Free Betrayed by Anna Smith Page A

living, he’d put a bullet in him, and probably her as well. Donna’s eyes went back to the television. The names of the two men. Tommy Ritchie and James Balfour. One sounded familiar, ringing a bell somewhere in her head. Ritchie … Richard. She went into the bottom drawer next to the cooker and pulled out the bank card she’d taken from Eddie’s jeans the night he’d come home with Jimmy Dunlop and Mitch Gillespie. She looked at it – Thomas Ritchie. It was the same name. She should have burned it with the rest of the clothes they took off that night, but it had fallen out when she was emptying pockets and she didn’t find it until a day later. She’d stuck it in the drawer without giving it another thought. Now she put it back in the same place, and covered it over with papers, knowing that he would never look there. She smiled to herself. Big Eddie McGregor didn’t make mistakes. Oh yeah? He’d made one now.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    It was stifling in the back of the van. They’d been sitting outside the Tavern for the best part of an hour in the dark blue works van Matt had borrowed from one of his mates. It was uncomfortable and grubby, but at least it wouldn’t look out of place in the street. It was the first time Rosie had been in a van for a stake-out, as she usually left it to photographers. But she wanted to see this for herself.
    She had taken a call mid-afternoon from Liz to tell her about a UVF monthly meeting that took place upstairs in the Tavern, which all the commanders throughout Scotland normally attended. Her boyfriend had let it slip that they were going to meet, and that he was going down to the pub afterwards to talk to a couple of the lads. Rosie thought it was a bit far-fetched, but she didn’t want to take the risk. Even if nothing interesting happened, it might be another opportunity to get a snap of Eddie McGregor, if, as expected, he turned up to the rendezvous.
    ‘I’m suffocating in here, Matt,’ Rosie said as she shifted around on the floor of the van.
    ‘I know. Me too.’ Matt wiped sweat from his forehead as he adjusted his camera so that the long lens was fixed on the side door of the pub. ‘This is what it’s like if you’re an SAS sniper. Just sitting for ages with your gun pointed at the target, waiting for the right moment to fire.’
    ‘Aye,’ Rosie sniggered. ‘You’re just like James Bond, you are.’ She knelt up, so she could see out of the window.
    ‘You know what snipers do if they need a crap when they’re sitting with a target in sight for hours?’ Matt said. ‘They just crap where they’re crouched. Into a crisp packet or something.’
    ‘Christ,’ Rosie chuckled. ‘Please tell me you don’t need a crap.’
    ‘No. Luckily for you I don’t, darlin’. But if I did, I could do it right into a crisp bag.’ Matt was grinning, his eye still on the lens. ‘It was part of that Special Forces training job I went on. It’s easier than you think. You just open the bag …’
    ‘Aye, right, Matt. I get the picture.’
    It was nearly seven by the time a few cars and vans had driven up and one by one the men filtered in through the side entrance. If this was the UVF top brass, then they didn’t resemble anything like the military. More like punters or football fans, and a pretty thuggish-looking bunch at that.But at least Liz’s information about the meeting seemed to be spot on. Another car drew up, and Rosie peered through binoculars.
    ‘Look,’ Matt said. ‘It’s McGregor. Brilliant. Face on, too. Bastard’s looking right down the lens.’
    ‘You don’t think he can see us, do you?’
    ‘No. No way. Relax. It’s just a coincidence that he’s looking this way.’
    A couple of minutes later, another car – a smart black BMW – drew up. Rosie peered through her bins, as Matt adjusted his lens. It took a few seconds before the tall, welldressed man emerged from the car.
    ‘Wonder who he is,’ Rosie said. ‘Seems quite well groomed. Top