depart the phone sounded again, ‘What the fuck’s wrong now,’ he exploded. The voice of an acquaintance came on the line inviting him down to a bar in the city centre. After unceremoniously declining the invitation he strode out into the night, slamming the door behind him.
An inhospitable atmosphere greeted his entrance to the club, which was virtually empty, the smell of stale tobacco and spilled beer did nothing to brighten his morose demeanour. Taking a moment to study the bar’s interior he finally ambled to the counter. ‘Soda water,’ he growled.
‘That pish’ll kill ye one of these days,’ offered the barman amiably. Casting a withering glance, he informed the steward that he was in training, adding that he should follow the example.
‘Ha that’d be right, sure I can hardly lift a pint never mind a bar-bell.’
‘I wasn’t referrin te weight trainin Harry. It was more on the lines of trainin te mind yer own fuckin business,’ snapped Clements. Harry was not about to argue the point,’Fair enough,’ he muttered, strategically beating a retreat.
‘What about ye Billy boy, fancy a wee jaunt?’ uttered a voice from behind him. Cairns, reluctant to enter the club was calling from the entrance.
‘With ye in a second Tommy,’ replied Billy, draining the last of his beverage. Glancing sideways at the barman he left a pound coin on the counter. He was feeling decidedly churlish for having been so hard on the old guy. Upon settling into his seat the younger man inquired as to the reason for his summons.
‘Didn’t say son, ye know how he is.’ Billy eyed the other suspiciously, only too aware that he had been told a deliberate lie. Cairns was no delivery boy and John would never treat him as such. He knew what the meeting was about for certain but Clements let the subject drop. He would find out soon enough and what would be the point in making unnecessary waves. The young operative was experienced enough to judge that Cairns was fully conversant with the agenda. John and the sly old fox were professional in their approach to most matters and he was sure that they would have gone over every aspect of the pending discussion before entering dialogue with a third party. Nevertheless Clements enjoyed playing the game in the hope that, one day, old Tommy would drop his guard. Past experience had proved that he was a tough nut to crack and tonight was no exception. Having accepted that he was getting no-where he decided to change the subject. Complaining about the poor performance of Linfield, a local football team supported by both men as well as most loyalists from their area, was a topic guaranteed to keep both interested for the duration. As it was they had a mere mile or so to travel before reaching the city centre. ‘Thought we’d have a couple in the Dockers, for a wee change,’ offered Cairns.
‘Suits me,’ agreed Billy wryly, aware that the venue was not open for debate.
‘Come on now son, show a bit of enthusiasm. Sure it’s only fair that we spread the cash around in these troubled times. Besides it’s always quiet at this time of the night and handy too,’ chuckled his companion.
‘Fair enough Tommy, by the way I hear the blues have signed a Chinese goalkeeper.
‘Yer jokin,’ replied Cairns earnestly.
‘No straight up, the manager says he’s sure te keep clean sheets.’
‘Fuck off will ye,’ laughed Tommy. He was still chuckling as they entered the bar. John had taken up a position facing the entrance and cut a lonely figure, as there was not a sinner within yards of the commander.
‘Greetings gentlemen and how are you both this fine evening?’ Clements was surprised at the man’s apparent good humour, which was hardly what he expected under the circumstances. “Grand John, grand and yer man here’s in fine fettle as well, so he is,’ replied the grinning Cairns.
‘Is that a fact Billy boy? Something to report perhaps?’ inquired Starrett pointedly. “
“I knew it, here it comes, thought Billy. ‘Naw nothin to get excited about. What’ll ye have te drink?’ he asked, in an attempt to delay the inevitable for a while longer. ‘That’s civil of you Billy, I’ll have a pint thanks,’ answered the unsmiling superior. ‘I’ll have the same son,’ added Cairns.
‘Right, cant talk on an empty tank eh?’ offered the younger man uncomfortably but glad for the temporary respite. After he returned with the drinks, John took a deep swallow and sat staring at Billy for what seemed to the operative an eternity. He let the lad squirm for a bit relishing his discomfort. Waiting for the exact moment and just before Clements was about to speak, he began, ‘Okay before you burst a blood vessel, I had better put you out of your misery. I know that what I have asked of you is extremely difficult. You are hardly a master at the art of detection. Clements flushed at the leader’s choice of words. God the auld bugger can read minds now, he mused, half convinced that it was true. ‘I had a conversation with a very interesting wee man today Billy. His name is Walter Dane, ring any bells?’ asked Starrett.
‘No,’ replied Clements warily, ‘Should it?’ his answer brought chuckles from both older men.
Seeds of Evil Page 19