Deception is the Old Black

by V Clifford

  Mac came back to speak to her. ‘Don’t know how much we’ll get from this lot but it’ll take some playing.’

  ‘What do you mean? I’m still in the dark.’

  ‘The Neo-Jacobites that you discovered on Roderick’s pal’s Facebook page, well most of these guys are recruits. They’ve set up a network of “extreme nationalists”, pretty underground until now. Not worried about who they hurt, be it the Queen or the FM.’

  ‘Really? They don’t see any difference between them?’

  ‘Nope. Neither the Queen nor the FM sees the world their way and neither panders to their extreme right-wing views about Scots’ superiority. Oh, and the fact both targets are women adds some serious tension to the mix.’

  ‘Have you actually got a real threat?’

  ‘Yes. There’d be no point in picking them up if we hadn’t.’ He grinned. ‘If you hadn’t spotted Martin Martin on that CCTV footage we might have missed him. But you did and when we started looking into who he was the Marine Force got touchy. He’s been under their surveillance since he sent map coordinates of remote bays around the coast to an email account they’ve been worried about. Oh and his pal, the guy missing part of his arm, is the brain behind it. He’s a pal of Becky from the outdoor centre. Too many nice coincidences, don’t you think?’ He wasn’t expecting an answer and continued. ‘We don’t yet know what part she plays but we’re hoping she’s an innocent who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. You didn’t get your trip in the helicopter for nothing, Viv. The boats you saw were dealing. Only now we know what they were bringing in.’

  She rolled her bloody hand. She held it with her other hand to stem the flow.

  Mac looked around then shook his head.

  ‘No way! You can’t just leave it like that . . . I bet it’s guns. Was it? Were they bringing in guns? And those fancy fags from the cave?’

  He shook his head again. ‘You’re totally wasted on cutting hair.’

  ‘Why don’t I feel flattered by that? . . . Surely the Queen and the FM are safe now, though?’

  He shook his head. ‘No one can ever be completely safe. Those nutcases,’ he nodded to where the police van had been, ‘are the tip of the iceberg. An attack on either the Queen or the First Minister is what they have planned. To get rid of either would be a coup.’

  ‘So, wait a minute, let me get this straight. They’re actually willing to kill the Queen or the FM in the name of nationalism?’

  He nodded. ‘Sure. It’s not any kind of nationalism that you or I would recognise. It’s fascism with a blue and white face.’

  ‘You mean a shield emboldened by a thistle and a couple of swords . . . What about the boats on the coast?’

  ‘They’re not in our jurisdiction, but I think we helped discover not only what they were bringing in but where they were coming from.’

  She raised her eyebrows in a question. ‘The fag ends?’

  ‘Baltic.’

  She blew out a long breath, frustrated but understanding that he wouldn’t give any more away. ‘So the weekend away was worth it?’

  ‘In so far as it helped you make the connection between Frances and Martin. We’ve known for a while that someone was leaking titbits about the First Minister’s itinerary. Wherever she’s been on duty or off she’s had a few of these unsavouries pitching up and heckling. Then she had a meeting with the Queen this week, which was rescheduled at the last minute and still they turned up at Waverley station. Their presence has become consistent with more of them in the last few weeks. It just felt as if they had gained confidence and momentum. Something had changed. Thank God you recognised Martin on the CCTV.’

  ‘What’ll happen to Frances?’

  ‘Not sure yet. But she’ll be charged. Never work for us again.’

  She glanced up at the sky. ‘You see that’s my problem. Because there is no “us” any more, is there? You’re all tied together like a knotted ball of wool. Is that deliberate?’

  He sighed. ‘Too many questions for now. I have to get back. I’ll catch you later.’

  She touched her cheek.

  He hesitated. ‘You okay?’

  She nodded. ‘Sure. Just need to get cleaned up.’

  Mac still didn’t move. ‘You want to go over what happened?’

  Whenever he used that voice she welled up. She swallowed and shook her head. Another car pulled up. Simon got out, and as routine demanded, pulled at his shirt cuffs as he approached. She smiled. We all have nervous tics. He headed for Mac. They shook hands. A flicker of alarm passed over Simon as he noticed her face.

  She wiped her cheek, smearing the dried blood and opening the wound. She gave them both a brief nod and slipped into her Rav, pulling the door shut. She caught a whiff of her assailant’s odour and instinctively put the window down. She switched on the engine and gripped the steering wheel. Her legs began to shake, so she took a few long, slow breaths. That didn’t improve them. What she needed most was to run. But the Rav would be no good to her double parked in Leith. She switched the radio on, turned up the volume and drove back to the West Bow on adrenaline.

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Her legs didn’t stop trembling until after she ran full pelt from the parking space and up the stairs to her flat. Adrenaline must have somewhere to go. Inside she stripped off, dumping each item in a pile at the bathroom door, and stepped into a warm shower. As water powered from the showerhead she flinched and cursed as it reopened the gashes on her cheek and hand. She stared at the pool of pale pink water gathering in the shower base. Getting dried was tricky. Who’d have imagined that such small cuts could produce so much blood? She stared at her face in the mirror. He had caught her twice, once on the cheekbone the other, just below, was not so deep.

  It took ages to fiddle around patching herself up with butterfly plasters but eventually she stemmed the blood flow. Defo not looking her best. Time for tea. With the kettle on she stood with her back to the worktop, soothed by the familiarity of its gentle bubbling. What intelligence did Mac have that he wasn’t telling? Would those guys really have had a pop at the Queen or the FM? Surely their best chance of getting what they wanted was a First Minister whose sympathy and energy went into making Scotland independent? Clasping a mug of hot tea she made her way into the sitting room and plonked herself on the couch. She flicked on the TV. BBC News 24 had nothing running on the skirmish in Leith; no surprises there. She searched for the Scottish news – not the right time. She switched off, unsure why she was still in the habit of flicking on the TV when the internet was the place to find anything and everything. But she found nothing there either. Too early or too sensitive?

  With her mug on the floor and feet tucked beneath her on the couch, she pulled the throw over her shoulders. Maybe if she closed her eyes for a few minutes she’d feel better.

  She was woken by loud bangs. Gunshots? She sat bolt upright on the edge of the couch, and rubbed her eyes remembering that fireworks mark the start of the Tattoo. It was getting dark and she was peckish. She groped for the remote again and flicked the TV on but still didn’t find any coverage. Her muscles objected to every movement and the only thing she could muster the energy to do was crawl to bed and sleep, but her mobile vibrated in her jacket pocket still on the heap outside the bathroom. She was in no mood to chat but the vibration persisted. She couldn’t stand it. She staggered up the hall and checked the screen. She tensed, thought about ignoring it, but didn’t, ‘Hi Angus, how are you?’ She hadn’t given him her mobile number.

  He said, ‘Fancy meeting up for that dinner?’

  ‘Frankly, no. I’ve had a day and a half.’ She gently prodded her raw face, proud of her assertiveness.

  He was hesitant but persisted, ‘I could cook for you.’

  She raised her eyes to the ceiling and heaved a sigh, ‘Thanks, but no-can-do.’ She was about to say, ‘some other time’ but realised there wouldn’t be another time. She wasn’t only tired. She didn’t trust him. The photograph of Sal on his d
esk stuck in her mind like a grain of gravel in her shoe. She said, ‘I have to go.’

  ‘Is that a substitute for “I’m washing my hair”?’

  Her hesitation was all he needed.

  ‘Ah. Okay. Probably see you around.’

  ‘Look, there’s someone else trying to get through. Bye . . .’

  Astonished and wary Viv said, ‘Sal, good to hear you. Has Mac been in touch?’

  ‘No Viv, he hasn’t. What happened this morning is all over Fettes. Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m looking like shit, but I’ll heal. How about you, you okay?’

  A long silence, then, ‘I miss you. Is there anything I can do to help?’

  Viv stalled, ‘Well I’m sure some of your famous macaroni and cheese wouldn’t go amiss.’

  Sal didn’t answer immediately.

  Viv said, ‘No don’t worry, I was only . . .’

  ‘No, no, I’d love to. It’s just I’m amazed, glad you’d let me help.’

  ‘A woman will go a long way for a decent mac and cheese.’ She almost heard Sal smile.

  ‘Don’t move. I’m on my way.’

  Less than an hour later the buzzer sounded. Her belly contracted, she rubbed the roots of her hair as she answered.

  It was Mac’s voice. ‘Hey, Viv it’s me. I won’t stay long but I thought . . .’

  She released the catch and leaned on the doorframe until he appeared. Like her, Mac always ran up the stairs. He arrived breathing hard but nowhere near collapse.

  ‘Sal’s on her way. I think I nicked her parking space.’ He grinned. ‘Nothing like a gooseberry to spoil a wee cosy tete-a-tete.’

  She shook her head again, ‘You’re nuts. She’s only going to make me dinner. Nothing sophisticated enough for you mind.’

  He winked and leapt back before her fist connected with his upper arm. ‘I’m just surprised that she’s . . .’

  ‘You and me both. I’m dying to hear what’s happened to Sam.’

  The buzzer sounded again and Viv released the door downstairs. They waited as Sal’s footsteps clip-clopped up to meet them. She dropped two bags of groceries and leaned against the bannister. ‘Wine, we all need wine,’ she panted.

  Mac lifted the bags and took them into Viv’s kitchen. Sal stretched her hand up to touch Viv’s cheek. ‘Does it hurt?’

  ‘Stings.’ She held Sal’s hand and kissed her fingers.

  Mac clattered around opening cupboards, ‘Where are the glasses?’

  They smiled and went down the hall to help. When they were all comfortable in the sitting room, with wine and nibbles, Mac said, ‘I know you think you didn’t gather much intel on the west coast Viv, but you did. These thugs have been running rings round the Marine Police. And Frances, our mole, I’m amazed at how naïve she’s been, how naïve I’ve been. Gullible isn’t the word. I must have been blind.’

  Viv opened her mouth to speak but Mac raised his hand. ‘No let me finish, I have to take some of the responsibility for this . . . So, Frances goes on a dating site, not wise in her position, but not illegal. Starts seeing some guy whom she allegedly had no idea was angling to meet her for the sole purpose of info gathering. She doesn’t believe she was giving anything away that wasn’t in the public domain. But she’s wrong. The guys in the cyber hub were the only ones who knew that the Queen’s meeting with the FM was changed at the last minute. Not even sure it had filtered through to their aides. That wasn’t reported so she’s either unbelievably stupid or she thinks we are. I’m inclined to think it’s the latter. And don’t get me started on Archie . . . it’s curtains for him.’

  Sal went to speak, but Mac shot her a look so she lifted a few crisps and sat back on the couch and let him continue.

  ‘Finding and following Martin Martin was the stroke of genius. We’d have taken a while to connect him to Roderick, and joining the dots between him and this bunch of thugs on the coast was a long shot but . . . look what happened when you took the punt. Who’d have thought that a tat on a severed arm would lead us, well you, to the downfall of such a powerful ring? I’m talking about guys from Eastern Europe and South America who, we knew were connected but . . . Viv it’s a really big deal what you’ve done.’

  ‘Okay, okay I get it . . . Is there a way out for Archie?’

  ‘Not a chance. Pain in the arse though, losing two listeners in one week . . . Impressive string of events Doc.’

  ‘Glad to be of service, but can we ease up with the praise? Right now I’m starving.’

  Sal stood and wandered out to the kitchen. ‘I can take a hint.’

  Viv said, ‘No stay.’

  But Sal called back, ‘I’ve already heard it.’

  Mac shook his head. ‘You’ll be offered promotion. You want my job? I’ve seriously slipped up on this.’

  Viv laughed, ‘Don’t be an arse. If you hadn’t given me the footage I’d never have . . . ’

  He interrupted her, ‘You have to learn to take credit. I know you’re not interested in money. But prestige, the next challenge?’

  Sal shouted from the kitchen, ‘No! No more challenges.’

  Viv and Mac stared at each other, and shrugged surprised by Sal’s vehemence.

  Sal stuck her head round the door and pointed a cheese grater at Viv, ‘You’ve had quite enough adventure for now. Please, promise you’ll stay safe for a while?’

  ‘I never knowingly put myself in danger. I’ve had a . . . scuffle today but I was never really in . . .’

  Mac snorted, ‘That is total bull and you know it. That cutthroat could have severed an artery or anything. Don’t tell porkies. You were in danger. Your attacker, is a total sociopath, no badges from the Mother Theresa Foundation for him any time soon. If you knew what he’s been doing with young women.’

  Viv held up her hand, ‘Okay. I get it. But I can’t take any more details. Let’s eat.’

  Mac stood, stretched then laid his hands on his hips, ‘Good job Viv, really good job. I have to get back to Fettes to process things, so I’ll leave you two to it.’ He raised his eyebrows then grinned. Both Viv and Sal shook their heads in disbelief as he nipped out into the stairwell. They stood on the landing and listened to him chortling all the way to the bottom.

  ‘He’s right Viv, it is a big deal to have bust up that ring. It’s been a huge thorn in the side of Strathclyde and Lothian. I know. I know we’re not supposed to call them that any more, but both forces have been plagued by illegal drug running, guns appearing on the streets, and women, well girls . . . Just think, maybe you could have a holiday?’

  ‘Is that an invitation?’

  Sal flushed, ‘Could be.’

  ‘And Sam?’

  ‘Let’s eat then we can talk.’

  Sal opened a delicious bottle of Barolo.

  After they’d eaten they lounged with legs stretched out on the ottoman.

  Sal swirled wine in the base of her glass, ‘We were duped.’ She laughed, ‘Deception is the new black.’

  Viv screwed up her eyes and shifted to face Sal. ‘Deception is the old black.’

  Sal nodded. ‘You’re right. Sam wasn’t interested in me any more than Angus was in you.’

  This made Viv sit up. ‘What d’you mean? What does Angus have to do with . . .’ She refilled their glasses then tucked her feet beneath her on the couch. ‘So there’s a connection between Angus and Sam?’

  Sal nodded, ‘Yes. Let’s say they’ve worked together and . . .’

  ‘Were they together together?’

  Sal nodded again. ‘You could say that, although she said he was doing all the running. I wouldn’t trust her as far as I could spit. They’ve played us . . . I saw her emails.’

  Viv raised her eyebrows, ‘What, you just happened to see them?’

  ‘Well, not exactly. But she became weird when you were around. Overtly physical, always asking questions about you. I’m not a forensic psychologist for nothing. Best way to get to know someone is to check their communications and since I was n
ever invited to her flat I checked her phone . . . I should have known.’ She held up her hands in defeat, ‘but at least I found out what they were up to.’

  ‘So let me get this straight, Angus was coming on to me as a way of making Sam jealous? And she was doing the same with you to make him jealous? How absurd is that?’

  ‘Takes all sorts. But I’m telling you we’ve been played like fiddles. So, I say you and I call the next tune.’

  Viv snorted, ‘I’m not looking for a new band . . .’

  Sal edged over to her on the couch and dropped a light kiss onto her lips. ‘Me neither.’

  THE END

  Vicki Clifford is the author of three previous novels featuring Viv Fraser. Beyond Cutting and Digging up the Dead each received an honourable mention by the Rainbow Awards USA. The Viv Fraser Mysteries were shortlisted for the Diva Literary awards 2017.

  She lives at the centre of Scotland with her husband, two dogs and thousands of ailing vegetables.

  You can find out more at:

  www.vclifford.com

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