Walk in Silence

by J. G. Sinclair

  Keira pulled the boy to her and waded back through the freezing water to the stairwell.

  Neither of them spoke as Keira picked her way through the wreckage of the party deck, past the crumpled police car and out onto the boarding deck. The crowd gathered on the quayside was made up of crew – kitchen staff and cleaners, the girls bussed in for the party and patrons from the Cabrestrante looking on as the yacht sank deeper. The rest – Vedon’s guests – had already fled.

  Lule stood on the edge of the dock with her arms outstretched, offering to take the boy from her. Keira prised Loran’s arms from around her neck and lifted him up for Lule to grab on to, then clambered off the yacht herself.

  The four set off along the quayside, past the seafood restaurant and the Cabrestrante, walking around the marina and down onto the beach. They paused only once when a cry went up from the end of the quay and the Persephone’s bow dipped below the surface leaving only its stern proud of the water.

  ‘You fit to drive?’ asked Keira.

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘Sarandë.’

  ‘What’s happening in Sarandë?’

  ‘A ferry to Corfu, a flight to Belfast, then a quick skip to Stranraer. I’ll call Kate and tell her we’ll be needing another passport.’

  Thirty-five

  ‘Rennie at the Record’s come up with another belter,’ said Kate, handing the newspaper to Keira.

  The headline read, ‘LAWYER’S ATTEMPT TO FLEE SETS SEVEN-TIME KILLER FREE.’

  The Scottish criminal justice system was reeling today after it was revealed that drug-bust lawyer Keira Lynch’s mysterious disappearance has prompted calls from Albanian killer Engjell E Zeze’s defence team to abandon the case against him. Sources close to the multimillion-pound trial – one of the biggest in Scottish legal history – told the Record yesterday that Lynch’s no-show could seriously undermine the integrity of the trial. In an exclusive interview with the Record, lead prosecutor, Advocate Depute Patrick Sellar told our reporter of his concern for the lawyer’s safety and confirmed that her disappearance – despite the overwhelming evidence against E Zeze – was a major blow to the Crown’s chances of securing a conviction. The paper can also reveal that there have been unconfirmed reports of Miss Lynch boarding a flight bound for New York, where she is rumoured to be in hiding. See pages five and six for this story in full.

  Most of the front cover was taken up with a photograph of the High Court building in Glasgow. In the bottom right a caption printed underneath a photograph of an unsmiling Sellar read: Prosecutor says killer could walk free in days.

  Lule stretched her hand across the table and said, ‘Can I have a look?’

  ‘The cops raided our office,’ continued Kate.

  ‘What did they take?’ asked Keira.

  ‘Everything. Tidiest it’s looked since you moved in. There’s a pack of scabby journos camped outside the office too.’

  The Holy Man walked into the kitchen carrying some beers from the back fridge and another bottle of wine. ‘Anyone for another drink?’

  ‘I’ll have beer, please,’ replied Keira as he placed the drinks on the table in front of her.

  ‘It’s the usual shite,’ said the Holy Man. ‘They’ve got me down as “shady crime boss” and Kate’s a “wild child and former junkie”. It’s like reading something from the eighties. And I’ll bet you a pinkie sling “sources close to the trial” is that greasy wee fucker Sellar.’

  ‘Where are the boys?’ asked Keira.

  ‘Gillian’s got them in the bath upstairs. Manky: the bathwater’s like mud. Need some feeding up too. I’ll take you, Lule and the boys down to yer ma’s tomorrow, Keira. Youse can stay here tonight though, there’s plenty space.’

  ‘Thanks, Jim, I’ve got some things to do in the morning, but if you could take Lule and the boys that would be great.’

  ‘Ye gonae hand yerself in?’

  ‘After a fashion.’

  ‘Might as well enjoy yer last night of freedom then, eh?’

  ‘This won’t be my last night.’

  ‘They’ve got you down for contempt at the very least. Who knows what else they’ll throw at ye.’

  ‘I’ll be fine.’

  After the events of the last few days all Keira wanted was to drink until she couldn’t stand up, draw the curtains then crawl into bed and sleep for a week. Apart from a few curious glances at the swelling and bruising on her face, the journey back from Sarandë had been uneventful. There were no awkward questions at border control and no one but the Holy Man waiting to pick them up when they arrived by ferry at Stranraer.

  According to the Holy Man the port on Loch Ryan was the easiest entry point into the United Kingdom. It was chronically understaffed with none of the sophisticated surveillance available to larger hubs. ‘Every ounce of coke I bring into Scotland comes via Stranraer. Only danger is the A77. It’s a single-lane bastard to drive at night.’

  Keira was aware that Lule was staring across the table at her, and asked, ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Did you hear what I said?’

  ‘Sorry, Lule, I wasn’t paying attention.’

  ‘I said, I know him.’

  ‘Know who?’

  ‘This man on the cover, the judge guy.’

  ‘That isnae the judge, doll, that’s the prosecutor,’ said the Holy Man, looking over her shoulder at the photograph of Patrick Sellar.

  ‘He was down to prosecute Fisnik Abazi,’ said Keira. ‘You might know him from that.’

  ‘You knew Abazi?’ asked the Holy Man, looking down at Lule. ‘Small world right enough.’

  ‘Sure. I am here before.’

  ‘In Glasgow?’

  ‘Keira has not told you my story?’

  ‘It’s not my story to tell,’ replied Keira.

  ‘Yes, and made to work for that son of bitch Abazi, but this is not why I know this man. I have seen him in the house with the other girls. He likes only the young ones, not me, but I have seen him for sure. In Albania the Clan run most of the prostitution, they have the judges and politicians, anyone who is anyone that visits the girls, the guy is only allowed to fuck with the condom on. We are to keep the sperm and freeze it, or one of the girls is made pregnant with it, then somewhere down the line the guy gets a call saying he better do what he’s told. Abazi showed us this guy’s photograph.’

  Keira was staring at her. ‘Patrick Sellar?’

  ‘If any of us screwed him we were told to freeze the bag.’

  ‘Are you one hundred per cent sure it’s him?’

  ‘Two hundred per cent,’ replied Lule. ‘He gives all the girls the creeps. None of them want chosen. He is nasty little fucker.’

  ‘D’you have a phone I could use, Jim?’ asked Keira.

  ‘You can use the one in my office next door.’

  ‘I’m calling Gary Hammond. Can the cops trace the call back to here?’

  ‘Are ye kiddin’? My line’s routed through Bangalore.’

  *

  Keira sat at the Holy Man’s desk with the receiver jammed between her ear and her shoulder, leaving her hands free to roll a cigarette.

  The voice on the end of the line said, ‘DSI Hammond’s away from his desk.’

  ‘Is he sitting there having a coffee and can’t be arsed, or he is actually away from his desk?’

  The girl on the other end hesitated, ‘Eh, can I get him to call you back?’

  ‘It’s important. Is it possible to slip a note in front of his nose saying that it’s Keira Lynch holding for him?’

  ‘I’ll give it a try.’

  The hold music hadn’t played one bar before the voice at the other end said, ‘Putting you through.’

  ‘How’s New York?’

  ‘As far as I know it’s grand. Why you asking me?’

  ‘I’ve just been watching the CCTV images of you checking through customs at JFK.’

  ‘You’ve just been watching the CCTV images of someone checking through customs.’
/>   ‘Using your passport.’

  ‘My passport was stolen in Albania. I flew back to the UK on Sunday night using a temporary visa, issued on behalf of and signed by the Albanian Policia.’

  ‘I’ve always wanted one of those snow globes with the Empire State Building inside; will you bring me one back?’

  ‘If you still don’t believe me, check with customs at Glasgow airport.’

  ‘So, where are you?’

  ‘I’ve more chance of getting you a snow globe with the Duke of Wellington wearing a traffic cone on his head.’

  ‘You saying you’re in Glasgow?’

  ‘You’re the detective; work it out.’

  ‘You’re heating up again. I’ve got a screen full of alerts flashing red . . . all of them relating to you and your activities. There’s a few government agencies looking over my shoulder too.’

  ‘A few?’

  ‘Our lot and the Americans.’

  ‘What’s it got to do with them?’

  ‘Who knows, but we’ve been asked to keep a soft eye on you. We raided your office. Took away a shitload of boxes. That’s how hot you are right now.’

  ‘I heard.’

  ‘We were “encouraged” to seek a warrant. When we applied for it, one had already been written up. Seems to me that somebody’s a bit over keen to do you some damage. Not allowed to mention any names, but that wee shite Sellar has been shouting his mouth off to anyone willing to listen. I wouldn’t let him get behind you: you’ll end up with his fangs in your neck.’

  ‘I’ve got my back covered.’

  ‘He’s a sneaky wee fuck. Be careful.’

  ‘Should you be telling me all this?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then you’re the one better be careful.’

  ‘Why did you go AWOL? I would’ve thought you, of all people, would be desperate to see that bastard E Zeze swinging from a rope.’

  ‘I am and I will.’

  ‘Where d’you want to meet?’

  ‘I don’t want to meet. I need you to do me a favour first.’

  ‘In return for what?’

  ‘I’ll tell you where I’m going to be at nine o’clock tomorrow morning and you can make an arrest in front of the whole Scottish media.’

  ‘What does the favour involve?’

  ‘Were any DNA tests ever done on Kaltrina Dervishi’s baby?’

  ‘Fucksake, Keira, just a small favour, yeah?’

  ‘Is it standard practice?’

  ‘In a murder case, yes.’

  ‘Where would the file be kept?’

  ‘In a filing cabinet.’

  ‘Can you find it and let me know?’

  ‘That filing cabinet could be in the Procurator Fiscal’s office, or the Advocate Depute’s office. It could be anywhere.’

  ‘No copies?’

  Hammond was quiet for a moment, then, ‘Is that it?’

  ‘If I get a blood sample over to you, can you send it to a lab and get it tested?’

  ‘You can’t see me, but I’m sitting here shaking my head in disbelief at your bloody nerve.’

  ‘How long will the results take?’

  ‘If I fast track it, maybe twenty-four hours.’

  ‘I’ll stick it in a cab just now, but only if you promise not to arrest the driver and ask him where he picked it up from.’

  ‘Only if you promise me this isn’t going to land me in all kinds and colours of shit.’

  ‘I promise.’

  ‘Okay, then I won’t arrest the driver. Where can I arrest you tomorrow morning?’

  ‘At my office.’

  ‘I don’t like having my picture taken. Why don’t you make your way to Pitt Street and hand yourself in? I could do without the media scrum, to be honest.’

  ‘I’ll only hand myself in to you.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be there.’

  ‘Might be better: I’m not looking my best at the moment. See you at Pitt Street, nine a.m.’

  ‘I can pick up the blood sample just now if you like. Where are you?’

  ‘Bangalore,’ replied Keira.

  *

  Keira sat with the fresh roll-up hanging limply between her lips staring the long stare.

  There was a knock at the door and the Holy Man entered the room.

  ‘Just checking yer okay, doll. You’ve been gone a while.’

  ‘Enjoying the comforts of this chair: finding it hard to stand up.’

  ‘Aye it’s a Hermann Miller. Pure brilliant if you’ve got a dodgy back.’

  ‘Do they make anything like this for a dodgy soul?’

  ‘Glasgow’s malt whisky.’

  ‘I’ll give that a try.’

  ‘Ye want some? I’ve got a bottle of Auchentoshan over there in the drinks cabinet. None of yer high-street shite. This stuff’s so good the angels wanted more than their fair share.’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  The Holy Man walked over to a retro drinks cabinet and flipped the mirrored lid down. The glass door panels showed a lake scene with Swans and willow trees silhouetted against a pale blue background.

  ‘I like the cabinet.’

  ‘Genuine article from the fifties: belonged to my ma. Only thing I kept after she died, everything else was shite. Da was an alkie: pawned anything decent my ma brought home so she stopped bringing stuff home and lived like a nun. First thing I did when I got some money was buy her a house, told her she could have anything she wanted, but by that point she wasn’t interested. Just happy being on her own.’

  McMaster had poured two glasses and handed one to Keira. ‘It’s been a tough couple of weeks.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Your face’s some state, doll. I hope you gave as good as you got.’

  ‘I might have to come to church with you on Sunday.’

  ‘S’that right?’

  Keira nodded.

  ‘Confession?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Mortal sin or venial?’

  Keira shot McMaster a glance.

  ‘Venial’s a word.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Those are your two main types, but there’s a whole range of options in each category. I’m a fuckin’ expert in all of them. Venial is yer stuff like swearing and thinking bad thoughts, mortal is acting on those thoughts. It’s a bit more serious: carries a heftier penalty.’

  ‘I’ll go for mortal, then.’

  ‘How many times did you sin?’

  ‘Three or four. I’d have to work it out.’

  ‘No need to come to church, I’ll give you absolution right now, Keira: knowing you, they must have deserved it. Sláinte.’

  ‘Sláinte,’ replied Keira, downing the whisky in one gulp. ‘I feel like I owe you so much already, Jim, but d’you mind if I ask one more favour?’

  ‘We’ve spoke about this already, doll. You don’t owe me anything – I owe you everything. I’m your genie in the bottle. Whatever it is, ask: and if I can do, I will do.’

  ‘Can you still pick a lock?’

  Thirty-six

  Patrick Sellar was sitting at his bespoke kitchen table – the one with the marble top and hand-turned legs designed to match the hand-painted cupboards. He was making noises about trying to catch up with some work when the doorbell rang. For a moment he considered hiding the half-empty bottle of white in the fridge, then thought Who cares if I’m drinking at home on my own? and left the bottle where it was. He’d stayed in the Clutha Bar longer than he’d intended, talking through the ramifications of Keira Lynch’s disappearance with his friend Judge George Granville, the pair finally reaching a gentleman’s agreement that Lynch was the perfect fall guy if the trial barrel-rolled on top of them. They would speak with one voice in their condemnation of Keira Lynch’s behaviour, spend a little energy discrediting her, then move to have the bitch disbarred.

  After three more for the road, Sellar had called a cab.

  He staggered a little as he pushed back from the table and headed out into
the hall to check the videophone. The security light had been triggered outside, but the small screen showed no one at the door. Sellar checked his watch. It was just after eleven: he wasn’t expecting anyone and it was too late for a neighbour to call in.

  He slipped into the front room without putting the light on and pulled the curtain aside, just enough to give a view of the front steps. The porch was empty, the driveway clear and there was no one on the street outside his house. There were no cars parked on the road either. Sellar made a growling noise and said in a loud voice, ‘Fuck off, whoever you are, I have a dog here,’ then added, ‘that hasn’t been fed,’ as he made barking noises and growled his way back into the hall.

  He stopped with a jolt, when he heard a voice from the kitchen reply, ‘Miaow.’

  Sellar stood framed in the doorway struggling to keep the twist of anger from his mouth. ‘Are we adding breaking and entering to our list of crimes and misdemeanours, Miss Lynch?’

  ‘If I’d come to the front door would you have let me in?’

  ‘Certainly – after I’d phoned the police. If you keep racking up offences at this rate you’ll be joining the lifers. I can’t help but admire the theatricality behind your sudden appearance, but I still feel compelled to ask what the fuck you think you’re doing in my kitchen? Shouldn’t you be down at the nearest police station handing yourself in?’

  ‘Got that appointment booked for tomorrow morning.’

  ‘In that case I refer you to my previous question. What the fuck are you doing here?’

  ‘I thought it was time we had that pre-trial meeting that we never got round to. Thought I’d run you through the prosecution’s case: make sure we’re singing Amen together.’

  ‘We’re a little beyond that, I’m afraid. You had your chance.’

  ‘I’m not talking about E Zeze’s trial . . . I’m talking about yours.’

  Keira was spinning a kitchen knife on the marble surface of the table. Flicking the blade with her index finger, stopping it after one revolution then repeating. The noise was already starting to annoy Sellar. ‘D’you mind? That one piece of marble alone cost nearly three grand: I’d be grateful if you didn’t rout a fucking circle in the middle of it. Can you give me the knife.’