Bible John's Secret Daughter

by David Leslie

  Hannah, no stranger to a white lie in order to make a sale, recognised in him a fellow con artist. Each in turn boasted of the tiny tricks that were the difference between success and failure. Mason was enough of a realist to know that she had the advantage of her sex. ‘I know I have good tits and sometimes I don’t mind letting potential customers have a wee feel if it gets me a sale,’ she told him.

  When he heard this, he knew it was time to pounce, to learn whether there was a double meaning to her words. ‘It’s late, cold and wet outside and a long way to Bellshill. Why not stay the night?’

  ‘On your couch?’

  ‘No, in my bed.’

  ‘You married?’

  ‘Not any more.’

  ‘OK,’ said Hannah. And that night, within a few hours of setting eyes on one another, she and Del Boy became lovers.

  ‘What about tonight?’ Mason asked the next day, as she was dressing and preparing to set off back to Bellshill.

  ‘What about tonight?’

  ‘Well, are you coming back?’

  ‘You want me to?’

  ‘Of course, or I wouldn’t have asked.’

  ‘Then I will. I’ll drive over and drop off some clothes. I need to sell today, so I’ll try getting the quota during the day otherwise I’ll need to make up the difference tonight.’

  ‘I’ll see if I can get you a few more names.’

  ‘That would be brilliant. The sooner I have them, the quicker I can call it a day.’

  A couple of weeks later, while checking her home in Bellshill was all right, Hannah called on a close friend and told her she had met someone during her rounds and moved in with him.

  ‘Is this permanent, Hannah?’ she asked, seeming surprised at the speed at which the relationship had taken off.

  ‘I dunno. We’ll see how things go.’

  ‘What about your house? You’ll need to have somewhere to go if it doesn’t work out.’

  ‘Well, I’ll probably sublet. I told him I’d look you up and he’s suggested we go out for a meal,’ said Hannah.

  ‘Great. Let me know when it’s arranged and we can meet up. What’s he like, what’s his name?’

  ‘Del Boy.’

  ‘Del Boy? What do you mean, Hannah?’

  ‘You’ll see when we meet him.’

  Her friend was not especially impressed either by the meal, at a pub restaurant, or by their host, who had invited a pal along to make up a foursome, perhaps hinting he might get lucky if he played his cards right. It would soon become apparent this would not to be the case. Later on, Hannah drove her friend home in the little Corsa car that came with the Kays job.

  ‘Well, what do you think?’ asked Hannah.

  ‘What the hell are you doing with him?’ came the reply.

  ‘I don’t go for looks,’ Hannah told her.

  ‘Well, that’s obvious.’

  ‘But he’s got lots of money and he’s getting somewhere.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Oh, he has a salvage business and he’s working on something very big that’s going to make him very rich.’

  ‘Well, what is it?’

  ‘I can’t say, he’s sworn me to secrecy.’

  ‘OK, have it your way. All I can say is I hope you’re right and you don’t end up getting hurt because I’m afraid I don’t trust him.’

  Hannah said nothing. She had been embarrassed by Mason, who had dominated the conversation during the meal, belittling her contributions; yet while she knew she did not love him, and never could, she enjoyed their kisses and cuddles, and being with him. She had reached an age and situation where it was virtually a case of ‘any port in a storm’, even if the quayside rails looked to be pitted with rust and unreliable.

  Hannah would end up retaining her home and renting it to someone she knew, an arrangement that did not ultimately work out satisfactorily, leaving her with debts to settle. According to Mason, after she was comfortable in his bed and his home, she had raised with him the issue of her house in Bellshill. ‘She was afraid that by leaving it empty and unoccupied it would become derelict. Once we became lovers, she suggested “I’ll sell my house and move in with you,” but I told her absolutely no way. “Keep your own place going,” I said, “and it means you will always have a place to go.” There was no way I wanted her relying on me to supply her with a roof over her head. That would have been like a millstone around my neck.’ In fact, the house would later become useful in a way Hannah could never have envisaged.

  The house was one of the subjects they discussed as they lay in Mason’s bed, but it was talk of his involvement in ‘something very big’ that caused her to hang on his every word. From as far back as she could remember, she had been fascinated by gangsters and the secretive, violent world in which they operated. Hannah would not see herself as a criminal, but she had an admiration for those who dreamed up grandiose and at times brilliant schemes for making money and took huge risks to put them into operation.

  This also explains the continuation of what was otherwise seen by those who knew Hannah as a most unlikely involvement with Mason. He had told her that very first night in his bed about a plot that was growing from small beginnings into a massive money-making crime, one guaranteed to make millionaires of all those connected to it. It involved, he said, buying hashish in Spain that was produced from cannabis plants in the Rif Mountains of Morocco, shipped across to the south of Spain late at night in motor boats and then hidden in warehouses until it was sold. A Glasgow gang had arranged to buy huge quantities and smuggle it back to Scotland.

  ‘How is that done?’ she had asked.

  ‘Oh, in cars and things like that.’

  ‘Isn’t it risky?’

  ‘No, I’ve made sure all the angles are covered. If anybody does get caught, then they are looked after.’

  ‘You’ve made sure?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve organised all of this.’

  ‘You’re the, sort of, brains behind it all?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. It’s my idea, I worked it out. I run it and I tell the rest of them what to do. Everything is sorted, believe me. It will get bigger and bigger. But I don’t want you talking to anyone about what I’ve told you. It’s top secret. I don’t want word getting out to the police.’

  ‘But you’ve told me.’

  ‘Yes, but I know I can trust you.’

  As the days and nights passed by, there would be more pillow talk about his hash smuggling. He entranced her with tales of making so much money that it was necessary to launder some in order to ease suspicion.

  ‘Launder money? What’s that?’

  ‘You take money you’ve made from a crime, put it into some legal enterprise and then what is produced is clean and legitimate and nobody asks awkward questions as to where it came from.’

  ‘And you do that, too?’

  ‘I do everything.’

  Mason knew he ought not to be talking about the drug conspiracy. But the fact was that, having started, he became so impressed by his own bravado he was unable to stop himself.

  It was in the bedroom that another secret emerged. Each would later have their own version of how they performed sexually. Mason’s view of Hannah was, ‘OK, I suppose, she did what I asked. There was nothing especially unusual or quirky about our sex. She wasn’t especially enthusiastic but definitely enjoyed what we did.’

  One night as they prepared for this enjoyment, Mason lay back his head on the pillow, watching Hannah by the light of a bedside lamp as she undressed, slowly staring at her gently swaying breasts and her belly. When she climbed into bed beside him, huddling under the sheets, he said to her, ‘You’ve had a baby.’

  She sat up suddenly and, even in the dimness, he could see a look of total astonishment on her face, even the beginning of tears. ‘How do you know that?’ she whispered.

  ‘Look, you have stretch marks on your abdomen. I’ve been married before and have had a family, so it’s not hard to work out the
reason for the marks. Don’t worry, it’s not a big issue. This is something in the past and if you don’t want to talk about it, then so be it.’

  After a pause, she replied, ‘Yes, I had a baby girl a lot of years ago.’

  ‘So, where is she now?’

  ‘I don’t know where she is. There were reasons why she had to be adopted after she was born.’

  ‘What do you know about her?’

  ‘Nothing, nothing at all. In fact, it’s been a big disappointment to me that she’s never bothered to try finding out who her mother is, to look me up and come to see me.’

  Mason felt this was a bizarre comment. As it seemed to him, here was a woman in her 40s admitting she’d never bothered trying to find out about her daughter but complaining it was the fault of the daughter for not trying to trace her.

  ‘Who’s the father then?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Well, how did you get pregnant?’

  ‘Look, it’s best you don’t know because it’s not something I’ve ever talked about except to somebody who is a very close friend. I have suspicions about who the father might be but, believe you me, you don’t want to be told. I think we should drop the subject.’ It would never be raised between them again.

  While Hannah’s relationship was only just beginning, Isobel had recovered from the nightmare of coming close to death and returned home. It had been a terrifying experience. When she was well on the road to recovery in hospital, doctors had explained the potentially disastrous nature of the rare illness. Now she wanted only to get on with her life and would soon meet a young man with whom she would fall deeply in love. It was purely coincidental, but the mother and daughter who had never set eyes on one another had each at around the same time found a man with whom they felt their respective futures lay.

  NINETEEN

  LAUNDERING

  Each night, Hannah listened to Mason’s boasts about the exploits of the smugglers and how they accepted his orders; however, only a part of the story was true. While he was heavily involved, he was by no means the leader and, in reality, his function was not unlike that of Hannah’s in her younger years when she had complained of being a gopher.

  Others would agree that this was Mason’s role: a gopher, used by the others. The plot needed a smooth talker and he was recognised as having that talent while not being the type to relish taking risks. He had been recruited by John Healy, who had reservations about his reliability but reckoned, so long as he was kept from the front line, he could be relied upon to do what was asked; he was a player but would never wear the skipper’s armband.

  A month before that wet night when he and Hannah had met, Mason had gone to an auction in Glasgow and bought for £12,000 a Mercedes minibus once owned by a now-defunct travel company. He paid in cash and used the name ‘Balmer’. Alterations made to the vehicle cost another £8,000 and once again Mr Balmer paid for the work in cash. Soon after, the bus made its initial run and when it returned to Glasgow from Disneyland in Paris it brought back not just a party of youngsters but also a fortune in hashish.

  In June, Mason, once more under the guise of Mr Balmer, was again the front man when he travelled to Carlisle to pay £52,000 for a larger coach. It was Balmer yet again to whom an invoice for modifications costing £20,000 was made out. Of the buses or of Balmer, Hannah knew nothing.

  She settled into her comfortable if not ecstatic relationship with Mason, but she could not help feeling embarrassed at the way he would put her down in the presence of others. Also, his bragging about being a business big shot and hard man about town made her cringe – so much so, she was ashamed to invite friends into their company.

  They would often visit one of Healy’s pubs and would frequently chat with him. He made his admiration for Hannah obvious, asking how her catalogue sales were coming along and encouraging her when things were not going well. ‘I don’t know how you can go out there in all weathers and be nice to people who are rude,’ he told her. ‘I’m not scared of hard work, but I prefer having the sun on my back when I do it. You should take this lady on holiday, Del Boy. She deserves one.’

  It was more than just a casual pleasantry, although she did not realise it. Nor at that time did Mason, and neither thought much more about it.

  But Hannah thought of Healy constantly, even though she realised he was ten years her junior, married with children and, as she would tell a friend, ‘way above my league’. Mason’s work in buying the coaches and paying for them to be altered to fit the requirements of the smugglers brought him into frequent contact with Healy and sometimes, even when Hannah had gone along with him to the Thornlie Arms or elsewhere, he would make an excuse and the two men would be seen chatting quietly in a corner, ensuring no one else could listen to the content of their conversation. It was often clear from the way they spoke when they returned to her that the subject of Mason and her going on holiday had been raised again, this time with serious intent in mind.

  At the Spanish end of the operation, the hash had to be paid for and that meant getting money out there, which was not as easy as it sounded. Single men heading overseas were regularly stopped at Customs, and checked and searched. In 1994, Healy himself would be found to be in possession of £170,000 and his claims that it was to buy a pub in Alicante failed to prevent it being confiscated.

  The answer was for those unlikely to attract suspicion or attention to act as couriers and who was more likely to fall into this category than families flying off abroad on package holidays. Each year the resorts of the Costa del Sol saw Scots arriving in their tens of thousands. Why should some not be well rewarded for carrying an additional package that would be collected from them as soon as they reached their hotels?

  And so, as the summer began drawing to a close, Mason suggested he and Hannah had earned a break. ‘How about going to Spain for a wee holiday?’

  ‘Where in Spain?’

  ‘Somewhere on the Costa del Sol, Malaga perhaps. I’m told it’s really pleasant, lots of nightlife. We’ll get a good hotel.’

  ‘I’d love to, Graeme, but I don’t know if I can afford it.’

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s on me, or at least my sideline. Look on it as a working holiday.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Well, if we take something over with us, we’ll get the holiday for free and a few quid for spending money.’

  ‘Take what?’

  ‘Just some money.’

  ‘What sort of money?’

  ‘Money that’s to be laundered, like I told you.’

  ‘How much are we taking?’

  ‘About £150,000.’

  It was more than she’d ever imagined. When she expressed worries about being caught, he assured her that all she needed to do was to claim she was simply going on a spending spree and might even use it as the deposit on a property in Spain.

  Shortly after midnight a week later, in mid-August, as they were about to go to bed knowing that in the morning they would be making for Glasgow Airport, there was a knock at the door. When it was opened, two men stood there, one of them John Healy. He handed over a bundle, wished them a happy holiday and left.

  Mason had warned Hannah about the delivery. They had been waiting for it and their suitcases were still open. Inside the bundle was £150,000 in cash.

  ‘Just hide it in the bottom of our suitcase, nobody is going to find it,’ he told her and began stuffing money into pyjamas, shorts and a toilet bag. She watched in astonishment.

  ‘Call yourself the brains of this outfit,’ she mocked. ‘Nobody in their right mind would stash money in that way!’ She carefully began to repack his bag, placing the notes in rows inside clothing so neatly folded that unless it was lifted up and shaken vigorously it would not reveal its contents. In her own case, she even packed her brassieres with wads of money. ‘Even if they have a really good rummage, they’ll find nothing,’ she told him when she had completed the task. ‘Now, let’s get to bed.’


  The following morning, all went smoothly. Arriving in Malaga, they were waved through Customs checks, but Hannah noticed that both at the Glasgow check-in and when the time came to collect their luggage in Spain, her travelling companion was sweating profusely. ‘I hope he doesn’t lose his bottle,’ she thought to herself. ‘He’ll land us all in trouble.’

  At the Hotel Alle in nearby Benalmádena they checked into their room, locked the door, opened the shutters to allow in the morning sunshine and began removing and checking the money. When they were certain all £150,000 was there, it was placed in a plastic carrier bag and hidden under their suitcases in a wardrobe. Mason made a telephone call, simply telling the person at the other end of the line the name of the hotel and their room number.

  ‘Come on, let’s go out and catch the sun,’ Hannah said.

  ‘I can’t, I have to wait for the guy who’s coming to get the money.’

  ‘Was that him you spoke to?’

  ‘A friend of his.’

  ‘Why didn’t you say we were going out and find out what time he’d be here?’

  ‘Look, I’m not leaving it in the room. I’m sticking here till he turns up.’

  ‘When will that be?’

  ‘Hopefully sometime tonight.’

  ‘And you’re going to wait until then?’

  ‘Yes. Nip down to the bar and get me a few drinks.’

  ‘There’s no way I’m going to spend the holiday cooped up in here. I’ll get you the drinks, then I’m going out for a look around.’

  ‘OK, I’ll see you back here for dinner.’

  So off she went for a stroll along the seafront, thrilled not just at being there but still tingling with excitement from what she had done. She realised she had calmly walked through Customs checks, almost certainly risking a long stretch in jail, and had not batted an eyelid. ‘You never rattled a tosh, but he did,’ she told herself, admitting that being part of a gang of smugglers was giving her a real buzz. But then this was the same woman who, years earlier, had been attacked by a man she believed was a killer and yet went back for more.