Bible John's Secret Daughter

by David Leslie

  ‘You sure about this?’ she was asked. ‘You’re not trying to protect him for any reason?’

  ‘Definitely not,’ said Hannah. ‘The only person I want to protect is myself.’

  In looking on Hannah as someone in whom he could confide, Healy had chosen well. Though the same could not be said of his choice of Mason as a partner. As Hannah’s close friend recalls: ‘Healy knew he could depend on her to do exactly what she was asked. But not Mason, who wanted to be a bigger player. According to Hannah, Healy would give tasks to Mason, such as “Go and find somebody who can buy a bus,” but instead the salesman wanted to do it himself, and so have a finger in every pie, while at the same time keep what money there was in it for himself. It backfired because if he had passed on the job or the money he was given to someone else, then when the police finally got on to them they could never have traced the evidence back to him.

  ‘By being such a busybody, Mason left his traces on the set-up everywhere. His friendship with Healy dragged him into it also. So in effect, Graeme Mason got John Healy caught. If Mason had kept his mouth shut, hadn’t bragged so much, had delegated the jobs that he was meant to delegate out, things might have worked differently. But even when the hash arrived back in Glasgow, and he and others were supposed to leave it for others to deal with, he got involved in distributing it. The operation had been organised so everyone had a particular job that they were supposed to stick to, but not him.

  ‘Hannah did what she could to save Healy, at least by playing down any connection he might have had in the whole thing, but the pressure exerted on her by the police was immense, terrifying. In a sense, she should have been grateful to Mason for being so unpleasant to her and causing their break-up because had she still been with him when the gang was caught it might have been impossible for her to wriggle out. She was informed in no uncertain terms that to save herself at least three years in jail she had to tell them what she could. She said afterwards that whatever she did it was because she wanted to protect Healy, but she felt no such duty to Mason. She liked Healy and admired him. Did she love him? Yes, it was obvious from the way she spoke of him that she did. But she never actually said she loved him, just that she was flattered by his attention.’

  More than 30 men were eventually arrested as part of what the police had codenamed Operation Lightswitch, the name probably having derived from bugs that were planted in the lightswitches of hotel rooms, although others quote the source as a police officer who had advocated at a conference to discuss the smugglers, ‘Right, let’s switch off their lights.’

  The investigation spanned more than two years and cost a fortune. It was so complex that prosecutors decided there would be three trials, with those accused split into three groups. Those they considered to be the ringleaders would form the first batch of accused and the prosecutors decided that they would throw the book at them, hit them with the strongest evidence they had. The thinking behind this strategy was that by blasting them with a full broadside any defence they hoped to put forward would be destroyed. All would be convicted and once the first group trooped out of the dock to face long jail sentences the remainder of those waiting to be tried would cave in and beg for deals, thus saving the taxpayer a considerable sum in legal costs.

  The police were going for the jugular. They wanted Tam McGraw, the man they would accuse of being ‘Mr Big’, given a 24-year stretch. Hannah would be their star turn and as such she was given celebrity treatment. After her damning statement condemning Mason and blowing the lid on the real purpose of their trips to Spain, the secret under the floors of the coaches and the mysterious Mr Balmer, the police knew they had a jewel sparkling over their case.

  In contrast to their initial threats, they were now polite, friendly and flattering, inveigling themselves into her life, addressing her as Hannah and pleading with her to call them by their forenames. They gave her their telephone numbers and insisted that if she thought of anything further or needed them for any reason whatsoever then she should call them day or night. They encouraged her loathing of Mason, egging her on when she spoke of how much she despised him. ‘This is your opportunity to pay him back for the way he treated you and ripped you off,’ they told her. ‘And it’s not as though you will be telling lies, just the truth. Stick to the truth, Hannah, and he’ll get what he deserves along with the rest of them.’ She was surprised at how easily the police had accepted her version and by the way in which, once having made her long statement, they did not press her to tell more or try browbeating her into being more forthcoming. Because hold back she did.

  But it was not all sweetness and light. One day, two of the officers with whom she had become especially friendly came calling with news that was disturbing. ‘They know you are going to be the star witness,’ said one, ‘and are aware how much damage you can cause. We think there may be an attempt to get to you to try persuading you to change your mind and not give evidence after all.’

  ‘Am I in danger?’ she asked.

  ‘Not danger – we don’t believe they’d dare try anything because that would be too obvious. But you ought to be scared of these people. Some are very rich and have everything to lose.’

  ‘Is Mason behind this?’ she asked, and decided the answer lay in their silence.

  ‘We want to take some precautions for your benefit,’ smiled the officers, rubbing salt into the wound. ‘Nothing drastic, but better safe than sorry.’

  The result of the visit was the installation in her home of an emergency telephone linking her directly to a nearby police station. A temporary alarm system was also fitted. Neither would ever be used. But the seeds had been sown.

  TWENTY-THREE

  THE MISSING BUNG

  Isobel was discovering the fragility of happiness. Her marriage, like so many others past the early days in which love blows away failings and flaws, had now reached that level in which a couple establishes a routine that leads to either boredom or contentment. Invariably, the former is the beginning of the end.

  She had been overjoyed at first, finding in her husband a friend, rock and lover, who made her feel needed. Now, the strands that had bound them were fraying and she feared the future no longer promised the security it once had. Picking up a newspaper one day while she worried of things to come, she read how 11 men were to appear before the High Court in Edinburgh facing charges that they had smuggled vast quantities of hash into Scotland. The report said the trial was likely to be one of the longest in Scottish legal history, with nearly 200 witnesses due to give evidence. She could, of course, not know one of them would be her mother.

  Hannah, both anxious and fearful at the thought of the forthcoming court ordeal, had seethed after hearing the suggestion cleverly planted in her mind by the police that Mason was responsible for her need for extra security. After that first meeting when the question of a threat was posed, the detectives had visited her regularly, ostensibly to check the equipment they had left was working but actually to keep up the hints about who was behind the threat to her safety.

  ‘You can never be sure that people such as him won’t try something,’ officers said. ‘Did you know he’s been given bail?’

  ‘Bail? You mean he’s out and about?’ she asked, the shock and astonishment clear.

  ‘Oh, yes. It’s amazing what a good lawyer and a heart condition can do. He hasn’t been in touch, has he?’

  ‘No, if he had been, I’d tell him where to go.’

  ‘Well, Hannah, how would you feel about getting in touch with him?’

  ‘I never want to see or speak to him again.’

  ‘We appreciate that after the way he treated you, but you want him to get his just deserts, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course, but I don’t understand how my seeing him would achieve that.’

  ‘Well, supposing you got in touch and said you were worried about him, were sorry for what had happened to him and wondered if he fancied meeting up for a chat.’

  ‘He’d never be
lieve that.’

  ‘We think he might, because he wants to know how much you know and what you’ve told us. This crew are keeping their cards close to their chests and we’d like to know what’s going on. Mason is the weak link, the one who can’t stop himself talking. We’d like you to meet up for coffee or a bite of lunch and just listen to what he says.’

  ‘And that’s it? You’ll tell me what to ask?’

  ‘Sure . . . Just one other thing.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘We’d like you to carry a tape recorder.’

  It would emerge that the police had already tried eavesdropping on some of the suspects, with bitter complaints later made about attempts to bug the offices of some lawyers acting for the defendants. What was being proposed was an attempt to trap Mason into making a chance remark that could be used against him and his co-accused. Hannah did not know it, but the police and prosecution lawyers were beginning to wonder if their opponents knew something they did not because an air of confidence was exuding from across the battlefield. So it was time to introduce a dirty trick or two.

  There was something else the police did not know: the intelligence of the alleged smugglers had been seriously underestimated. These were men who had dreamed up a scheme that had drawn admiration from criminals throughout Europe and even envy from some in Scotland who were smarting at having been left out of the chance to get rich. It had made millions and, had the foot soldiers stuck to their individual agendas, could have gone on considerably longer. In short, they were no mugs.

  Nor was Graeme Mason. He was a clever, at times ingenious, salesman who had the seller’s knack of being able to root out a customer’s weaknesses. When someone wanted to give him something for nothing, he knew there was always a hidden motive. And Hannah wanted to give him something for nothing in the form of her company. When she telephoned, enquiring after his health and asking how he was, he was instantly cautious, sensing there was more to this than met the eye. He realised he had to be ultra-circumspect and reticent, but when she proposed a meeting he went along with it.

  Hannah reported back to the police on her conversation with him. They had arranged to meet in Carntyne, in the east end of Glasgow. On the day of the rendezvous, a tiny tape recorder was placed in her handbag with a microphone stuck to the inside of the bag. As a ploy to gain information, it was not a success. Mason was certain she had been wired up and when she began going over old ground, recalling the arrangements for taking money abroad, who they met, what they did, how the buses had been bought and adapted, he realised she was simply trying to talk him into making incriminating remarks that were, he was sure, for the benefit of the police. So he let her do most of the talking, taking an active part in the conversation only when it turned to banalities.

  It was friendly enough and they parted on good terms, she suggesting they meet again and he going along with the idea. When the police listened to the tape, they were disappointed but agreed it was worth another try. Hannah would set up two further meetings. The second, at a fast-food store in Baillieston, went the way of the first; at the third she was left sitting alone, waiting, before realising he was not showing up.

  To friends in whom he had confided about these get-togethers, Mason said, ‘She was clearly wired up and was asking me about the things we had done. It was obvious she was trying to get me to talk about what we had got up to, but I said nothing. She had been very well schooled by her police handlers, but it was pretty amateurish stuff. I knew right away when she got in touch what she was up to.’

  Just as her mother and all the others had used her, now the police had done the same. The meetings had not been a good idea because the only consequence was to put Hannah in even greater danger by making it patently obvious she was working as a police spy. But just as she had tried to nobble Mason, now she was about to become a target.

  Friends of Healy were deeply worried about his situation. Statements collected by teams of defence lawyers made his position appear precarious, although there was a feeling that if he, along with most of the others, opted not to go into the witness box – where the most likely outcome was that they would implicate themselves – then there was an outside chance of him getting a not guilty or at worst not proven verdict.

  What evidence there was against him was largely circumstantial, but his friends felt that if Hannah would be willing to help out by denying she knew of any involvement by him, then it could prove the clincher in his favour. It was difficult making contact with her because her telephone was tapped in case such an approach was made. And she was encouraged to move around from time to time, staying with friends. But as one of those concerned with speaking to her has admitted, ‘There are no secrets in Glasgow and in next to no time we knew where Hannah was and got in touch with her. She really was still besotted by John Healy. She was in love with the guy and everybody could tell. We were sure she would have done anything for him. Through one of her pals, a message was sent to her, asking if she would be prepared to help John, just he and nobody else. For a price. The deal was that she would be paid a £20,000 bung to change her story and say John was never implicated in the drug-smuggling racket. John had nothing to do with this. Hannah sent word she was up for it but stressed she would help only him because she felt very bitter towards many of the others, especially Graeme.

  ‘The arrangement was that Hannah would be paid £10,000 up front to say she’d got it wrong about John Healy and once he was acquitted would receive another £10,000. The police version of events was that John Healy had arrived at the home she shared with Graeme Mason carrying a bag inside of which was the money they were to carry over to Spain to pay for the hash that would be brought back under the floor of the bus. Hannah had told the police it was Healy who turned up but as for the money she changed her story and said she’d been thinking things over and it hadn’t been Healy but someone else she did not know.’

  A bag containing £10,000 in cash was given to a woman to deliver to her. It came back with £9,000 still inside. What happened to the missing £1,000 nobody knows. Hannah would always swear she didn’t receive money from anyone and her standard of living before and after the trial provided evidence that she spoke the truth. As for the second £10,000, it was conveniently forgotten.

  She did receive between £200 and £500 in cash shortly before Christmas 1997. Hannah was told the money was a gift from Graeme Mason, but she could never be sure if that was the case. Within hours of it being handed over, it had been spent on presents for three children of whom she was especially fond. So at least some innocents were brought happiness by the events many hundreds of miles away.

  In April 1998, the trial of the 11 men began. In the dock were Healy, McGraw, Mason, Wood, Bennett, Billy McPhee, Gordon Ross, John Burgon and Manny McDonnell, all from Glasgow; Paul Flynn from Rochdale, Lancashire, known to pals as ‘Arthur Askey’ because he looked so like the comic; and Trevor Lawson, who lived on a farm near Stirling.

  As she waited at home to be told when to turn up and give her evidence, Hannah felt her fear spill over until she felt she was going mad. Her doctor had prescribed Valium to settle her nerves, which were at breaking point. She was anxious that her evidence would not prove disastrous for John Healy; she wanted only to destroy Mason. She had been selective about what she told the police, but now she wondered if, in doing so, she had sunk her friend as well. She felt the police had worn her down and could not even be sure as to what she had told them. On the morning she was instructed to arrive at the High Court in Edinburgh to give her evidence, she immediately asked for a meeting with the prosecution team and said she would be changing her statement and withdrawing any reference to John Healy.

  ‘You haven’t said anything incriminating about him. There’s no problem,’ she was assured. ‘If you try backing out now, you’ll be charged with contempt or perjury and looking at a long spell in prison. Best to go ahead and get it over with, then you can go home and forget the whole thing.’ That was impossible
, of course, but there seemed no alternative.

  There had been a variety of police witnesses, but it was on Hannah that everyone was waiting. Graeme Mason remembers as if it were yesterday the moment when she took the oath and began giving her evidence. ‘When we were together, she used to ask me about what we were doing, but I told her nothing, nothing about anything and particularly nothing about the real reason why we were making these trips to Spain.

  ‘But she must have listened to my telephone conversations, chats with others that I thought were in private, missed nothing, and it wasn’t until after we were arrested that I discovered how much she knew. It was after she’d taken the oath and started speaking that I realised how Hannah had kept her ear to the ground from the word go. She knew everything, everything about what we had been doing, and she made sure she put that knowledge to full use. Furthermore she was going to make sure she stuck it on me big style. She nailed me to the cross like an executioner; the Roman soldiers who crucified Jesus had nothing on her.

  ‘You could also see the hate steaming out of her when she was in court. If there is such a thing as looking daggers at somebody, she looked daggers at me and at Benji Bennett. We were her targets and at the same time she seemed determined she wouldn’t do a thing to harm John Healy, or most of the others. She wanted me and if anybody else fell into her net, well, that would be a bonus. Her evidence lasted two days and she put on a performance that would have won her an Oscar had it been part of a Hollywood movie. She even wore a pair of dark glasses, so nobody would be able to see her real expressions. Hannah was a hell of an actress. She began giving evidence on a Friday and predictably, for effect, broke down. I’d been on bail for eight months, but when the case was resumed it was revoked, even though I’d never done a thing wrong in all that time.’