Impolitic Corpses

by Paul Johnston

  Hyslop saw me and waved me over. She was wearing ScotPol fatigues and a helmet, a holstered pistol hanging from her belt.

  ‘What have you done?’ she shouted.

  At least I heard that. ‘Me? Jack Nicol’s sidekicks were responsible for the blast.’

  Knee Bothwell was standing a few yards away. He twitched his head and I understood. Rebels had been involved in the explosion. I needed to change the subject.

  ‘Tell me,’ I yelled, redirecting her question, ‘what are you going to do now that the Lord of the Isles is back on the scene? Arrest the Nor-English representatives and the Finns? What about the South Africans?’ I gave her a knowing smile. ‘By the way, the teratologist didn’t make it.’

  She glared but didn’t back down. ‘What are you insinuating, Dalrymple?’

  ‘Are you sure you want to have this conversation in public?’

  Suddenly, she looked a lot less sure of herself.

  ‘In any case, I’m not saying another word until Davie Oliphant’s standing next to me.’

  Bothwell knew what was going on; he’d given subtle signals to his people and they were massing behind him, weapons at the ready. ScotPol officers saw them but didn’t show much enthusiasm for a fight. I got the impression that Hel had lost them.

  She spoke into her radio and a few seconds later Davie got out of a service four-by-four. He looked unharmed and strode towards us, grabbing a rifle from a junior officer.

  ‘You OK, Quint?’ he said, as he joined us and faced his commander.

  I nodded, putting my hands behind my ears. ‘Hearing’s turned down to about three and a half; cheek’s got a puncture, how about you?’

  ‘Untouched by male or female hand,’ he said, looking belligerently at Hyslop. ‘But I’ve been locked in an office without phone or ScotNet, and someone’s going to pay.’

  His boss looked around for support. None of her officers was closer than five metres away. Then her phone rang. She answered it and listened, her face collapsing in ruins. She closed the connection and caught my eye.

  ‘I’ve been ordered by the moderator of parliament to surrender myself.’

  ‘Ha,’ said Davie, handing Bothwell his rifle and stepping forward. He relieved Hyslop of her phone, pistol, combat knife, ID and truncheon. Then he used her own cuffs to secure her hands behind her back. ‘Where to?’ he asked me, then repeated the question at high volume.

  ‘All right!’ I shouted back. ‘My hearing’s almost back to normal.’

  ‘Parliament,’ Hyslop said.

  Davie made a call to confirm and then led her away. No ScotPol personnel made any show of support for her. It was never smart to treat people like dirt.

  ‘Quint?’ Katharine said. ‘Nicol’s coming round.’

  So he was. It was time for a question-and-answer session.

  That took place in the burgh building on the High Street, in front of Lachie MacFarlane and Rory Campbell. The latter had asked Katharine to keep an eye on the Dundonians. The centre of the city was quiet, and we’d just heard that Andrew Duart had surrendered himself to security staff at the parliament building. A paramedic had put a dressing on my cheek.

  I drew the others to one side before we went into the meeting room, which had armed guards on the door.

  ‘We need to get the media involved. I’m not convinced all the people involved in this will stop machinating unless the people are told.’

  ‘Good point,’ said Lachie. ‘But we need the media owners on board.’

  I beckoned to Charlotte Thomson, who was standing on the other side of the hall. I’d got her into the van that brought us from the ex-destructor and given her a rundown of what had been going on. Her lower jaw spent the whole journey resting against her throat.

  Lachie and Rory knew her, of course, and greeted her warmly.

  ‘I’ve been talking to my editor,’ Charlotte said. ‘She’s been in touch with the owner. We can publish.’

  Lachie clapped his hands. ‘And when you publish, everyone else will have to follow suit.’

  ‘Well, I don’t care about that,’ she said, turning to me. ‘I get an exclusive interview with Quint here.’

  If Edinburgh’s leaders had a problem with that, they didn’t show it. Now I was going to test them further.

  ‘I’m going to ask Jack Nicol questions with Charlie present, all right?’

  They looked at each other and then shrugged.

  ‘We’ll be listening,’ said Rory.

  ‘And the same goes for the English trade delegation,’ I said. ‘Davie’s gone to detain them.’

  ‘You’re taking rather a lot on yourself, Quint,’ Lachie said, punching me on the thigh.

  I glanced at the journalist and smiled. ‘Sometimes I have to.’

  We walked up to the guards. After Rory gave the OK, they opened the doors, and then closed them behind us.

  Jack Nicol had been relieved of his clothes and was now wearing a thin cotton jumpsuit. His head with the green-and-white football tattoo was bare. The word PRISONER was in large letters across the chest and on the trouser leg. His wrists were cuffed to those two burly security men, who were no doubt rebels.

  Nicol laughed as we approached the table and sat across from him. ‘Who’s this, Dalrymple? Your fancy woman?’

  ‘My name’s Charlotte Thomson. I’m writing a story about you that people all over Scotland will read tomorrow. Be nice.’

  That shut him up.

  ‘So, Jackie, I spoke to your mother.’

  He narrowed his eyes. ‘I heard. I suppose you believed her like you believed me.’

  ‘She was worried about you. I’m not surprised. When did you start working for the South Africans?’

  ‘Whit?’

  ‘Give it up, son. Amber and Penny told me.’

  Silence again.

  ‘That’s better. If you tell me what I want to know, you might not spend the rest of your life in the Bar-L.’ The old prison in Glasgow had never closed and was again the biggest in Scotland.

  ‘I’m the Prince of Hell,’ he said, head up and chest out.

  ‘You actually believe in that stuff?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘And there was me thinking you were just using the Followers of Hieronymus Bosch the Prophet for criminal ends.’ I took a sip from the bottle of water in front of me. My throat was still dusty from Powderhall.

  ‘Well, that too.’ Nicol gave me a loose grin and I noticed he was missing a canine.

  ‘What happened to your tooth?’

  ‘In some fucker’s leg.’ He did his arrogant look again.

  ‘How did you get involved with the South Africans?’ I asked. ‘Tell the truth without screwing around and you’ll get a book of Bosch paintings in your cell. Otherwise, forget it.’

  He gave me the hard eye and then started to speak. ‘They found me three years back. Told me they were interested in Bosch.’ He grinned. ‘And in making money. We bonded.’

  ‘Uh-huh. They being?’

  ‘Couple of blond guys. One of them couldn’t speak. He was a bit … scary.’

  ‘He isn’t any more. When did you meet the twins?’

  ‘Last summer, July it must have been. I’d proved maself by then. Kidnapped a couple of businessmen, extracted plenty in ransoms.’

  ‘They told you about the South African plan to take over Scotland’s energy companies?’

  ‘Aye. Worked for me. Those rich fuckers like the Lord of the Isles, they deserve everything they get.’

  ‘His wife as well?’

  ‘Aye!’

  ‘Remember the Bosch book, Prince of Hell.’

  That quietened him down. ‘When did you first meet the Nor-English?’

  ‘A week later. I knew the Boers were working them. I didn’t care. That guy Shotbolt – what a bamstick.’

  ‘Gemma Bass was your contact.’

  ‘Aye. I suppose the twins told you that too. Whit’s got intae them?’

  I raised my s
houlders. ‘Conscience.’

  ‘You’re joking! Those freaks are the nastiest people you’ll ever meet. I used to think Amber was OK, but she’s even worse than Penny.’

  A worm of apprehension twisted in my gut. The twins were somewhere in the building, Rory having brought them from Cramond. What might they be up to?

  ‘You know the Nor-English have an army ready to invade Scotland,’ I said.

  ‘Let them. Then I won’t go to prison.’

  ‘And the Finns? I suppose they wanted guaranteed energy from Scotland.’

  ‘Aye, and they’re sick of being bullied by the Swedes and Norwegians.’

  I wondered if the twins had told him why they wanted the finger put in the Lord of the Isles’s bed, but I wasn’t going to ask in front of Charlotte. I suspected they’d kept their plot against me to themselves and the teratologist.

  ‘You knew Morrie Gish, of course?’

  ‘Morrie worked for me,’ said Nicol, unable to hide his pride.

  I doubted that, but it didn’t matter. They were all ordure.

  I turned to Charlotte. ‘You getting this?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Isn’t treason the worst crime of all?’ She looked at Nicol as if he was a mass murderer.

  ‘By far,’ I said. ‘Parliament’s going to discuss bringing back the death penalty for it.’ It wasn’t, but how would he know?

  ‘That’s shite!’ he said less than convincingly.

  I smiled. ‘What’s your problem? You’ll be able to take up your rightful place in the underworld, pecking at souls with your beak and shitting them out for eternity.’

  He now looked deflated, which was how I wanted him.

  ‘I can still get you that Bosch book.’

  ‘The Prophet Hieronymus,’ he said dully.

  ‘Right. Just tell me who helped the South Africans and the Nor-English.’

  ‘Why should I trust you?’

  ‘Because I’m here, with an independent witness who’s going to tell your story to the whole country. You’ve seen Charlie on the TV, haven’t you?’

  Nicol looked at her and nodded slowly.

  ‘The names then,’ I pressed.

  He licked his lips and I nodded to the guards to give him a drink. Then he started to speak.

  ‘Andy Duart, of course – he was told he’d be president for life. That cow Hyslop, she’d be his number two. There was to be no parliament.’ He went on to name the head of the Scottish Defence Force and numerous senior officers in all three services. They’d been seduced by promises of modern materiel ranging from ships, planes, missiles and bombs to computer-controlled battlefield systems.

  ‘What about the secret weapon? Ever hear of that?’

  He shook his head and let me hold his gaze. Maybe it was only an imaginary threat.

  ‘Am I right, then, pal?’ Nicol asked, after he’d named the leaders of most of the other regions.

  ‘One last thing. Why were you attacked by the tree-fish? Everything else we found was linked to The Garden of Earthly Delights.’

  ‘And that was from The Temptation of St Anthony, eh? Right smartarse you are.’ He snorted. ‘It didnae mean anything. Just one of the baker’s guys trying to put the wind up us. He didn’t know anything about what I was really intae.’

  ‘Not everything has to fit together,’ I mused, then stood up. ‘Come on, Charlie. Let’s go and talk to the Nor-English.’

  ‘Give them ma worst,’ said Jackie Nicol.

  ‘I’ll be sure to do that. Now, to hell with you.’

  He roared with laughter. At least someone was having a good time. I was skittish and I wasn’t sure why.

  I bailed out of talking to Nigel Shotbolt and his sidekicks. Rory took Charlie. He’d had plenty of experience of interrogation when he was a revolutionary. I gave Lachie a list of people to be picked up. It might not be easy as many were far from Edinburgh, but he told me he’d been talking to municipal leaders across Scotland: the message back was that most of the implicated regional heads had disappeared. I was still without a mobile phone. Davie and I had given ours to the rebels days ago, so I couldn’t call Sophia. She and the kids would be asleep, so I decided to leave them undisturbed. A vision rose up of Heck with his arms and legs spread out and the covers on the floor beneath his head. That made me smile.

  Before signing off and going home, I found out where Davie was. Surprise, surprise – down in the refectory, which was open even at this hour. There was a pile of empty plates in front of him.

  ‘Belly full?’

  He nodded. ‘Are you not hungry, Quint?’

  ‘No, my system’s still full of particulate from the Destructor explosion.’

  ‘Can’t you expectorate it?’

  ‘Ha. Come on, let’s say our farewells to the twins.’

  ‘Do we have to?’

  ‘Yes,’ said a voice from the bottom of the stair.

  ‘Katharine,’ I said. ‘I thought you were with the Dundonians.’

  ‘I was and I will be again shortly. We’re needed back home urgently – at least, they are. Stirling’s never had anything to do with the South Africans, but I hear some of the syndicates in Dundee have been acting independently. No oil there, of course.’

  ‘We’re going to see the twins,’ I said. ‘Want to come?’

  ‘No, thanks.’ She was standing in front of me now. ‘But a word of warning. Those two are evil. Trust me, I’ve seen it too often. Be very careful.’

  I nodded. She knew women much better than I did.

  ‘So, this is farewell,’ she said, offering her hand to Davie.

  He took it and grinned. ‘You’ll be back. Like a fly to—’

  ‘Thank you, Detective Leader,’ I said. ‘I’ll see you upstairs.’

  He lumbered off, leaving us alone.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I mean for looking out for me at the Destructor.’

  She smiled. ‘You need someone apart from Thunderboots.’ She stepped close and put an arm round my neck.

  ‘For auld lang syne,’ she said, pulling my head down and kissing me hard on the lips. ‘Say hello to Sophia,’ she said, after she’d let go and stepped back. ‘And send those twins back to Boer-land on the first rowing boat.’

  I watched as she walked away and took the stairs in twos.

  Women, I thought. Then I remembered Sophia. I’d be back with her and the kids soon – after I’d washed my hands of the astonishing creatures who had tried to destroy me and my country.

  SIXTEEN

  ‘We’re honoured, dearest,’ said Amber, when the door was closed behind us. They were in a small room on the first floor that must have been a middle-ranking civil servant’s office. There was a guard at the door, but none inside.

  I looked at the desk. No telephone or computer: they must have been removed, which was a relief. I’d been concerned that the twins could have been in contact with an associate who hadn’t been identified or picked up yet.

  ‘Ladies,’ I said.

  Penny gave me a tight smile. ‘Patronizing as ever, Dalrymple.’

  Amber turned her head. ‘Come on, my sweet. He’s looked after us.’ She beamed at me and then at Davie.

  I remembered what Jack Nicol had said about Amber. If he was right, she was a remarkable actress.

  ‘Tell the truth,’ continued Penny. ‘We’re nothing more than monsters to you, are we? Like our father was.’

  That was hard to answer, especially as I had thought of them in that way. Then again, I had behaved monstrously myself, both in the past and recently.

  ‘Who am I to judge?’

  ‘Quite,’ said Penny. ‘You killed our father, which makes you as much of a monster as he was. You broke the laws of the regime that ran this city too – and covered that up. You’re worse than us.’

  ‘In Greek “teras” means both monster and wonder.’ I looked at them both. ‘I think you’re sources of wonder too.’

  Penny laughed harshly, but Amber regarded me thoughtfully, before saying, ‘I d
idn’t know that. Thank you for telling us.’ She took her sister’s hand.

  ‘What happens to us now?’

  ‘You’ll be taken to the airport,’ said Davie. ‘Your embassy has arranged a plane. You’ll never be allowed back into Scotland. Apart from everything else, you’ve never appeared in any passenger manifest or list of accredited officials.’

  ‘You came from Nor-England every time, didn’t you?’ I said. ‘Busy, busy, weaving your web around Shotbolt, as well as keeping contact with Gemma Bass.’

  Neither replied. I took that as ‘yes’ several times over.

  ‘You think it’s finished, don’t you?’ said Penny to me, as Davie stepped forward. ‘You think we’ll let you live.’

  The ferocity of her tone froze my blood. And this time Amber was with her, laughing like a demon unlocking a fresh transport of souls. There was no way I could offer them my hand. They showed no sign of doing so either.

  Davie escorted the twins out.

  I sat down on the desk and tried to get a grip. They would be out of Edinburgh very soon, but they were geniuses. What if they had already set a lethal scheme in motion?

  I ran out of the room and cannoned into a middle-aged cleaner, who was pushing a cart with her gear.

  ‘Phone,’ I rasped. ‘Give me your mobile. It’s an emergency. Please. My family …’

  She nodded and fumbled in her pocket. I hit the buttons for Sophia’s number, my heart somersaulting.

  After what seemed like a lifetime, she answered sleepily.

  ‘It’s me. Are you OK? The kids?’

  ‘Of course. Why?’

  ‘Never mind. Check on them.’

  I heard muffled sounds of movement, then Sophia spoke again.

  ‘They’re both fast asleep. Quint, you’re scaring me.’