by Ed James
The door opened and Bain stared out at them. ‘Alright, Col. You look like your missus has caught you having a wank.’
‘Sod off.’ Methven shouldered his way past him and stomped into the flat.
Bain watched him go. ‘Is he off his meds or something?’
‘Search me.’
‘Last time I rummaged in your pants, Sundance, you got a wee hard-on.’
‘Never change, eh?’ Cullen left Bain outside.
Methven was in the kitchen, nodding along to whatever DC Paula Zabinski was telling him.
Vardy’s girlfriend, sat by the window, staring into space as though none of this concerned her.
Cullen offered a sympathetic smile, but she ignored him.
Zabinski nodded at Cullen, then over at the girlfriend. ‘Aye, so according to Miss Pawlok here, Vardy got quite a few death threats in his time. Texts, emails, phone calls. Never a video display, mind.’
‘Excellent work.’ Methven stepped between Zabinski and Cullen. ‘Does she think that the threat level could be escalating?’
Zabinski barked something in Polish. Vardy’s girlfriend returned it without looking up. Whatever she said, it made Zabinski sigh. ‘She said it’s the Russian. We’ve investigated him and he’s made multiple threats against Vardy.’
Methven nodded, far too fast to look genuine.
‘This is simple, Col.’ Bain pulled up a kitchen chair and sat on it the wrong way round. ‘Way I see it, that video means hee haw. The lassie there says Vardy got threats all the time, even from this Russian boy. Comes with the territory of selling drugs, right? Get like those you bide with. Know what I’m saying?’ He got blank looks back. ‘I mean, the people he associates with, they’re bound to threaten each other. All the time. Every week. Keep each other on their toes. Probe for any weaknesses. Vardy will have been as bad as this Russian, whoever he is.’
‘Right.’ Zabinski frowned, like she was trying to make sense of Bain’s insight, but either came up blank or just didn’t agree with it. ‘Like I was saying, he got a lot of threats. On the other hand, McLintock and Williams were known to associate with Vardy.’
Methven took a deep breath, then coughed into his hand. ‘As far as we know.’
‘Aye, as far as you know.’ Bain barked a laugh, then shook his head. ‘Paula, did you or Wilko ever get wind of anything?’
‘Nope.’ Zabinski leaned back against the counter and folded her arms. ‘I spent a few weeks with Elvis, sorry, with DC Gordon staking them out for Wilko. Even interviewed some ex-employees. We were looking for their involvement in Vardy’s operation, but we never breached that particular firewall.’ She eyed Methven. ‘I gather that you’re treating this vigilante as a rogue cop, right?’
‘Sadly not me, but our friends in Livingston.’
‘Well, like I said, McLintock and Williams were well known as Vardy’s associates. Stands to reason that if a rogue cop is really behind this, he’d have an axe to grind with them. Especially as he’s killed them both.’
Methven beamed at her. ‘Constable, remind me to discuss your path to DS.’
‘I’d be delighted, sir.’
Cullen coughed, deliberately loud enough to get them to swing round to focus on him. ‘Sir, DC Zabinski works for DI Wilkinson.’
‘Well, we’ll just have to fix that little mistake, won’t we?’ Methven’s smile got wider.
Cullen stepped between them. Christ, Methven’s married and he’s flirting with a subordinate. Better watch himself. ‘Sir, I think we need to speak to this Russian, get him to admit he made—’
‘I’ve got a much better idea.’ Bain got to his feet and clapped his hands together. ‘Let’s have a wee look at their shagging pads, see if we can get some hard evidence.’
Cullen stopped the car at the top of McLintock and Williams’s private driveway and got out.
Bain was still laughing as he joined him on the walk over. ‘Tell you, I’d give that Polish lassie a little language lesson, starting with French kissing. Know what I mean, Sundance?’
‘Jesus Christ.’ Cullen stopped on the drive. He let the trio of SOCOs walk past. Got a nod from them. Then he glowered at Bain. ‘Her name is Wioletta Pawlok. She’s just lost her partner. Have a bit of decency.’
‘Come on, Sundance, I’m just joking.’
‘You’re always just joking.’ Cullen jogged up the front steps to Williams’s part of the mansion and tried the massive wooden door. Open. ‘Bloody hell, those SOCOs have left us in charge.’
‘That’s how I wanted to play it, Sergeant.’ Methven pushed through the door. ‘I want us in control here.’
‘Talking about control…’ Bain was still chuckling. ‘Tell you, McLintock’s love truncheon still haunts my dreams.’
Cullen entered last, if only to avoid Bain. Methven was already halfway up the grand staircase.
‘Here.’ Bain followed him up. ‘Didn’t Williams mention something about a secret backdoor into McLintock’s place? So he could reach around for McLintock’s wanger in the middle of the night?’
Methven didn’t even bother telling him off, just stood there. ‘You’re welcome to entertain your fantasies, Sergeant. Just keep out of my sodding way.’ He set off up the stairs, heading to the sign of the carnage in McLintock’s bathroom.
‘Happy days.’ Bain set off.
Cullen grabbed his arm and held him back. ‘What are you up to?’
‘Me? Sundance, I’m just checking for secret tunnels in old houses. You heard the boss.’ Bain shrugged him off and skipped down the stairs. ‘Indulge me.’
‘Feels like I’ve spent half my career doing just that.’
‘You’re a fuckin’ funny bastard, Sundance.’ Bain tapped at the wallpaper near the bottom. ‘Hear that?’ He thumped it with his knuckles. ‘Hollow as your head, Sundance.’ He pushed the section of wall and a door clicked open. ‘Here we fuckin’ go.’ He put his fingers to his lips and stepped through.
Aye, I’ve seen everything now.
Cullen trotted up the stairs after Methven, taking the steps three at a time.
The DI was in front of a plain wooden door on the third-floor landing. In this expensively furnished mansion where every single wooden panel and skirting board seemed to be made of hand-carved mahogany or covered in gold, the door was conspicuous for being so plain. He tried the handle. Locked. ‘Might be a cleaning cupboard, but the lock’s a bit of an overkill if that’s all it is.’
Cullen bit his lip, wondering where they might find a key or what might be found behind this plain door, if not cleaning supplies. ‘Hold on.’ He headed back down the stairs and had no trouble finding Bain’s secret passageway. He stepped through into a brightly lit hallway, a mirrored replica of next door, even the gold wallpaper and fake candles matching. Williams’s half of the house. He glanced around to find his bearings. Muffled voices floated down the carpeted staircase from one of the upper floors. Cullen rushed upstairs, up to the third floor.
Knew it.
The two parts of the mansion were symmetrical, meaning that Williams also had a door on the third-floor landing, only his wasn’t plain. And it wasn’t locked.
Cullen pressed the handle down, the door swung inwards on oiled hinges and—
He froze.
Bain was squatting above a gilded bathroom sink, trousers and white pants around his ankles, his face contorted, as a turd squeezed out onto the porcelain. Smelled like someone had opened up the sewer. Bain looked up from between his legs and straight at Cullen with a dirty leer. ‘Christ, Sundance, you’ve made me snap it off halfway.’
Cullen could only stand there, open-mouthed.
Bain reached over for a toothbrush standing in a cup on the sink, and stuck it between his thighs and rubbed it around. Then he hopped off, trousers and pants still round his ankles and used the toothbrush to push the giant jobbie down the plughole, grunting away. ‘Come on, you bugger.’
Cullen looked away. Jesus H Christ. Just when I—
Ha
ng on.
There were three other doors to the giant bathroom, one mirroring the one he’d come through, rattling. He tried the nearest of the other two and it opened to a luxurious bedroom.
Okay…
Cullen backed out of the room and rushed back to McLintock’s side of the semi-detached mansion, taking him all of three floors – down the stairs, and back up – to process the image of Bain defiling the golden sink and refocus on the investigation.
Methven was still hunched over the lock, working away at it with a set of picks.
‘Save it.’ Cullen tried to catch his breath. But instead just caught another image of Bain curling one off onto the porcelain. ‘Got in from the other side. It’s a bathroom. Should be able to get in from the bedroom on the other side.’ He paced through into a bedroom, as huge and expensively furnished as on Williams’s side, and tried the en-suite door. Unlocked.
But it wasn’t a bathroom mirroring the one in Williams’s half. Just a dark cupboard. A smallish desk was lit up by the faint light from the bedroom, his long shadow cast over the floor. An elderly desktop computer whirred and clicked, next to a stack of paperwork. Cullen patted the wall, found a switch, and flicked it. The overhead energy-saver bulb took its time humming to life. Cullen crossed to the plain wood door, slid a metal deadbolt aside and let Methven in from the landing. ‘In you come. There’s a computer in here that might just be as old as y—’
Bain bounced up the stairs behind Methven, that leer still on his face. ‘Here, Sundance, I got it all out of my system.’
Methven frowned at him. ‘You what?’
‘Ach, you know, Col. Had a good rummage around over there. I’ve been under the cosh lately. Felt like something’s snapped off inside me. Been feeling kind of clogged up, but I’ve finally got the whole lot out of my system. I feel a stone lighter, I swear… Got to hand it to you, Col, you’ve really helped me clean up my shite.’
Methven glared at him, still frowning, but just gave up. He followed Cullen inside the hidden office and started working his way through the paperwork. ‘What the hell?’ He held up a piece of paper. ‘This is from a case file! How the sodding hell did he get that?’
Cullen took the file off him and scanned it. ‘The rape of Pauline Quigley. Wasn’t that—’
‘The Lamb and Wilkinson investigation that fell apart.’ Methven snatched it back. ‘The girl who went to prison for Vardy.’ He started going through the rest of the paperwork. Then stopped. ‘Oh my God.’ His face went white.
‘You okay there, Col? Looks like you’ve shat—’
‘Shut up!’ Methven handed Cullen a sheaf of notes.
Cullen flicked through the pages. Another rape case against Vardy where the accuser was underage, so she was kept anonymous. Another one that fell apart before getting to court. ‘Who’s leaking this to them?’
‘That’s not the bit that’s—’ Methven handed him another page. A PI report, dated a week ago. ‘McLintock discovered the girl’s identity.’ He stared at Cullen, long and hard. ‘Amy sodding Forrest.’
37
‘When do I get out of here?’ Amy was huddled in the interview room, pulling a cheap tracksuit top tight round her shoulders. She shivered. ‘When can I see Zak?’
Cullen glanced at the two-way mirror, hoping Methven was still behind it. ‘I’ll put in a good—’
‘Save it.’ Amy stared out at him, her tired gaze sliding off his face and moving to his left, where Bain was rasping his grey beard. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, then opened them again, nothing but resignation in them. ‘I’ve heard it all so many times.’
‘I imagine so.’ Bain nodded slowly, then sniffed. ‘People must offer to help you all the time, eh? But when it comes down it? When push comes to shove? Where are they?’
‘Aye…’ Amy was frowning. ‘Fucking wankers.’
From squatting over a sink to this in half an hour.
‘Listen to me. You’ve had a horrendous time. Horrendous. I’ll make sure you and the wee man are both okay. And that’s a promise.’ Bain leaned forward. ‘But you need to help us a wee bit, then we’ll get you back to wee Zak, pronto. Alright?’
‘Okay.’ She sucked in a halting breath. ‘So what do you want to know?’
‘Vardy raped you, right?’
‘You know that. I’ve told you twice.’
‘You neglected to mention that you were underage.’
‘Fuck.’
‘It’s sickening, believe me. Wish I hadn’t found out.’ Bain held up a finger. ‘No, I wish you hadn’t been raped. But the thing is, Amy, you’ve lied about your age, haven’t you? My colleagues would never have considered you for an undercover sting if they’d know you were sixteen.’
Amy stared hard at the table.
‘We would never have put you and Xena in that position if we’d known.’ Bain leaned forward another inch. ‘I’m not saying that her death is your fault…’
Amy continued staring at the table. She rubbed her eye and looked up at Bain, then at Cullen.
Bain sat back and folded his arms. ‘Tell us what happened, Amy. Then you can see Zak.’
Amy stared up at the ceiling. ‘When I started dancing at Wonderland, I lied about my age. I had fake ID from school. Thing is,’ she clutched her breasts, ‘these are natural, unlike most of the girls there, so Dean offered me a job, didn’t seem to care that my ID said I was twenty-one, even though I was fifteen.’ She nibbled at her bottom lip. ‘Anyway, Dean had a thing where he’d have sex with every new girl, like some initiation ritual. Usually when he was coked out of his skull, which was most nights. When it was my turn, he let one of the bouncers watch. Afterwards, that sick fuck offered the bouncer sloppy seconds. Thank fuck Liam had more class, eh?’
‘Go on.’
‘Anyway. A fortnight later Dean had me meet this guy he knew. Got in his car, down in Leith, where the docks used to be. Ended up in this hotel, being forced to suck off some drug dealer who worked for Dean. I did the business, then Vardy pinned me down and raped me. That’s when we got caught, eh? This big bastard DI Wilkinson…’
Cullen tasted sour acid bubbling up from his gut. He got up and started pacing around. He shot a stern look at Bain. Don’t interrupt her.
But Bain was holding his breath.
‘Anyway, Wilko arrested me.’
‘Was he in the room with you?’
‘No, he was waiting outside. I went up to his car, to see if he wanted some business, and he slapped cuffs on me.’ Amy swallowed hard. ‘But then he found out I’d just turned sixteen and he was going hard at me. I told him about Dean and how he’d raped me when I started. He put two and two together and realised that the sex with Dean was when I was underage. The bouncer didn’t know, so when Wilkinson told him, he agreed to testify as an eyewitness. Wilkinson got a trial date fixed and I was still working away at Wonderland, making sure that Dean didn’t suspect a thing. Then the bouncer died and the case fell apart. The way Wilko told me, it would’ve been my word against Dean’s. I was worried Dean would find out. I mean, I’d given an anonymous statement, but he must’ve had a contact in the cops, eh? And he’d probably have killed my mum and sister. So, I told Wilkinson I wanted out of it, and I kept quiet. And for a while nothing happened. Until last week. Dean found out I was underage back when he broke me in, as he called it.’
‘This is before you were due in court?’
She nodded again. ‘Prick came to my flat and confronted me.’ She rubbed a tear from her eye. ‘Didn’t even look at his son for a second. Course, Dean didn’t feel bad about fucking a minor. He just threatened me, said his lawyer found out my real name and my real age. Told me I if went to the cops, he’d gut me like a pig. Right in front of Zak.’
Cullen knocked on Wilkinson’s office door, the Fettes car park gleaming through the window behind Zabinski’s desk. An Audi did a slow arc as it pulled by the window.
No answer.
Bloody hell.
Cullen reached over to the
door-entry system and tried the first code he could think of. 2868. Nothing.
Then the door clunked open and Wilkinson peered out like a badger in the headlights. ‘What the hell do you want?’
‘A mountain bike and a PlayStation 4, please Santa.’ Cullen grabbed Wilkinson’s lapels. ‘What do you think? We need a word.’
Wilkinson shook his hands away. ‘You can piss off.’
Cullen pushed him into the office. ‘We know what you’ve done, Paul.’
‘Oh yeah?’ Wilkinson tried to stop him, but in the end just settled back on his desk, watching Methven shutting the door. He folded his arms. ‘Oh yeah? What have I done?’
‘You know.’
‘Listen. I’ve had it up to here with people thinking I’m the bloody vigilante! Bloody Lennox and Flockhart were in here saying I booked some escort gig for some stupid tart! I lost my bloody phone, didn’t I?’
‘That’s very careless of you.’
‘What have I done now?’
Methven stood over him, inches from his face. ‘We’ve just spoken to Amy Forrest.’
Wilkinson’s mouth hung open. ‘What are you talking about?’
Methven kept staring until Wilkinson looked away.
‘She was the tart who I supposedly booked, right? This isn’t news to me.’
‘Inspector, I need you to focus, okay?’ Methven reached over and dusted Wilkinson’s suit shoulders. He didn’t flinch. ‘We just found out that Amy was underage when Vardy forced her to have sex with him for the first time. And we also found out that you knew.’
‘What?’
‘You were going to use her as a witness to get Vardy put on trial, but you lost another witness so she bailed on you. Seems like a repeating pattern, Paul. And you’re right in the middle of it.’
‘How the hell did you find that out?’
‘Because Campbell sodding McLintock did.’
Wilkinson sat there, saying and doing nothing. ‘Shit.’
Methven planted his hands on Wilkinson’s shoulders, kept him sitting on his desk. ‘So, here’s what we’re thinking. Young Amy cost you a career-defining case. Meaning you had a motive to take revenge against Vardy and McLintock. You’re a cop, meaning you had the means and opportunity to—’
