Fire in the Blood

by George McCartney

  As they were walking back to where Senga was parked, Jack suddenly stopped and snarled angrily, ‘Wait a minute.’

  ‘What is it?’ said Annie, whose first thought was that Jack must have spotted Thomas Burke pushing a shopping trolley.

  ‘Do you see this?’ he said, turning and pointing at a gleaming new, white Range Rover Sport.

  ‘What are you on about, boss?’

  ‘Look at it. This fucking car, it’s taking up two parking spaces.’

  ‘So what?’ asked Annie.

  ‘I fucking hate that. You know, the sense of entitlement that some people have. The selfish, arrogant bastards. It’s like, don’t you dare to park your crappy old banger next to my beautiful, expensive new motor. I really, really need these two spaces.’

  Looking around nervously, Annie asked her red faced employer, ‘Don’t you think you’re maybe over-reacting just a little bit, boss?’

  However, Jack’s rant continued unabated. ‘I wouldn’t mind so much if they took up two spaces away in the far corner of the car park, where there’s always plenty of room, but they never do. They always want to park as near the shop entrance as humanly possible. In fact they would probably park inside the supermarket, if they could. It’s fucking unbelievable.’ He then looked around furtively, before ducking down at the nearside front of the offending vehicle.

  Annie hissed urgently, ‘What on earth are you doing? There are security cameras everywhere around here, somebody will see you.’

  However, Jack seemed completely unconcerned and smiled madly as he removed the dust cap and pressed down with a thumb nail on the tyre valve, quickly deflating the large knobbly front tyre. ‘Never been caught yet, Annie, and remember, it’s only one tyre for a first offender. But if I catch him, or her, at it again, it’ll be both front tyres.’

  He then stood up and rubbed his hands together, with the satisfied air of a man completing a job well done. ‘And, of course, the wankers who do this kind of thing are usually completely incapable of changing a wheel, so I sometimes hang around to watch them hopping about and braying into their mobile phones, when they find out what’s happened. But I’m not looking for any special credit here, Annie, I’m just doing my bit to try and make the world a better place. But it is good fun, as well. You should try it.’

  Annie then took Jack firmly by the arm and led him away. ‘C’mon boss, you’ve had a very stressful couple of days, but everything’s going to be okay. I think some rest and sea air will do you the world of good.’

  Chapter 19

  Jack and Annie were heading along the A711 towards Kirkcudbright, having fled Glasgow on the advice of the police, in order to escape the wrath of Thomas Burke, a sinister psychopath from Jack’s past.

  Annie, who had constantly been checking her rear view mirror on the drive south for any suspicious following cars, suddenly looked sideways at Jack, who had been silent and morose since leaving the outskirts of Glasgow far behind. She quickly rolled down the driver’s window.

  Without looking at her, he eventually glanced out of the side window and grunted, ‘What?’

  ‘You know what.’

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘Yes you do. That horrible smell.’

  ‘Not guilty, Annie, for once. Honestly.’

  Annie was unconvinced as Jack ranted, ‘Look, we’re out in the middle of bloody nowhere and there’s shit everywhere you look. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s on the road, there’s great big piles of it lying steaming in the fields and cows, sheep and horses are crapping in every direction. I can even see a mad bastard in the next field spraying the stuff around. It’s unbelievable.’

  ‘He’s a farmer, boss. That’s what they do.’

  ‘I was just thinking that a good fart might actually freshen things up in here.’

  ‘Well don’t, just don’t. Okay?’

  Jack was edgy and sweating, having finished a half-bottle of whisky on the drive south. ‘Please tell me again what we’re doing here, Annie?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Okay, pull over when you can.’

  Annie turned into a layby and they both got out. Jack walked a short distance away from the car, stretched and then unleashed a thunderous volley of trapped wind. A startled cow looked up accusingly from behind an adjacent drystane dyke.

  Unrepentant, Jack snarled petulantly, ‘What are you fucking looking at? At least I don’t have shite all over my arse and legs.’

  He then lit a cigarette, dragged deeply on it and scratched his head as he walked back to towards Annie. Together they looked out over a spectacular view, which could easily have been chosen by the local tourist board, with lush green fields stretching down towards the Solway coast and a herd of Belted Galloway cows grazing contentedly in the foreground.

  But Jack’s sour mood was not in any way assuaged by the perfect sylvan prospect before them. ‘I mean just look at it, there’s absolutely nothing here. I’ve never liked the so-called great outdoors. Don’t get me wrong, I have tried over the years. You know, camping holidays in the Highlands, holiday cottages with sea views and forest cabins with hot tubs. Didn’t like any of them, ever. Couldn’t wait to get back to civilisation.’

  ‘You’re wrong. It’s so beautiful, Jack. You’ve just got to learn to appreciate it. Okay then, try this … take a deep breath, close your eyes and listen. Then tell me what you hear.’

  Jack was dismissive, ‘Apart from thousands of wild animals chewing and crapping, I don’t hear a thing.’

  ‘But that’s the point … isn’t it wonderful?’

  Trying to explain his anxiety, Jack pleaded, ‘Look, I’m a city boy Annie, born and bred, this is all very weird for me. I mean, no noise, no people, and no traffic.’

  ‘Yeah, and no pubs. No booze.’

  Ignoring the telling jibe, Jack pointed at the cows, which displayed the distinctive white mid-riff of the Belted Galloway breed. Three of the less timid members of the herd began to wander casually over towards the fence, to inspect Jack and Annie more closely.

  ‘Anyway, what do you call these funny looking buggers?’

  Annie enthusiastically explained, ‘These cute guys are the world famous Belted Galloway cattle. I’ve loved them ever since I was little, when we used to come down here on holiday, but I could never say their name properly, so I just called them the Bee Gees. I mean, okay, their teeth aren’t as big as the real Gibb brothers’, but I think they’re much better looking.’

  Jack smiled for the first time since leaving Glasgow and said, ‘I can see the resemblance, now you come to mention it.’

  One of the Bee Gees then spoiled the moment with a wet squelchy fart.

  Acknowledging a kindred spirit, Jack gave the bovine culprit a cheery thumbs-up and said, ‘Nice one mate, and you’ve got better tunes than them as well.’

  They both chuckled and got back into the car.

  Chapter 20

  As he secured his seatbelt Jack sighed, calming down slightly. ‘Okay Annie, I can see that if you get off on the smell of cow shit and standing around staring vacantly into the distance, with a blade of grass stuck between your teeth, then this place must seem like heaven. What I want to know is, what am I doing here? I’m a private detective from Glasgow, for Christ’s sake. And as you know, I am not independently wealthy, so how on earth do I make a living way out here in the boonies?’

  Starting to lose patience, Annie snapped back, ‘Look boss, you really need to sober up and stop feeling sorry for yourself. We’re here because if we’d stayed in Glasgow there’s a pretty good chance that one, or both of us, would be dead by now. You heard what the police said.’

  ‘Policemen say a lot of things, it doesn’t mean any of them are true. I know, I was one remember.’

  ‘You’re not getting it, Jack. Your office was firebombed, your car had paint stripper poured over it and then the bastard responsible nearly set fire to my flat while I was inside asleep. Our cage has been well and truly rattled. That’s
obviously what this lunatic Burke wants, but let’s not give him the satisfaction of running around like headless chickens reacting to his moves.’

  Rubbing his head with frustration, Jack nodded and said, ‘You’re right. I just hate the idea of being run out of town by a filthy scumbag like him. That’s what this feels like to me.’

  ‘That’s crazy. The police know who they’re looking for and they have the manpower to cover the whole city 24/7, so it makes sense to get out of Glasgow for a while and just let them do their job. They’re watching the office and both our flats, so if he does show face again they’ll grab him for sure. Just try and think of this as a little field trip to grow the business, you know, like opening a branch office. Okay?’

  Jack slumped down in the passenger seat, apparently resigned to a brief spell of exile from his beloved city and said, ‘Anyway, where are we heading?’

  ‘I know a quiet little hotel where we can spend the night, until I fix up somewhere safe for us to stay.’

  Half an hour later, Annie parked outside a small country house hotel, which was accessed from the main road by a long winding driveway, bordered on both sides by dense rhododendron bushes. As they entered the lobby and approached the reception desk, the owner looked up eagerly from behind a newspaper and immediately took in the older guy with an attractive, much younger woman in tow, carrying no luggage.

  Jack nodded in greeting, ‘We need accommodation just for one night, but we haven’t made a reservation.’

  With a knowing smirk to Jack, the hotel owner slid a glossy colour brochure across the desk. ‘Not a problem sir, we do get a lot of couples coming in here who’ve maybe just pulled … you know, off the motorway for the night. And you’re in luck, due to a last minute cancellation, I see that our most popular accommodation, the Sheridan spa suite, is still available.’

  Annie giggled and turned away as the owner opened the brochure and warmed to his sales pitch. ‘As you can see here, it’s very well equipped, rather like the great man himself if rumours are to be believed, with a hot tub, a mirror ceiling and a vibrating emperor-size bed, which can accommodate parties of up to eight. The room is also fully soundproofed and comes, of course, with complimentary strawberries and champagne. Special late availability price, if you’re sure only two of you are expected, is £200 for a guaranteed night to remember.’

  Ignoring the salacious sales patter, Jack replied, ‘Maybe another time pal, after I’ve saved up my pocket money and made a few more really close friends. Meantime we’ll take two singles.’

  Clearly disappointed, the owner provided keys to two standard single rooms and got them both to register.

  As they climbed the stairs to their rooms, Jack paused to recall a memory triggered by the conversation at reception. ‘I remember when I was a good bit younger, a guy at work pulled me aside and asked me if I fancied a five-a-side challenge against Tommy and some of his friends, one Friday night after work. At the time, of course, I thought they meant football, so I didn’t bother. Christ, what an idiot.’

  Annie smiled, ‘Is that you, or him?’

  ‘Both I suppose. Look, we really need to talk Annie. Let’s freshen up first and I’ll see you downstairs in the lounge in about ten minutes.’

  Chapter 21

  Jack and Annie, apparently the only residents, were sitting with drinks in front of a dying log fire in the faded chintzy lounge of their hotel, which featured floor to ceiling oak panelling on the walls. An impressive collection of stuffed animal heads from Africa and the sub-continent were on display. Obviously hunting trophies gathered from across the British Empire, when half the world seemed to be coloured pink on the map.

  Despite the warmth from the fire, Jack looked around and shivered, clearly uncomfortable in the staid formal surroundings. ‘I keep expecting Agatha Christie to walk in, with her knitting bag and set of darts, and order a pint of lager up at the bar.’

  ‘Who’s she?’ asked Annie.

  ‘Never mind. Look, I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I’ve got you involved in all of this, Annie. I owe you a full explanation.’

  ‘But you haven’t done anything wrong. You said this guy Burke is just a psycho nut job with a grudge.’

  Jack paused, then said, ‘Yes, all that’s true. But, maybe he’s got a good reason to have a grudge.’

  Intrigued Annie asked, ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It was the testimony I gave in court that was crucial in putting him away for eighteen years.’

  Shrugging, Annie replied, ‘So what? He was a very bad man, who deserved to go down.’

  Exhaling deeply, in full confessional mode, Jack leaned forward and continued, ‘I lied, Annie. I planted incriminating evidence in his flat and car and then lied through my teeth under oath in court. My only defence is that he was an evil bastard and, if he’d stayed loose, out on the street, he would have killed again for sure. At the time I felt that I had no choice. I still feel the same way, but there was a price to be paid.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘You have to understand, I really loved being a policeman, it was my whole life. I know that sounds kind of corny these days, when most people change jobs umpteen times, but it was the only job I’d ever wanted to do since I was a little kid. But things just weren’t the same somehow after the trial. I’d crossed the line, you see, and I felt tainted, unworthy. And more than anything else, I felt guilty that I just wasn’t good enough at my job to put him away without doing what I did.’

  Annie was finding it difficult to compute what she was being told and said, ‘I think it would maybe help if you started at the beginning, boss. Tell me about Thomas Burke.’

  ‘Okay, to be fair there were early signs of his fascination with fire. As a young boy he used to regularly set fire to neighbours’ pigeon lofts and rabbit hutches in his street, which is obviously a bit of a red flag. You know that old cliché, they trot out all the time on the evening news, about someone who “could light up a room”. Well, the young Thomas Burke was that guy, especially if somebody had left a box of matches lying around.’

  ‘Then when he was a bit older he was sent to a secure unit for young offenders, where they tried hard but couldn’t do anything to cure him of his obsession with fire. First he tied up the head psychiatrist and set his trousers on fire, during a one to one therapy session and then, for an encore, he burned down the entire building. Well, it was all downhill from there.’

  Jack swirled the dregs around in his pint glass and then continued, ‘Thomas Burke is a real sick puppy, a psychopathic serial killer and also a full blown pyromaniac. This is definitely not a good combination, Annie. The latest thinking on psychopaths is that they are actually capable of feeling empathy with other people, but only when they want to manipulate a situation to their advantage. Then the empathy switch goes to “on” and they can appear quite normal, charming even. But when they revert back to their default mode, it’s quickly switched “off” again and the mayhem begins. People always ask the same stupid question about psychopaths, they want to know why they commit their terrible crimes, as if there has to be a rational explanation. From my experience it’s simple, they commit their crimes because they want to. Because there’s something in the twisted wiring of their brains that compels them to, and because it’s the one thing in their pathetic lives that they truly enjoy. Sometimes their methods evolve over the years, but usually they continue to commit their crimes in the same way, over and over again, until they get caught. But their Achilles heel is that they tend to have their own particular signatures that they leave at the crime scene and, over time, they often get over-confident, or careless, and then they eventually leave some crucial bit of evidence behind that gives the cops a break.’

  ‘And Burke’s signature is obviously the use of fire.’

  ‘That’s exactly right. There aren’t too many like him, thank God. I mean, very few people got thrown out of the IRA for being too violent, but he was. He was a compl
ete loose cannon, apparently, who wouldn’t follow orders, and who would kill anyone who looked at him the wrong way in a heartbeat. Anyway, when the Provos eventually decided enough was enough and told him to get out of Ireland, he left and a year later he washed up in Glasgow, where he started an extortion racket.’

  ‘So who did he target?’

  ‘Well there was nothing very sophisticated about his MO. He would just go into any city centre pubs, that he liked the look of, first thing in the morning at opening time, order a pint of Guinness and then bold as brass demand protection money. If the owner refused, he’d come back after closing time and torch the place. It was crude, but very effective. Word got round pretty fast after the first couple of fires.’

  Annie was puzzled. ‘But why didn’t the police just arrest him?’

  ‘Well he’s mad all right, no question, but not stupid. He didn’t leave any evidence behind at the crime scenes and he didn’t made threatening phone calls either. He always preferred to let his victims look into his mad eyes and believe that these were not empty threats he was making. We knew for certain he was responsible for the arson attacks on three pubs and he was arrested twice, but then released due to a lack of hard evidence. Of course, all the witnesses who initially identified him were later intimidated by hoods, who were sent round by Burke. So by the time we organised a line-up for witnesses, they were usually scared shitless and claimed that they couldn’t identify him. All we were left with was useless grainy CCTV footage that placed him in the area where the attacks took place, but didn’t actually prove anything. By this time the Irish police had provided us with his full rap sheet, so we knew for sure that Burke was our man, but we just didn’t have the physical evidence, or any witnesses prepared to testify in court, that would have let us take him off the streets.’

  Jack ran a hand through his hair and paused to gather his thoughts. ‘What happened was the third fire he started gutted not only a pub, but also two flats in the tenement building directly above. Three innocent people died, Annie. My eighty-two year old grandmother was one of them. I went a bit crazy then and it became totally personal, which is never a good thing. I forgot about being a policeman and doing things by the book. I just wanted revenge and that’s when I did what I did, planting the evidence that nailed him. That’s why he’s coming after me now, and anybody close to me is right in the firing line to get hurt as well. In his mind it’s payback time for those lost eighteen years of his life. Of course he doesn’t consider all the jail time he would have got for the umpteen other serious crimes he actually got away with. Psychopaths don’t think like that. They tear up and ignore the rulebook that the rest of the population lives by, but they still expect everyone else to play by these same rules. So that conviction, obtained by me committing perjury, is the one that bugs the hell out of him and now it’s payback time.’