Read Online The Last Witness by Denzil Meyrick - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Denzil Meyrick
Ads: Link
have been on trial over the last four months in what has been the largest such proceeding in Scottish legal history. The gang, responsible for murder, extortion, the supply of illegal drugs and money laundering, as well as a further seventeen charges, are likely to collectively serve over a thousand notional years in prison.’
The visuals switched from the newsreader to footage of Machie being removed from court by five uncomfortable-looking security guards. Though handcuffed, he was spitting and shouting oaths at the cameramen, journalists and sundry onlookers, some of whom shouted support. His demeanour was at odds with his expensive Italian suit; his screwed-up features spoke only of vitriol and revenge. Daley saw Scott squirm in his seat.
The scene cut out and was replaced with footage of a Glasgow street. The battered white vehicle that had mounted the pavement exposed the horror that had been perpetratedthere; the vehicle was riddled with bullet holes, the crumpled doors hanging open to allow a view of the blood-soaked interior. A group of men dressed in white crime scene overalls were doing their best to cover the vehicle with a blue tarpaulin; a police tow truck was positioned to the front of the ruined van. Blue lights flashed from numerous police vehicles at the scene.
‘Fuckin’ hell, it’s a’ oor yesterdays,’ Scott blurted, unconcerned on this occasion by Donald’s presence.
The camera refocused on another reporter, again familiar, though looking younger. ‘Behind me are the remains of the prison ambulance in which notorious Glasgow gangster James ‘JayMac’ Machie died in a hail of bullets just over an hour ago. He was being transported back to his cell in Barlinnie prison after attending the city’s Royal Infirmary with a suspected heart attack.
‘Though details are sketchy, it is believed that two police outriders, two prison officers and a private security guard were also killed in the attack which involved as many as ten masked men driving a stolen city taxi, heavy goods vehicle and an Audi car. It is thought that the well-planned execution could be the work of rival gangsters who still feared Machie, even though it’s highly unlikely that he would have been freed from prison for many years, if ever.’
The camera panned out to reveal a uniformed police officer, replete with gold braided cap; there was no mistaking Donald.
‘With me is Superintendent John Donald, deputy divisional commander of the central police division. Superintendent Donald, what is your understanding of these dreadful events?’
Daley watched as Donald raised his brows and, instead of addressing the reporter, looked straight into the camera. ‘The events of this morning are tragic in the extreme, especially for the families of my two officers, prison staff and the private security guard who lost their lives trying to protect Mr Machie.’ He stopped, disgusted, and turned back to the reporter.
‘Do you have anything to say to the Machie family, now that it has been confirmed that James Machie died in the attack, Superintendent Donald?’
Again, Donald chose to turn to the camera with his answer.
‘In my job, dealing with the aftermath of violence is, sadly, an almost daily occurrence. Of course the death of any individual in such circumstances is most regrettable; I’m sure your viewers will agree, though, that some deaths are more regrettable than others. I will reiterate that my thoughts are with the families of the dead officers and the murdered security guard. That’s all I have to say.’
The camera panned one more time to the wrecked ambulance, then the picture faded out. A re-run of the CCTV footage from Australia played next. Daley glanced at Scott, who was now sitting forward on his seat; this was the first time he had been shown the murders in Ringwood East.
The action played out silently on the big screen. As Marna Dowie’s head exploded once more and JayMac made his way to the front of the
The visuals switched from the newsreader to footage of Machie being removed from court by five uncomfortable-looking security guards. Though handcuffed, he was spitting and shouting oaths at the cameramen, journalists and sundry onlookers, some of whom shouted support. His demeanour was at odds with his expensive Italian suit; his screwed-up features spoke only of vitriol and revenge. Daley saw Scott squirm in his seat.
The scene cut out and was replaced with footage of a Glasgow street. The battered white vehicle that had mounted the pavement exposed the horror that had been perpetratedthere; the vehicle was riddled with bullet holes, the crumpled doors hanging open to allow a view of the blood-soaked interior. A group of men dressed in white crime scene overalls were doing their best to cover the vehicle with a blue tarpaulin; a police tow truck was positioned to the front of the ruined van. Blue lights flashed from numerous police vehicles at the scene.
‘Fuckin’ hell, it’s a’ oor yesterdays,’ Scott blurted, unconcerned on this occasion by Donald’s presence.
The camera refocused on another reporter, again familiar, though looking younger. ‘Behind me are the remains of the prison ambulance in which notorious Glasgow gangster James ‘JayMac’ Machie died in a hail of bullets just over an hour ago. He was being transported back to his cell in Barlinnie prison after attending the city’s Royal Infirmary with a suspected heart attack.
‘Though details are sketchy, it is believed that two police outriders, two prison officers and a private security guard were also killed in the attack which involved as many as ten masked men driving a stolen city taxi, heavy goods vehicle and an Audi car. It is thought that the well-planned execution could be the work of rival gangsters who still feared Machie, even though it’s highly unlikely that he would have been freed from prison for many years, if ever.’
The camera panned out to reveal a uniformed police officer, replete with gold braided cap; there was no mistaking Donald.
‘With me is Superintendent John Donald, deputy divisional commander of the central police division. Superintendent Donald, what is your understanding of these dreadful events?’
Daley watched as Donald raised his brows and, instead of addressing the reporter, looked straight into the camera. ‘The events of this morning are tragic in the extreme, especially for the families of my two officers, prison staff and the private security guard who lost their lives trying to protect Mr Machie.’ He stopped, disgusted, and turned back to the reporter.
‘Do you have anything to say to the Machie family, now that it has been confirmed that James Machie died in the attack, Superintendent Donald?’
Again, Donald chose to turn to the camera with his answer.
‘In my job, dealing with the aftermath of violence is, sadly, an almost daily occurrence. Of course the death of any individual in such circumstances is most regrettable; I’m sure your viewers will agree, though, that some deaths are more regrettable than others. I will reiterate that my thoughts are with the families of the dead officers and the murdered security guard. That’s all I have to say.’
The camera panned one more time to the wrecked ambulance, then the picture faded out. A re-run of the CCTV footage from Australia played next. Daley glanced at Scott, who was now sitting forward on his seat; this was the first time he had been shown the murders in Ringwood East.
The action played out silently on the big screen. As Marna Dowie’s head exploded once more and JayMac made his way to the front of the
Similar Books
