‘If it’s about this mysterious tall man, I don’t want to know,’ he barked.
‘So you’re not interested in the case?’
‘We’re searching for Majid, Chief Superintendent.’
‘But our drone man is a murderer!’
‘And we suspect Majid to have been radicalised. If there ever was another drone man it was him. Who do you think poses the greater danger to the Great Britain? Yours is a civilian matter, as far as I’m concerned. This man you’re after may have murdered your local man, but he presents no danger.’
‘Then let me go after him, then.’
‘The civilian police leak like a sieve. This suspect is of secondary importance. I’m now in operational charge of all aspects of this case. Stand down, Chief Superintendent – and that’s an order!’
Symington slammed down the phone.
‘Ma’am?’ said Potts.
‘We’re on our own. I hope you’re still feeling brave.’
‘Exceptionally so.’
‘That’s good, because it’s you and me. I don’t want to risk anyone else with no weapons.’
‘Do you think our baseball cap man is armed – with a gun, I mean?’
‘We have to treat it as though he is – he could have anything. And I have a feeling we’re all being played, but for the life of me I can’t work out why, or by whom.’
‘I’ll get you a vest, ma’am.’ Potts hurried off, leaving Symington deep in thought.
47
Cabdi drove as fast as he could into Kinloch, then took a circuitous route to his destination – the house of Peter Scally. Instead of parking near the house, he chose to leave the van further down the street. Again, he pulled the baseball cap low over his eyes, though he suspected this was a futile gesture; if the authorities hadn’t identified him by now, they must be utterly incompetent.
He ran the last few yards to Scally’s house and slipped round to the back door, the one he had exited from and knew to be open – or at least he hoped it still was. Quietly, he tested the handle, and with no little relief found that the door was still unlocked. He closed it quietly behind him and made for the lounge where he’d left Scally.
At first sight, though, the room was bare. A glass had been knocked over on the filthy coffee table, and there was a dark shadow of blood on the floor where he’d left Scally. But of the man himself, there was no sign.
Cabdi stood, silently contemplating what to do next. Who had rescued Scally – perhaps a neighbour, a relative? He sensed that time – his time – was running out and he would have to think again.
As he was about to leave, he heard a noise that drew his attention to the back of the worn couch. When he looked behind it there was the trussed body of Scally, his eyes wide with fear, face bruised and smeared in his own blood. Cabdi tore the gag from the injured man’s mouth, but immediately covered it with his hand.
‘Do you know what I do for a living, Mr Scally?’
Has captive shook his head frantically, tears slipping down his bloodied cheeks.
‘I am a doctor.’ He paused, seeing the reaction. ‘That surprises you, yes? Of course it does. Why would a man who has devoted his life to the healing of others act in such a way? I will tell you why, Mr Scally. It is because I hate you – people like you. I know what you’ve done, but you don’t care. For you there is no cause apart from personal gain, no regret, no remorse. Yes, I have come to kill, but I do so for a reason. I do it for my people, and sometimes people like you get in my way. I am righting wrongs; you are merely part of those wrongs.’
Scally tried to reply, but his voice was muffled by Cabdi’s hand so he quickly gave up.
‘But salvation is possible for all, even those, like you, to whom I don’t think God means much.’ Cabdi forced Scally’s head against the floor, the older man’s cry of pain again muffled by the hand forced tight against his mouth. ‘For you there is a chance for salvation, an opportunity to atone for the terrible thing you have done. A chance to be free, Mr Scally – do you want this?’
Scally nodded desperately.
‘Then you do as I say. You do exactly as I tell you. I know you are no stranger to lies and deceit, so your miserable soul will not be troubled by this act. And once you have done what I ask, your job then is simple: you blame everything – I mean everything – on me. Then you have a chance to live a life of freedom, and I will pray for your soul. You may even be a hero.’ Cabdi lifted his hand from Scally’s mouth.
‘Aye, I’ll do anything you want, I promise.’
‘Ah, a promise from you, Mr Scally, I fear means very little. But then, you know what lies ahead if you do not do as I say. I know you know what I know.’ He smiled.
Scally lowered his gaze. ‘Aye, fine.’
‘Then, good!’ Cabdi smiled, but suddenly grabbed Scally by the throat, almost instantly turning his face red. ‘You must realise that as a man of medicine I am intimate with every part of the human body. A doctor knows how to harm, as well as to heal – to cause pain, and make that pain more excruciating than you can imagine.’ He let go of Scally’s throat.
‘I know, I know! I’ll do anything you say.’
‘If you don’t you will suffer, I promise.’ Cabdi went to work on the rope binding Scally’s feet together. ‘Now, though your physical bonds have been removed, my hold on you is tighter than ever, yes?’
‘Yes.’
When Cabdi had finished freeing the man he pulled him to his feet. ‘Now we clean you up and we go about our business.’ The Somali pulled Scally from his lounge into his squalid bathroom.
‘This is your chance to say no, Potts. I won’t think any less of you. Strictly speaking we are both disobeying orders and putting our lives at risk.’
‘I understand, ma’am. I’m channelling my inner Brian Scott, remember.’
‘Yes, well, perhaps don’t work too hard on that.’ She laughed. ‘Sergeant Shaw, we’re leaving now. You know what to say if anyone wants me.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Good stuff. Hopefully we can sort this mess out. Who needs Brachen, eh?’
Shaw looked thoughtful. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to take some more bodies? I’d be happier if we were mob-handed.’
‘It’s the only way. If I’m right, the man we’re after is the real danger. For some reason, I think this Majid is just a decoy.’
‘But for what?’
‘I haven’t worked that out yet, Sergeant.’
Shaw smiled.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘You’re the first female gaffer – superior – I’ve ever had, ma’am.’
‘Really? A rare beast, then.’
‘Down here in the sticks, it’s always been the way it’s been – if you get my drift.’
‘I do, Sergeant. Well, I hope I’m not letting you down.’
‘Quite the opposite, ma’am.’
‘Thank you, Sergeant Shaw. I appreciate that more than you know.’
With that, Symington and Potts hurried through the security door at the rear of Kinloch Police Office and out into the car park. They climbed into a small, unmarked police car and drove through the gates and down the hill to Main Street.
Daley was working away quietly when his young son awoke. He hefted the little boy onto his knees in front of the computer screen.
‘I want Mummy,’ said James junior, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
‘She’s not been well, James. That’s why we were up at the hospital earlier on. But she’s going to be fine, and she’ll be back with us soon, I promise.’
‘But will we stay here?’ The child looked at him with big eyes.
‘What do you mean, son?’
‘In this house.’ He looked at his father. ‘I like the sea out of the window, and Muncle Brian and Auntie Ella – and Hameby.’
Daley felt a lump in his throat. His mother and father had always been together, separated only by death. He hated himself for not taking the feelings of his own son into acc
ount when he’d split with Liz. It was clear though that the little boy – his little boy – wanted to be in the place he loved, with the people he loved, all together. It was a nice thought, but contained within that idyllic notion were many flaws.
Daley had been so shocked and consumed by anger at what had happened to Liz he hadn’t stopped to think about the future. Everything seemed so uncertain now: his job, his health, his marriage. Even he had become accustomed to waking up to the panorama of the loch and the wee town sprawling around it. But if his career was over he would have to find something else to do – somewhere else to live. He’d never find suitable employment in Kinloch, and the last thing he wanted was to end up in the kind of tedious security job so many of his former colleagues had been forced into in order to support their pensions. Would he even be fit enough to do that?
There seemed now to be too many imponderables in his life. He supposed that had always been the case: same life, different problems.
‘Would you like to watch a movie, son?’
‘Yay!’ said the little boy, arms raised. ‘Can we watch The Snowman?’
Daley smiled. ‘What, again?’
‘Yeah. It’s the one me and Mummy like best.’
Daley swallowed hard to stop the tears he felt welling up in his throat. He remembered what Ella had said when his son was born: Don’t miss out, Jimmy. Every moment’s precious.
‘Okay, The Snowman it is.’
He lifted James from the chair and headed to the couch. The remote controls were lying on the coffee table in front of him. ‘Right, just let me find it and we’re good to go.’
While the little boy clapped, the cursor on the computer screen behind them hovered over the last name Daley had been looking at.
The man groaned with effort as he reached above his head in order to make sure the device was firmly attached to the underside of the console. He was about to press a button on it when he heard footsteps.
‘Hey, Barry, what are you at under there?’
He pulled himself out from underneath the ledge. ‘Just thought I smelled burning, boss. Can’t see anything, though.’
‘You want a hand?’
‘Nah, I’m about to give it the once-over. Maybe it’s just this ship. I’m probably just smelling some billionaire’s expensive aftershave. When will you be ready down your end?’
‘Give us half an hour, mate. Banks wants this done and dusted ASAP. It’s meet-the-locals night on board tonight. He can’t get going until we’re finished. So I’m hoping that everything’s going to work when we press the button.’
‘It always does, doesn’t it?
‘This is your first time on my team, mate. It doesn’t always go the way we want. It’s been a strange one, mind. I swear someone did this on purpose.’
‘Nah, don’t think so. Just some rookie on the bucket getting it wrong. How many times have you seen that?’
‘Yeah, too many. You’re probably right. I swear, these buggers come out of school with nothing between their ears, these days. I just want to get back to civilisation. Palace are at home this weekend, me and the boy never miss a game if I can help it.’
‘You’ll be back in plenty time. I’ll be ready in half an hour. Just give me a shout when you want to run the test.’
‘Right, my man. I’d better get on, eh?’
‘Yeah. See you in a bit, boss.’
Barry watched his manager walk out of the cramped room and let out a sigh of relief. He ducked back under the panel he’d been working on and looked up to the device he’d attached to its underside. Reaching up with his index finger and pressing, he watched three red digits blink into life. ‘That’s my boy,’ he said to himself. The reading stayed steady at 0:00.
One more and he would be finished. He opened the thick steel door and stepped into another, smaller compartment. As he knelt in front of the tall console, he reached behind it. Yes, there was room to work; he’d been worried about that. He could feel the thud of the engine room, only a sheet of bulkhead steel from where he was now. He could picture the massive fuel tanks that abutted this small room.
He reached into his canvas bag and brought out a device identical to the one he’d just fitted. ‘And for my final trick,’ he said, smiling to himself.
He checked the device and turned it on. Again, the three red digits flickered into life. Device in his hand, he reached behind the console, feeling the satisfying clunk as the magnetic backing attached itself firmly.
His job done, he zipped up the canvas bag and left. He was more than ready to leave the Great Britain.
48
‘I need somewhere to go, somewhere safe where no one will look for either of us. We need to remain unseen until it is time to act. I need to be able to see the harbour.’
Scally thought hard. ‘There’s an old net shed on the new pier. My grandson uses it tae practise wae that band of his. Apart fae that, no one’s ever in it.’
‘And how do we get there?’
‘We’ll need tae walk some o’ the way. But with all that’s going on over at the old quay, no one will be looking at us.’
‘You’d better be right, Mr Scally. If you give me any trouble I will kill you.’
‘Wait!’
‘What?’
‘Ootside. There’s somebody coming up the front steps. I heard the gate. I’ve been meaning tae oil it for ages.’
Before Cabdi could speak a loud knock sounded on the front door. A man’s voice called out, ‘It’s the police. Are you in there, Mr Scally?’
Scally took a deep breath as though he was about to reply with a shout, but the sight of a gun pointing straight at his face stopped him.
‘Quickly, out of the back door – now,’ murmured Cabdi.
Staying low, the pair made their way from the bathroom across the hall and into the kitchen. They left the house via the back door, Cabdi tugging Scally by his shabby old jacket. ‘We head this way, through the gardens.’
They made their way along a communal path that served the block and soon reached the end house. Cabdi angled his head round the wall and looked. Two figures wearing dark vests with police emblazoned on them were standing at Scally’s front door. One was a young man, the other a petite dark-haired woman. Cabdi looked back the way they had come, puzzled – only two police officers? For a split second he considered his options, but soon realised there was only one course of action. ‘Over the fence!’ he said, stepping over the obstacle blocking access to the path leading past the next block of houses. The older man struggled to get over it, but with some effort and a shove from his strong companion, he succeeded.
As they crept along the path a door opened.
‘Hey! Whoot are you pair up tae? Is that you, Peter?’ A middle-aged man in grey jogging trousers, with a distended belly protruding from under a filthy T-shirt, called them to a halt.
Cabdi prodded Scally in the back.
‘Listen, Davie, big man. The polis is after me. I’d one too many doon in the Douglas Arms and took the motor. We’re trying tae get away.’
‘Who’s your pal?’ Davie was looking Cabdi up and down.
‘Och, jeest a friend o’ one the boys. Listen, we need tae get a move on.’
‘On you go, Peter. I’m nae lover o’ the polis myself. If they ask me anything I’ll say nothing, you can rely on that.’
‘Good man, Davie.’ The pair hurried on.
*
‘Try round the back, DS Potts,’ said Symington, peering through the letterbox. ‘Mr Scally, if you’re in there you need to come out now. It’s just routine. We’d like to ask you some questions.’
She waited, and was just about to call again when she heard the clunk of a lock and DS Potts was framed in the doorway.
‘Back door was open, ma’am. No sign, though I’ve not been up the stairs. There’s blood in the bathroom.’
‘Shit!’ she exclaimed, making Potts raise an eyebrow. ‘Let me have a look – you check the back garden.’
Sh
e walked quickly along the hall and into the lounge. There was a bloodstain on the carpet, a rope and remnants of torn cloth, some of it bloodied.
She crossed the hall and went into the bathroom: blood in the sink, and discarded clothes. She ran upstairs and checked in every bedroom. One room was pristine, if rather stuffy. The other was a mess: unmade bed, overflowing ashtray and various items of clothes scattered across the floor. The place reeked of sweat and cigarettes. ‘Bugger it!’ she swore to herself, hurrying back downstairs and out into the back garden. On a path beside a drying green, she could see Potts talking to a fat man over a fence a few yards down, and made her way towards them.
‘Nah, I haven’t seen anything,’ said the fat man. ‘Peter keeps his self to his self. I hardly see him. Och, the odd time in the passing an’ that. But that’s all.’
Symington looked at the path. Dots of red blood ran from Scally’s back door to where she was standing. She looked over the fence, and could see they carried on past the man Potts was questioning. ‘Forget him, Sergeant. Follow the blood on the path.’ Deftly, she straddled the fence and was soon over it, closely followed by DS Potts.
‘Hey, haud your horses! This is my property,’ Davie shouted.
Ignoring him, the two police officers carried on until they reached the end of the next block. The red dots of blood petered out on a small grassy hill leading down to the road. Symington rushed forward, and looked the length of the street in both directions, but there was nothing to be to be seen, save for a scrawny dog sniffing at the gutter.
The phone in her pocket sounded. ‘Yes, Sergeant Shaw?’
‘I’ve had Commander Brachen on the phone, ma’am. They’ve captured Majid. He would like a word with you. I told him you were out to lunch, ma’am.’
‘Thank you, Sergeant Shaw.’
‘Did you get anywhere, ma’am?’
‘No, but I want you to get as many units as you can muster looking for Peter Scally and the man described online.’
‘Tall, thin, black? Our red-hot man?’
‘Yes. And tell them to use caution. Scally may be injured – there’s blood all over his house.’
A Breath on Dying Embers Page 25
