‘You better. You saw what he did to me last time.’
Rory nodded as if he’d come to a decision, dried his eyes again and began.
‘Okay. First off, I don’t know who he was. Just one guy. Six footish. With a ski mask on. I really don’t know who he was. Okay?’
Winter believed him.
‘Okay.’
Rory swallowed hard.
‘He just wanted information from me. That’s all.’
‘Tell me what he wanted, Rory.’
The boy swore, blowing bubbles through his tears, his eyes red.
‘There was a mate of mine that died a wee while back. Keiran McKendrick. Died of an overdose.’
The words stuck in the boy’s throat as if he hoped that if he hadn’t spoken them then they wouldn’t be true.
‘What happened?’
He glared again. Winter was wanting more information than he was prepared to give. He was intruding on the boy’s grief.
‘Don’t really know. He didn’t do much more than I did. A wee bit of miaow-miaow, that was all. Hardly ever though. Then he overdosed.’
‘Sorry to hear it. So what did that have to do with you being attacked?’
Rory swallowed hard again.
‘The guy wanted to know who supplied Kieran with the gear. He beat the shit out of me till I told him.’
‘That’s all he wanted?’
‘Aye. ’
‘And who did give your pal the drugs?’
‘Never mind. The other guy had to knock the fuck out of me to get it. All you need to know is that was what he wanted.’
‘Come on, Rory. Finish the job. Give me the name.’
‘No, I’ve told you enough. Why don’t you just leave me alone?’
‘Look, Rory…’
The living-room door opened and Mrs McCabe pushed through with a pot of tea and a plate of biscuits. She immediately saw that her boy had been crying and looked at Winter sternly, the tigress coming out in the quiet housewife.
‘Trauma,’ Winter assured her. ‘People underestimate the effects of re-living an attack like that. It’s a form of post-traumatic stress disorder. Just leave him with his PlayStation for a bit and he’ll be okay. Maybe a cup of tea and a couple of biscuits.’
The woman looked unsure but Rory nodded at her.
‘It’s fine, Mum. I’ll be fine. He’s just going, we’re finished.’
The words were to his mum but they were said with a look at Winter. He wasn’t saying any more. Not that day, anyway.
‘You’ll have a cup of tea though before you go, Sergeant Winter?’
‘No, sorry, Mrs McCabe, but I have to go. Thanks, anyway. Take care of yourself, Rory, and I’ll pop back and see you.’
‘No need, Sergeant,’ Rory said, emphasizing the last word.
He let Mrs McCabe show him to the door and back into the close. He started down the stairs, wondering why the fuck somebody was so determined to find out the name of a dealer that they would take a bat to the kid’s knee. It had to be linked to the shootings though, it just had to be.
He heard footsteps behind him just a second or two before he felt a kick to the back of his legs. A second boot swiftly followed and he found himself tumbling down the stairs. As he fell, he could hear more feet approaching, from down the stairs this time, and a hard blow came at his shoulder.
‘Keep away from Rory, ya cunt. What’s your problem?’
‘He’s no done nothing, right. Leave him alane.’
Winter covered his head and pushed himself back up onto his feet, taking a boot to his right knee for his efforts. Pain shot through it, causing it to buckle and he sank down, half kneeling. He fired out a punch at the nearest person and caught him solid, hearing a groan and footsteps staggering back. He threw back an elbow and caught someone else somewhere solid. It gave him enough breathing space to get to his feet and see three guys in hoodies, two with scarves over their faces and the third, much taller and broader than the other two, was wearing a balaclava that showed only his eyes. Winter lashed out at the nearest one with a boot and caught him in the balls.
His success didn’t last long though and he felt a fist crash into the side of his head, nearly putting his lights out. Bodies were on him like pack rats and he went down under the weight as boots and punches rained in on him. He could taste blood in his mouth. Pain chased pain over his body like an electric circuit. He heard Rory’s name again but couldn’t take much in. Fuck. A kick to the side of his head delivered a dull sting and he knew he was close to blacking out.
Maybe he had because he was suddenly aware of them having stopped and could only feel the aches that were in every bone. He still had his hands wrapped round his head but no more blows came.
‘Sorry.’
Had the cunts in the hoods suddenly developed a conscience? He seriously doubted it. He lifted his head gingerly and peeled his arms away, seeing two wooden pegs with rubber soles just a few inches from his eyes. Crutches.
Rory McCabe looked terrified, probably as much for himself as for Winter. He tottered nervously above him, his damaged knee bent and his leg raised from the ground.
‘Shite, I’m really sorry. I didn’t ask them to do this. I really didn’t know they were going to do anything.’
Winter looked up at him, wiping blood from his mouth and massaging his ribs.
‘One of those guys was waiting at the hospital when I came to photograph you, wasn’t he? The big guy with the balaclava?’
Rory blanched.
‘He fits the description of the guy you said beat you up,’ Winters persisted.
‘No, no way.’ McCabe hissed at him. ‘Lee is just trying to protect me.’
He stopped, realizing he’d said too much. ‘Look you won’t tell the cops, will you?’
Winter knew he probably couldn’t have told them even if he wanted to but Rory didn’t know that. He looked the kid in the eye.
‘I’m not sure. I might have to.’
‘Fucksake,’ the boy whispered, leaning back against the wall so that it held him up. ‘He’s just looking out for me. He’s in the army and will be in big trouble if this goes to the cops.’
‘I’m not sure I have any choice.’
‘Right, I’ll tell you who Kieran’s dealer was, okay? Then you don’t come back here again and you don’t mention Lee to the polis. Right?’
That sounded like a great deal to Winter.
‘Fair enough.’
‘Okay. It was a guy named Sammy Ross. He’s from Royston and…’
CHAPTER 25
A couple of phone calls was all it took for Narey to learn that Melanie’s boyfriend Tommy Breslin was, as they say, known to the police. He had previous for theft, aggravated assault and possession with intent to supply but he also had a reputation for a violent temper. Colin Daly, a mate of Narey’s at Maryhill cop shop said that basically T- Bone Breslin was a bad bastard who was quick to use his fists, his boots or whatever he had to hand. He was a
