by Ed James
Considine slowed to a halt, leaving the car running.
“Doesn’t the Python know to turn itself off?”
Considine twisted the key in the ignition, killing the engine. “I’m regretting telling you.”
“You do know you should really regret calling it that, don’t you?”
“Whatever.”
They got out of the car and walked over to the gates.
Considine knocked on the corrugated iron then shook his hand in the air. “That was bloody sore.”
The gate slid open. Two men stood there, both dressed in army surplus clothes. The older of the two had blond dreadlocks tugged back into a ponytail, while the younger one’s shaved head had the look of a soldier rather than a Buddhist. Both had dark rings around their eyes.
Vicky held out her warrant card. “We’re looking to speak to the leader.”
Dreadlocks nodded. “That’ll be me, then. Kevin Simmers. I run this place.”
“We’re investigating two vigilante actions in Dundee, sir. They appear to have been committed against people with a public record of animal cruelty. Can you help us?”
Simmers laughed. “With what?”
“Do you know anything about it?”
“No, we don’t. Goodbye.”
The skinhead edged closer. “Are you implying we’re up to something?”
Vicky narrowed her eyes at him. “And who are you?”
“Andy Salewicz. Not that it’s any business of yours.”
Vicky folded her arms. “We’ve got intelligence linking your group to these crimes.”
“Where did you get this from?”
“I’m not going to name our sources. We believe you picketed Hunter’s Farm in Barry. Is that correct?”
Salewicz shrugged. “Might’ve done.”
“I wonder if you’d any idea who might wish to trap the whole family in a cage in the farm?”
Salewicz glanced at the leader. “Want me to get rid of them, Kevin?”
Simmers shook his head before taking a deep breath. “Officers, we’re a strictly pacifist group. When were these crimes supposed to have been committed?”
“Wednesday and Sunday, for starters.”
Simmers chuckled. “We’ve just had a week-long rave.”
“A week-long rave?”
“We had a police presence throughout. Nobody got in or out. Whoever gave you this intelligence isn’t very intelligent, are they?”
Chapter Fifty-Nine
You got a minute, Euan?” Vicky drummed a finger on the back of MacDonald’s desk.
MacDonald put down the report he was reading. “Sure.”
“Is Forrester in?”
“Up with Raven.”
“Let’s go to his office.” Vicky led him across the room, shutting the door behind them. “Who gave you the intel on those crusties?”
“Not a very nice way of putting it.”
“Who gave you it?”
MacDonald shrugged. “Wildlife Crime boys. Why?”
“It was shite.”
“In what way?”
Vicky rested a hand on her hip. “For starters, they’ve just had a week-long rave with police presence. Gives them a pretty robust alibi.”
“Right.” MacDonald took a deep breath. “You ask about the picket at Hunter’s Farm?”
“I did. They admitted it.”
“So?”
“So the problem is, nobody at that place left in the last week. I checked on the drive back down — there were no fewer than four officers stationed by it all week.”
“Fairly solid, I suppose.”
“It is.” Vicky put her other hand to her hip. “It was a bit of a waste of time heading out there. Me and Considine in the Python.”
“The Python?”
“It’s what he calls that Subaru he drives.”
MacDonald smirked. “Boy racer, I told you.”
“What can we do about this?”
“I’ll get back to my contact, see what he’s got to say about it.”
“Do you want me to speak to them?”
He shook his head. “I’ll deal with it.”
“Fine.”
MacDonald rubbed his chin. “Getting anywhere with the cyberterrorists?”
“I haven’t caught up with Zoë yet.”
“Right.”
Vicky sat on the edge of the desk and sighed. “We’re chasing our tails.”
“Tell me about it. Gave the street teams a rocket up their arses but I doubt it’ll do any good. Nothing there we don’t already have.”
“What about the phones?”
“Usual nonsense. Lots of people taking credit for it, none of them did it. Put them in a room with a twenty-stone constable and they change their minds pretty quickly.”
“I’m not getting a warm fuzzy feeling about this.”
“These cases can be like that. Can take a while.”
“I guess you’re right.” Vicky got up again. “Have you seen Zoë?”
“She’s not been at her desk all morning.”
“She has been working, though, right?”
MacDonald held up his hands. “No idea. If I see her I’ll point her in your direction.”
“You do that.”
“You had your lunch?”
Vicky nodded. “Just had a sit-down with Karen.”
“Oh, okay.” MacDonald nodded and left her in the room.
She slumped back in the seat — how had she gone from giving him a doing to being coached?
She stood up, smoothing down her skirt before leaving Forrester’s office.
Zoë stood by their desks, MacDonald pointing at Vicky. “She’s just there.”
Vicky smiled at her as she sat. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Zoë remained standing. “Stephen said you were looking for me. Sorry, I’ve been up with the Forensic guys.”
Considine sat opposite them, perching on a chair the wrong way round. “Zoë’s done a search on the known activities of your cyberterrorist group.”
Vicky leaned back in her chair, eyes drilling into Zoë. “What have you found?”
“I managed to match some stuff together.”
“That sounds technical.”
Considine raised his eyebrows. “Zoë’s managed to tie the IP addresses from the cyberterrorists to this group out in Redford.”
Vicky sat back for a few seconds, trying to process it. “Why didn’t this come up before?”
Zoë kicked her heels. “The search hadn’t come back. Some things take time, you know?”
“Okay. Do you have people we can bring in for interviews?”
“I’ve got IP addresses linking back to Phorever Love but I’ve not got real people, no.”
‘Zoë, can you work on linking the Muirheads and Brian Morton to these crimes? See if one of them posted that video?’
‘Will do.’
‘Cheers.’
Vicky folded her arms and glanced at MacDonald. His eyes darted up from her legs. “Euan, has your Wildlife squad guy got back to you yet?”
MacDonald shook his head. “Not yet.”
“Reckon we should bring them in?”
MacDonald inspected his nails. “Not too happy about it. Got a deep undercover operative at risk there.”
“I’m not sure we’ve got anything concrete on them yet.” Vicky tossed her ponytail. “Are there any links to xbeast?”
Zoë nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Active posters on there, but I can’t trace them back. Sorry.”
“Should we bring the Muirheads and those two brothers back in?”
“What I’m thinking.” MacDonald got to his feet. “Let’s ask them about the group and about the hen farm attack.”
Vick
y stood up. “I’ll take Brian Morton.”
MacDonald glanced at Karen. “See you in the car park in five, okay?”
Vicky let him go.
Karen leaned over the desk and winked. “Physical contact, Vicks.”
“Stop it.”
“He’s getting on well with Zoë.”
“She’s welcome to him.”
Chapter Sixty
Vicky sat in Brian Morton’s living room. The magnolia walls were bare, the curtains drawn, a naked light bulb hanging from the ceiling the only source of light. “Mr Morton, do you know anything about a group near Redford called Phorever Love?”
“I don’t know what that is.” Brian shook his head. “John!”
His brother stayed looking at the TV.
Considine loitered in the window overlooking the street. “You sure about that, Brian?”
Brian’s breathing quickened. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You sure?”
Brian’s face reddened. “I’m sure. I’ve never heard of Redmond.”
“Redford.”
“Where is it?”
“Near Forfar.”
Brian slammed a fist against his scooter. “Do I look like I can get there?”
Considine shrugged. “You get a decent battery life on those things, don’t you?”
“I know absolutely nothing about this Love Forever group.”
“Phorever Love.”
Brian ran a hand through his hair, now soaking with sweat. “I still don’t know anything about them.”
Vicky crossed her legs and smoothed down her skirt. “See, members of the group posted on the same forum you did — xbeast.”
“So?”
“They’d a campaign against a place near Barry called Hunter’s Farm.”
“And?”
“Do you watch the news, Brian?”
Brian shook his head. “The only time the telly’s on in here is when he’s around.”
Vicky glanced at John, still watching the news. “Well, Hunter’s Farm just happened to have a similar attack to that perpetrated against Rachel Hay and Paul Joyce. If you’ll recall, you took great delight in what happened to them.”
Brian tightened his grip on the arm supports. “Whoever did this hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“We beg to differ. Kidnapping’s against the law.”
Brian pounded the scooter again. “I don’t know anything about it!”
Vicky uncrossed her legs and got to her feet. “Come on, Constable, we’ll need to get Mr Morton here down to the station.”
John looked over from the TV. “This isn’t good for Brian’s heart.”
Vicky smiled at him. “Then it’s in his interests to answer the questions.”
“If he says he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know.”
“I’m not saying your brother did anything.”
“Seems like it.”
“We just want to know if he’s got any leads on that message board.”
“Why?”
“He’s an active participant on there. I can quite happily believe he’s not involved in this, but I want to know if there’s any help he can give us to find these people.”
Brian slammed his fist on the scooter again. “I’m not going to help you. Whoever’s doing this is a hero.”
John held up his hands. “He doesn’t mean that. Brian’s heart’s in the right place. He’s just interested in helping the animals. That’s right, isn’t it, Brian?”
“I just want people to stop being nasty to animals.”
Vicky nodded. “We all do.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Why not? I buy free-range chicken and eggs.”
Brian glowered at her. “You’re not doing anything about it, though, are you?”
Considine crouched in front of the scooter. “Brian, we’re looking into this forum in a lot of detail. We’ve got an IT analyst working full-time on this. If you’ve been a naughty boy on there, it’s in your interest to tell us now. Okay?”
John tilted his head at Vicky. “Can I have a private word, please?”
She nodded and followed him into the kitchen. Ten empty cheesecake and gateaux boxes sat on the counter, giving off a sickly sweet aroma. “Tell me he doesn’t eat these.”
“It’s like I told you the other day. He lives off them. That lot’s just this morning.” John started putting the boxes in the recycling. “It’s all he’ll eat since Mum died. She used to look after him and managed to feed him decent stuff. I had to move back up from Essex but I’ve just not got the patience she had, or the time. Does that make me a bad person?”
Vicky leaned back against the counter, the chipped wood digging into the palms of her hands. “I’m not sure.”
“He has tantrums like he’s a kid.”
“I can relate to that.” Vicky frowned. “There’s nothing wrong with him, is there?”
“It’s just obesity.” John held up the last cheesecake box. “You should see him destroy one of these. It’s like that Man Vs Food programme.”
Vicky folded her arms. “I assume you didn’t call me in here to tell me about your brother’s eating habits?”
“No.” John stuffed the last box in the recycling bin, the lid not quite shutting. “See, the other thing is his stress. He gets really bad. You saw what he was like in there. His heart isn’t great. Our old man died from a heart attack.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“He was an arsehole. It’s no great loss.” John pushed his glasses up his nose. “To save us both hassle, is there anything I can do to help? I don’t want my brother dying. As much of a nightmare as he is, he’s all I’ve got left.”
Vicky stood up straight. “This is a serious matter, Mr Morton, as I’m sure you can imagine. People have been abducted and tortured in some cases. There are now three cases.”
John’s forehead creased. “Said two on the TV.”
“We’ve found another.”
John threw his arms in the air. “Look, I don’t give a shit about all this animal crap. I do give a shit about my brother. I almost had to take him into the hospital on Friday night after you let him go. I managed to get his breathing and heart rate back under control.”
“I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t think he knows something.”
“I get that.” John licked his lips as he stared at the door back to the living room. “How about I speak to him for you?”
“How about I just take him down the station?”
“I told you, it’s not going to be good for his heart.”
“I think your brother knows something.”
“If it’ll get you lot out of his face, I’ll ask him.”
Raised voices came from the living room, sounding like Brian screaming at Considine.
John waved his hand at the door. “See, this is what I have to put up with. His blood sugar level’s always collapsing because of the bloody cakes he eats.”
“You could stop feeding him them.”
John raised his shoulders. “You’re welcome to look after him.”
“I’ll pass, thanks.”
“Thought so.”
Vicky rested her hands against the countertop — the last thing she needed was a coronary on her hands. “Right, fine. You speak to him and see what he can help us with.”
John nodded. “Sorry about this but it’s just not good for him.”
Vicky handed him her business card. “In case you’ve lost the last one.”
Chapter Sixty-One
Vicky held open the front door to the station. “What did you ask him to make him scream like that?”
Considine shrugged as he entered the station. “Nothing. I swear.”
“Didn’t sound like no
thing.”
“He was just rambling at me.” Considine swiped through the security door, the lock clunking as it released. “Just kept talking to himself, like I wasn’t even there. Mad stuff about not going back to the police station. He was just building himself up into a froth.”
“Great.”
“Thought he was going to keel over there and then.”
Vicky opened the door to the stairwell and started climbing the stairs, her fingers kneading her neck as their words echoed around the tight space. “I can’t figure out how he fits into this.”
“From the witness statements, all we’ve got is three people at most.” Considine accelerated the last few steps to hold the door open. “One bloke, one woman and someone of indiscriminate gender. Brian doesn’t fit the profile of any of them.”
Vicky waited in the corridor outside their office space — two male detectives from another team were chatting further down. “So you think he’s not linked to this?”
“IT support is all I can think.”
“He’s a terror group’s helpdesk?”
Considine laughed. “No. He’s doing all this stuff online for them. It’s a big part of what they’re up to, isn’t it?”
Vicky peered through the open door, clocking Zoë tapping at her laptop. “Let’s see what young Zoë’s got so far.” She went and stood over her, hand on hip. “What progress have you made with Brian Morton?”
Zoë swallowed. “Been flat out, ma’am. Not had a chance to look into it too much.”
“What have you been flat out on?”
Zoë flicked her eyebrow up at Considine before focusing on her laptop again. “First, I was just confirming I could get nothing from the emails to the journalists.”
“And?”
“Well, I can’t. Anita Skinner’s site got taken down. The Met are trying to purge it from Google’s search results, but they’re not exactly playing ball.”
Vicky looked around, the nerve in her neck tightening. “Has anyone else published the email?”
“I’m afraid so. I just found this.” Zoë tapped her screen, flicking through the poison pen letters and a screen grab from the video. “Some WikiLeaks clone published the notes.”
“Who posted them there?”
