Dunbar smirked evilly and stepped in to pot the last of his two balls and then sank the black confidently into the corner. He stood up from the table and turned towards Danny, his hand outstretched.
‘Money.’
Danny handed over the two hundred quid and Dunbar quickly trousered it, downing the last of his vodka as he prepared to leave.
‘Not so fast,’ Winter blurted out. ‘You hustled me, you cunt.’
‘Dry your eyes,’ Dunbar laughed. ‘Learn your lesson and get some practice in. You’re shite.’
‘No way. I want my money back.’
‘Fuck off. Seriously, fuck off. I’m leaving and if you don’t want to get hurt, then get out of my fucking way.’
Winter stepped back as Dunbar came towards him, letting him past on his way out the door. Behind Dunbar’s back, Danny signalled for Winter to wait and give him a head start before going after him. Winter did as he was told and Dunbar was almost out the front door when he shouted after him that he wanted his money. Dunbar didn’t turn round but just laughed derisorily.
Winter and Danny started after him, ignoring the hushed warning from the barman to leave it alone. When they got onto Maryhill Road, the snow was falling once more and they saw Dunbar twenty yards ahead, his black leather coat flashing like a diamond.
‘You did know you were being hustled, didn’t you?’ Danny asked Winter quietly.
‘Course I did. I’m not completely stupid. Anyway, don’t be so sure you know who was hustling who.’
Danny nodded and smiled as Winter called after Dunbar again.
‘You. Fucking wait.’
‘Fuck off,’ Dunbar shouted back over his shoulder. ‘You don’t know who you’re messing with.’
Dunbar walked on unperturbed past the bookies and the derelict structure at the end of the block before turning right up the grassy bank towards the canal. It was exactly where Danny and Winter hoped he was going and they speeded up after him. As they came round the corner and on to the square of scrubland, they saw Dunbar waiting patiently for them.
‘I don’t have a problem with you two,’ he slurred. ‘Don’t make me have one.’
‘We want a word with you, son,’ Danny told him.
‘No, you don’t. Believe me, you don’t.’ Dunbar’s eyes were wild. ‘Go away before this goes bad.’
‘Sorry, but we can’t. You’re finished here.’
Dunbar took an uncertain step to the side, his hesitant movement punctuated by a stamp of his left foot to steady himself. As he did so, he reached with his right hand inside his leather coat and emerged with something in his hand that gleamed in the moonlight. Dunbar continued to raise his hand high above his head until they could see he held a samurai sword. Now they knew why Dunbar wore the full-length coat.
‘Fucksake,’ Winter gasped to Danny. ‘I thought you roofied this bastard.’
‘I did. He should be out for the count by now.’
Dunbar whirled the sword in an arc above his head, slicing through the falling snowflakes and staring at the two men through bleary eyes. The sword sang through the air, its swish the only sound Winter could hear above the pounding of his heart.
‘Any bright ideas?’ he asked Danny.
‘Like I told the kid, I’ve never run in my life. Getting a bit late to start now.’
Danny slipped his jacket off and wrapped it round his left arm. Winter followed suit and took a few paces to his right as he watched Danny move to the left, both holding their barely protected arms in front of them in a poor imitation of shields.
Dunbar was clearly struggling under the influence of the liquid Rohypnol Danny had dropped into his vodka as he played pool, reeling slightly from side to side, but he kept a firm grip on his sword and was flashing it before him. Danny and Winter cautiously approached him from either side, inching nearer but wary of the scything blade.
Winter, seeing what Danny was doing, suddenly shouted at Dunbar, grabbing his attention. As he did so, Danny threw a ball of snow into Dunbar’s face, momentarily blinding him, and followed it up with a charge towards his sword arm. He got within a yard of his target before Dunbar instinctively lashed out, the arc of his blade catching Danny high on his shoulder and causing a spurt of fire engine red to erupt. Danny cried out and fell back, his right hand clutching at his left shoulder. Winter hurled in from the right, crashing a boot into Dunbar’s thigh and sending him sprawling back onto the ground, knocking the wind from him.
Winter rushed to Danny, seeing the blood pouring from the wound and staining the snow. Danny had been relatively lucky: the sword had sliced through his flesh but hadn’t bitten deeper than an inch or so. Winter unwrapped the jacket that covered Danny’s hand and switched it to his shoulder to stem the flow, watching as the last few drops fell onto the white. From behind him, he heard Dunbar scrambling unsteadily back to his feet, his sword flexing protectively in front of him. He backed away towards the canal towpath, his sword always between him and his attackers.
Winter started to his feet to go after him but Danny caught his arm.
‘No. Let him go. Don’t be fucking stupid. I’m in no state to tackle him and you can’t do it on your own.’
‘So much for the plan to spike his drink.’
Danny grimaced, as much at the pain from his arm as Winter’s dig at him.
‘It worked – to an extent. It’s probably the only reason we’ve still got both our hands but I’m guessing the cocaine is keeping the GHB at bay for now. You still got those twenties you won from him?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Good, because if we don’t get Dunbar tonight, then the tech boys can get DNA from those.’
‘If we don’t get him tonight?’
‘We give him a ten-minute head start. There’s no way we want to catch him if the GHB hasn’t worked; he’s far too fucking dangerous for that. On the other hand, if it does the trick, then we’ll find him no bother even with that start.’
‘Danny, you need to go to hospital.’
‘And I will – after this. Jesus, why does it have to be so cold? Here, take my jacket, it’s not doing the job.’
Danny took off his shirt, letting the wound temporarily run free again until he’d instructed Winter how to fix a tourniquet to his shoulder with one sleeve and wrap the other round the cut. As Danny stood bare-chested and blood-streaked in the snow, Winter shook his head in disbelief. Uncle Danny was over thirty years older than he was but still tougher and braver than he’d ever be. Mind you, his admiration for his uncle didn’t stop him from wishing he’d photographed the gaping sword wound before it had been covered up.
When Danny had his jacket back on, he glanced at his watch and forced himself to pace round the scrubland for a few minutes, keeping warm and marking time until they went after Dunbar. Finally he nodded at Winter and they warily started down the towpath, knowing full well that the samurai could be waiting for them at any point on the unlit path. They edged along, Winter somewhat uncomfortably in front, his eyes straining in the dark for any sign of Dunbar. In the end, they almost fell over him.
They were no more than a yard from his prone body when Winter’s leading foot brushed against the blade of the sword, causing it to sing sadly and for Winter nearly to soil himself.
‘Jesus,’ he gasped, stepping back and forcing Danny to walk straight into him.
Dunbar was out cold, the sword abandoned by his side. The GHB had taken its toll at last and, along with the cocaine and the vodka, was going to give Dunbar a long sleep and a monstrous hangover. Danny reached into his jacket pocket with his good arm and produced plastic bindings.
‘Put these on him,’
As Winter tied up Dunbar, Danny managed to fish his mobile out of his trouser pocket. After a few seconds, his call was answered.
‘Jered Dunbar? It’s Danny Neilson. I’ve got something for you.’
CHAPTER 46
It took an hour and a half before Jered and two of his fellow travellers from the Stirling site m
anaged to make their way to Maryhill but Sam Dunbar hadn’t stirred. Winter and Danny had managed to keep him off the snow so he didn’t freeze to death and had marched him back and forth to keep his circulation flowing as well as theirs.
They heard the gypsies coming before they saw them, the three figures finally emerging from the snow and advancing on them. Danny had his jacket zipped to his throat so they couldn’t see he was shirtless beneath it, not wanting to give any hint he was injured and he and Winter were at a distinct disadvantage.
‘What have you done to him?’ Jered demanded when he saw that his cousin was unconscious.
‘Saved his life probably,’ Danny replied.
Jered looked doubtful.
‘How do you reckon that?’
‘He was strutting round Glasgow slicing into people with that sword. He wouldn’t have lasted more than a year before someone killed him. It was prison or the grave for him – no other choices. You realise that?’
Jered pursed his lips but nodded sullenly.
‘Who was he working for?’
‘You don’t want to go there, Jered. The guy is heavy duty. He’ll be pissed enough that Sam has gone missing without you going in there and making it worse. Stay away.’
‘Okay, but tell me what you know. Why was he doing it?’
‘Money,’ Danny answered flatly. ‘He was earning big style but he also needed it to pay for his new habit.’
Jered looked confused.
‘Cocaine,’ Danny explained. ‘You’ll need to get him off it and it will be painful. I think that stuff was what made him start using the sword. He faced us down with it but he gave us the chance to back off. That’s the only reason he’s going back with you rather than inside. You understand me?’
‘Okay . . .’ The words stuck in Jered Dunbar’s throat. ‘Thanks. We’ll deal with him from here.’
‘Not quite so fast, Jered. We have a deal.’
Jered looked to his two companions, both shorter than Winter and Danny but one wiry with flinty eyes and the other broad and muscular. With one and a half sets of arms between them, it was going to be a struggle to take these three on the tight confines of the towpath, particularly as the good pair of arms belonged to Winter. Jered moved in close on Danny, nose to nose like they had been back in the caravan when Danny had head-butted him.
‘I don’t like you much,’ Jered told him, his accomplices now tight to his shoulder. ‘No respect. And don’t think I’ve forgotten what you done to me.’
Danny didn’t blink, just stared back at Jered, noticing how the bridge of his nose was still swollen and slightly misshapen.
‘And this is our business not yours,’ Jered continued. ‘Uncle shouldn’t have got you involved. Sam is family.’
Winter moved forward, standing shoulder to shoulder with Danny, joining in the staring contest as best he could.
‘If it was down to me, then we’d be breaking the ice on that canal and you’d be going in it. But Uncle says different.’
‘Your uncle is a wise man,’ Danny told him. ‘Just saved you from a broken neck. Where’s Bradley?’
Jered’s lip curled back as he inched closer to Danny, his head bobbing slightly as if he were making his mind up whether to butt him.
‘We don’t know yet. We’re looking and we’ll find him soon enough. You’ll have to trust us on that.’
Danny held his ground, his head against Jered’s.
‘Not good enough. Where is he?’
‘All we’re sure of is that he’s in Scotland, somewhere in the west. Uncle is a man of his word. When we know, we’ll call you.’
‘You better.’
Danny looked down at Sam Dunbar, still out cold at their feet.
‘Take your rubbish and get going back to Stirling. But Jered? I don’t give a damn if you take him to Riverside or Russia. If he comes back to Glasgow, then he goes to jail. No second chances. Understood?’
‘Pick him up,’ Jered told his mates. ‘I’ll take this sword if it’s his.’
Winter put his boot firmly over the blade of the sword. ‘No chance. That’s going nowhere. It’s done enough damage.’
Jered looked from Danny to Winter and back again before giving up the ghost.
‘Hurry up, you two. Let’s get out of this place.’
They watched the three travellers go down the towpath until they disappeared into the snow, the sound of their labours soon waning as the night swallowed them up.
Winter looked at the samurai sword at his feet and tried to figure out the best way to pick it up without inflicting further damage on the fingerprints and DNA it held on its surfaces.
‘Think that will be enough to keep Aaron Sutton happy?’ Winter asked him.
‘That and knowing the sword and its user are off the street. Anyway, it will have to be.’
‘How’s your arm?’
‘Nearly falling off.’
‘Let’s get you to hospital.’
‘Aye, whatever. Jered and his bloody uncle better not be buggering us about. Bradley is the key to all this. But something isn’t right – all those rumours about Barbie being a gypsy bride and now Bradley living as a traveller. You know how I feel about coincidences. Something’s wrong here and I just can’t see it.’
CHAPTER 47
Saturday 22 December. 10.20 a.m.
Narey was up before nine and had worked her way through a stodgy fry-up in the hotel restaurant while flicking through the newspapers. She read both a tabloid and a broadsheet but soon discovered she didn’t have much of an appetite for either. What passed for news in both of them seemed to pale beside the things that were going on in her own life.
She had been tempted to go straight over to CAHiD to see how Kirsten was getting on but knew it wouldn’t do much good for her to be standing over the professor’s shoulder while she worked. Hard as it was, she would stay away until she got the call to say that the job was done. It didn’t stop her thinking about it, mentally filling in the gaps in Barbie’s broken skull just as the computer reconstruction system was doing, seeing the girl become flesh in her mind.
There was still maybe half a day until the model was completed and there was no way she could hang about in her hotel room until then but, equally, she couldn’t venture far or do anything worthwhile in case the call came through. It was snowing again but, despite that, she decided to go for a walk – anything to take her mind off what was happening. She found herself wandering down towards the river, the silvery Tay as McGonagall put it, shining under a wet sun and looking icy cold. To her right, the rail bridge snaked out into the river and across to Fife, and across to her left, the road bridge did the same, the ends of both disappearing into misty clouds of snow.
She walked across to Discovery Point, where Captain Scott’s Antarctic exploration ship was permanently docked. It was a big tourist attraction for the area and Narey couldn’t help but think that being built to cope with winter at the South Pole was pretty handy preparation for a long winter in Dundee. The ship had been built in the city, right enough, so the people who put it together obviously knew a thing or two about surviving in a cold climate.
Her dad had taught her all about Captain Robert Falcon Scott and his Antarctic expeditions on the Discovery and the Terra Nova. She’d thrilled to his tales of the race to the Pole, of being beaten there by Amundsen and of Captain Oates saying that he was ‘going outside and may be some time’. Her dad was her own Captain Scott, her hero.
Narey instinctively reached for her mobile, feeling the need to hear his voice. She listened as it rang and rang, before finally going to voicemail but she hung up without leaving a message. She paced back and forth in front of the Discovery, looking up to the heavens to see the snow tumbling towards her, sticking out her tongue and catching flakes the way she had when she was little.
She phoned back and this time it was answered on the fourth ring. The voice on the other end sounded very small and a little afraid.
‘Hello?’
/> ‘Hi Dad. It’s Rachel.’
A long pause. ‘Who?’
‘It’s Rachel, Dad.’
‘I don’t know a Rachel.’
‘Yes you do. I’m your daughter.’
‘Daughter? I don’t have a daughter. Who are you? Why are you saying this?’
‘It’s okay, Dad. Don’t worry. Look, I’ll call you later. Okay?’
‘No! Don’t call me. Don’t. I don’t know you.’
He hung up on her.
She stood in front of the ship and let tears run down her face, breathing hard, telling herself she was away from him for a good reason. She was there for him. She just wasn’t there for him.
She wandered away from the riverside and back towards the city centre, her collar turned up fruitlessly against the snow. People were hustling past her on either side but she’d rarely felt so alone. Tony was only about ninety miles away but it felt as if he were on the other side of the world. How far away would he want to be when she told him about her planned changes for their relationship?
In the end, the call from Kirsten came much earlier than Narey had expected. The professor had been in the lab since before it was light and she phoned to say that if Narey headed over to CAHiD, then the girl would be ready by the time she got there.
The College of Life Sciences was on Dow Street, only a ten-minute walk away and she hurried straight to it. The white, six-storey building looked impressively anonymous from the street but it held one of the leading centres in its field in the country, if not the world. Narey was shown up to Kirsten’s lab, a keen surge of expectation running through her and the adrenalin taking over from the despair she’d been feeling about her dad.
‘Wow, you were quick,’ Kirsten smiled from behind her computer screen as Narey came through the door. ‘Did you run?’
‘A bit,’ Narey admitted. ‘Is she ready?’
‘Almost. You caught me out slightly but . . . I’m just refining the skin tone to make sure . . . yes, okay. I’m happy with that. Do you want to see her?’
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