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‘Find that out, Ross, and we can clear this whole thing up,’ said Max.
‘But for fuck’s sake, how the bastarding hell could he know that Davie was going to approach the cops? Now, I know I’m no rocket scientist, but this makes no shitting sense,’ said Ross, throwing his pen on the desk.
‘I may have something on that front,’ Phil said. ‘When we were going through Davie Hardie’s stuff, we found a letter from JackSlattery to Hardie, sent a week before the visits, but not through the normal mail system. Must have come through a back channel. There was plenty of normal blether in there, as you’d expect, but it’s safe to say that Jack sounded a little worried.’ Phil picked up a piece of A4 paper and slotted a pair of spectacles on his nose as he read from the sheet, ‘“Keep your eyes open, Davie. I heard a whisper that we’re viewed as being a potential problem to someone because of something we sorted for your pa years ago. Maybe watch your back, eh?”’
49
Ace: They know who you are, and they’re looking for you. They also know who the sniper is.
D: He won’t be a problem, and they know nothing. All in hand.
Ace: Get it sorted, and fast. They’re moving Hardie out later today to a safe house.
D: Where?
Ace: No idea, it’s being kept need-to-know. That’s for you to find out.
D: Is Craigie doing debrief?
Ace: Yes with the female DC.
D: Calder?
Ace: Yes, that’s her. There’s going to be a solicitor present as well.
D: Name?
Ace: Devlin, Glasgow firm. You need to sort this urgently.
D: In hand. No problems.
50
FRANKIE WAS SITTINGin reception at the prison, not surprised by the knot of nerves he was feeling, almost like someone had punched him in the gut.
Two stocky and tough-looking plainclothes cops entered the grim and dusty space, and nodded at him. Both wore police ID on lanyards, and Frankie couldn’t help but notice the significant bulges on both their waistbands. Normally the sight of an armed cop would have caused him some angst, but on this occasion, he was thankful.
‘Frankie?’ the older one said.
‘Aye?’
‘I’m Jim, this is Danny, and we’re your lift to the debrief location, you all set?’
‘Aye,’ said Frankie.
‘Got everything you need?’
‘Is it just you two? You know that there’s a bad bastard out there who wants me dead, right?’ He nodded at a clear bag with ‘HMP Shotts’ printed on the side in bold blue lettering, but the feeling of anxiety just got stronger.
‘Don’t worry, this is what we do, Frankie. We’re in a covert car, with blacked-out windows, so you’ll be invisible from the outside, and we have another car with us that’s got three firearms officers in it, with carbines, shotguns and pistols. Anyone trying their luck with us would get a shock, trust me,’ said Jim.
‘They could follow us,’ said Frankie.
‘Leave it to us, pal. We’ve done this before, and I’ve never lost anyone. We’ve a plan.’
Frankie looked at the tough-looking man, with his short, wiry grey hair and muscled forearms, and suddenly felt a little better. He radiated professionalism.
‘Right, let’s get going. We’ve a decent drive ahead of us, give us your hands, we have to cuff you, but as I’m a nice guy, we’ll use nice cuffs, not the horrible new rigid ones that always end up sore,’ he said, brandishing a pair of old-fashioned chain-link cuffs.
