Ken McClure - Deception

‘What sort of stuff?’

‘Oh, nothing dodgy, I can see what you’re thinking but it was nothing off the back of a lorry. Tom was no angel but this was a government deal with a proper contract and done all legal like.’

‘But you don’t know what it is?’

‘I was there when the lorries delivered it. Sacks of granules, I think. Tom said the government had to store it until the Europeans had agreed some standard for it or something like that, so he rented out the barn to them. You know what that Brussels red tape is like.’

Brown and Steven silently nodded their agreement and Brown steered the conversation off in another direction before Watson started to suspect that he was being pumped for information. They had what they wanted to know.

Another ten minutes and McColl and his companions for the evening rose to leave. McColl was smiling all over his face. He now acknowledged Brown’s presence and came over to him. ‘You know,’ he said gloatingly. ‘Ever since I started in this business I’ve always wanted to ring in and say, “Hold the front page! And tonight... I’m going to do it. What was it that villain in Batman used to say? Ah, I remember, So-long suckers!’

With that, he turned and left, with Childs and Leadbetter holding the door open for him.

‘Scoop McColl does it again,’ murmured Brown. ‘The journalist’s journalist, the man they call... Alex.’

‘Wee shit,’ offered Watson.

Steven and Brown said good night to Gus Watson and left the pub. ‘What now?’ asked Brown.

‘We can’t waste any more time. We’ll have to go see Trish Rafferty tonight.’

Steven felt relieved when it was Eve who opened the door at Crawhill. He felt that they now had at least a chance of getting in through the front door.

‘What on earth are you doing here?’ exclaimed Eve in an astonished whisper.

‘I have to speak to Trish,’ said Steven.

‘For God’s sake, Steven, the poor woman is in the middle of making funeral arrangements for her husband,’ protested Eve.

‘It won’t wait,’ said Steven. ‘I know what’s been going on here but I need her to fill in the blanks.’

‘Who’s this?’ asked Eve, looking at Brown.

‘Jamie Brown of The Scotsman . Call him insurance.’

‘I know what Trish will call him,’ said Eve.

‘Who is it?’ demanded Trish Rafferty, coming out into the hall and looking over Eve’s shoulder. ‘What the hell do you want?’ she said when she saw Steven standing there.

‘I need to ask you some questions,’ said Steven.

‘Sling your hook,’ said Trish angrily.

‘Wait!’ Steven showed her his ID and said, ‘I’m sorry but under law you are obliged to answer them either here or at police headquarters if you’d prefer.’

Trish stared at Steven, her eyes flashing and then looked at Brown. ‘And who’s he?’ she asked.

Brown introduced himself and Trish snorted. ‘There’s no bloody way that I’m obliged to speak to bloody reporters,’ she fumed.

‘No, you’re not,’ agreed Steven. ‘We can talk on a one to one basis if you prefer.’

‘You’d better come in.’

Trish said to Eve, ‘Look after this one, will you? See that he doesn’t pinch the silver while I talk to Sherlock here.’

Eve took Brown into the living room with an apologetic smile while Trish led Steven through to the dining room where they sat down at the table to talk.

Steven could see that Trish — arms folded across her chest, was in no mood to be co-operative so he said, ‘Let me tell you what I already know. That barn out there — he gestured with his forefinger — is full of BSE infected material. The local rats have been eating it and they have developed their own form of BSE that’s why they’ve been going around biting everyone. Your husband is responsible for that situation in some way and you shopped him to the authorities over it. You told them everything in exchange for a promise of immunity for him and his co-operation in what they’re doing here at the moment. How am I doing?’

Trish Rafferty had gone pale. She swallowed and said, ‘No comment.’

‘Won’t do.’ Said Steven. ‘I have to know the missing bits. What kind of a hold do Childs and Rafferty have over you?’

‘No comment.’

‘For God’s sake, woman, the Ferguson kid is dead; James Binnie is dead; your own husband is dead and all because of what’s been going on here. ‘Do you want to be an accessory to murder?’

‘They were accidents,’ insisted Trish.

‘James Binnie’s death was no accident and neither was your husband’s,’ said Steven, playing his ace. ‘Someone locked them in the shed with Khan and then doused the lights. Think about it, Trish!’

‘You’re lying!’ she stormed.

‘No, I’m not,’ said Steven calmly. ‘James Binnie had a friend at the vet school who told him exactly what was wrong with the rats. He came here to have it out with your husband and Childs and Leadbetter killed them both.’

Trish shook her head, unwilling to accept what she was hearing. ‘No,’ she said. ‘They promised me nothing would happen to Tom if he just did what they told him.’

‘Face facts, Trish,’ said Steven kindly. ‘They couldn’t afford to have someone like Tom keeping their secret, could they?’

All the aggression had gone from Trish Rafferty. Her shoulders slumped forward as she saw the truth in what Steven was saying. ‘The bastards,’ she murmured. ‘The bloody bastards. Tom was an arse but he didn’t deserve that.’

Steven kept quiet and was rewarded when Trish started to talk.

‘About eighteen months ago, Tom was approached by someone who said he was from the Scottish Office about the possibility of him storing some BSE cull material. They’d been killing cows faster than they could incinerate them in that bloody stupid gesture to placate Europe. They said that they’d pay well for the use of his barn. The only condition was that he would have to bring it up to standard with regard to it being wind and watertight and secure from animal ingress. He’d need to get a licence but not for a year. The barn was empty and the money was good so Tom agreed. He pretended to the locals that he was storing animal feed there while it was waiting for a Euro-licence.’

‘So it was all above board?’ said Steven.

‘Yes,’ agreed Trish. ‘It was all perfectly legal.’

Steven could see that Trish was having difficulty saying more. He tried prompting her. ‘So what went wrong, Trish? What did he do that was so awful that you had to blow the whistle on him?’

Trish took out her handkerchief to hold it over her nose and mouth for a moment.

‘What was it?’ prompted Steven. ‘He didn’t bring the building up to scratch as he’d agreed, so the rats got in and started eating the stuff?’

‘Not just that,’ said Trish. ‘The stuff looked just like animal feed so he started selling the stuff on the black market.’

‘What!’ said Steven, his eyes opening wide. ‘But that could have started the whole BSE business all over again!’

Trish nodded. ‘I tried telling him that. I argued with him until I was blue in the face and he promised he’d stop but I knew he was still doing it so I went to the authorities and told them what he was doing.’

‘What happened?’

‘At first they were going to lock Tom up and melt the key but then they realised what the publicity would do to them personally. They changed their minds and decided that it would be wrong to cause public panic. If Tom and I would cooperate they would put everything right and in exchange for our help, no action would be taken against Tom. I said that I wanted no more to do with any of it, including Tom and they agreed that I could move out. Tom could do their bidding on his own.