Shadow of the Castle

by Matthew Macleod

  Dave fumbled for a coin and went across to the jukebox with it held tightly between his finger and thumb as if it would escape if given half a chance. On the way past he ruffled Mark's hair and all he could smell was grass.

  'What you saying Markey Boy?'

  'You're seeing it all officer.'

  He hadn't even turned away from the machine. From across the pub Steve had seemingly found a recommendation after all.

  'Floyd. Bit of Pink Floyd man.'

  Giving a high thumbs up so he could see he'd been heard, Dave began the increasingly laborious task of typing on the touchscreen to get his selections. Steve was waiting at the table watching him and wondering how badly he'd be read the riot act for what he was going to suggest. It had been many years since he'd worked alongside Luke but he knew that he was going to at least give him a heads up with what he'd been told. A nudge in the right direction. Dave returned triumphant to his pint just as Mark walked away from the bright lights and sat forlorn two tables away from them.

  'Right. Mind that guy who came up to us on Arthur's Seat at the cordon?'

  'Aye. Thought he was just gonna be wanting a look at the body or something. There's always a few sickos who want to clap eyes on a corpse if you've got one about.'

  'Yeah, well I worked with him before I did this. He's a top guy. Really is.'

  Even through the booze, Dave could feel suspicion rising inside himself. 'I'm sure he is man. And?'

  'I want to call him and give him an update on what we know so far.'

  He had his eyes down, watching as he carefully swirled his lager round and round the bottom of the pint glass and waited for the inevitable.

  'You know we can't comment on ongoing investigations.'

  Dave made a mental note to never attempt to say “on ongoing” while drinking again. It had made him feel his tongue was going to drop out of his head. Steve stopped swirling his pint and took a small sip. He looked up at the younger man's face.

  'I know, I know. Thing is he does some sort of investigation stuff nowadays. Kind of off the books and under the radar sort of thing. Tried to look into it once: no one seems to admit to employing him. Anyway.' His hand waved dismissively between them. 'If he was up there that early he knew about it as soon as we did. And if he took the time to come up and see himself chances are he thought the body could be whoever he was looking for.'

  'Or his man had created it...'

  Steve accepted this point with a tilt of the head and a pursing of the lips.

  'Also possible. That forensics Sergeant I spoke to at end of shift. Jeffries? You know him?'

  'Only to see.'

  'Also a good guy but that's by the by. Told me something that could help Luke rule out a few things or point his questions in the right direction.'

  Dave was now looking into his pint glass but instead of swirling it, he was going for a slow tilt that was making the amber fluid climb one side of the glass then the other.

  ''I'm not sold man. You knew I'd be against this so why did you even tell me?'

  Steve exhaled slowly and scanned the pub. Mark had finished his pint behind them and was collecting a few bags of shopping from behind the bar. He gave them a wave on the way out which they both responded to with a raised glass.

  'I guess I didn't want to do anything behind your back. No use in us starting to sneak around on each other really. Recipe for disaster that.'

  Dave considered this carefully. It was actually fairly flattering to him to have his consent asked for breaching protocol. The difficulty now was to manage some form of compromise which let them both leave without feeling bitter or let down.

  'Just how well did you know him before?' Steve looked up quickly but Dave held his hand up apologetically between them. 'I don't need details man. I just want to understand why you're willing to risk the sack to give him pretty pointless information.'

  Steve took a very careful look around again and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. There was very little he was allowed to disclose about the unit he had served in under Luke Calvin and even less that he wanted to remember. He chose to give his partner a small morsel to appease him.

  'He saved my life in Kosovo. Got shot in the ribcage for his trouble and nearly died himself.' Dave was looking at him in astonishment and Steve could tell he was struggling to keep his promise to not ask follow up questions. 'Like I said; He's a good guy.'

  There was silence between them for a minute while they both appreciated the gravity of what had been disclosed and heard respectively. Eventually Dave broke the silence.

  'How about you phone him up and tell him he might find something of interest in the forensics report? That way we're sort of covered and it's still on him to find out what he can.'

  Steve smiled across the table at his partner.

  'Good man.'

  Chapter 15

  Grant had left for the pub with plenty of time in hand and was ambling down Pilton Drive with his hands in his pocket. Depending on which side of the street you were on or which postcode you happened to have the house prices around here could fluctuate wildly. It used to be that no one ever chose to live down here but that was changing. All the new builds springing up were appealing to the young professionals and slowly changing the face and reputation of the area. It still retained aspects of its character from before while developing a glossy facade – that was the way he saw it anyway.

  Somehow he'd got to thinking about Rab and how much disaster seemed to follow along in his wake. No matter how many promises of good behaviour were made or threats issued by Grant, both veiled and blatant, there always seemed to be some form of carnage occurring whenever he was around. It had gotten to such an extent that anytime there was a reasonable length of time passing without incident, Grant could feel himself become more and more anxious as the weight of the inevitable unknown that would shatter the peace built. It was like the sun rising in the morning: – no matter how much you thought it just might not happen this time it always turned out the same way and you felt you had no right whatsoever to even be surprised. There was the time he'd gotten too bevvied and thrown his pint in the face of a local hard case with head tattoos and a bad attitude. Or the time he'd gotten too stoned before a gig and threatened the security when they wouldn't let him in because he was blatantly mangled. The time he'd taken too much acid and just wanted to sit in the hall cupboard with the door open for a couple of hours. And these were just the ones that the two of them could recall with at least a hint of amusement. Grant stood by the one mantra he felt like he had repeated over and over so many times that it should have lost its meaning by now but he somehow had to keep making himself believe it – He's not a bad guy really.

  The Fluke was at the foot of Pilton Drive (technically on Granton Road) and its normal clientele consisted of locals of all ages and professions. Come five o clock there were painters finished for the day, plasterers stopping in for “one” on the way home and all others in-between. During the daytime, the older generation held court, watching the horse racing and nipping back and forward from the bookies in between races to put money on or collect winnings. They played “pitchy” against the bar while the barmaid pretended not to notice. There was a swathe of guys that Grant had gone to school with that drank in there on the regular so he was always guaranteed a bit of chat and a game or two of pool.

  As he was approaching The Fluke, he noticed that Luke was already waiting outside in the same jumper and jeans he'd worn to the pub, smoking against the wall. Luke’s head was back against the roughcast blowing rings upwards into the sky and trying to make them go through each other. Taking in his appearance, Grant was unable to pin down what it was about his newest associate that had made him seem intimidating. There was nothing imposing about the lightly built physique or the frankly rather scruffy hairdo and facial hair that would worry anyone in their right mind. Nor was there a coldness behind the eyes or a mad dog stare and swagger that could threaten anyone who didn’t know better. The only thin
g he seemed to be able to hang his hat on was some quiet confidence that emanated from him and that was a very shoogly peg indeed on which to base an opinion. As they made eye contact and Luke peeled himself away from the wall to greet the big bouncer, Grant extended a hand to shake and mentally agreed with his assertion the previous night that he very much still fancied his chances if it ever deteriorated into violence.

  'Grant. How's it?' Luke overshot the offered hand, linked his thumb over the bigger man's and pulled him towards him to bump shoulders. 'You well?'

  For the second time within a single day Grant Ferguson was hugged against his will, although he had to admit he didn't feel any sort of butterflies this time round. Patting Luke's back firmly and extracting himself from the embrace he scanned around to ensure no one had seen. The last thing he needed right now was a ribbing from any locals about his “boyfriend”.

  'You're seeing it all.'

  The non-committal phrase seemed to draw a laugh out of a surprising number of people. It had never made sense to Grant but he believed in giving the people what they wanted and if people thought it was a clever and witty response then who was he to dispel that myth? He pushed the door of the pub open and ducked inside without even checking if Luke was following. Inside the first set of double doors there was an entrance area that the management had the audacity to refer to as a “foyer” although in their defence they actually had both male and female toilets coming off from it as well as the overwhelming stench of both smoke and urine. Especially when it was raining, dark, cold or a day ending in “Y” people had developed a habit of sparking up in this no man’s land before stepping outside and the smell never seemed to properly leave. If the weather was particularly unkind and the bar staff especially lenient, many didn’t even bother to go fully outside at all.

  There were two rooms both served by the same bar of which only one was ever open at any time, one ostensibly for functions and the other for normal night to night drinking. It was the “Saloon” side that the noise was coming from at this point in time so Grant continued through a second set of double doors on the right into the pub itself. There were cushioned seats running around the outside of the expansive room with tables at seemingly sporadic intervals. The bar ran along the entire length of the right hand side and had high metallic stools with footrests but no back to them. The pool table and dart board were down the furthest end of the room and for the moment there were very few people drinking and no one playing either. Grant went up to the bar and ordered a couple of pints while Luke, who had followed him, was now sat in a corner at a table looking every bit as if he'd always drank there. He had his notebook and pen out on the table and was scribbling carefully on the top of a new page when Grant arrived with the beers.

  'Lager OK for you man? Just assumed. My head's still burst from last night.'

  Luke stopped writing, set his pen down and took a deep drink from the glass before toasting Grant across the table. Grant returned the gesture and took a huge gulp which caused him instant acid reflux but settled both his mind and the frayed nerves that seemed to accompany his every hangover nowadays. To be totally truthful he could have probably done with a lager shandy or a “tops” at the very least to take the edge off the bitterness but his pride hadn't allowed him to order it. Especially not in his local. He'd never have heard the end of it. The internal thought process was interrupted by Luke.

  'Spot on man. Never turned down a pint in my life yet.'

  There was a silence between them where they both took the time to look around and think about just how little they actually knew each other. Up to this point their interaction had consisted of a 5-minute conversation outside a pub and a 30 second phone call. Both were thinking that if they'd called a girl the day after they’d first met her she'd probably have run a mile. As it happened, here they were and the grand total of four other drinkers had barely acknowledged their existence far less how weird it was between them. It was Luke who finally spoke.

  'How you wanting to do this then bud?'

  Grant took a second slower sip that felt like it was beginning to hold down the acid in his stomach and he reckoned he might have a fighting chance of not spewing his ringer in the next five minutes.

  'How'd you mean?'

  Luke was continuing to look around before settling back on the bouncer opposite him. He smiled and made a gesture that could have been interpreted any number of ways.

  'I mean you wanting to tell me something? You wanting to ask something?'

  There was no reply from the big man with the ink and the rapidly disappearing hangover. It looked to Luke as if he were trying to make up his mind about something and he sincerely hoped it wasn't a reconsideration of whether to paste him or not. He quickly continued-

  'We can just chat? Or I can get a bright light and shine it in your eyes in a dark room? Talk about “the easy way and the hard way” and all that other nonsense?'

  Grant paused at this last part with the glass almost at his mouth and fixed Luke with a mad dog look that had reduced so called hard men to apologetic poets up until this point. The hangover was making him paranoid and the mention of an interrogation landed badly with him. In his mind he was trying desperately to remember if Luke had said he was a cop or not last night. Luke was clearly beginning to enjoy himself now-

  ‘I can roll out my one man “good cop, bad cop routine”? I’ve been told it would go down well on stage. I also have a borderline offensive German bit if you’d prefer? Involves a few actions and loud voices but tends to get results’

  Both men descended into laughter and the tension vanished. Grant could maintain a threatening persona in the face of a lot of things; fear, intimidation, violence; but he could not try and eyeball a man that was treating all forms of implied threat with terrible comedic disdain. Once he had suppressed his laughter, it was Grant who spoke first.

  'Aye man, slap the cuffs on and lock me up.' Taking another thoughtful drink, he carefully placed the pint on the beer mat and continued. 'Not even sure why I called you to be honest. Just seems like you're a decent guy and we might be able to help each other out.'

  As soon as he said it he felt that it sounded beyond stupid but Luke was nodding and agreeing. They had both seen off almost half their pint so far in the two minutes they'd been sat down and Grant's worry was beginning to soften off almost entirely. He was fully aware that the hair of the dog method was simply making the eventual suffering worse but like all objectively terrible ideas it seemed like a good decision at the time. Luke had not picked up his pen again since they had sat down and at this particular moment it seemed very important to Grant that he continued not to.

  'Here man, I forgot what you said you did last night.' Taking another swallow that almost drained the glass, Grant attempted to keep his voice casual. 'You did say you weren't a cop eh?'

  Luke also paused with his glass just before his mouth and made a grimace towards the bouncer.

  'I never said I wasn't a cop Grant.' The bouncer's eyes were now fully focussed onto him even though Luke had begun casually staring at the window that you couldn't even see out of. 'But I'm not a cop.' In his peripheral vision, the big man had inflated then deflated within the past five seconds. 'I've never been a cop and I really don't think I'll ever be so desperate as to become one.'

  Draining his pint, Luke stood up and took his glass with him as he went to the bar to get another two pints in. Grant had finished his own beer and had pulled the notebook across the table towards him. Lifting it close to his face he studied it intently and took longer than necessary to discern that there were no personal details written down at all so far. All that was scribbled was the date that had been underlined over and over again. He put it back on the table and moved it back across as Luke came back and set the glasses down again.

  'See man, I'm no narc.'

  Grant accepted this with a shrug and a sip. He sat back in his seat and crossed his arms across his chest, flexing his biceps briefly before relaxing
fully.

  'So what's your story then Luke? If you aren't with the filth and you aren't doing it off your own back, I don't know who you're working for.'

  'I'm working for Geoffrey Reid the now. I told you that.'

  Leaning forward again and resting his elbows on the table, he collected his glass in one big mitt and pointed it across the table with a smile.

  'You know what I'm asking.'

  Luke thought carefully before replying. On the one hand there was literally zero benefit to telling this man the whole truth. There were Official Secrets Acts and other ominous sounding pieces of heavyweight documentation to consider although they'd never given him much pause. But he wanted Grant to trust him. He was looking like the best source of information he was going to be able to get at the moment – a veritable oasis in the otherwise barren desert of the missing boy and his terrible father. He decided to give him some truth but not the whole: no lies but not full disclosure.

  'I was in the army from when I was young. Nearly 20 years ago actually, went in when I was 16 and never left until a year or two ago when I was 33. Ended up in special forces doing “covert ops”: All these grand sounding words for a pretty ugly job. Got moved into the sort of officially deniable stuff that they need done but can’t be seen to do. You know, like where if you get killed or captured they just deny you ever existed?’ He paused and resumed his viewing of the window. ‘Saw a fair bit of action. A bit too much to be honest, so I wanted out. I’d done my time and then some. Guess I got into my 30s and realised I might want someone to at least admit I existed if I ended up dead. They didn't want me to leave so this is our compromise.' He took a long swallow. 'I do private investigations. Same sort of under the table nonsense but it's my own city and I'm on a pretty loose leash.'

  The bouncer across the table didn't seem to react in any way that Luke could notice. The impression he got was that this unexpected bout of honesty had bought him a fair bit in the mind of the bigger man. Unusually, all of it was the truth. In fact, he wasn’t sure he’d ever given someone such an honest, in depth personal history before.