12.45
McKenzie stood above the body of Mark McRae, fighting the urge to vomit. Two of his team, both extremely experienced officers, had lost that same fight.
“Bastards.” McKenzie said quietly and coldly.
He’d seen many, many things in his career, but the deaths here in the Portobello High School had been amongst the worst.
“I can’t believe that someone would do this. It’s incredibly premeditated, carefully planned and diligently executed. This is one sick serial killer. I didn’t think anyone like this existed in Scotland.” Brown said.
McKenzie’s team had just been let into the room by the leader of the armed team who had then immediately deployed to search the rest of the school.
The risk that there was another body in the school was now real. Only a few days ago they had found two at the same time, and perhaps they would again now.
McKenzie was already wearing plastic gloves, as were his team.
He knelt down beside the body and searched for a wallet in the dead man’s pockets. He’d already recognised his face from the photograph he’d taken from Mrs Blake’s house, but he wanted to see if there was any ID to confirm it.
Bingo.
The man’s wallet.
Credit cards, money, and a driving licence, which McKenzie quickly showed to the rest of the team.
The man was Mark McRae.
And there were two words very clearly written on his forehead.
“Okay, no more touching. Everyone step back. Elaine, please call forensics and tell them to get down here smartish. McLeish. Tell me what you see?”
McLeish stepped forward, still wiping his mouth. He’d been one of those who’d lost his lunch.
“The victim has been spread-eagled and tied to the floor. His head has been restrained, and a metal vice of some sort has been inserted into his mouth. There are two glass bottles. One positioned in each hand, as if the victim had been holding them. The bottles are almost empty but each contains some substance still in liquid form. The victim appears to have suffocated. The victim’s throat is full of a solid material which has blocked his airways and prevented him from breathing. There are traces of liquid on the lips, neck and on the floor under the neck. I would surmise that the liquids have simultaneously been poured into the throat.”
McLeish stopped, took a step back and gagged again, but this time managed to prevent himself from vomiting.
He apologised and stepped back towards the body, looking around the room.
“Oh dear, I’ve just realised what this is! This is the chemistry department and the killer has poured two chemicals down into the throat of the victim and there has been some sort of weird chemical reaction, resulting in the formation of a solid foam-like substance which has blocked the throat and airways. Shit, sorry… ”
McLeish stepped away again, and this time he vomited.
“What a horrible way to die.” Brown said, returning from her phone call.
“I think it was intended that way. It’s all part of the show.” McLeish said.
“You’re not finished, McLeish. You’ve missed the most important part.”
“Sorry, Guv, I was just imagining what it would have been like to die like that.”
“You’re forgiven.”
“Okay… ” Mcleish steadied himself to continue his report. “And the most important part is the two words scrawled on his head.” McLeish continued. “Two words. They say, ‘REMEMBER ME?’ ”
Chapter 26
Sunday
Operation BlueBuilding
Incident Room
Portacabin
13.30
McKenzie’s team had returned to the portacabin to review what they’d just seen and to wait for the armed response unit to finish their search of the rest of the campus.
So far they’d found nothing new.
Wishart was not in the room. She’d gone to bring Scott Davies in for questioning with a policeman from the Portobello police station.
McKenzie had filmed the murder scene on his phone, and the team were now watching it cast up onto the electronic whiteboard.
He’d not yet called DCS Wilkinson to report. McKenzie wanted to wait for the results from the building search and to carefully plan what he was going to say.
He also needed some more time to gain better control of his emotions.
He was furious. Mad. Angry. And sad.
McRae had been on their lists. If they’d had more people on the team, they might have been able to find him before he’d become the next victim.
“Okay, thoughts?” McKenzie said, taking a deep breath.
“We’ve got to get this bastard!” McLeish said loudly.
“Or bastards.” McKenzie corrected him. “This would have been a lot of work for one killer.”
“How the hell did the killer manage to get the victim into the building whilst it’s under maximum security?” Lynch voiced the thoughts of them all.
“Or was it?” McKenzie replied. “Maybe we let our guard down. Most of the team was at the new school attending the Reunion ball.”
“To be fair, Mather had several PCs from Portobello helping him cover the building from the outside. Throughout the night they did regular patrols of the campus and the perimeter. And nothing was seen on the CCTV. And there were two dogs running around the campus. There were no reports of anything.” Anderson replied. “And on top of that, Gary Bruce stayed the night downstairs in the other cabin. I don’t know how much he slept, but Mather said he spoke to him quite regularly. He was also keeping an eye on things.”
“So HOW did the killer or killers get the victim inside? HOW?” McKenzie said, his voice raised.
It was a rhetorical question, and one which had everyone stumped.
McKenzie walked over to the map of the campus.
He stood in front of it, studying it for the hundredth time.
“There has to be another way in. There has to.”
He raised a finger and pointed to the revision number of the map, which was marked on the diagram in the bottom right along with the map’s scale and other details.
“This is not the original. It’s a copy of a later version that’s had changes made to it. Brown, I want you to make it a priority to track down one of the original versions of this architect’s plan. Get the original if possible, but if not that, one of the very first revisions. We’re missing something here, and we need to find out what it was. Also, try to get plans of what was here before they built the school. What existed here prior? Did any part of any previously existing structure survive?”
“Yes, Guv.”
“And I mean, today. I don’t care if you have to break into the Scottish Land Registry, or the architect’s office, just get us the original plan. And one that’s not so dirty. Look, there’s smudges all over this. It’s not easy to read some of the writing or the numbers or symbols.”
“Understood, Guv. I’m on it.”
“Okay. Now onto the message on the forehead. ‘Remember me?’ What does that tell us?” McKenzie asked, starting to pace the room.
“It links two of the victims together. Blake and McRae. Both had writing on their forehead. Possibly also David Weir but we don’t know that yet. They still have to find his forehead.” Lynch said, then paused for a second. “I think the message on Blake’s forehead may have been the same.” He stood up and stepped up to the whiteboard and picked up a pen, then continued. “Forensics have said they found writing, with the following letters: R, E, M. These letters are some of the main letters in the words ‘Remember Me?’ It could be the same message.” Lynch said, writing the words ‘Remember me?’ on the board, and underlining the Rs, Es and the M. “We need to get a photograph of the writing and compare the positions of the letters which were still visible.”
“ , please. I suspect you’re going to be right.” McKenzie said, and added the action to the list on the board.
Anderson next had a thought. “Willy Thomson didn’t ha
ve any writing on his forehead.”
“Noted. Which suggests what?”
“That he isn’t part of this.”
“It certainly looks like the killer wants to brand his victims. Three teachers, all killed in their place of work, two with red writing on their head. I agree, it’s increasingly looking like Willy Thomson doesn’t fit the modus operandum of the killer or killers.”
“Can I ask, has anyone interviewed or looked into Gary Bruce? He was already on the list of suspects, and given that he was camping out downstairs last night, and he has all the keys and knows the campus better than anyone, is he now even more of a suspect than before?” McLeish asked.
“I think it’s a valid point. Since you raised it, can you sit down with him, semi-formally and interview him? But be gentle. Now there’s another body, it could mean continued difficulties for his business, and if he’s innocent, he’s got enough on his plate already. Plus, we need to keep him on side.” McKenzie directed.
“That would tend to make us consider him a victim as opposed to a suspect, but that could be what he wants us to think?” Dean spoke. “I haven’t met the guy yet, I’m just saying. By the way, I also have something to say.”
“Yes?” McKenzie asked, giving him the floor.
“I just heard something from the forensics team. No formal identification yet, but they’ve been looking at the burnt-out van, and as I mentioned to you previously, one corner of the van at the back got off comparatively lightly in comparison with the rest. The rear driver-side tyre had only partially melted, and the forensics team have recovered some dirt residue trapped within the treads of the tyres. They’re running some analysis on it now. I think they’re making a thing of it, because it’s about all there is left of any significance. The van’s not going to tell us anything else.” Dean finished.
“Okay, Brown, you’re managing the relationship with forensics. Add that to your list and keep us up to date. McLeish, we’ve had three deaths now. It sounds like we’re being warned about a fourth. That means the work you’re doing to try and identify any missing staff is even more important now. We found one person who was missing, and now he’s dead. Who’s next?”
“It’s a lot of work for one person to get through in a hurry.”
“I understand. Just do your best.”
“It would be good to know if a cattle prod was used on Mr McRae, as it was on the others?” Anderson asked.
“True. And also, were there any similar dirt residues found on his clothes, similar to the dirt found on Blake and Weir’s clothes?” McKenzie added.
“Okay, I know some of you were given actions last night at the Reunion ball, and you won’t have had a chance to do anything about them yet. Just keep us informed when you get any information.” McKenzie added.
“Are you still going to Coll?” Brown asked. “It’s getting a bit late for you to make it to Oban and catch the ferry.”
“I don’t know. I’m going to speak with DCS Wilkinson first, and also wait to see what happens with the rest of the search of the building. If I do go, DI Brown’s in charge, and it’s down to you to liaise with Mather and his team for this evening. Also, for now, no one mention to Gary Bruce anything about the third body. He doesn’t need to know just yet.”
“Anyone for anything else?” McKenzie asked. There were no takers.
McKenzie did his best to manage a smile, instructed everyone to make sure they got some lunch, if they could stomach it, and then clapped his hands.
Everyone was dismissed.
When they filed out of the portacabin, no one felt hungry.
-------------------------
Sunday
The Chemistry Department
Portobello High School
14.35
DCS Helen Wilkinson stood beside McKenzie in their white forensics suits, looking down at the body of Mark McRae.
McKenzie had called her, and insisted she come out and see the scene of the crime for herself.
He hadn’t warned her just how brutal the experience would be.
To his boss’s credit, she had taken it in her stride.
No uncontrollable vomiting had occurred.
“We’re looking at Scotland’s worst serial killer in years. When this eventually gets out, we’re talking international media camping out on your doorstep, Ma’am. You’re going to be a media star.”
“Don’t put this on me, McKenzie. This is your case. You’ll be the media star, not me.”
“I want more people.”
“You can’t have them. Not for another few days at least.”
“There’s at least one more death on the way. You saw the note. ‘Three, then four.’”
“The Queen leaves in a few day’s time. Given the state of the Union at the moment, everything that can be done to maintain and build relationships between England and Scotland is of paramount importance. He visit’s been arranged to build bridges, swing the popular sentiment away from the nationalists and back to seeing sense and saying ‘No’ to independence in the next referendum. If anything happens to her, it could cost us the Union.”
“I get all that. I do. But you tell that to Number Four.”
They were still both looking down at the body. The look of horror frozen on Mark McRae’s face was something that McKenzie would never ever forget for the rest of his life.
“Ma’am. This is just a thought, but go with me on this, for a moment at least.”
“Go for it, Campbell.”
Again, the use of his first name. Not uncommon, but he knew she was trying her best to empathise with the ridiculous situation he was in.
“Okay, so just how real is the terror threat? The person or persons behind these series of murders are very clever. Quite frankly, at the moment, they’re running circles round us. I just wonder, could your terror threat actually be of their making? Could it be part of their plan to get people taken off the case and give them maximum flexibility to do what they have to do without detection? With as few people chasing after them as possible?”
The DCS took her eyes of the body for the first time and turned to look at her DCI.
McKenzie was a bright man. One of the best.
His idea sounded a bit desperate, but on second thoughts, she couldn’t discount it.
“Campbell, it’s highly unlikely. I know, for a fact, that the threat is being taken very seriously by everyone. A valid code word was issued. I don’t want to say any more than that. So… ”
“How current was the code word? And how many people might know the code words?” he interrupted his boss. “What’s the chances that someone managed to get privy knowledge of an acceptable code word, used it to generate a threat, and get everyone taken off this case?”
“I’d say slim.”
“But not impossible.”
“I’ll get back to you on that, Campbell.”
“So, you’ll consider it?”
“The Queen’s going back in a few days. You can get as many officers as you need when that happens.”
“Ma’am, I appreciate that, and I’ll take you up on the offer when it happens. However, and this is the thing, Ma’am… I get the feeling that the killer is one step ahead of us and he or she or they know that. I’m worried that by the time the Queen goes back down south, this thing will all be over. None of this is coincidental. It’s all been planned in advance. And very cleverly.”
“So, what are you saying, exactly?”
“I’m saying that in the next few days, there’s going to be one, and possibly even more deaths to reckon with. Who they are, I have no idea. And this school doesn’t help. It’s like a flame to the moths. The sooner they blow it up, the better!”
Chapter 27
Sunday
Operation BlueBuilding
Incident Room
Portacabin
15.30
McKenzie sat in the incident room, eating a Gregg’s sausage roll and some hot Tomato soup.
His revulsion at t
he latest death hadn’t left, but hunger was beginning to affect his ability to think clearly.
Brown sat opposite him, eating a sandwich.
One was all she could face.
McKenzie was quiet, chewing away and mulling something over in his mind.
“I’m going to Coll.” He finally announced. “I need to speak to the Headmaster as soon as possible. If anyone knows why three of his staff have been slaughtered in his school, he will.”
“The ferry from Oban to Coll is at seven fifteen in the morning. You’d have to drive to Oban tonight. If you spend time on Coll interviewing the headmaster, you’re talking several days back and forward, mostly travelling.”
McKenzie nodded.
“But I’ve got to go. This guy knows something. I’m sure of it.”
McKenzie also knew that if the theory he’d expressed to DCS Wilkinson was correct, by the time he’d gone back and forward to Coll to conduct the interview, the serial killer might have struck again several times.
McKenzie pulled out his phone.
It was time to play hardball with DCS Wilkinson one more time.
McKenzie had just thought of a solution, and he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
-------------------------
Sunday
The Grange
Edinburgh
16.25
Fiona McKenzie hurriedly packed a few things into an overnight bag, just in case, along with some Tupperware containers full of food from the fridge.
“I know you say you’ll be back tonight, but the weather on the islands is notoriously changeable. So… this is just in case you get stuck there this evening,” she warned, handing him the bag and giving him a kiss on the cheek.
“I won’t. I can’t afford to. I need to be back here tonight, and on the job tomorrow.”
Just then McKenzie’s phone rang.
It was his boss, DCS Wilkinson.
“Okay, I’ve done it. I’ve pulled a few strings, and blown a hole in our budget for the rest of the year, but you’ve got what you wanted. Be at the airport at six o’clock. Ask for Sergeant Danny Alexander at information. They’ll direct you.”
Remember Me 2 Page 3
