Betrayed (22 page)

‘You know something, Jimmy? See when I looked at you that night at the fundraiser, and you were walking round the hall with your UVF tie on and looking the part? I was dead proud of you, so I was. Proud that you’d grown up and you were one of us. Queen and country, and all that. A proud Loyalist. But see now? I look at you and the drugs and stuff and, I’ll be honest with you, son, it’s not what I wanted for you.’

‘Aw, Da. Don’t say that. It’s just the drink talking. I was always going to be one of us. I wanted to be like you all my days. Don’t start that now. You know that’s what you wanted for me.’

‘Aye, I did. A proud Loyalist for my laddie. But not a fucking drug dealer. Not this pish you’re doing with Eddie, sneaking around and bringing drugs back. There are decent, hard-working Rangers fans on that bus with their weans. Good men. That’s not what we are. That’s not what the UVF’s supposed to be. We’re not drug dealers. We didn’t fight these Fenian fuckers down the years to become drug dealers just like them parasite bastards in the IRA.’

Jimmy sighed. ‘I don’t make the decisions, Da. You know that. I have to do what the commander tells me.’

‘Commander, my arse. He couldn’t command a bus load of weans going on a school trip. And it’s not just him, it’s how a lot of them are now, guys like him, in positions of power. Some of the lads are even prepared to deal with the fucking IRA when it comes to drugs. Can you believe that? After all we’ve been through? When I was in Belfast a few months ago I was with the brigadier and a couple of other older men, and they hate all that shite too. They’re like me – old school. We don’t want drugs.’

‘But Da, they take the kickback in Belfast from the money big Eddie makes. I know that for a fact.’

‘So does that make it right? Peddling all that shite in the streets?’

Jimmy shrugged. He knew his father was right, but he had no control over anything the UVF did. There was a stab of disappointment that after all these years he had spent working towards the honour of being taken over to Belfast and brought into the ranks, his father, who he’d admired all his days for the hardman hero he was, now seemed to be preaching against the very ideals that had shaped his life.

‘Why are you saying all this, Da? What’s got into you?’

His father said nothing and sat with his lips tight.

‘Ach.’ He shook his head eventually. ‘I just don’t like what I see these days. The last few weeks, since I’ve been told I’m on the way out, I feel different about a lot of things. I’ve a lot of regrets, Jimmy. That’s what I’m saying.’ He sighed and put his glass on the table. ‘Sometimes I wish I had made
our lives different. Your mother asked me to move away. Go abroad, anywhere but Glasgow, when I came out of the jail that time. But I was enjoying the big-shot status too much. I was the local hero. And for what? When I look around now, sometimes I wonder for what.’

‘For the cause, Da.’

‘Aye, and the cause is now run by fucking drug dealers like that polecat Eddie McGregor.’ He looked at Jimmy. ‘Tell me. Is that where you went the other night before we left, when you went out in a hurry? Were you going to pick drug money up for him?’

Jimmy sat back and lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply then blowing smoke upwards as he looked at the black sky, remembering the scene.

‘No. I was on an ordered job. Guy needed seeing to. I was with Mitch. And Psycho Bentley.’

His father’s face fell.

‘Psycho Bentley? You were with him? Fuck’s sake! Somebody must have got a right tanking. Is the guy dead?’

‘No. But he’s not in good shape.’

‘Who was he?’

‘Don’t know. Some guy who works in a bakery.’

‘What’s he done? Welsh on a drug deal?’

Jimmy looked at his father, then at the table. He shouldn’t be talking about this and he knew it. But this was his da, he was a bigger UVF hero than McGregor or any of the rest of them in Glasgow.

‘Don’t know for sure. But the word is that he was shagging big Eddie’s wife.’

His father laughed out loud. ‘Donna? Fuck’s sake! Good for her. She’s got more balls than him.’

‘Well, Psycho gave the guy a right hiding.’

‘What did you do with him?’

‘We dumped him.’

‘Christ. I hope there’s nothing that can link it back to you.’

‘No. No way.’

‘Now I see why Donna’s on the trip. So that her boyfriend could get battered while she was away. If that was me and my wife, I’d have run the guy right up to my front door and confronted the pair of them. Then I’d have given him a sore face and kicked the two of them right out of my life. That’s what a real man does. Not send his boys. But that’s obviously why he brought Donna over here.’

‘Looks like it.’

‘Arsehole.’ He paused, looked at Jimmy. ‘Still no word on that wee lassie of yours? Wendy?’

Jimmy’s stomach tweaked at the mention of her name. ‘Nothing.’ He swallowed.

‘He’s done her in. I’m telling you.’

‘Don’t say that, Da. I don’t even want to think it.’

‘Listen. If a pure bastard like McGregor can rape a defenceless wee lassie, he can do her in.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Donna went into the bedroom and stood for a moment with her back pressed against the door, glad to be alone. She flipped up the air conditioning and kicked off her high heels, then yanked her dress over her head and stripped off her underwear, leaving everything on the floor. She crossed the carpet and lay down on the bed, relishing the freedom of being naked and cool. She thought about Andy and automatically her hands went to her breasts, imagining his caress. She turned her head towards the massive window, gazing at the full moon brightening the night sky and her hand drifted downwards.

The ping of her mobile signalling that the battery was dying crashed in on her reverie. Then it rang. She jumped out of bed and fished it out of her bag, hoping it was Andy.

‘Donna?’

She was disappointed to hear the voice of her best friend Lisa.

‘Hey, Lisa. How you?’ Her phone beeped again. ‘This battery’s knackered, so it might cut out any minute.’ She didn’t feel like chatting.

‘Donna. Listen. I’ve got some bad news.’

A wave of panic lashed across her stomach.

‘It’s Andy,’ Lisa said, before Donna had a chance to speak.

‘What? What’s wrong?’ Her legs turned to jelly and she sat down on the bed.

‘He’s in hospital. He’s in a pretty bad way. Got beaten up really bad. He … he was in a coma.’ Her voice trailed a little and she sniffed. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t believe anyone would hurt Andy.’

Donna could feel her heart pumping and her hand shook so much she could barely hold the phone. She tried to speak, but her throat was tight and her mouth dry. Eddie had done this. It had to be him. Jesus! He knew all about them. Now it was blindingly clear why he’d brought her here.

‘You there, Donna?’

‘Y-yes,’ she managed to say. ‘Oh God, Lisa! Is he … is he going to die? Oh Christ, please tell me he’s not going to die …’

‘I don’t think so. He was in a coma but he’s out of it now. Fractured skull. The boss went in to see him. He said he didn’t recognise him, his face is such a mess. And … And …’ Lisa started crying again. ‘His hands. They smashed his hands to a pulp.’

‘Oh, Christ! When? When did this happen? I was trying
to phone him the night before I left and got no answer. I’ve been frantically waiting for a text or something from him since I left Glasgow.’

‘It happened that night. Before you left. He got attacked at the bakery coming off his shift. Nobody saw anything. Whoever it was dumped him and left him for dead. Can’t believe anybody would hurt him. How could anybody do that to somebody like him? He’s … he’s …’ Lisa’s voice broke. ‘He’s the kindest man I’ve ever known.’

Silence. Donna knew exactly who was behind this, and most likely so did Lisa. They’d been close friends since she started working at the bakery, and Lisa had watched her friendship with Andy grow to the runaway train that it had become. Her friend had warned her many times that she was playing with fire, but Donna had told her she couldn’t stop herself.

‘You know who’s done this, Lisa, don’t you?’

‘I think so.’

‘It’s Eddie. That’s why he wanted me here, to get me out of the way. He must have found something out. Somebody must have told him.’

‘Not me,’ Lisa said quickly. ‘You know I’d never breathe a word.’

‘I know that. I know it’s not you. But somebody has.’ Donna’s mind reeled with possibilities. Did someone see them? Did Eddie have them followed? How long had he known? Christ almighty! She felt sick.

Her phone pinged again, then went dead. She looked at it in her trembling hands and the console was black.

‘Shit! Shit!’ It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn’t brought her charger. She lifted the landline phone on the bedside to call Lisa back, but couldn’t remember her mobile number – she’d had it on speed dial for so long. She racked her brains but couldn’t recall her home phone number either. She lay on the bed, curling herself into a ball, terrified of what was going to happen next. Eddie would be watching her like a hawk over the next few days to see if she’d found out. How long had he known? Her head spun, trying to figure out how he’d found out. They’d been so careful – Andy even more so than her. He was the one who’d tried to hold back in the beginning, not only because she was married, but because of who her husband was. They’d tried to keep it as a close friendship but it had spiralled out of control. It was all her fault. She could have stopped it at any time. Now Andy was lying suffering in hospital because of her. The tears came, trickling down her cheeks as she lay on the bed imagining his agony as they’d smashed his hands. Then she buried her head in the pillow to stifle her sobs as over and over again she whispered, ‘Oh Andy! Andy! I’m so, so sorry.’ She sobbed until she drifted off to sleep.

She was woken by the sound of the key in the door, and immediately was awake. She leapt out of bed and dashed into the bathroom, catching sight of her makeup-smeared
face in the mirror. She quickly applied some cleansing lotion and wiped it clean, splashing water and dabbing it with a towel. She couldn’t afford to let Eddie know she’d been crying. She took a deep breath and stiffened up. She would act normal. Nothing would make her go to pieces over this, she vowed to herself. Nothing. She looked in the mirror as she heard the bedroom door close. The face looking back was weary and blotchy, her eyes red-rimmed from crying. But she could do this. She had to. For the sake of Andy, lying in a hospital bed beaten to a pulp, she had to find the strength. She at least owed him that. She rubbed on moisturising cream and sniffed back her tears as she heard Eddie calling out to her.

‘I’ll just be a minute, sweetheart.’ She swallowed hard and looked herself in the eye.

She was surprised at the resolve that suddenly came over her. Fuck him. She would fix the bastard good and proper. She’d find a way. Then it came to her. The bank card. She’d given it to Andy. Just let me get home to you, she told herself, still looking in the mirror. Then she painted as cheery a smile as she could muster and opened the bathroom door, trying to look sleepy and sexy at the same time.

Rosie had come back to her hotel room to talk to McGuire and send over a few paragraphs on Don’s tip about the baker who’d been beaten and left for dead. He agreed with her that it looked like it had McGregor’s fingerprints all over it.

‘Yeah, Gilmour, but as your cop pal says, there’s not a chance in hell they’ll be able to connect McGregor to that.’

‘I know. But if we stick it on the front page, it might just rattle things up a bit.’

‘Explain, Gilmour. I’m all ears. But make it quick because I’m trying to get the first edition away.’

‘Well,’ Rosie said. ‘I’m thinking that if you can stick the attack on the front page tonight, then I can pick up a copy of the
Post
here in the morning. Then I’ll make sure a paper gets slipped under Donna’s nose at her hotel breakfast table.’

‘And?’

‘You never know. If she’s in love with the guy, she might just go off the edge and start talking.’

‘Hold the fucking pony, here, Gilmour. Even if McGregor’s wife does see the paper, and even if she’s broken-hearted, it’s a bit of a leap to think she’ll then pour her heart out to you while she’s on a trip with her husband. Think about it. Think what you’re saying.’

‘I am, Mick. I’ve thought about it. Obviously I’m not going to go introducing myself over the poached eggs. But if Donna is totally nuts about this guy and in an unhappy situation with McGregor – which Liz told me she was and that he beats her – then maybe this is the final straw. Maybe we could get her onside. I’ve got the two girls, Liz and Wendy, coming up here in the morning from the Costa and they both know her. I know it’s a long shot, but what I’m saying
is it’s a possibility. Maybe we can make a connection with her.’

There was a pause, then McGuire spoke. ‘But why would she? What would she have to talk to you about? It’s not as if she’ll know about all her man’s drug dealing and UVF activity. She’ll know bugger all. So why would she talk to a reporter about her private life and marriage problems? It’s not Oprah Winfrey. And she must know if she starts blabbing about her man being an asshole husband, admitting she’s having an affair, she’ll be dead before she gets to Glasgow.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Rosie said, knowing McGuire was talking sense. ‘But all I’m looking for is a road into McGregor and his dealings, and one way to get there is to get the wife with an axe to grind. Why not just get the story on the front page, I’ll make sure she sees it, and we’ll take it from there? It’ll all be done very softly softly, to see if there’s any reaction at all. I wouldn’t make an approach unless I’m sure she’s not going to flip her lid and tell McGregor.’

‘Right. Okay, Gilmour. I’ll stick five or six paras on the front. Write it as dramatically as you can. Mention the torture and kidnap, but not the burnt bollocks.’ He paused. ‘Or second thoughts, should we mention the burnt bollocks? Hmm. That might get her
really
angry.’

‘My cop pal says not to. They haven’t put any of this out yet.’