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Voices came from the tinny speaker.
‘Ye, cannae do this, ye ken, missie. Ye cannae threaten the boss.’
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry …’Beata’s eyes were full of tears, and her voice was thick with terror.
‘Dinnae want to hear it, lassie. He’s no’ happy, so what do we do, eh?’The thickly accented voice was matter-of-fact, and almost sounded bored.
‘I’ll say nothing, I promise, I promise I’ll say nothing.’
There was a pause before she spoke again, her voice pleading. Her eyes were wide, and the naked fear shone from them.
‘Where … where are you taking me?’
Townsend turned away, his face pale, his mouth open and quivering.
‘Watch it, Mr Townsend. You damn well watch it,’ hissed Janie, her voice thick with emotion.
He returned his gaze to the screen, shaking violently as he looked at it. He yelped when the plastic bag was stretched over her face, and he began to sob as she struggled and fought for her life, until she slumped, and the camera was switched off.
There was a long pause, and a deep, thick silence descended on the gloomy room.
Eventually Ms Dougal spoke, her voice shaky. ‘Is that all of it?’
‘No,’ said Max.
‘Whilst horrific, that doesn’t implicate my client—’
‘Keep watching,’ interrupted Max, who then nodded at Janie.
The screen cleared again, this time showing what seemed to be the inside of a grotty hotel room.
Townsend watched, his mouth wide open at the scene of him and Beata making love on the grimy bed, in the dreary room. He didn’t take his eyes from it when they had finished, and the events that he remembered so well from that day six years ago played out in clear, well-recorded footage. The tears streamed down his face as she stormed out of the hotel room after the threats to him.
‘You’ll be sorry. You’ll be very fucking sorry, you think I don’t know what you do, eh? You think I don’t know that you wash money for big criminals? You think I’m always asleep, but I hear your phone calls. I know who you work for,’she said, her voice laced with venom.
He just sat there staring, his body slumped watching himself pick up his phone from the bedside table and make a call.
When his voice came out of the speakers, his face told Max and Janie everything they needed to know. Finn Townsend knew it was all over.
‘Mr Townsend, I’d listen to the next bit, if I were you,’ said Max.
He watched, his head low, and fresh tears streaming down his face as his words came from the speakers, quiet, crackly but distinctive.
‘Droopy, it’s me. She’s just left, and she was threatening me. Deal with it, okay?’he said, his tone matter-of-fact as if he was discussing the removal of some rubbish from his garden.
The same stultifying and thick silence descended on the interview room.
Eventually Ms Dougal spoke. ‘I’d like to speak to my client, please.’
79
MAX AND JANIEwere inside the office adjacent to the custody suite, whilst Townsend and Ms Dougal were consulting after the interview. Both were in total silence after what they’d just sat through. Their faces were lined and pale from lack of sleep, apart from the couple of hours snatched in the office after they’d secured the video evidence from the safe at McCall’s house. They were exhausted. Bone-wearingly shattered.
Ross slammed his phone down on the desk, triumphantly. ‘Yes, ya dancer. Lord Advocate himself has handed the case over to the lead Fiscal in Glasgow. He’s authorised holding charges for the case of Beata Dabrowski, and a general conspiracy. Lots more to come, but the MIT team can handle that. I know I don’t blow smoke up your arses much, team. But fucking well done.’
Max and Janie looked at each other and smiled, barely able to keep their eyes open such was their levels of fatigue. ‘I’ll take that, Ross.’
‘Aye well, don’t get used to it. Who wants to do the honours and charge him? MIT team have offered to do the necessary holding paperwork, as we’ve not slept for a few days, but one of you two should get the honours of charging the shithead.’
