“If you’re confident that our two prisoners are adequately restrained, I think I’d rather stay with the Kværnen for the ride back to Stornoway,” I told him.
“Not a problem,” he assured me. “If either of them starts acting up, I can give them a little something to quieten them down, and Trish will have a security detail standing by at the hospital when we land. Besides, whoever trussed those two up knew what they were doing. Those bindings won’t cut off their circulation anywhere, but I’d defy Houdini himself to wriggle loose.” Yeah, Shay was pretty good at that. “We’re sending a basket down with your clothes, Conall. Could you put our gear in for us?”
“Of course, Jack.”
Coastguard officers, like their police counterparts, had to fill in ridiculous mountains of paperwork if anything was lost from their equipment inventory. I went back down to the bow deck and rolled everything up neatly, ready to go. The winch operator sent me a cheerful thumbs-up once he’d reeled the basket in, and I watched the Sikorsky speed off.
Dressed again, I headed back inside. Shay must have finished whatever it was he’d wanted to deal with down in the control room and was sitting on one of the couches staring intently at the tablet that Jordan had been using. Mads was busily bustling about in the galley area. There was no sign of Daniels or Verity.
“Mr Daniels is just grabbing something to eat down there before he sets up the autopilot,” my cousin told me as I sat down next to him and leaned in to look at the tablet. “We’ll get going in a few minutes. Mads wants to make us some lunch. He’s an insanely good cook.”
That sounded promising. I was feeling pretty hungry by then.
“And what is Mr Verity getting up to?” I asked, lowering my voice.
“Yeah, I figured you’d notice the lack of rope burns and pressure marks. He could easily have freed himself if he’d needed to. From what I overheard earlier, I think he must have paid a visit to the Jeanie, to warn them about you after we called in here on Thursday as well.”
“So they probably always intended to leave this way.”
“I’d guess so. Why else would they have hung around for so long?” He switched camera views as Verity slipped out of the control room and into one of the guest cabins. “I think the three of them have been running a little side business of their own for quite a while now. Jordan adds their stuff to Locke’s in Spain, and Cory picks it up to hand over to Verity to carry out whenever the Kværnen calls in. He probably arranged for Jordan to be taken on in Cadiz too.”
Verity himself was opening up one of the storage beds down there now. Neither of us was surprised when he pulled out a black backpack which was what Shay had been waiting for. We both got up and headed for the stairs. Mads looked up as we went past.
“Off to search for the missing pack?”
In answer, Shay just put a finger to his lips and held up the tablet so Mads could see it. I gestured for Nielsen to stay where he was, and Shay and I slipped down the stairs. Outside the cabin door, we paused to check the tablet again. Verity was sitting on the bed. He’d already pulled quite a few little packages out of the pack, no doubt planning to stash them safely elsewhere for now.
Verity looked up, startled, as we walked in, but the hand that emerged from the bag was barely shaking as he levelled a pistol at me.
“Don’t be stupid,” I said, allowing a fitting amount of unconcerned, impatient annoyance to come through in my voice. “What do you think you’re going to do with that thing, Mr Verity? Shoot us all? I don’t think so.”
“Stay where you are,” he snapped. “I can just as easily blow out your kneecaps. I don’t need to kill anyone.”
“So, what’s your brilliant plan then?” Shay asked as he moved up to stand beside me.
“You swallow a couple of Brian’s pills each, and then I take the tender and disappear. Now, why don’t you just slip that jacket of yours off and toss it over here, Mr Keane? I don’t like the idea of you walking around with those guns in your pockets.”
“These?” Shay patted his jacket. “No, I don’t think so.” A wicked-looking little utility knife had magically appeared in his hand. “Conall, you’re prepared to swear I only killed him because I thought he was about to shoot you, right?”
“Sure,” I said, staring at Verity. “He hasn’t even got a magazine loaded. There might be a bullet left in the chamber, but I doubt it. Jordan would know better than to carry a loaded gun in his pack. Besides, the safety’s on too. It’s up to you if you want to try releasing it, Mr Verity, but you’re a dead man if you do. My cousin doesn’t like it when people point guns at me.”
I moved nearer and held out my hand. Verity made the sensible choice. He shakily handed over the pistol.
“Wise decision,” Shay told him, hardly snarling at all. “Keep an eye on him, Con. I’ll go and fetch something to tie him up with.”
Twenty-Four
We had quite a reception committee waiting for us when we got back to Stornoway. I’d been expecting a couple of Trish’s people to be there to take Verity off our hands but seeing Bernard Anderson himself on the quayside was quite a surprise. I didn’t have much trouble guessing who the silver-haired, straight-backed, older version of Mads Nielsen standing at Anderson’s side was either.
“You don’t think the Chief’s mad at us, do you, Con?” Shay hissed into my ear as he fidgeted nervously at my side. “I mean, we handled everything pretty well, all things considered, right?”
Anderson was wearing his unhappy headmaster face as Mr Daniels threw out the mooring lines, one after the other and willing, waiting hands tied them off.
“Probably not,” I mouthed back uncertainly as Mads came down from the flybridge to join us. It seemed far more likely that Anderson was just annoyed at having to talk to people he’d much prefer not to have to deal with. My stomach did feel a little heavy just then, though, and not because of the amazing lunch I’d overindulged in earlier.
Verity, who we’d untied and brought up as we made our final approach to the dock, stood quietly in my grip while Daniels clipped back the gate in the side rail and pressed the button that extended the little telescopic gangway out and down.
Chief Anderson gave us a silent nod as I handed Verity over to Ewan to take back up to Church Street. Mads and his father were greeting each other with a restrained hug and some mutual backslapping. I had no idea what they were saying, but Mads’ gestures towards us were enough to give me the general idea. The older man certainly took a good long look at us both before they came over.
“Inspector Keane, may I introduce my father, Herre Lars Nielsen,” Mads said.
“Pleased to meet you, Sir,” I told him as he gave me a firm, testing handshake and sized me up.
“And this is Mr Shay Keane.” Shay politely pushed up his glasses to look Mads’ father in the eye as he was subjected to an even longer measuring appraisal. Well, if Lars thought he could crack that coolly polite expression so easily, he was in for a disappointment.
“My deepest thanks to you both, gentlemen.” Herre Nielsen Senior had a deep and pleasant voice. “It distresses me to think of what may have happened if not for your timely intervention.” I settled for answering that with an acknowledging nod and another polite ‘Sir.’ I had no idea what Anderson may, or may not, have told him. Shay had already shoved his glasses back down and was staring unhelpfully at his feet. “Well, I shall look forward to a chance to speak with you both properly another time, yes? Doubtless, you have a great deal yet to do, and my son and I also have things to discuss. Come, Mads.” He strode up the gangway, and Mads cast us an apologetic little smile before following him back on board.
“Well, boys,” Anderson waited until they’d disappeared before addressing us. “You two have had quite a day of it, haven’t you?” His mouth twitched as Shay mumbled something about nobody diving off any cliffs. “No, Mr Keane, you’re quite right. I neglected to mention helicopters back then, didn’t I?” At least he seemed more amused than anything else.
I’d noticed before that Shay generally had that effect on him for some reason. “Let’s all head up to Trish’s office, shall we? I’m rather looking forward to hearing your report, Conall.”
I needn’t have worried about his tact. The question of what my cousin had been doing on that yacht in the middle of the night wasn’t even raised. I gave them a brief, heavily edited statement of the day’s chain of events, and both Anderson and Trish listened without interruption until I’d concluded my report. Trish leaned over and turned off the recorder.
“He makes it all sound as dull as a routine patrol, doesn’t he?” Anderson commented drily.
Trish grinned.
“… Mr Verity was verbally persuaded to desist in his efforts to elude capture and surrendered his weapon into my keeping…” she said in a droning monotone. “Gripping stuff, Conall!”
Shay snickered at her lousy impression from his chair.
“Speaking of Verity,” I told her, “I’d focus my questioning on him if I were you. I doubt that you’ll get anything at all out of Phelps, and Jordan will probably be a tough nut to crack. Verity is their weakest link. I think he’ll spill everything he knows if you handle him right.”
“You don’t think he had anything to do with the murder of Damien Price, or what happened to Mr Butler?”
“No, I don’t. And I doubt he knows anything about Malcolm Locke’s operation either. As far as we can tell, his involvement only extended to a private, profitable arrangement with the other two. If you make it clear to him that he’ll face nothing more than the smuggling charges if he cooperates fully, he could be very useful in building your case for court.”
“What about the fact that he pulled a gun on you?”
I just shrugged. “It would probably be more useful to tell him we’re prepared to forget that ever happened, but it’s not up to me.”
Anderson didn’t look thrilled by the idea, but I thought he could see the potential benefits of going that way.
“What sort of smuggling charges are we looking at?” His gaze shifted to the pack that Shay had carried in.
“The contents of the pouches in there will all need to be analysed, but I’d say there were about twelve kilos of concentrated high quality, vacuum purged cannabis oil and maybe a kilo of cocaine in that pack. For Jordan and Phelps, there’s also the murder charge and the three unregistered firearms too.”
“Alright then, I think that would be acceptable, if you agree, Trish?” She nodded. “Conall, you’ll only appear in the reports as the DCI seconded to the Western Isles Division to assist with the investigation into the death of Mr Price. Trish will use your reports and the evidence you two have collected to prepare the case to present to the Procurator’s office. It’s highly unlikely that you’ll be called on to testify in person. I can’t see any defence lawyer in the country agreeing to enter a ‘not guilty’ plea on this one.”
No, nor could I.
“That sounds good to me, Sir.”
“Mr Keane,” Shay sat up a little as Anderson addressed him, “you should know that I informed Edinburgh of the situation as soon as we had confirmation that the hijackers had been apprehended. I’m sure you can imagine how displeased they were to hear that you’d ‘been allowed’ to put yourself in that position. However, given the number of times they’ve carelessly mislaid you themselves, I doubt we’ll have any trouble from that quarter over this little incident. If their own people can’t keep track of you effectively, they can hardly expect anyone else to either.”
Shay brightened up visibly at that. “No, they really can’t, Chief Superintendent, but thank you.”
“Just one more thing, Mr Keane. I gather that the Nielsens are a little concerned about your activities on that yacht. I hope that there won’t be any repercussions there that need concern us.”
“What activities?” Shay asked, the picture of offended innocence. Anderson just shook his head at him and sighed.
“I’ll take that as a ‘no’ then. I do hope you’re right about that. You’re doubtless already aware of the kind of connections the father has in the Danish government and must have some idea of how important Denmark’s friendship may prove to be to us in the coming years.”
We did. If those pushing for another referendum on Scottish independence managed to wrangle one in the near future, there was a strong chance that we’d get an entirely different result next time around. It was one thing to agree to remain in the UK but quite another then to be forcibly dragged out of the EU, against the wishes of the majority of the Scottish electorate. People were a lot less trusting, now, about some of the warnings and promises that had been bandied about back in 2014, and we’d certainly want Denmark even more firmly in our corner if we ever did cut loose from London.
“I know that neither of you cares for political games, but the Nielsens have requested that you join them for lunch in Inverness tomorrow, and I’d appreciate it if you would oblige them. In your case, Conall, you may consider that to be an order, whether or not your cousin agrees to tag along. I’ll give you the details on the flight over. I’ve arranged for a helicopter to pick us up at nine tonight, so you’d probably like to go and freshen up and pack soon, but first, do you have any more questions just now, Trish?”
She did. After clearing up a couple of minor points for her, it became clear that the lack of any apparent motive for the murder of Damien Price was bugging her as much as it had bothered us. I suggested the possibility of it being a case of mistaken identity. Maybe the file on Phelps’ earlier arrest would shed some light on that? Anderson just rolled his eyes at my unsubtle hinting and offered to put the request through himself.
“It’s funny, isn’t it, how the little decisions we make can end up making such a big difference to events?” Shay mused as we walked back to our hotel. “If I hadn’t been on board the Kværnen when Phelps and Jordan showed up, they’d probably already have flown out of Tórshavn by now. By this time tomorrow, they could have been anywhere in the world.”
“I wonder what they’d have done with their hostages?” It seemed to me that Cory Phelps, at least, would have stopped at nothing to ensure he never saw the inside of a prison again.
“I guess we’ll never know. Maybe Jordan would have had the sense to make sure nobody else got killed. Herre Lars Nielsen isn’t the kind of man who’d let something like the murder of one of his kids go unanswered, and he has almost unlimited financial resources at his disposal.”
He sounded pretty convinced of it. Shay had probably done quite a bit of digging into the Nielsen family, so he’d have more of an idea about that than I did. From the way he’d said it, I got the impression that Shay didn’t know himself whether he’d have chosen to intervene or not. He had some rather antiquated notions about blood debts.
Lars Nielsen had booked a private dining room at the Kingsmills hotel to host our lunch engagement on Sunday. A linen-draped table, set for five, had been set up in the centre of the elegant room and Shay and I found the Nielsens already waiting for us when we were shown in. Three pairs of equally vivid blue eyes inspected us in very different ways as their conversation was abruptly cut off by our entrance. Mads, at least, seemed genuinely delighted to see us.
“Ah, Inspector Keane, Mr Keane, welcome!” Nielsen senior was quick to come and shake our hands, “I am very pleased that you could join us.” The Nielsens’ idea of smart casual was a little more elevated than mine, and I was glad that Shay had talked me into wearing my best day suit, and without a tie. Neither of the Nielsen men was wearing them.
The sister was introduced to us as Elise. She was a couple of years older than Mads but wore her age just as well, a golden-haired, quite lovely feminine counterpart to her brother’s male personification of the Nordic ideal. The hostile yet covetous way she was examining my cousin made me dislike her on sight. There was something unsettlingly sharp and brittle about her, too. I found myself wondering what sort of medication she might be on.
“I must thank you both f
or delivering my brother back to us safe and sound,” she said as we all seated ourselves, “I had no idea the British security forces were so accommodating, or so skilful.” Her emphasis and tone on those last two adjectives were both directed snidely at my cousin. Mads scowled at her.
“Don’t be snippy, Elise. It doesn’t suit you, and nor does the colour green.” Lars shot them both a displeased frown before turning to me.
“I’m afraid my daughter is a little upset, Inspector. She has some notion in her head that your cousin was poking around in her supposedly secure systems yesterday, although she doesn’t seem to produce a scrap of evidence to substantiate her suspicions.”
Shay was busily admiring the eighteenth century stuccoed ceiling and just ignored the comment as unworthy of a reply. I decided to do the same.
“How are our four patients doing, Mads?” my cousin asked when he’d finished appraising the room.
“They’re all absolutely fine,” Mads assured him, grateful to be offered a perfectly acceptable subject of polite conversation. “They were discharged late yesterday evening and flew over with us earlier today. I thought it best to send them on home a few days early after their unpleasant little experience.”
“Well, that was probably best.” Shay smiled back at him approvingly. “I’m sure they were all appropriately disappointed to be deprived of your delightful company, though. Whatever will you do with yourself now?”
The look on Mads’ face, for a second there, left no doubt as to what his first choice would be, and Shay, looking awfully pleased with himself, glanced away again as the double doors opened and our servers made their first entrance, bringing in our starters. That hadn’t been an act, had it?
Blood in the Water: A DCI Keane Scottish Crime Thriller Page 23
