Designer Crime

by Allen Whitehead

  They dragged him to his feet and up the wooden steps into the hut. Inside they could feel the heat radiating from the stove, and the head-torches illuminated a space lined with varnished boards. It had a bed across the back wall, covered with a patchwork quilt, some high level shelves and two small cupboards. The stove was placed close to one of the side walls. Through a tiny window, the moon was shining brightly. A length of chain was lying on the floor. One end was fixed to a bolt in the floor beside the stove. The other end they put around Johnston's ankle and a small padlock secured it.

  'What am I supposed to do if I need a piss or a shit?' he asked in a small voice.

  'Over there, beside the door, there's a wooden box. It's got a lid with a hole in it and inside there's a bucket. You use that. When I come and bring food and logs, I'll get rid of it for you. Now empty your pockets. We don't want to leave you with a mobile phone or anything.'

  Johnston slowly emptied his pockets. They contained small change, a couple of tissues, keys and a small pocket knife. Finally he pulled the package that McNeil had given him from the back pocket of his jeans.

  'What's that?'

  'Jimmy give it me to give to the guy in Zeebrugge. He said there's thirty thousand Ron – Romanian currency.'

  'Well, we'll take that, and the knife. Now, I guess, Jimmy will think you've done a runner with his cash.'

  'Fucking hell. I hope not. You don't want to cross him! He'd break my arms. No-one ever rips Jimmy off!'

  * * *

  At half past nine, next morning, the black Mitsubishi swept into the yard and pulled up beside the truck. Bow was standing beside the cab looking uncomfortable.

  'What's up, Gary?' said McNeil slamming the car's door.

  'It's Rab, he's not turned up yet, Jim.'

  'What? I told the fucker not to get pissed last night! Have you called him?'

  'He's not answering his phone ... I went round to his place as well, half an hour ago. The door wasn't locked and his bed looked as if he hadn't slept in it.'

  'The bastard! He'd better fucking turn up!'

  They waited for another half hour with McNeil getting more and more impatient. 'Right, Gary. We can't wait much longer. We'll miss the ferry and the schedule'll be up shit creek.'

  'I don't know what more we can do, Jim,' Bow whined.

  'Look, I'm just off back to mine to get a few things. I'll be twenty minutes max. If Johnston isn't back by then I'll come with you instead. Phone Frank for me, will you, and tell him what's happening.'

  'Okay, Jimmy, will do.'

  'Aye, an' if he does turn up, yer can tell him he'd better start looking for another fucking job. And if he's done a runner with the cash I give him, he'd better run a bloody long way, 'cos when I catch up with him he'll never fucking run again!'

  * * *

  Paul left his Kia Sportage in the lane and walked down through the field. A hard frost covered the land and every blade of grass glistened. The air was calm and the only sound he could hear was the trickle of water in the burn beside the shepherd's hut. He could smell the wood-smoke that curled up from the hut's flue; the warm scent of welcome that's recognizable anywhere in the world.

  He pulled a ski-mask over his head, unlocked the door and pulled it open. Rab Johnston was sitting on the bed with a mug of tea in his hands. It was cosy inside and a log in the stove crackled. Paul shut the door behind him and took the rucksack off his back. He took out milk, bread and two pasties, apples, some tins of beans, spaghetti, rice pudding, a jar of peanut butter and a toilet roll.

  'Everything okay?'

  'I suppose so,' Johnston replied, 'I've been worse places.'

  He was wearing a thick, hand-knitted, sweater on top of his favourite football shirt. Paul had brought it for him a few days earlier.

  'Yeah. Well, it's only a few more days, and if you continue to behave we'll let you go. What you do then, and where you go, is up to you. By that time, the cops'll be rounding up most of the people that work for M&M. You'll have a start on them.'

  'It's pretty boring, but it is peaceful here, though.' Johnston said thoughtfully. 'Yesterday, I watched a fox through the window. It stopped in the middle of the field and had a long scratch before it went away.'

  Paul nodded in agreement. 'All good things come to an end – Right, you've got food. I'll do the rest, then leave you to it.'

  He carried the waste bucket away from the hut and emptied it behind a large gorse bush. Then he

  brought logs in from outside, stacking them inside the door, and finally filled a container with water from the stream.

  'I don't think you've had anything to complain about, man. I could quite happily spend a week here. It's like being on holiday – especially with me fetching and carrying for you!'

  * * *

  Chapter 21 February

  An elderly woman walked slowly over the footbridge, looked twice at the escalator but decided against it, and began to go down the steps into the station concourse. She dragged her wheeled bag behind her and it bumped down each step. There were three flights of stairs, but she ignored the people around her and took her time. Commuters were rushing to catch their trains, while some infrequent railway users were staring up at the electronic signboard that indicated the departure times and from which platform their train would leave. Head down, she made her way towards platform 2, dragging her one item of luggage. One of its wheels caught in a rut and she paused to jerk it free. She came to a stop in front of the small Excess Baggage office, and peered in at the price list through the thick lenses of her spectacles.

  'Can I leave my bag here for a couple of days, young man?' she said, in a quavering voice, to the Asian man behind the counter.

  'Of course you can,' he replied smiling. 'Is it just the one case?'

  'Yes. I'm meeting up with an old friend later, and we're going to the ballet. She says I can stay overnight, in Edinburgh, with her afterwards.'

  'That's nice,' he said, reaching down and lifting the case up on to the counter.

  He pointed towards a notice on the counter. 'The bag gets scanned by X-ray, so you've got to remove any items with a battery – you know that?'

  'Oh, there's nothing in there with a battery left in it,' she smiled. 'My grandson told me about your rules and anyway I don't believe in electric toothbrushes. I'd be too scared to use one – it would remind me of the dentist!'

  He nodded, secured a label to it and gave her a ticket. She transferred her walking stick to her left hand, unbuttoned her overcoat, and began fumbling in the pocket of her hand-knitted cardigan.

  'No,dear. You pay for it when you collect the bag. You just have to remember to bring the ticket back with you.'

  'Thank you, young man,' she said, her voice trembling a little as she looked up into his face. 'You've been very helpful.'

  She gave him a shy wave as she made her way slowly towards the escalator that would carry her back up to Princes Street.

  * * *

  The next morning, in St. Leonard's Divisional Headquarters of Police Scotland, Detective Sergeant June Rushforth knocked firmly on the office door of Chief Superintendent Mark Graham – the Commander for Edinburgh City Division.

  'Come in,' he called.

  'I've been opening the mail, sir, and this one's addressed to you personally. There's something in the envelope, though, – it feels like a memory stick.'

  'Okay, Sergeant, you know the drill. Open the envelope carefully and read any correspondence, before doing anything at all with the memory stick. If a decision's taken that it's considered to be okay, check it's contents first, with one of the computers not connected to the network. We've got to ensure that it's not infected with any viruses.'

  She nodded. 'Yes, sir.'

  Back at her desk, she slit open the small envelope and took out the letter.

  Dear Chief Superintendent,

  On the enclosed memory stick, you'll find evidence of an organized criminal gang operating in Edinburgh. The head of the gang is Frank Mann
ion, who you are probably aware of, as well as his accomplice Jimmy McNeil.

  Some of the gang's activities include extortion from local businesses, loan sharking, and human trafficking for prostitution, all hidden behind their Granton Transportation Services haulage business.

  The files on the memory stick were downloaded from Mannion's computer which came into our possession. The laptop itself, however, contains a great deal more information that will also be of use to you. It is now in the Excess Baggage office (with it's battery removed) at Waverley Station, and you can recover it using the enclosed ticket.

  Yoda and the Jedi.

  June shook the envelope gently and a memory stick fell out. Wrapped around it, held in place by an elastic band, was a numbered ticket. She knocked again on the door of the Chief Superintendent's office.

  'Have a look at this letter, sir. It's about Frank Mannion.'

  'Is it?' he said raising his eyebrows. He read the letter twice before continuing. 'Mannion has been on our radar now for several years, but we've never had anything that's linked him to specific criminal activity.'

  'That's right. He makes sure he keeps himself at arms length from any investigation.'

  'So ... don't bother with the memory stick, June. Send someone to the left luggage office to pick up the computer straight away. We'll do a forensic examination of that.'

  'Will do, sir.'

  'Oh, yes, and I believe they have CCTV coverage down there as well. Get the officer to collect all the recent video footage and we'll take a look at whoever left it there.'

  * * *

  Paul called for an update meeting in the Conference Room. Fraser said that he'd got an important meeting to go to, and he wouldn't be able to attend. When all of the others had assembled, Paul began by telling them how Rab Johnston was surviving his confinement.

  'Actually, he's not a bad guy. He's just resigned himself to the fact that there isn't anything else he can do, so he may as well make the best of it.'

  'I hope you're not letting him win you round?' said Liz, frowning. 'They say that prisoners and their captors begin to empathize.'

  'Of course not,' said Paul. 'He's only ever seen me wearing the ski-mask, but he does appreciate that we could have made his imprisonment much more uncomfortable, though.'

  'So he's been in the hut, what, ten days now?' said Neil. 'When do we let him go?'

  'Not until the GTS truck has left Zeebrugge. We can't risk anything happening to any of the immigrants in it, so it'll be another week yet ... Johnston has been keeping me amused though.'

  'Yeah, How?'

  'He keeps guessing where he might be. I don't give him any clues, though. He thinks that he's somewhere in the Pentland Hills.'

  'That's good then,' said Neil. 'Where are you thinking of releasing him? We could always let him out in the Pentlands – maybe up past the Flotterstone pub?'

  'No. I know a good place in the Lammermuir's,' said Paul. 'It'll be a little bit closer and just as quiet.'

  At that point Joe came in. He'd travelled up to Caithness, to spend the weekend with Sam, Jim and Maggie, and he'd just arrived back.

  'Hi, Joe. How's Sam?' asked Liz.

  He smiled and ran his hand through his fair hair. 'Oh, she's not doing too bad, thanks. She wants to come back to Edinburgh, but I keep putting her off. I said “maybe in another two weeks”. He sat down at the table. 'How did everything go back here?'

  Paul laughed. 'You missed a classic, Joe. You should have seen Liz! The wig, glasses and make-up were pretty good, and the clothes were definitely “charity shop, top-of-the-range”, but it was the way she walked with the stick. We all had a vision of the future – Liz in thirty years time – the geriatric!'

  Liz glowered at him.

  'She was excellent, I thought,' George said. 'I waited for her in the Omni multi-storey car park, then took her home to get changed. She'd have convinced anyone. At first, I thought it was my grandmother coming towards me.'

  'Gee, thanks for that, George!' Liz said, amidst the laughter.

  'I dropped over to see Maddie and Ana, a couple of evenings ago,' said Neil. 'They seem really happy working at Sandside Golf Club. The manager's been telling them that they're hard workers. I've offered to help them look for somewhere else to live when the holiday season starts, and they have to move out of the steading.'

  * * *

  The next morning, Joe was sitting at a round table with Brian Stewart and Bob Weston. They had been working on conceptual ideas for the new Genetic Research Facility. Brian had prepared some layout schematics and Bob had researched the laboratory processes. The three of them discussed and explored alternative ideas for some time and, at the end of an hour, they all felt satisfied that they had two good options worth developing. Brian and Bob went back to their desks, happy and feeling energized and optimistic. Joe was settling back down at his own computer when Fraser came in.

  'Oh, hi Joe. I … er … wasn't expecting to see you … I thought you had a meeting in Bathgate?'

  'I had, but it's been postponed until next week.'

  'Oh ... right.'

  'We don't seem to see much of you these days, Fraser. How about us going out for a pint at lunchtime?'

  'Er ... yeah, okay. I can only have the one though ... I need a clear head this afternoon.'

  'One's fine. I wasn't suggesting we get smashed!'

  The bar that they went to wasn't busy and the landlord seemed pleased to have their custom. They ordered sandwiches and carried their glasses of beer to a corner table.

  'Actually, Fraser – if I didn't know any better, I'd think you've been avoiding me.'

  'No … no, Joe. I haven't. I've … er ... just had a lot on my mind.'

  'You haven't been training since before the Christmas break.'

  'No ... I've... er ... I've been meaning to talk to you about that. I've ... er … come to the conclusion that karate isn't for me. I'm sorry, Joe.'

  'Nothing to be sorry about, man. Karate's important for me, but not for everyone.'

  The landlord came across bringing the sandwiches.

  'I've become a member of Marchmont Leisure – lifting weights, treadmills and that. It's a nice atmosphere. And Laura and me – we've started playing squash once a week with her friends Carol and Dean. They're a nice couple and he's a good laugh.'

  'It's okay,' smiled Joe, lifting his glass. 'You don't have to explain to me.'

  'Erm ... look, Joe ... I'm really sorry about Sam ... No-one expected her to get hurt ... It's absolutely the last thing I'd have wanted.'

  'No-one's blaming you, man. We all went into it with our eyes open. We underestimated who we were dealing with, that's all.'

  'Yeah, but it could have been Laura. I can't risk that.'

  'If everything we've organized goes according to plan, it'll all be over soon.'

  'You can't be sure of that, though. You don't know how many of them there are … or who their contacts are!'

  Joe put his glass on the table and looked at him. 'So what are you saying? You just want out?'

  Fraser looked down at the table, and fiddled with a beer mat. 'I suppose I am ... I can't get involved in any more risky capers – I just can't'

  'But what about Maddie and Ana? ... And Sam and me?... They're after us. We can't just stop and hope it all settles down and goes away.'

  'I don't give a fuck about Madalina and the other little hooker! She's the one that got her claws into Keith and started it all.'

  'You've had it in for Maddie from the start!' Joe snapped, frowning. 'You've got her all wrong. She didn't force Keith to run up a hundred and thirty grand gambling debt!'

  'You can think what you like, Joe, but you and me – we see things a bit differently.'

  There was a long, awkward silence. Joe drank from his glass and looked out of the window.

  'I was talking to Tom, earlier,' Fraser said. 'He was telling me that he's about to expand ... He's got a site in Fife and he's about to strike a deal for another one near L
ivingston. He says he wants me to do the design work.'

  'Tom ... Tom Shepherd – Laura's dad?'

  'Yeah. He's growing fast ... and not just the plants. There's a lot of work there.'

  'Well, that's good news for the Practice,' Joe agreed. 'Garden Centres are sprouting up all over.'

  'Aye ... well. As I was saying – I really can't afford to get involved in any more risky stuff.'

  * * *

  Chapter 22 March

  A thick mist covered the land and hoar frost glittered white in the winter hedgerows. The world was still and even the air seemed frozen as Paul and Joe crunched through the crisp grassy tussocks. A cock pheasant was keeping it's head down beside the hedge but, as they drew closer, it lost it's nerve and suddenly took to the sky, calling it's alarm. They could smell the wood-smoke as it curled lazily up from the stove-pipe and, as they reached the bottom of the hill, the shepherd's hut loomed out of a grey wall. Nearby, the stream was gurgling happily as it carved it's way between iced boulders.

  Paul rubbed his hands together to keep them warm. 'I'll bet it's warmer in there than it is out here.'

  'Yeah. It looks cosy, doesn't it,' Joe agreed.

  They pulled ski-masks down over their faces, as Paul climbed up the wooden steps and stuck a key in the padlock. Inside, Rab Johnston was sitting next to the stove with an empty mug on the seat beside him.

  'Morning,' he said, smiling. After two weeks, the enforced loneliness, with only his thoughts for company, was beginning to wear him down.

  'Right,' said Paul. 'You've spent your last night here, Johnston. You've behaved well over the last two weeks, though, so we're going to keep our word to you. I'm afraid we've got to bind your hands and put a hood over your head before we move you, though, so that you'll not know where you've been held. And we're going to drive you well away from here before we release you. But … as I said to you when we took you prisoner – when you're released, you are free to go wherever you want ... I'd warn you, though, the cops will be looking for you as part of Mannion and McNeil's gang, so you'd be advised to make a quick getaway. You should put some distance between them and you ... It could be that McNeil may think you've shopped them, as well as stealing his money, and from what I've heard, you wouldn't want to end up in prison alongside him if he thinks that!'