Walk in Silence

by J. G. Sinclair

  A passport fell into her hand.

  She flipped it open and checked inside.

  ‘Who does it belong to?’ asked Kate.

  ‘Me.’

  ‘What’s he doing with your passport?’

  ‘It’s the one they stole from my hotel room the other night – from the safe. Someone’s flexing their muscles. Sending me a message.’

  She slipped the passport back into the envelope and put it away in her bag.

  ‘Are you sure you want to keep going with all this? From the outside looking in it’s starting to get a bit messy.’

  ‘I need to help the boy.’

  ‘If you can find him.’

  ‘I have found him. It is getting messy . . .’ replied Keira as they headed out of the terminal towards the car park, ‘. . . but I’ve got a plan. Let’s go for a drink.’

  ‘Early start tomorrow,’ replied Kate. ‘Patrick Sellar wants to see you first thing to run through your witness statements and let you in on the prosecution’s line of attack.’

  Keira lit a roll-up and took a long draw on it. ‘Are you okay to have a drink?’

  ‘Yeah. It’s the class A I have to steer clear of – that was a one-sided love affair.’

  ‘I feel like some food. Something good. The stuff on the plane looked like it had already been eaten.’

  ‘I’ve got a full fridge. Why don’t we go back to mine and while you’re having a soak I’ll fix a carbonara. None of your creamy shite. Just egg yolk and good pancetta. Don’t go back to the office. You can stay the night and I’ll drive you over to the court in the morning. You can wear something of mine, if you need to. D’you like rum?’

  ‘I drink whisky.’

  ‘Not once you’ve tasted a Larchmont: white rum, curaçao orange, lime juice and syrup. You’ll think you’re sitting in the Gannet. It’s one of theirs.’

  They’d reached the car.

  Kate had been driving Keira’s old BMW while she was away but it looked different.

  ‘What have you done to the car?’

  ‘Cleaned it. Inside and out. Got it serviced too,’ said Kate as she started the engine. ‘Sounds more like a car now.’

  ‘Did Patrick Sellar mention a time?’

  ‘Nine a.m. He’s spitting blood that he hasn’t been able to get a hold of you: been ringing the office every day. Creepy wee bastard dropped in last week looking for you, like he was trying to catch me out or something. I don’t think he believed me when I told him you were away: got an expression on his coupon like the west of Scotland weather: changes every two minutes and you don’t know what’s coming next.’

  ‘He’s creepy, and he’s dangerous. This is a big case for him. He’s got designs on becoming a QC, so he’ll be doing everything he can to ensure that it goes well and he can take silk asap. The newspapers will be all over this one and there is nothing Sellar likes better than seeing his face on the front page.’

  *

  Below the surface, the warm bathwater stung the back of her head and the side of her mouth where the skin was broken. Keira lay with her head underwater, listening to the dull rhythm of her heart pulsing in her ears, and for a moment the world was quiet.

  Two Larchmonts in and almost at the point where the voices in her head had nothing else to say, her lungs started screaming for air. Keira fought against it for as long as she could, then surfaced. Kate was standing in the doorway holding a highball glass in one hand and the framed photograph of Ermir in the other.

  ‘You sticking with the Larchmonts or d’you want to switch back to your old ways?’

  ‘I’ll stay with the rum. It’s a bit sweet, but it’s doing the job.’

  ‘Pasta’s nearly ready. D’you want the next drink in here?’

  ‘No, I’ll get out.’

  Keira was aware of Kate staring at her body, but there was no awkwardness.

  ‘Your scars are much sexier than mine. I’ve only got a few of the white ones left on my arms and thighs. Apart from the Russell’s signs on my hands, most of the others have disappeared. Just those and the mental scars left now.’

  ‘We’ve all got those.’

  Keira stood up and reached for a towel.

  ‘I’ve emptied your bag and put on a wash.’

  ‘You don’t have to do all this, Kate.’

  ‘I know, but it makes me feel good. I’ll get bored of it soon enough so make the most of it.’ She held up the picture frame. ‘Is this the man cub?’

  ‘That’s him.’

  ‘He looks happy in this one.’

  ‘Hopefully we’ll get him to a place where all that’s left are the white scars.’

  ‘Poor wee soul.’

  Keira finished drying herself, then wrapped the towel around her chest and headed to the bedroom to get dressed holding the fresh Larchmont Kate handed to her as she passed.

  ‘You can borrow anything you like from the right-hand wardrobe, but avoid the left. It’s full of party gear and stuff I’m hoping I’ll be small enough to fit into one day: I know I’m dreaming. Everything else is fair game. What are you, an eight, a ten?’

  ‘I buy an eight, but I’m really a ten.’

  ‘Same here. Tens are in the right-hand wardrobe. Don’t even open the left. It’ll depress the shite out of me if you try something on and it fits,’ said Kate as she headed back to the kitchen.

  Keira called through, ‘Food smells good.’

  ‘That’s the pancetta.’

  ‘Bacon with an Italian accent.’

  ‘Yeah. You want some wine with it?’

  ‘Might as well.’

  ‘Red or white?’

  ‘Red.’

  ‘I chucked Hathi into the wash as well. He was in a bit of a state.’

  Kate drained the pasta into the sink and was about to mix it with the pancetta in the frying pan when she became aware of Keira watching her from the kitchen door.

  ‘What did you just say?’

  ‘Red or white?’

  ‘The other bit.’

  ‘Hathi. He was manky, so I threw him into the washing machine. S’that all right?’

  ‘How do you know about Hathi?’

  ‘Everyone knows about Hathi.’

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘I’ve read the book about a million times.’

  ‘What book?’

  ‘The Jungle Book.’

  ‘What’s a Hathi?’

  ‘It’s not a what; it’s a he.’

  ‘It’s the only word that Ermir ever says. But no one knows what it means. He keeps repeating it over and over again.’

  ‘Have you never seen the film, or read the book? Colonel Hathi’s an elephant.’

  Kate’s mobile started to ring. She picked it up from the coffee table and checked the number. ‘A redirect from the office,’ she said as she thumbed the green button to answer. ‘Hello . . . No, I’m her assistant. Can I help? Hold on a second and I’ll see if I can reach her.’ Kate pressed mute. ‘Lule in Albania . . . wants a word. Sounds like she’s been drinking, but it’s a shit line . . . What’ll I say?’

  ‘I’ll take it,’ replied Keira reaching for the phone. ‘Lule!’

  Lule’s voice was difficult to hear: masked by interference and too much rakia. ‘Are you there?’

  ‘Your voice is faint, but I can hear okay,’ replied Lule. ‘I know who has taken Ermir . . .’

  Keira mimed to Kate to bring her a pen and paper.

  ‘. . . Is a guy called Verbër Vedon.’

  ‘Verbër Vedon?’

  ‘This is not good. Vedon is crazy motherfucker. He is the krye: the boss man. Also, I know where they are keeping Ermir. He has boat—’

  ‘Don’t do anything on your own, Lule. It’s too dangerous for you and for Ermir. Engjell E Zeze’s trial could last for weeks; Vedon won’t do anything to Ermir until it’s over. We have time to figure out what to do and get help. Don’t do anything on your own.’

  ‘When you have done whatever Vedon has asked of you he will kill
the boy and then he will kill you. There is no time. That bitch Ardiana told me everything. She is working for Vedon. She all the time is lying to you and fucking with you, but not any more. After I leave the airport I visit her and the boyfriend Fat-Joe Jesus and she has told me everything, and also paid for her mistakes.’

  ‘What does that mean? What d’you mean, Lule?’

  ‘I have been back to my apartment also, but your boyfriend has taken my passport so I have to stay here in Albania. Even if I wanted to leave, this I cannot do now. It is a sign from Kaltrina that I cannot go anywhere until I save her boy. This is what I promised. I know where they are keeping Ermir and now I will get him back. But for now I must go. I will call you again when I have him.’

  ‘Wait . . . Lule, no!’

  The line went dead.

  Keira looked down at the name Verbër Vedon scribbled on the notepad and asked. ‘What’s your dad doing for dinner tomorrow night?’

  ‘My dad? Shit. Why do you want to see him? Can’t you just phone him instead?’

  ‘I need a face-to-face.’

  Twenty-four

  The sun on the McLennan Arch cast little in the way of shadow as midday rang out from a distant bell. Keira walked through the centre of the arch towards the pure Doric portico at the front of the original High Court building, where a crowd of reporters and photographers had gathered on the edge of a cordon manned by a handful of police officers. They stood at the end of Mart Street, which in turn led to Jail Square and the new entrance at the rear of the courts. The order seemed to be ‘snap everything that moves, interview anything that talks’. Keira picked out Patrick Sellar’s rat-grey hair in amongst a bask of journalists as she ducked under the blue-and-white perimeter tape and was immediately challenged by one of the cops on guard. Keira flashed her citation at him and was waved on.

  Patrick Sellar acknowledged her with a nod as she passed in front, then excused himself from the group and followed her along the street into the reception area.

  Keira had awoken early that morning and taken her time over breakfast. She was now too late for Sellar’s proposed ‘run through’, but in plenty of time for the start of proceedings.

  ‘The eye is naturally drawn to the colour red. In the theatrical world the wearing of red is a deliberate ruse practised by insecure actors to draw attention to themselves on stage. Are you hoping to draw attention to yourself today, Miss Lynch?’

  Sellar was commenting on the bright red cowl-neck dress Keira was wearing. She’d borrowed it from Kate along with a black woollen cardigan.

  ‘What does the theatrical world have to say about mud-brown tweed?’

  Sellar looked like he wanted to respond, but thought better of it.

  ‘Must be strange to be on the other side of the fence?’

  Sellar was trying his best to come across as friendly.

  ‘In what way?’ replied Keira.

  ‘Standing in the witness box rather than on the floor.’

  ‘Haven’t given it much thought.’

  ‘There’s no time to brief you now. I assume you’ll be happy to go straight in?’

  He assumed she’d worn red to attract attention, assumed she’d feel strange about being in the witness box, assumed she’d be happy to go straight in – Sellar made a lot of assumptions, but Keira replied with a simple, ‘Sure.’

  Keira was wary of Sellar, but not afraid: she saw him more as an irritation than a threat. It was Sellar who’d opposed Kaltrina Dervishi’s application to join the witness protection programme on the grounds that it was too expensive. It was Sellar who had signed the bail documents allowing Kaltrina Dervishi to walk out of HMP Cornton Vale and on to the knife of Engjell E Zeze. It was Sellar who’d tried to stitch Keira up by feeding the press misleading information about traces of heroin found in her apartment.

  Keira had been surprised to see his name down on the citation as the prosecuting lawyer in the case against E Zeze. In her opinion it was Sellar who was responsible for this whole goddamn mess.

  ‘How was your break?’

  ‘Eventful.’

  ‘I came looking for you last week, but to no avail.’

  Keira stared back at him wondering what the angle was, then said, ‘Yeah, I was on a break.’

  ‘What happened to your face?’

  ‘Lots of things.’

  Sellar eyed her with suspicion. ‘Let’s hope you’re a little more guileless when you get into the witness box.’

  ‘Let’s,’ replied Keira as she spotted Kate making her way along the corridor towards her. ‘No more delays?’

  ‘Not that I’m aware of. I heard a rumour that the Americans were considering applying for extradition. I believe that was why the trial date had been moved several times for no apparent reason. But I think it’s just that – a rumour. They’ve suddenly gone very quiet on the proposal.’

  ‘Extradition? To where?’

  ‘One would presume the United States.’

  ‘Why would they want to extradite E Zeze to the States? Has he committed any crimes over there?’

  ‘Not as far as I’m aware, but I get the sense from some of the communications I’ve received that there’s some political element to all of this that I am, as yet, unaware of. I’ve had some very strange conversations with some very strange people who – to my mind – have nothing to do with any of this.’

  ‘What sort of people?’

  ‘That, my dear, as they say, is none of your concern.’

  Kate joined them.

  ‘This is my new secretary, Kate.’

  ‘Yes, we met last week.’

  Sellar didn’t offer to shake her hand so Kate didn’t either.

  ‘I can’t rid myself of the feeling that I know you from somewhere. Where else might I have seen you?’

  ‘I used to be a stripper,’ replied Kate.

  Sellar didn’t react to the comment in any way except to ignore it. ‘Where do you live?’

  ‘Bearsden.’

  ‘I’m out that way myself. Maybe I’ve seen you in the area.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘What’s your second name?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t date older men.’

  ‘When one spends most of one’s time dealing with facts it’s very easy to find flippancy instantly tiresome. You, my dear, take it to a whole new level. I’m not after a date, I can assure you. I’m simply asking for your second name. Are you capable of answering a straight question with a straight answer?’

  ‘Sure. My second name is none of your fucking business. Straight enough?’

  A court officer appeared over Sellar’s shoulder. ‘Advocate Depute, they’re ready for you in court.’

  Sellar’s expression gave nothing away as he turned on Kate to deliver his exit line. ‘I don’t think the legal game’s for you, my dear. You lose composure too easily under pressure. Looking good is a virtue, sounding good is a skill. I think your talents are possibly more suited to a vocation where being able to string a sentence together is unnecessary. If you still have contacts in the world of exotic dance, maintain them.’

  *

  While the jury were being sworn in and the public gallery opened, Keira was shown to a room set aside for witnesses.

  Kate was seated alongside her, but hadn’t said anything since the encounter with Sellar.

  ‘Before you do that, there’s a few things I want you to do for me,’ said Keira cutting through Kate’s thoughts.

  ‘Before I do what?’

  ‘I’ve been through enough with you to know how this works. You’re good at giving the ballbuster routine, but it doesn’t take much to throw you off balance. You’re sitting there letting that little shit’s words run around with a razor inside your head. He’s taken a slice out of your confidence and now you’re figuring how to minimise the damage.’

  ‘When Sellar finds out who my dad is he’ll be all over it. I don’t think me working for you is going to do your reputation any good.’

  ‘I
don’t give a shit who your father is or how it looks to the outside world. If anything, I’m envious that you even have a father. I’d give up a year of my life to spend five minutes with mine. But I didn’t employ you out of pity because your dad was a crim. I employed you because you’d be better at doing this job than anyone else I know. Stop thinking like a loser and get your boxing gloves on. If you are sitting there wondering what you can do to make this all better, here it is. I need an airline ticket to New York as soon as possible. Last thing tonight, preferably – first thing tomorrow morning at the very latest. Also, when Lule contacts you again tell her I need a photograph of her. Straight head and shoulders, no smiling. I need her to do this today if she can.’

  ‘What if she doesn’t call today?’

  ‘She will. Did you give me back the keys to the safe or have you still got them?’

  ‘I’ve got them.’

  ‘Good. You head back to the office and sort the flights out. Empty everything out of the safe. I’ll pick you up at the end of the day and we can head over and have a cup of tea with your dodgy dad.’

  Kate pointed at Keira’s red dress. ‘Is that one of mine?’

  ‘You said I could borrow whatever I wanted.’

  ‘I didn’t say you could look better in it than I do.’

  ‘I’ve got a reputation to uphold.’

  ‘When d’you want to fly back from New York?’

  ‘It’s one way.’

  *

  An hour after Kate left, the court officer poked his head round the door of the waiting room.

  ‘Ms Lynch, if you’d like to follow me, I’ll take you through. The scene-of-crime officer’s just finished taking the jury through the pictures of the murder scenes.’

  ‘A lot to work through.’

  ‘Aye, sorry about the delay, there was plenty of it.’

  A short walk along the corridor brought Keira to the entrance of the courtroom. The witness box was situated on the far side, opposite the jury. The press gallery behind was crammed full of reporters and the public gallery, over to the left, the busiest she had ever seen it.

  At a table just a few yards from the witness box and flanked by two armed officers sat Engjell E Zeze, his thin, drawn face softer and more feminine than Keira remembered. The tailored suit he was wearing looked sharp, his shoes polished to a shine. E Zeze kept his gaze fixed on the wall opposite, staring straight ahead, his expression somewhere between cool and uninterested.