Clements left the meeting seething. It was not so much that he had been reprimanded but the way that John had meted out the admonishment. Starrett had made him out to be an idiot and that he found hard to swallow, very hard indeed. He yearned to give the pompous bastard a piece of his mind but knew that in doing so his fate would be sealed. No matter how the investigation turned out, John would hold the indiscretion against him, so he reluctantly held his tongue. His mood had not improved by the time he returned to the house and Tullen picked up on it immediately.
‘What gives Billy, your gub’s trippin ye?’
‘I was summoned to a meetin with me elders and betters. It seems that blue noses and taigs sharin a pint is a recipe for disaster. I wonder who saw us out together? It seems that our wee gig isn’t as secret as promised,’ he grumbled. ‘Ach fuck them, listen Con,’ enthused Billy, his excitement growing. ‘We have put a name to the nutter. It will obviously be false but add it to the description and ask a few relevant questions, who knows, we may find out a lot more about yer man. If he stayed at the Stormont then others will surely have seen him. This is our first tangible evidence,’ said mimicking his superior. ‘You and me are goin to the Stormont my man so tidy yerself up and try not to act too much like a gyppo, will ye.’
‘Fuck me, hark at Beau fuckin Geste, wud ye.’
‘Beau who?’
They arrived at the hotel bar at eight o’clock and as usual it was virtually empty. Early evening was not a profitable time for the Stormont. ‘Two pints of Guinness please,’ said Tullen, smiling at the smartly liveried barman.
‘Coming right up sir,’ replied the plump figure behind the bar. With the air of a professional he set about drawing the drinks. Tilting the glass at the perfect angle, making sure that the liquid flowed silently into the receptacle and spooning off the access froth to leave a creamy off-white surface.
‘Now that’s what I call a good lookin pint my man,’ enthused Connor. The man was obviously flattered, smiling as he asked for the required payment. ‘Three pounds eighty please sir,’ the barman informed him. ‘And cheap at half the price,’ said Tullen, proffering a five pound note. ‘Keep the change.’
‘That’s very kind. Thank-you very much sir,’ replied the beaming barman. Having struck up a dialogue with the man Tullen said, ‘That was bad news about the youngster who worked here wasn’t it?’
‘What news sir,’ replied the barman, displaying a look of genuine confusion.
‘Giles, the young lad who was on the news the other day,’ prompted Connor.
‘Oh God Giles, yes it was tragic. Everybody was shocked, he was very well thought of on both sides of the bar,’ answered the man sadly.
‘I’m not casting dispersions but he was gay wasn’t he?’ probed Tullen slyly.
‘I believe he was sir, now if you will excuse me, other customers require attention,’ said the barman coldly, showing displeasure at the direction the conversation was taking. Tullen said no more, he had all night and he did not want to alienate what he regarded as a valuable source of information. The best thing would be to leave but time was not on their side, so he took time to allow the steward’s to mood mollify.
‘Another two pints please Peter,’ requested Tullen courteously, taking great pains to impress on the barman that he was merely trying to be friendly and that his earlier remarks had no ulterior motive. Again the steward pulled two perfect pints, setting them down in front of his customers. Another five pound note was exchanged and as before Peter was told to keep the change.
‘Thank-you very much sir. It was becoming apparent that, ‘Thank-you very much sir,’ was his stock reply to a gratuity. The young barman’s demeanour had brightened considerably because he was smiling broadly as he accepted the tip.
‘Look Peter, I’m sorry if I offended you earlier. It was thoughtless of me to bring up your friend’s lifestyle. I am sure that you miss him,’ said Connor sympathetically.
‘Oh it’s alright sir, Giles was a really nice person. As I said before, he was popular with the staff and customers alike and I personally do miss him,’ replied the young barman sincerely.
‘You knew him well then?’ interjected Clements, speaking for the first time.
‘You could say that, we went to school together,’ smiled Peter.
‘Oh I’m sorry, it must be really hard for you,’ observed Tullen, showing real feeling.
‘Yes it is, I went out with his sister for a couple of years. We lived in the same street. His family are devastated,’ Peter informed them emotionally. Tullen eyed the youth for a while before continuing. ‘Ye’d want te catch the bastard who killed them then,’ said Connor, lapsing into his familiar Belfast dialogue. Peter was visibly shocked. Tullen’s remark set him back on his heels.
“What do you mean. Look who are you people?’ said Peter, apprehension growing.
‘We’ll get round te that in a minute. Let’s say that we are a we bit sceptical. We don’t believe your pal committed suicide.’ As a matter of fact we know that he and his friend definitely did not. They were murdered. The crime was made te look like a lover’s tiff.’
‘This is incredible, who are you guys? The RUC. said it was a tragic accident. They implied that Giles was jealous of Aster and killed-’ The boy broke down before he could complete the sentence, distraught by their revelations. I’m sorry we upset ye Peter but you have to know the truth. What time do ye get off?’ asked Clements.
‘I wont be finished until well after midnight,’ answered the barman. ‘But I don’t see what any of this has to do with me,’ he added warily. ‘Are you men with the special branch or something?’
‘No not really Peter, we are just a couple of concerned citizens,’ Clements informed him. ‘Isn’t that right Mr. Brown.’
‘Absolutely Mr. White,’ said Tullen, immediately in tune with his partner’s subterfuge.
‘One thing I would say Peter, and ye can take it as a bit of advice ye understand, this conversation never happened. As a matter of fact my colleague and I were never here. Do ye follow the drift?’ said Clements menacingly.
‘I beg your pardon?’ answered the now very frightened barman.
‘What my friend is tryin te say,’ explained Tullen, glaring at Clements, ‘Is that this is a very delicate situation, an extremely dangerous one. If you bear with us and not discuss our conversation with anyone, things will be a lot safer.’
‘Oh right,’ said Peter relaxing but still totally confused.
‘Okay Peter what say you meet us at the front entrance at say, a quarter to one’’ requested Tullen.
‘I suppose it will be alright. And I will keep it to myself,’ he added as an afterthought.
‘Brilliant Peter, thanks for your co-operation,’ said Billy, laying a twenty-pound note on the bar. ‘Thanks for the excellent service,’ he announced loudly and winking before turning away from the bar. They left behind them a very frightened young man who dutifully served out the remainder of his shift. One or two of the other bar-staff did notice his mood swing but passed no comment. At least not verbally. Everybody’s entitled to an off day, thought Nancy, a pretty new addition to the team. She had been employed as a replacement for the unfortunate Giles. Although she was too shy to admit it, Nancy had quite a crush on the young barman. She watched as he busied himself washing glasses and clearing away the last residue of the evening’s trade. Something was definitely amiss. Peter was always so cheerful at this time of the evening, knowing that the shift was only minutes from completion. Nancy had steeled herself to confront him as to the reason for his glumness but at the last moment decided to leave well alone. ‘Girl trouble I hope,’ she murmured.
‘What?’ replied Peter absently.
‘Oh just thinkin out loud,’ she lied blushing.
Nancy is really very pretty. I must pluck up the courage to ask her ou
t one of these days, thought Peter, as he replaced his final ashtray. He had opted to hold back until all the staff had gone. He wanted to make sure that none was privy to his meeting with his new acquaintances. Nancy was proving to be an annoyance and he was about to suggest that she go, when she thankfully announced her departure ‘Well that’s me finished, do you need a hand?’ she offered. She chose not to hide her disappointment when he refused her offer of help. ‘Suit yerself,’ she snapped, rushing from the room in a flourish. The night shift cleaner arrived shortly after and was curious to find Peter still on the premises. ‘Jesus Pete, have ye no home te go to? What are ye doin here at this time of the night. Perhaps yer hangin back waitin te give me a wee cuddle,’ she wagged.
‘Sure you’re too much woman for a mere slip of a lad like me Maisey. I thought I’d get a few things sorted for tomorrow,’ he lied. ‘Just about done, there that’s it, see you,’ he said, making a final adjustment to an ashtray on the bar counter. With a smile he headed for the door. The young man was unaccustomed to lying and had began to redden. He beat a hasty retreat before the old lady noticed his discomfort. He had almost forgotten the meeting but the memory of the two strangers came flooding back as he neared the front entrance. A cold sweat had broken on his face and he was gripped by apprehension. What if those two men were murderers? Perhaps it was they who had killed Giles and Terry. Contemplating calling the police, he remembered the veiled threat made by the one who called himself Mr. White. Peter was near to panic. What was he to do? ‘How do I get myself into such bloody messes?’ he whispered. ‘Nothing I can do but go through with it I suppose,’ he decided under his breath. Glancing at his watch he stepped bravely forward, ready to confront the nightmare. The road was darker than he ever remembered it, more empty. Where was all the traffic? He peered up and down, not a sinner to be seen. He waited for ten minutes constantly scrutinising his watch. Where the hell are they? Giving a sigh of relief he concluded that they had changed their minds. With an unconscious shrug he turned left and headed for home. It usually took about fifteen minutes for him to negotiate the journey from home to his place of work and vice-versa. At present Peter lived with his parents but was saving hard for the down payment on a place of his own. He was thinking of his investment as he toyed with the night’s tips held tightly in his hand, which in turn was buried, securely in his right trouser pocket. Unfortunately his respite was short-lived, interrupted by a harsh whisper coming from a darkened shop doorway. ‘Peter over here,’ startled, he turned to see the one called White. ‘Oh lord help me,’ he muttered, as he hesitantly edged toward the source of the sound. His dread had come rushing back and a cramp tugged at his bowel as he sidled into the cramped space. ‘Sorry if I gave ye a wee fright Peter but you’ve no need te worry, yer as safe as the bank of England. We had to make sure that ye kept yer promise. An interception by the RUC. would have proved inconvenient,’ Clements told him.
‘What do you want from me? What’s going on Mr. White?’
‘Just bear with us a wee while longer and don’t look so worried. Yer perfectly safe, on me mother’s life, honest,’ Clements leaned out of the entrance raising an arm above his head as he did so. Moments later a car drew up to the kerb, it’s driver was Tullen. ‘Get in the back seat Peter it’s freezin out there,’ smiled Tullen. Obediently the youth complied, although he asked himself why?
‘Where are you taking me Mr. White?’ he asked timidly.’
‘Sorry about the false names and all the James Bond bullshit Peter but it’s for the best really. We are goin te take ye for a ride in the country. We have a house with lots of gadgets in it. Recording equipment and stuff. We want to interview ye sort of like they do on the telly. That way we wont miss anything and we can go over it
again and again. Is that okay?’ reasoned Tullen, trying hard to put the boy at ease.
‘Okay,’ replied Peter, but was far from satisfied with his present predicament. He was thinking about his parents and his two younger sisters. Wondering if he would ever lay eyes upon them again. Silently he prayed to the Lord to bring him safely through this nightmare. ‘I hate to have te do this Peter but we must cover yer eyes. It’s purely in the interests of security,’ said Connor apologetically.
‘Oh God no, you are going to kill me, aren’t you. Please don’t do it mister, I don’t know anything. You have the wrong person.’ The boy was reduced to tears.
‘Easy son. You have te believe us. We mean ye no harm. Look get out of the car and walk away but if ye do ye’ll be lettin Giles’ murderer walk away and he will most certainly kill some other kid. Do ye want that on yer conscience?’ asked Tullen. His words had a calming effect on the barman who looked defiantly into his eyes.
‘What exactly is it that you want from me?’ he asked, more in control than at any time since he met them hours earlier.
‘As I said before, all we want is te ask some questions. We record what ye say and ye’ll be back in yer own bed in a couple of hours, I swear te God,’ replied Billy. ‘Here you take the blindfold and put it on yerself. It’s only a precaution for our safety.’ Peter did as he was asked and settled back in the seat. ‘That’s the good lad, the sooner we get there the sooner ye’ll be home.’
‘Sorry I don’t know about this kind of business, I’m not into violence and stuff. You know what I mean?’ As he fumbled with the offensive piece of cloth, Billy noticed how much young barman was trembling. The hardened killer felt so inadequate. He simply did not have the words to allay the boy’s fears.
‘We’ll be there soon Pete, just relax and enjoy the trip. For Peter the journey was far from relaxing, indeed it was a terrifying. He wanted to urinate but he was afraid to ask them to pull over. As he lay in the rear of the vehicle his mind drifted away from his present plight. The sounds penetrating the upholstery of the seat were ever changing. Noises that he had previously ignored, cried for attention. He concentrated on the unfamiliar sounds. ‘Funny,’ he thought loudly.
‘What’s that?’ asked Clements.
‘Oh I was thinking aloud. It’s funny how you never realise how many different types of road surfaces there actually are. I mean as we drive along there is a bump and the noise from the road changes from a hiss to a rumble. Do you know what I mean?’
‘If it’s any consolation Peter, I know exactly what ye mean. I have been in the same position as ye find yerself on countless occasions,’ Billy informed the barman.
‘You’re kidding me,’ retorted Peter, for first time that evening he was beginning to relax..
‘Oh yes, I wont mention any names but I have a boss who would not let me get a gander at his face. He used te say it was for security reasons but when I eventually did get to meet him eyeball to eyeball it became obvious that he was lying,’ said Clements.
‘Oh why was that?’ asked Tullen.
‘ Cause he is an ugly bastard,’ blurted Billy, bursting into rapturous laughter.
‘Never listen te this eejit Peter, his ma dropped him on his head when he was a bairn,’ grumbled Tullen, annoyed with himself for taking Clements’ bait. ‘How are ye gettin on back there? Are ye comfortable enough? added Tullen.
‘Yes I’m okay,’ he replied, a little too quickly. He did not want to upset his captors unnecessarily. That was another thing. Why did he think of the pair as captors? They were going out of their way to reassure him, even drawing him into conversation and never really threatening him. Despite his earlier apprehension, he felt reassured. If they were going to do something terrible to him, they would hardly be so accommodating. His mind was in a turmoil. Who are you trying to kid? he admonished himself. You’re in a car with a couple of terrorists, how the hell do you know what a murderer says or does to his victims? That thought in mind, visions of the infamous
Shankill Butchers came flooding in, filling him with a new unmentionable dread. He pictured himself hanging from a hook as they systematically hacked at
his unprotected genitals.
‘Wake up Petey boy, were home,’ prodded Clements.
‘What, who..?’ he had drifted off and awakened totally disoriented.
‘You’re the dark horse eh,’ observed Clements. ‘I’m glad te see ye’ve suddenly began te believe we’re not Burke and Hare.’
‘I must have fallen asleep,’ he explained absentmindedly.
‘You sure did and what a racket ye made as well, thrashin around like a long distance swimmer we cramp,’ laughed Connor. ‘Anyway here we are, safe and sound, just like we promised,’ Tullen informed him.
‘Let me help ye out of the car,’ offered Clements. ‘Careful now, don’t bump yer head. That’s it, bend forward slightly and swing yer legs over the side. Peter obediently complied. ‘I’ll take yer arm and guide ye into the house. The sooner the better, it’s bloody freezin out here,’ complained Billy. Peter decided that no amount of speculation would help him out of his present situation, so meekly he allowed himself to be led like a blind man to whatever fate awaited him. ‘Can I use your bathroom please?’ he asked. ‘I’ve been bursting to go for ages.’
‘God of course, sorry Peter apologised Tullen. ‘It’s just along the hall, last door on the right,’ he said, removing the blindfold. The younger man blinked as the light attacked his eyes. Moments later his sight returned to normal and he set off at a trot in the direction of the toilet.
‘Last right,’ affirmed Clements toward the retreating figure.
‘That kid’s scared shitless Billy,’ said Tullen.
‘Yer not wrong there, poor wee bastard must think he’s for the off.’ The sound of flushing followed by the protest of idiosyncratic plumbing reverberated from the bathroom.
‘ Christ the almighty, them pipes sound like fuckin Zulu war drums,’ laughed Clements. Running water and splashing noises heralded Peter’s exit and taught them a lot about the boy’s personal hygiene.
Seeds of Evil Page 28