Secret Diary, Monday 16th November

Dear Diary,

Things have taken a turn for the strange since I visited Wendy Alexander at Satis House on Saturday. Last night I received a visit from one of Tom Devine's Sauchiehall Street Irregulars who passed me a wine stained note to meet him in a seedy city centre bar. My problem was, could I trust him? After all, my last encounter with him ended with me being sold out to Peter Lawwell, attacked by the Traynor and almost being savaged in a dark basement after Elaine C Smith broke free from her cage. I decided to play it smart and got to the bar an hour early, disguised in a false beard and hat and sat in a gloomy corner and waited to see what happened.

Time passed and then I saw Devine turn up at the bar with another one of his tarts and a strange man in a grey suit with hideous steel claws in place of hands. I couldn't see his face and he didn't stay for long. Then a few urchins wandered in off the street and Devine barked orders at them before they disappeared into the fog outside. Then at the allotted time for meeting him, Devine came straight over to me and sat down. 'You look ridiculous Spiers, if you're going to come in disguise then you should at least leave the corduroy suit behind.'
I blushed. 'Sorry, you'll understand why I don't exactly think I can trust you at the moment?'
'Balderdash! You can trust me to always have the interests of the organisation paramount in my heart. You just got on the wrong side of those interests last week but this week you are yet again on our side I hear.'
His tart came over and sat down beside us, handing him a flagon of port which he gulped down in one go.
'This is Anna Smith, columnist for the News of the World.' He burped, motioning towards the ragged slut drinking a pint of Guinness. 'Now, I hear you're on the trail of the biggest story of the decade, eh? Be careful the path you choose Spiers, this is a journey fraught with danger if you listen to the wrong people. Have you heard of Station X? No? Good, make sure you keep it that way and if anyone tries to steer you towards it then remember what almost happened to you last Thursday. The Traynor is still on the look out for you and some in the organisation want to set him on you after your blundering cost us Hugh Keevins. There's a story to be told here, Spiers. Just make sure you choose the right one.'
With that he motioned for me to leave and as I did, I looked over my shoulder and he was paying me no attention but leaning over the table and giving Anna Smith's tits a tweak.

I mooched down the road feeling even more confused and on passing an alleyway, heard a whisper from the shadows. 'Spiers, come in here.'
I peered into the darkness trying to see who had spoken when a face slowly became clear. It was Darryl Broadfoot. He beckoned me into the lane. 'Listen Spiers,' he said. 'I'm only going to tell you this once. I'm moving up and out of the journalism business.'
I grinned, 'Were you ever really a journalist Darryl? I mean, I knew you when you were still picking pockets for Jack McConnell.'
'Watch your mouth Spiers, the organisation has moved me up - I'm now Head of Communications for the SFA, ostensibly to keep an eye on Gordon Smith but it doesn't mean I won't have the power to put you in your place.'
I gasped, I knew someone was pulling strings at the SFA but to put Darryl Broadfoot within its corridors was a real coup as no one hates the Rangers quite like Darryl. McConnell had worked wonders with him after taking him out the poor house and putting him to work on the streets before getting him a cushy job under Hugh MacDonald at the Herald.
'What about Shorthouse, what became of him?' I asked.
'The organisation found a very convenient task for him - he'll be running our propaganda unit within Strathclyde Police. Pretty soon Martin Bain won't have a place to hide. It's all coming together Spiers, you just watch yourself and make sure you don't go upsetting the apple cart like you did last week.'
I thought about this but before I could reply he motioned me closer to him. I leaned forward and he head butted me on the nose. I screamed as he turned me round and dropped my trousers before rattling me right there in the alley. Then he sneered, spat on me and left me panting in the gutter. To tell you the truth, I thought I was losing my touch.