Fire in the Blood

by George McCartney

  ‘Guess what? We might have another job,’ said Jack, smiling broadly.

  ‘You’re kidding me,’ said Annie, not best pleased. ‘Look, without wanting to appear a drama queen, I think it’s fair to say we’re quite busy at the moment with something else, remember? The last time I checked, we were involved in a battle of wits with a raving psychopath, who wants to kill both of us, probably very slowly and very painfully.’

  ‘Yes, I know. But I still think we could fit this in. It wouldn’t take a lot of time, trust me.’

  ‘No it’s way too crazy, just tell them no.’

  ‘Hold on a minute, I didn’t commit us to anything. Not without discussing it with you first.’

  Annie then relaxed slightly and asked, ‘Okay then, waste my time and tell me what it’s all about.’

  ‘Remember that day when we were out at the farm, searching for the vehicle tracker that was hidden on Senga, and Robert Kemp gave me a business card from his neighbour.’

  ‘Yeah, so?’

  ‘So that was the guy who just phoned, Rupert Jones. He sounds a proper toff, a little bit like Boris Johnston. Apparently he used to be a merchant banker in the City of London.’

  ‘So Rupert’s a merchant banker? This sounds like another famous Davidson wind-up. The boring lead in to one of your hilarious jokes.’

  ‘No honestly, it’s true. He was some kind of big wheel down in the Square Mile a few years back. He wants us to try and find his missing step-daughter.’

  ‘Well personally, I would rather just concentrate on finding Burke so we can get our own lives back on track, rather than trying to solve someone else’s problem. If we take our eye off the ball now, and get distracted by working on a new case, that’s when things could go bad real fast.’

  ‘Ordinarily I would agree with you one hundred per cent, but there are a couple of things that might make you change your mind.’

  ‘Okay, try me,’ said Annie.

  ‘The fee is ten thousand pounds, if we find her, and a bonus of another ten grand, if she agrees to make contact with her mother.’

  Annie was unconvinced and said, ‘Look, it’s a lot of money, fair enough. But that doesn’t matter if you’re not alive to spend it and, anyway, it could take us weeks, maybe months, to track her down.’

  Jack smirked and said nothing, making Annie suspicious and annoyed in equal measure.

  ‘Okay then, smart arse, let’s hear it. What’s the second thing?’

  ‘I think I might know how to find her,’ said Jack smugly.

  ‘You’re kidding me, right?’

  ‘Nope. I’m not a hundred per cent sure, but I think she might be a student in a class my ex-wife teaches at night school.

  ‘How so?’

  ‘The last time I visited my ex-wife, Mags, was to sign some papers to do with the former marital home, and I noticed that she had a couple of new paintings hanging up in the dining room. She teaches portrait painting at night school, at the City of Glasgow College, and she said that the both of these works were by a young woman, who had recently started coming to her class. Mags reckoned she had a lot of promise and, in her words, had the potential to go all the way, if she would just knuckle down and apply herself.’

  ‘That’s really fascinating, boss,’ said Annie, yawning widely. ‘I wonder if she could give me a hand to paint over the cracks in my bedroom ceiling.’

  ‘Bear with me, will you, I’m getting there as fast as I can. Anyway, I remember that Mags also said, in passing, that this young woman is from London originally and her first name is Angela. I can’t remember the surname, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Jones.’

  ‘Of course, she could have changed it, to prevent her parents finding her,’ said Annie. ‘Or the whole thing might be a complete co-incidence, involving somebody in the same age bracket as the missing Jones female, with the same Christian name, who comes from London and is also a half-decent artist.’

  ‘You’re quite right, that’s entirely possible. But I still think it’s worth spending a couple of hours on it, to see if my hunch is correct.’

  ‘But why on earth don’t you just tell this Jones guy what you’ve just told me, and let him get on with it?’

  ‘Are you mad? This guy is seriously minted.’

  ‘Yeah, but …’

  ‘Look, Annie, he told me that he went liquid just before the financial markets crashed back in two thousand and eight.’

  ‘Went liquid. Yuck, that brings back unhappy memories of a night out with my brother and his friends, when I ate two portions of chicken vindaloo for a bet, and then washed it down with six pints of cider. What did Rupert mean though?’

  ‘What it means is, the jammy bastard sold all of his shares and investments, and jumped off the runaway train with a great big sack of cash, just before it slammed into the buffers at misery station.’

  ‘Could you run that by me again, this time in English, please? I really don’t understand all of that high finance stuff.’

  ‘You’re not the only one, Annie. That was the problem. Some of the financial products that were sold back then were so bloody complicated that nobody understood them. But that didn’t matter, because the people selling them were all making shed loads of money.’

  ‘I had just started college when it all happened and I didn’t even have enough money to get drunk most weekends, so I really wasn’t paying much attention to the state of the stock market. But surely you’re not saying that this guy is responsible for starting the crash all on his own?’

  ‘No, of course not, but I don’t think he did very much to try and stop it, either. Without saying as much, old Rupert hinted that he knew that a fair bit of what went on in the years leading up to the crash was dodgy and short-term, if not actually downright crooked. So while he, and some of his pals, managed to walk away without a scratch, financially speaking, all the poor ignorant punters, me included, got our fingers badly burned.’

  ‘So did you own shares?’

  ‘Yes indirectly, because for about ten years, ever since I started working on my own, I had been paying two hundred and fifty pounds a month into a private pension plan that, unbeknown to me, was heavily exposed to the American sub-prime mortgage market. So, when the whole thing went tits up, I lost quite a lot of money, for me. While it’s recovered a little bit in the past couple of years, the last time I looked, the current cash value of my pension plan would just about cover a good night out in Glasgow, provided I walk past the taxi rank and get the bus home. Don’t get me wrong, Annie, loads of people ended up a lot worse than me. At least I still have my reduced police pension, although there’s not that much left after my ex-wife gets her cut every month.’

  ‘Okay, I can see how losing out financially like that would be really annoying but, I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel quite right somehow to be taking all that money from somebody without earning it.’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ said Jack testily, ‘Don’t lecture me about what’s right. I’m just playing by the same set of rules that this guy used to play by, where insider knowledge is power and you don’t ever give information away to a stranger, when there’s a profit to be made. This could be payback time, so fair doesn’t come into it. It’s just business. Anyway, the man wants something badly enough to pay a lot of money for it, and I can supply it, maybe. So, if I can do it, it’s a win-win situation and everybody’s happy, right?’

  Still shaking her head in disapproval, Annie said forcefully, ‘Look, it’s your call, boss. But if I think it’s starting to take up too much of our time, and getting in the way of what we should be doing, I reserve the right to pull the plug. Otherwise it’s a total deal breaker for me.’

  ‘That’s fair, I’m happy with that, Annie. ‘He’s emailing me a folder with photographs and all the background information that the last agency supplied. So when I’ve had a look at it, I’ll contact Mags and see if my theory checks out. Simple.’

  Chapter 41

  After showering, Annie got bac
k to business and began reviewing incoming pictures from the various remote cameras. They were starting to come in every few minutes, as text alerts were received from the three remote cameras. She deleted pictures of any obvious non-starters, the innocent routine callers, including numerous frustrated postmen, trying unsuccessfully to shove mail through the blocked letter boxes, charity collectors, several meter readers and a mysterious, glamorous young woman, who appeared to have called twice at Jack’s flat.

  Intrigued, she showed the picture to Jack and asked, ‘Who’s that, boss?’

  Jack peered over her shoulder, coughed and casually replied, ‘Oh that’s just Magda. She pops in to see me every couple of weeks, whenever I need a bit of light dusting done. In the rush when we were leaving, I forgot to cancel my regular appointment. Really nice girl, she’s from Hungary, I think. Yeah, she’s over here studying something or other. So, ahem, I think she has several part-time jobs to cover her living expenses, you know.’

  ‘Well she doesn’t look much like a cleaner to me, more like a hooker,’ said Annie, clearly unconvinced. ‘I mean just look at her hair and the makeup. She’s wearing a little leather mini skirt and shiny fuck-me boots, for God’s sake, and where’s all her cleaning equipment?’

  Evasive and starting to blush furiously, he replied, ‘That’s a good question, Annie, a very good question.’

  ‘So what’s the answer?’

  ‘Okay, the way she works is for the client to supply everything she needs, so that she can travel light between jobs and then get stuck in to whatever needs doing as soon as she arrives. You know, without having to waste time hauling all her buckets and mops up umpteen flights of stairs every time. Makes sense, I think.’

  Annie gave him the long hard stare, which clearly indicated that it didn’t make any sense at all and then, adopting a stern, officious tone, she continued, ‘Okay then, Mr Davidson, so that I can eliminate you from my enquiries regarding this alleged cleaner person, would you be prepared to take a polygraph test right now, using my iPhone lie-detector app?’

  ‘No, and I’m not saying another word until my lawyer gets here.’

  Annie sighed, shook her head, and went back to carefully checking through the received file attachments. After a further ten minutes of sifting and deleting, she suddenly sat up straight and gasped, ‘Look, check out this picture, boss, it’s just been sent from the camera I set up on the landing outside your flat.’ Looking over her shoulder, Jack saw a shadowy figure, his face obscured by a dark coloured hoodie, bending down at the front door, apparently trying to force something through his letter box.

  ‘That could be him, but I can’t make out the face. Are there any better pictures?’

  Scrolling through the picture file attachments, Annie, replied, ‘There should be, because the camera’s supposed to record an image every ten seconds, for as long as it continues to sense movement. Okay, here we go, there are at least ten more pictures of the same guy.’

  ‘What the fuck’s he doing? It looks like he’s writing something in this one, but I still can’t make out his face. Of course, maybe it isn’t him. It could just be some idiot messing about at the wrong flat.’

  ‘Maybe your lady boy forgot his key, boss,’ added Annie, dryly.

  The next picture file then opened, which clearly showed the mystery man holding a piece of paper with a scrawled message up to the camera.

  ‘See if you can you zoom in a bit closer on that, Annie. Your eyesight is much better than mine. What does it say? Can you make it out?’

  ‘Yes, it says FUKUJAK. What do you think?’

  ‘It could be the bloody Jehovah Witnesses back again,’ said Jack.

  ‘What on earth are you on about?’

  ‘I’m ashamed to admit that I was quite rude to them the last time they came round. It was just bad timing when they rang my bell, with about ten minutes to go in the Champions League final. But they were two nice, respectable looking young guys and I’m sure their spelling would be much better than this.’

  Annie continued scrolling down to the bottom of the list of files and announced, ‘This looks like the last picture from the camera.’

  A brightly flaring, badly blurred image then filled the screen.

  ‘That’s it. That was the last one. The camera must have stopped transmitting right there. What happened?’

  ‘He’s obviously sprayed lighter fluid, or maybe petrol, over the camera and then torched it. So any lingering doubts that we had can be binned. That was Burke, he’s still around and he’s still got blood in his eye.’

  ‘Oh my God, that totally creeps me out, seeing him there like that,’ said Annie, shivering. ‘He’s relentless, isn’t he? He just keeps on coming, like something out of a horror film.’

  ‘Agreed, but don’t you see, this is definitely progress, Annie. The uncertainty’s over, we now know for sure that he’s still in Glasgow.’

  ‘Yes, but because he found the camera, now he knows that we know. Oh God, you know what I mean. And he’ll be expecting that we have other cameras covering the office and my flat, so we won’t be getting any useful face shots of him from any of them now.’

  ‘Yes, that’s a pity. I have to grudgingly admit that Burke is playing a very clever game. He’s evolved from the crazy Neanderthal man of twenty years ago into a much more sophisticated, less predictable predator. He obviously wants to toy with me, to make me suffer like he did in prison. And remember what Andy said about him doing some computer related Open University course while he was banged up. He also spotted the camera pretty quickly, so we must assume he’s pretty tech-savvy. So we’ve got a real fight on our hands. Are you still up for it?’

  ‘I’m not giving up, boss,’ said Annie gamely. But Jack could see that she had been shaken up by the chilling images of Burke provided by the remote camera.

  ‘You know, I think this is maybe what he wanted all along,’ continued Jack. ‘He wanted us to react, to respond to his challenge, so that he could savour the contest, enjoy the game. It just wouldn’t be any fun for him if we were like sitting ducks, making things easy for him. I reckon he wants to run us ragged, so that eventually we’ll make a stupid mistake and then it’ll almost be a relief when the end comes. But we’re not going to let that happen.’

  Annie shivered again, rubbed her arms and said ‘I really don’t like this game boss and I don’t mind admitting that I’m starting to feel a bit ragged already.’

  Jack then attempted to rally the troops by saying, ‘Hey remember, he’s up against two of the finest brains in the JD Investigations empire and we’re still one step ahead of him. We can use the GPS tracker to turn the tables and, make no mistake, we have to fight him, Annie, because we can’t just rely on the police to protect us. There is no other way, unless you want to jump on a plane somewhere, or move permanently into the beach hut. But this guy would never give up, he’d find us both eventually.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ said Annie, still unsure.

  ‘Well, personally, I don’t want to live my life always looking over my shoulder for the bogey man hiding in the shadows. I want to get off the back foot and start to rattle his cage for a change. I truly believe we can do this Annie, you and me.’

  ‘Okay, you’re right boss. Wobble’s over.’

  Chapter 42

  ‘Hi Mags, it’s me,’ said Jack breezily.

  ‘What do you want?’ replied his ex-wife, brusquely.

  ‘Look, I don’t always want something every time I phone you.’

  ‘Yes you do, liar. So, come on, fess up Davidson. What is it?’

  ‘Okay, guilty as charged, although it is nice to hear your voice.’

  ‘Look, get on with it, I was just going out.’

  ‘Okay, remember the last time I was out at the house, and you were telling me about the young woman who painted those two new pictures you have hanging in the dining room?’

  ‘Yes, Angela Jacobs. Nice girl, she definitely has talent.’

  ‘Is she still com
ing to your night school class at the College?’

  ‘Yes, every Thursday. Why do you ask?’

  ‘If possible, I’d like to meet her. Do you have her phone number?’

  ‘She’s far too young for you. Silly old fool.’

  ‘No, it’s nothing like that, Mags. It’s just business.’

  ‘What kind of business?’

  ‘I’m working on a missing person case, trying to trace a young woman, originally from London, called Angela Jones. The story is, she argued with her mother and took off from home just before her eighteenth birthday. That was three years ago and the parents think she might now be living in Glasgow. Angela Jones was mad keen on art when she was at school and that’s what got me thinking about the two paintings you showed me in the dining room.’

  ‘Well my student does have an English accent and she has the same initials, obviously, but it’s a completely different surname.’

  ‘Yes, but I’m thinking she might be using a different name, to stop her parents finding her.’

  ‘If that is the case, Jack, then we have to respect her decision. I mean, maybe she’s got very good reasons for not wanting to be found. Have you considered that?’

  ‘Absolutely, that’s why I’m asking if I can meet her and, if she is Angela Jones, to see if she’s prepared to speak to her mother, that’s all. If she says no, and wants things to stay as they are, then I give my word that I won’t let her parents know where she is.’

  ‘I don’t know. I really don’t want to scare her away from the class, by prying into her private life.’

  ‘Look, if it’s her, she’s been away from home for nearly three years now, and her parents are worried sick about her. You can understand that, surely. I mean, how would you feel, if it was one of our kids who had got up and walked out the door one day, aged eighteen, and never came back? It really doesn’t matter whose fault it was. At some point somebody has to make the first move, and that’s what her mother is doing now, because she’s had to undergo cancer treatment recently and doesn’t want to lose any more time.’