Free Black Mail (2012) by Bill Daly Page B

money at Fraser’s place they’ll think I’ve got it.’
    ‘First, I’ll need a full statement about what you and Fraser were up to in Argyle Street last night, then we’ll get round todiscussing what protection might be appropriate – and what information we might release to the papers.’
    ‘Jesus Christ!’ Devlin sank back down on the chair.
    O’Sullivan produced a tape recorder from the top drawer of the desk and having checked the cassette was fully rewound he depressed the ‘record’ button. ‘Thursday the sixteenth of December,’ he said into the microphone. He glanced at his watch. ‘Two fifteen p.m. This is a recording of an interview between Detective Sergeant Anthony O’Sullivan and Johnny Devlin.’ Swinging the microphone round to face Devlin he pointed to the recorder. ‘On you go.’
    Devlin coughed into his fist and his agitated fingers twitched around his stubbled chin. ‘Gerry Fraser an’ me were workin’ Argyle Street last night,’ he mumbled.
    ‘Doing what?’
    ‘Floggin’ stuff.’
    ‘What kind of stuff?’
    Devlin caught O’Sullivan’s eye. ‘What do you think?’ he mouthed.
    ‘I’m not paid to think.’ O’Sullivan pointed towards the tape recorder. ‘Answer the question.’
    Devlin cast his eyes down to the floor. ‘Sherbet,’ he said quietly.
    ‘What flavour?’
    He shrugged. ‘Bit of this – bit of that.’
    ‘How were you selling it?’
    ‘We’ve got a system. Fraser hangs about outside Marks & Spencer’s with a collection box an’ the punters give him their orders an’ hand over their cash. Fraser gives them a code word an’ tells them where to pick the stuff up. Last night, it was from Ted Wilson at a sandwich bar in St Enoch’s. Fraser tick-tacksthe order to me an’ I get on the blower to Wilson an’ tell him to get a package ready to hand over when someone with Save the Children stickers stuck to his jacket gives him the code word.’
    ‘Who’s Ted Wilson?’
    ‘Fraser’s cousin.’
    ‘Where does he live?’
    Devlin stared across the desk and shrugged. ‘I’m no’ sure. Elderslie, I think. Or it might be Johnstone. Somewhere over there.’
    ‘How much did you sell last night?’
    Devlin stopped to think. ‘There were three big orders and a few footery ones.’
    ‘Who was buying big?’ Devlin screwed up his face. ‘And what were they buying?’
    ‘Oh for fuck’s sake!’ he mouthed. O’Sullivan jabbed his finger at the microphone. Devlin rubbed hard at his chin. ‘Dan Atherton paid five hundred for half an ounce of China white,’ he said. ‘Tosh McCulloch picked up a load of crack – canny remember how much he paid – an’ someone I’ve never seen before got three hundred quid’s worth of heroin.’
    ‘Who were you selling for?’
    Devlin was sweating profusely. ‘I have to have protection,’ he whined.
    O’Sullivan leaned forward and depressed the pause button. ‘I said a
full
statement, Devlin. If I’m happy with what I hear, then I’ll consider protection.’ He released the pause button. ‘Who were you selling for?’ he repeated.
    Devlin moved to the edge of his seat and stared wide-eyed at the revolving cassette. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then shook his head and collapsed back into his chair.

CHAPTER 5
    Charlie Anderson depressed the buzzer on his desk intercom. ‘Pauline, try to find Tony O’Sullivan and ask him to come to my office.’
    Charlie was standing by the window, gazing out at the drifting snow and lost in his thoughts when O’Sullivan’s discreet cough jerked him out of his reverie.
    Charlie turned round with a start. ‘Sorry, Tony, I was miles away.’
    ‘Pauline said you wanted to see me.’
    Charlie indicated the seat opposite. ‘Got a bit of a sensitive one here. He slid a manila folder across the desk. ‘I’d like you to handle it. It appears that the bloke who got stabbed with a syringe at a cashpoint last night was Councillor Frank Mullen.’
    ‘You don’t say!’