Dark Suits and Sad Songs

by Denzil Meyrick

  ‘Come on, big guy,’ Scott said, pulling at Daley’s shoulder. ‘Time to get you out of here. Are you OK? You’re no’ hurt?’

  ‘No, I’m not. But I’m not sure I shouldn’t be dead.’

  Scott watched the ambulance skid to a halt on the road. Paramedics rushed across the grass towards the body, but already a policeman was shaking his head. One of the policemen, a fresh-faced young constable, turned away and retched over the grass.

  John Donald – ambitious, perfidious, charismatic John Donald – was dead.

  Rainsford shouted orders to the assembled police officers, and they started down the promenade to disperse the small crowd that was beginning to gather.

  ‘Where will it end, Brian?’ Daley looked up at his friend. ‘Death everywhere. Archie, Frank, Sarah, nearly you. One of us lying in a pool of his own blood.’

  Scott looked down at his DCI. ‘Come on, big man. Remember, we’ve got tae save Alice Taylor. Aye, an’ we’ve got a lead, tae.’

  This news seemed to jolt Daley back to life, expelling some of the shock he was feeling.

  ‘What? Do you know where she is?’

  ‘Well, no’ exactly, but we know what she’s in. Noo, up an’ at ’em.’ He reached out a hand to help Daley up off the grass. ‘We need tae get going!’

  Daley stood for a heartbeat, looking at the paramedics surrounding Donald. It was clear by the way they handled him that any chance of saving his life had gone.

  Daley leaned down and kissed Dunn on the head. ‘I’m OK,’ he told her. ‘I have to get moving, we have a wee girl to save. You know how it is.’

  ‘I know how it is, Jim,’ she said, smiling up at him, large tears trickling down her face.

  Manion was walking across the grass towards them as they made for their cars.

  ‘Jim, what the hell’s happened?’ He looked both angry and bewildered.

  ‘You tell me, sir.’

  ‘We need tae get going, Willie,’ said Scott. ‘We’ve got a lead on the Taylor lassie. Will you handle this?’

  Manion hesitated for a moment. He looked towards the body on the seafront, already covered by a green sheet.

  ‘Aye, off you go. I’ll do the necessary here.’ He looked directly at Scott. ‘And, Brian, be careful.’

  As Scott jumped into the car, Daley was already on his phone. ‘It’s a white speed boat with a blue canopy. It’s just passed into the sound now.’ He ended the call. ‘That wasn’t murder, Brian. That was an assassination.’

  Scott revved the engine, and they left the knot of policemen and paramedics behind.

  Alice Taylor was becoming more aware of her surroundings. She shook her head to try and clear it. She remembered being thirsty, and gulping down a drink. After that, her memory was hazy. Where was she? The movement of the room made her nauseous and she gulped back a wave of sickness.

  She couldn’t move; her hands were bound behind her to her ankles. As the drug wore off, she began to feel agonising spasms of cramp in her back and legs. She sobbed quietly.

  She became aware that she was wearing something unusual, something heavy. She looked down; a red light blinked at her. She was wearing a dark waistcoat, with wires sprouting from something bulky strapped to the centre of it. She could make out what looked like the face of a digital watch. As she tried to make sense of this, she realised that the numbers were counting down.

  As realisation dawned, she screamed and screamed.

  46

  The Dragon knew that time was precious and that, for him, the sea was no longer a haven. Finding Alice Taylor would be their priority. But he knew that despite the prospect of the girl being blown to pieces, they would never give in and release Abdic.

  He passed the island and veered left, guiding the speedboat towards a rocky shore. He had reconnoitred the coast well and, as he rounded the familiar headland, a small bay opened up on front of him. It had a narrow neck and was tricky to navigate, but he knew the entrance so well he could have sailed in blindfolded. He pointed the craft towards the far side of the inlet, tucked out of sight under the looming rocks above. This place had once been used by smugglers; it was almost impossible to detect the presence of any kind of vessel there from the open sea. His research, as always, had been meticulous.

  He drifted towards an ancient stone jetty. As the boat bumped into it, he jumped onto the quayside, secured it to a rusted mooring ring and thudded back aboard. After retrieving the long silver case and other items from the craft, he made his way across the sand and rough machair grass, through some bushes, then over a fence into a small lay-by, where sat a battered old Peugeot.

  He placed the metal case carefully in the back, sat in the driver’s seat and, with the rumble and clunk of an aged diesel engine, pulled onto the road.

  Soon Abdic, the man who had saved him, trained him, been like a father to him, the man who made him who he was, would be free. The police and all the other agencies would be searching for him and Alice Taylor at sea. On land, those guarding Abdic would be thin on the ground.

  Daley paced around his glass box, his mobile phone pressed to his ear. The Royal Navy and the coastguard were looking for the white speedboat.

  ‘How long will you be?’ asked Daley. He was on the phone to the commander of the police launch, en route to Kinloch.

  He slammed the phone back onto its cradle in frustration. ‘He’ll be at least another half an hour, and then they have to refuel. It’ll be an hour at least before we can get out there and look for Alice.’

  ‘OK, Jim, calm doon. We’ve got everyone out there looking. Even the beat cops are driving around the coast tae try an’ find her. We’ve still got time.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right. But time is moving on.’ He looked at the blank computer screen in front of him; Alice Taylor had started to scream just after they’d arrived back in the office, and she hadn’t stopped. He couldn’t bear it, so had turned the sound off. He hadn’t forgotten that, as far as her life was concerned, every second counted.

  ‘Listen, Jim, I’ll nip doon and get some scran. You need somethin’ in your stomach before we head oot tae sea . . . again.’

  ‘Have a quick one for me, too,’ he said to his DS, who didn’t even attempt to deny that he was going to sneak in a quick dram before another dreaded sea voyage. ‘Half an hour max, Brian, OK?’

  ‘Aye, gaffer, nae bother.’ Scott shut the door quietly behind him, leaving Daley alone with his thoughts. Seconds later, Abdic’s laughter echoed around the office.

  Manion sat in the office from where John Donald had once ruled over Kinloch. Though he had never cared for the man, he couldn’t help but feel sympathy for him. Colleagues had already made their way to Donald’s home to give his widow the news every police officer’s significant other dreaded. The press had been immediately briefed by the force’s PR team. As the killer was still at large, the story had to be managed.

  He looked at his watch, then walked to the CID suite where he found Daley studying a map on the wall.

  ‘I’ve just taken a conference call with the boss. With all that’s happened, I had tae get him up to speed. I’m going for a wee walk to clear my heid.’

  ‘Yes, sir. I’ll keep at this. I’m sure the girl is nearby – we just have to find her.’

  ‘Good man. I’ll be as quick as I can,’ said Manion. ‘Listen, Jim, if you feel you cannae take it, just let me know. Fuck knows, you’ve been through enough today.’

  ‘I’m fine, sir.’ Daley turned back to the map.

  ‘Aye, well, as you wish.’

  The bell at the front desk of Kinloch Police Office rang through the station corridors. With most of Kinloch’s police officers still tied up at the scene of Donald’s murder, DC Dunn, standing forlornly at a coffee machine in the corridor, sighed and went to investigate.

  ‘Hello, sir. Can I help you?’ A tall man in a baseball cap stood at the other side of the counter. He was looking down at his phone, but in one smooth movement he reached into his jacket and produce
d a pistol, pointing it at Dunn.

  ‘You have access to the cells, yes?’

  ‘No,’ said Dunn, desperately trying to stay calm. She realised she was now staring at one of the world’s most wanted killers, but tried to remember her training: think, assess, address. ‘I need to ask a senior officer.’

  ‘Open this.’ The Dragon gestured at the hinged part of the desk. Dunn’s hand was shaking as she drew back the small bolt that kept it secure.

  He stepped through the gap, never taking his eyes from her, the gun still pointed at her face. ‘Walk slowly to where we can find Pavel.’

  She turned, her legs trembling, but before she could take a step she was grabbed roughly from behind, the barrel of the gun thrust painfully into her temple.

  ‘Do what I say, or I will kill you.’

  She knew she should have raised the alarm, pressed the panic button – done something. But everything had happened so fast. She did as she was told.

  Daley turned around when he heard Dunn enter the room. His smile turned to a look of horror when he saw the swarthy man holding her by the neck with one hand, the other pressing a gun to her head.

  The high cheekbones, the scar on his face. Daley knew he was face to face with the Dragon.

  47

  Brian Scott sucked an extra-strong mint as he strolled back up Main Street towards Kinloch Police Office. He held a bag containing a few filled rolls he’d purchased at the County Hotel to feed himself and Daley; while there, he’d also enjoyed a couple of large vodkas, and was feeling more sanguine about recent events, as well as those yet to come. Thankfully, the bar had been empty, save for one old man often seen muttering to himself behind his whisky. With Annie absent, the young girl behind the bar had seen fit not to ask any awkward questions about earlier events on the promenade. But he had the feeling of being watched from cars and windows as he progressed up the hill.

  Scott looked at his watch; his half hour was nearly up, so he hastened his pace. The skies, which had been a clear blue for so long now, had darkened. He felt a spit of rain on his face, and as he neared the front door of the office, shivered at a distant growl of thunder.

  ‘Fuckin’ typical. Aye, a policeman’s lot is not a happy one, right enough,’ he muttered as he opened the door, expecting to see the familiar face of Sergeant Shaw behind the reception desk. But all was quiet, and without anyone there to buzz the controlled door into the office, Scott walked through the hatch on the counter, which he was surprised to see raised and open.

  Daley and the Dragon were almost the same height, though the latter was considerably leaner. In the images Daley had seen of him he had looked older; now, as he held the gun to Dunn’s temple, despite the premature lines and livid scar, Daley could see that he was only in his thirties. His blank eyes spoke of a life that had left him hard and deadly.

  ‘You can have Pavel,’ said Daley quietly. ‘But I want you to guarantee the safety of my officer.’

  ‘You don’t tell me what to do. I am the one who makes demands. If he isn’t released now, this woman will die, then you will die. One way or the other, my friend will be free.’ As he finished speaking, the roar of Abdic’s laughter grew louder, as though he had somehow realised that help was at hand.

  The door to the CID Suite swung open and through it came Brian Scott, swinging a white plastic bag of filled rolls.

  ‘Where is every—What the fuck!’

  The Dragon swung around, dragging Dunn with him. Daley, seeing the assassin off balance, launched himself across a chair and collided with Dunn and her captor. Dunn felt the Dragon’s grip on her relax, and jabbed her elbow into his solar plexus before stumbling away from the two men, now locked in a struggle on the floor.

  ‘Get a gun!’ Scott shouted to Dunn, who scrambled out of the room, her face grey with fear. Scott tried to aim a kick at the intruder’s head, but caught Daley on the arm instead; he cried out in pain and lost his grip.

  Scott stood back, unable to intervene in case he hampered Daley’s efforts to disarm the Dragon. Using his weight advantage, Daley managed to swing his body half over the other man’s and aimed a punch at the Dragon’s side, feeling him flinch as he repeated the action. But he fell back, wheezing, as the Dragon landed a side swipe to his throat. Desperately, he tried not to black out.

  Scott, his baton drawn, awaited an opportunity. Just as he was about to risk taking a swing at the Dragon, Daley managed to grab his fist and push the pistol away. The pair struggled, the gun now obscured by their writhing bodies as Scott looked helplessly on.

  Then, without warning, there was a flash followed by the sharp report of a firearm, deafening in the confined space.

  Behind him, Scott heard DC Dunn let out a choked sob as he wiped a splatter of blood from his eyes.

  ‘There we have it, Elise. You carry out these little tasks for me, and life goes on as normal – well, as normal as it can.’ Wilson held out some documents for her to sign.

  ‘Do you know I have a speech at the Edinburgh Chamber of Commerce tonight?’ she asked, looking up at Wilson, who towered over her as she sat at her desk in the Scottish Parliament.

  ‘And?’

  ‘I take it that you’ll tell me what I have to say.’

  ‘You’re a big girl now, Elise,’ said Wilson, pushing his face into hers. She could see a single thick black hair protruding from his nose that made her feel suddenly sick. ‘Play the game, and in no time at all, you’ll be First Minister. Don’t play along, and you’ll be . . . Well, you’ll be fucked.’

  48

  ‘Where is she, you bastard?’ shouted Daley, his hands around the throat of the man on the floor, whose blood was pumping from the red gore of his stomach. When the man spluttered, he tightened his grip. ‘Tell me before she dies and you go to hell.’

  ‘What time is it?’ wheezed the Dragon, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

  ‘Forget the time! Tell me where she is!’ Daley lifted the dying man’s head and smashed it back into the floor.

  ‘Steady on, Jim!’ yelled Scott. ‘You’ll get fuck all out of him like that.’

  The Dragon opened his eyes and smiled, squeezing more blood from between his lips. A siren sounded outside as an ambulance turned into the yard.

  ‘I know I am going to hell, why should I care? I have lived in it all my life. The time is important.’ The Dragon smiled again, then his eyes glazed over. ‘Baka,’ he whispered, then his body went limp. As Daley swore, a blood-curdling scream came from the cells at Kinloch Police Office.

  ‘Sir!’ shouted Dunn, staring at her computer screen. ‘The time’s changed on the screen – jumped forward somehow.’

  Daley rushed to her side. The numbers in the corner of the screen had indeed changed. Alice had little more than four hours to live.

  ‘Quick, Brian, we have to get down to the pier. The launch must be there by now. There’s still time.’ Daley rushed from the blood-spattered office, DS Scott at his heels.

  The pair jumped into Scott’s car and sped to the pier where, sure enough, a vessel with a blue hull and white super-structure was being refuelled.

  ‘We need to leave – right now!’

  ‘Impossible,’ replied a man in a life jacket that bore the insignia of an inspector. ‘We’ve only managed to take on half of our fuel allocation.’

  Not without difficulty, Daley clambered down a ladder slick with slime. ‘We have to go now. The time frame has changed. The girl has less than four hours. We have to try.’

  The Inspector thought for a moment, then gave the order to stop refuelling and put out to sea to join the search for Alice Taylor.

  As Daley was being squeezed into a life jacket, and Scott was making his way down the treacherous ladder, a head appeared over the side of the quay.

  ‘A wee word, Mr Daley,’ said Hamish, envelope in blue pipe smoke.

  ‘Not now, Hamish. We’ve no time, we need to find the girl now.’

  ‘No success at the place I telt you aboot?’ />
  ‘No, nothing. We need to go.’

  ‘Well, I’ve got an idea – aboot where she is, I mean.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, since I saw her the other day, I’ve asked a’ the fisherman if they spotted her. Given she’s moved, an’ you canna find her, despite whoot you’ve got oot there, I can only make one suggestion.’

  ‘Well, hurry up and tell me.’

  ‘The north-east side o’ Ailsa Craig. Maist shipping passes to the south o’ the island. No’ the easiest place tae navigate, but if I was trying tae hide in the sound, that’s where I’d go.’

  Five minutes later, the police launch Semper Vigilo was speeding out into the loch and beyond, as dark clouds gathered over the sea.

  ACC Willie Manion slumped in his chair at Kinloch Police Office. He had just spoken to the Minister for Justice, and the phone call had been a difficult one. Yes, two of the most wanted men on the planet had been taken out – one dead, one in custody – but a senior police officer lay dead, and the security of the Kinloch office had been breached in a spectacular way.

  The press, held at bay by Alice Taylor’s desperate plight, were straining at the leash. When they broke free, it would be his job to deal with them; the Chief Constable had made that eminently clear.

  He sighed and looked at the framed black-and-white picture of the large poodle now sitting on his desk. ‘Ah, Jinky. A right mess, an’ no mistake.’

  He had two files on his desk. The faces of Jim Daley and Brian Scott stared out from the official photographs appended to each. Between his fat fingers, Manion held Sarah MacDougall’s letter. He sighed again.

  He had a police radio on his desk so that he could follow the progress of Semper Vigilo. He picked it up.

  ‘ACC Manion to Semper Vigilo, come in, over.’ He waited only seconds for the crackly reply.

  ‘Inspector Mason, sir, go ahead.’

  ‘Sit rep, please, Mason.’

  ‘We’re just off Paterson’s point, sir. Eh . . .’

  ‘Whitever you have tae say, spit it out, son.’

  ‘Nothing really, sir. Just that we seem . . . That is, DCI Daley seems happy to allow an old fisherman to dictate where we’re to go.’