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‘It’s prison, Ross. Do I need to explain about prisoners having mobiles in jail?’ said Wakefield.
‘That’s very true also. But how did our sharp-shooting friend know exactly where they were going to be, and what time? It’s not likely that Hardie told his own executioner, is it?’
Wakefield opened his mouth to answer, before thinking again and closing it, his face pale.
‘So, if the info didn’t come from Hardie, it must have come via someone involved in the operation. I reckon we have a leak.’
28
THE SILENCE THATfollowed was deep and cloying, and only just offset by the whisper of the wind and the thrum of the generator.
‘A leak. Not again. Please not again,’ said Wakefield, shaking his head slowly. There was a longer pause as the realisation sunk in, that corruption was at the centre of their world.
Ross broke the silence. ‘Hardie had no intention of telling you about Mr Big. He was happy to give up a missing body, but giving up who put her there, especially if it was organised by his pa, is another matter completely. That’d make him a grass, which he’d never be, as we said to you a couple of days ago.’
‘What’s your point?’ said Wakefield, his patience clearly wearing thin.
‘Whoever shot Hardie and his lawyer was clearly a professional, but not just because he can shoot straight. He wasn’t bothered about the three cops, or even the bad guys that were trying to bust Hardie out, despite the fact that he could have wasted the whole bloody lot of them. He’d clearly only been paid to shoot Hardie and Leo Hamilton, and a pro wouldn’t shoot anyone he’d not been paid to waste. I mean, why would he?’
‘So, whoever is ordering this has access to one thing, right?’ said Janie, speaking for the first time.
‘What?’ said Wakefield, irritation bristling at him.
‘Information, and money. What’s the going rate for a professional contract killing, ten, twenty grand?’
‘Absolute minimum, especially for a high-profile target like Hardie, then add the lawyer in and it’s serious cash.’
‘But why Hardieandhis lawyer, then?’
‘Well, it seems to me, that whoever had that poor wee lassie put in that loch was keen to get rid of anyone else who knew anything. They probably assumed that Hardie may have told his lawyer, which was too much of a risk. Whoever is behind this is killing anyone who may have any knowledge of who he, or she, is.’
‘I think you could be right,’ said Janie, looking at the screen of her phone.
‘Why?’ said Wakefield.
‘Norma’s been researching Hardie associates from the time Beata went missing, and one of them, a guy called Steven Mitchell, was shot in his garden in Newcastle yesterday. He was part of a crew that was suspected of doing wet work for Hardie, although he was supposed to have got out of the game, and was working as a joiner. It’s only just filtered through, and the details aren’t fully clear, but it’s looking very much like a professional hit. Single bullet to the head.’
‘Any connection to Slattery?’ said Wakefield.
‘Some. Obviously, Norma’s still working it up, but there was phone traffic between them back in the day, and we know that Slattery was Hardie’s middle man for shit like this,’ said Janie, scrolling on her phone.
Ross exhaled, his cheeks puffed out. ‘Jesus suffering fuck. Davie Hardie, his lawyer and two former henchmen all killed in a couple of days. This is bad. This is really bad, just what the hell are they protecting?’
Max said nothing. He just stared down the hill to the clutch of police vehicles at the scene of the carnage and thought of Bruce Ferguson, and his words to him just a few hours ago.‘Do something about this, Max. If Hardie gets out, I’m not just gonna let it lie, you know that, right? He’s part of the reason my brother ended up dead, and if they got a chance, they’d kill me.’His mind was whirling as ifa cog had worked loose, and he just couldn’t organise his thoughts properly. Would Bruce do this? He certainly had the capacity and the skills, and he had made it clear that he wouldn’t stand by idly and let Hardie escape. But would he kill Leo Hamilton? The lawyer was sleazy, and no doubt not ethical in the slightest in his protection of the Hardies over the years, but would Bruce kill him too? Sweat began to bead on his spine as he thought of the consequences, and where that left him personally. His mind flashed back to the video sent to him by Bruce, of Tam Hardie being tossed into the North Sea, a thick chain around his ankles pulling him down. He was mulling this over when Ross’s barking voice cut through.
‘Max, for fuck’s sake, will you switch on, you nugget? I asked you a question, and you’re stood there like a bastard mute.’
Max shook his head to clear his thoughts. ‘Sorry, Ross. I was just contemplating.’
‘Aye, well, stop contemplating, and bloody tune in. We all need to bring our A game, here. What do you think?’
‘I think we need to see the drone footage again. Barney, can we do this now?’ said Max, suddenly back and focused.
‘Sure. It’s backed up on my laptop in’t van. I’ll get the kettle on, nay bother. But I reckon there’s summat else to consider,’ said Barney, exhaling a cloud of smoke from his roll-up.
‘What?’ barked Ross.
‘Well, bearing in mind they seem to be rubbing out anyone connected to the Hardies, has anyone thought of how Frankie Hardie is getting on?’
