Betrayed (36 page)

‘Yes, I do.’ She made a mental note to talk to her privateeye friend Mickey Kavanagh, whose work often involved shady places and even shadier people. He could use a guy like Adrian.

He hugged Rosie again, then kissed her briefly on the lips.

‘I see you sometime, Rosie.’ He squeezed her hand, then turned away from her and got into the car without looking back.

Two hours later, Rosie and Matt got out of Javier’s car at the departure area and unloaded their gear. Seville Airport was busy with hung-over Rangers fans making their way to the check-in desk.

‘Well. At least I didn’t get shot this time, Rosie,’ Javier joked, lighting a cigarette.

‘Yeah. You can’t say I don’t look after you,’ Rosie replied, but she knew it sounded half-hearted. The downside of painkillers this strong, as any junkie will tell you, is that when they begin to wear off, your mood drops like a stone.

‘What’s the matter, Rosita? You look down. What’s the problem? The bad guys lost – and your boyfriend Adrian even managed to do the world a favour by shooting the bastard who burned you. You don’t think you’ve had a successful trip?’

Rosie sighed. ‘Nah. It’s not that. I feel a bit sorry for Donna with everything that’s happened and now she’s sitting back there on her own in the hotel.’ She touched her arm. ‘Plus that little high from the painkillers is wearing off. I feel a bit strung out, actually.’

Rosie had already told Don about the bank card. Two officers were on their way to Seville to bring Donna back to Glasgow, where she’d be a protected witness. Rosie had been quick to point out to him that the last guy she handed over to police protection was the Kosovan refugee Emir, and he ended up shot dead while in their care. Not this time, he promised. Special Branch would take over from here, as Donna might be able to provide much more information about the UVF dealings of McGregor. Don said she would be placed somewhere far away from Glasgow and given a new identity, along with Andy, if that’s what she wanted.

‘I feel sorry for that girl Wendy too,’ Rosie said. ‘Everything’s been done to lock McGregor up for drugs and the murder. But he raped her, and there’s no justice for her.’

‘She could report it to the cops now,’ Matt said. ‘It’s open season on McGregor. A rape charge is the least of his worries.’

Rosie had met with Wendy and Liz earlier at their apartment. She said she wouldn’t pursue the rape and would learn to live with it. The one phone call Jimmy had been allowed to make from custody was to her, and she’d already been to see him at the police station where he was being held. He’d promised her if they extradited him to Scotland, he would turn Queen’s evidence against McGregor. He had already spoken to the Spanish police about his intentions and was waiting for a visit from the British Embassy. It was a long process and he could be in custody in Spain for months. He told Wendy his father’s dying words were for him to do the right thing, and he was determined to try.

Liz was already planning to move to a Greek island and look for a job in a bar. She was never going back to Glasgow.

‘I already talked to my cop contact in Scotland about Jimmy spilling the beans on Eddie and the UVF,’ Rosie said. ‘They’re keen to get hold of him. They’re making the legal moves to see if they can get all three of them back home to face trial in Scotland. But it’s quite complicated.’

‘So why are you so down?’

‘Just knackered, I suppose, and stressed with all the shit
that happened. So much adrenalin and stuff. It happens sometimes. I just want to go home now.’ She thought about TJ, and knew when she got back she’d have to talk to him.

Matt shook hands with Javier and they had a backslapping man-hug, then he walked to the doors with his camera gear.

‘Wait, Rosie.’ Javier went into the boot of his car and took out his jacket. ‘I have a present for you.’ He went into the pocket and handed her an envelope.

‘What is it?’ She opened it, and saw a DVD. She looked at him, confused.

‘Is the video. From the handover of the drugs.’

Rosie smiled, incredulous.

‘You’re kidding me. But how?’

‘How do you think, Rosita? I stole it, of course.’

‘Shit! How?’

‘Listen. I know Garcia a long time. I know he would give it to me if he could, but he didn’t dare. So when he went for a coffee and I was making translation notes from your statement on his computer, I went in and took it.’

‘Christ, Javier! What if he finds out?’

‘I think Juan would be very surprised if I hadn’t stolen it.’

‘So I can use this?’

‘Of course.’

‘No comeback? What if they find out?’

‘I don’t think the police read the
Post
in Seville.’

‘Brilliant! Thanks.’

‘Just put it on my bill.’ He gave her a sarcastic look. ‘You’re not feeling so sorry for everyone now, Rosita? You’ve got your front page pictures.’

He handed her another envelope.

‘What’s this – Christmas Day?’

She tore open the envelope and pulled out the photographs. There were three of them. Two of them were of a holdall pulled open and inside what looked like bags of sugar wrapped in cellophane stacked alongside each other. Another was of the holdall open on a bed in what looked like a hotel room. She gave a little gasp of shock.

‘Please tell me this is McGregor’s coke.’

‘You bet it is.’

‘My God! How in the name of Christ did you get that?’

‘If I told you I’d have to kill you.’

‘Come on, Javier. I’m nearly dizzy with shock here.’

‘Okay. But strictly for us. I knew about this last night, but was sworn to secrecy before the bust. Garcia’s undercover men were watching McGregor closely and when he and Donna were out of the hotel room having dinner after the match last night, the police moved in. When Garcia and his men were in the corridor, they were approached by an older man. He introduced himself as Jack Dunlop. He said he could help them.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Yep. Garcia is the only one who spoke English, and he halted the operation and took the old guy to the side for a
talk. I don’t know the ins and outs of what was said, but I gather from Garcia that the old guy told them McGregor was the drug dealer and was bringing coke back to Scotland on the fans’ bus. He told them his son was mixed up in it, and that he could tell them more if they would cut some kind of deal for his son. Garcia obviously wouldn’t make the deal, but he said they would look at it. The old guy said he would go into the witness box and put McGregor away if they did something for his son.’

‘God almighty. Jack Dunlop? Grassing the UVF?’

‘To save his son. Though I’m not sure it would have worked.’

Rosie studied the pictures again and let out a low whistle.

‘Amazing! Wait till the editor hears this. What can I say?’

‘As I said. Put it on my bill.’

Rosie laughed. ‘Still can’t believe you didn’t tell me though.’

‘My decision.’ He put his hand out. ‘You want me to take them back?’

‘Yeah, that’ll be right,’ Rosie said as she carefully put the pictures back in the envelope and slid them into her rucksack.

‘So your day just got better.’ Javier put his arms around her and kissed her on the lips, then hugged her tight, for a long time.

‘Thanks. I
will
miss you, Javier,’ she said, and meant it.

‘Yeah, sure you will.’

‘And one more thing, Rosie,’ Javier said, as she slung her rucksack over her shoulder and walked away.

‘Yeah?’ She turned around.

‘Do me a favour. Next time you come to Spain? Don’t call me!’

She blew him a kiss, then added a two-fingered salute as she went towards the airport doors.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Rosie’s mobile rang as she and Matt went through passport control at Glasgow Airport. It was McGuire. She’d already spoken to him last night when she finally got out of the police station in Seville after spending three hours giving a detailed statement about the blowtorch attack and her investigation into the drug smuggling. It took a bit of explaining. She knew McGuire would be pacing his office, desperate to get the story in the paper before the Scottish cops waded in, attempting to charge anyone. On top of that, the Rangers fans who had witnessed the arrests and the shooting outside the hotel would already be tipping off the newspapers.

‘Where are you, Gilmour?’

‘I’m on my way, Mick. Just getting out of the airport. I’ll be there shortly.’

‘Great. I need you to get all this copy together asap. Have you written anything up yet?’

Rosie hadn’t told him about the blowtorch injury. There was too much going on and she didn’t want to go into all the detail. But she hadn’t been able to write because of the pain.

‘I haven’t written anything yet.’

‘No? Why not? Were you out on the skite with the fans last night?’

‘No.’ Rosie paused. ‘I’ve got an injury to my arm. It’s a bit better today, but it was too painful last night. I wasn’t in good shape.’

‘What’s happened? You managed not to mention this last night. What the fuck’s going on?’

‘Long story. I’ll tell you when I get there.’

‘What kind of injury? Did you get shot? Stabbed?’

‘No.’ Rosie looked at Matt. ‘It was a blowtorch.’

‘A blowtorch? Fuck me, Rosie! Someone used a blowtorch on you? Who?’

‘One of the hoodlums. A bad lot. Anyway. He’s dead now.’

‘Oh shit! I don’t like the sound of that. Are the Spanish cops going to turn up at my office any time soon?’

‘No, no,’ Rosie chuckled. It was good to be home. ‘Don’t worry. It’s all sorted. But I need to go to the hospital soon as possible. It’s pretty bad. Can you get Marion to sort something today? I can write, but I need to maybe take a day or two to get it done. I’m a bit slow.’

‘Shit! Don’t worry. Marion will get an appointment this
afternoon. But come here first so we can see where we are in all this.’

In the taxi, Rosie’s mobile rang again. This time it was Don.

‘Hi, Don. Have you arrested that big cop down in Ayrshire? Your very own UVF man?’

Don paused. ‘Er. Not yet. Listen. You around later?’

‘Don’t know. Going to be up to my eyes. Plus, I have to go to hospital. Got a problem with my arm. What’s going on?’

‘Well. The UVF man you told me about – the cop? I’ve checked it out here, and, after a lot of fucking around, they’re telling me he’s working undercover.’

‘Bollocks! I just don’t believe that.’

‘Neither do I. But that’s what the top brass are saying. When I told them I’d had a tip-off and that the press were on it – obviously not mentioning any names – they went to his house with a search warrant. Then it all went quiet. They didn’t tell me any more, but I heard through the grapevine they got a load of weapons. Sawn-off shotguns, handguns and AK-47s … and two fucking submachine guns! Fuck me! But they’ve all clammed up now. I know they’re lying – the last thing they’ll want is one of their own turning up in the UVF. It’s totally mental. How the Christ did you dig that one up?’

‘Pure chance, and that’s the truth. We’d been on this UVF drugs smuggling for a few weeks, and we saw this smartlooking guy with one of the bosses after a UVF meeting in
Glasgow. We just got the registration of his car and tracked his address. Then he walked out of the bloody place in uniform. Couldn’t believe it myself.’ Rosie paused. ‘I suppose he
could
be working undercover. I have another source who’ll be able to get some intelligence on that. But I don’t believe it for a minute.’

‘Me neither. Oh, and by the way, that Tam Wilson asshole you gave me over the shit cocaine. He folded under pressure from my DCI, and told us he got the coke from McGregor when he came back from Eindhoven. That was a real result.’

‘Great, Don. We’ll drink to that.’

‘Sure. If you get a chance, give me a shout and we’ll have a drink. If not tonight, then tomorrow.’

‘Okay. Are your guys on their way to Spain to get Donna?’

‘Yep. Went this afternoon. They’ll bring her back here. And they’re looking at dealing with Jimmy Dunlop. He’s told the Spanish cops he wants to talk. He’s already spilled a few things. So much for the
omertà
code between these bastards. Every man for himself when backs are to the wall. Don’t know about Mad Mitch though. He’s a bad bastard.’

‘Okay. But I hope they take care of Donna – because she’s the innocent party in all this.’

‘Don’t worry.’ He hung up.

Marion looked up from her desk when Rosie walked into the office.

‘Jeez, Rosie. That’s a bit of a slap you’ve had.’

Rosie touched her swollen cheek. She’d been so absorbed in the burning pain in her arm, she’d forgotten about her face. ‘I know. But that’s not the worst.’

‘I heard,’ Marion said. ‘You’ve got an appointment at the Nuffield at four. Burns specialist. Is it really bad? Can I see it?’ She came from behind her desk.

‘Don’t think I can take the bandage right off. But it’s pretty bad. Through the skin and flesh. Never felt pain like it in my life. I was crying like a bloody baby.’ She peered into McGuire’s empty office. ‘Where is he?’

‘Here he comes.’

Rosie turned around as McGuire came briskly across the editorial floor and through the open door to Marion’s adjoining office.

‘In you come, Rosie. Did you enjoy the match?’

‘Oh aye. Brilliant.’

Rosie followed him into his office.

‘Bring us some tea, Marion, will you? You hungry, Gilmour?’

‘I’m always hungry.’

‘And some sandwiches, please.’

They stood for a few seconds as McGuire quickly studied Rosie’s face, then glanced at her arm.

‘What the fuck happened?’ He moved to hug her.

‘Careful, Mick. It’s bloody killing me. Honest to God. I’ve never known such pain.’

‘Christ! Sit down.’ He motioned her to the sofa and sat on the leather armchair opposite. ‘Tell me.’

Rosie recounted the full horror of the attack, from the moment she was forced into the blacked-out car, with Adrian at gunpoint. When she got to the part about dangling over the roof, she stopped and sat back, shaking her head.

‘I feel physically sick even talking about it. The worst thing you could ever do to me is to put me high up someplace where I might fall off. It’s been a recurring theme of my fevered nightmares all my life. It was awful. I don’t know how the hell I’m going to get it out of my mind.’