Winter knew all right. Every word that Hepburn spoke felt like it had come from his own mouth. It was oddly reassuring to find someone of the same mindset. Maybe he wasn’t as strange as he’d thought.
It seemed Hepburn was thinking the same thing. ‘Do you ever want to do some explores but don’t because it’s a bit dangerous or too bloody stupid to do them on your own?’
He considered the implication of the question. ‘Yeah. What are you suggesting?’
A shrug of the shoulders. ‘Sometimes it might make sense to keep an eye out for each other. Places where you’d want someone to be there if you got stuck or fell.’
‘Don’t know. I’m used to doing this on my own.’
‘Christ, I’m not suggesting we get married or anything. Just when it suited.’
‘Could give it a go, I guess.’
They clinked their pints together and the deal was sealed.
That’s how it started. They climbed all the cranes on the Clyde, they explored most of the buildings that tried to keep them out and they photographed wherever they went. Both of them had a feel for historic buildings and made a vow to get into as many as they could of the ones that were marked for demolition. It was their small rebellion against the gentrification that was cleaning up by tearing down. Schools, offices, factories, libraries, banks. Anywhere that couldn’t be turned into a pub or converted into overpriced flats ran the risk of being obliterated so that the land could host some throw-me-up new build.
It helped that they both worked weird hours and they forged a bond by being up and about when most of the city was asleep. If it was three in the morning and you were in the darkness in a former mental asylum then you needed to be able to trust the person you were with.
For three years it was great. Then it stopped. Euan packed up and moved to London.
He and Winter had already stopped urbexing together by then but that was a different story, one that he didn’t like to think about.
Chapter 18
Tuesday evening
Remy Feeks could only stare at his laptop screen. The Odeon. A woman’s body. The news report hadn’t said much more but then it didn’t need to. Not for him.
It couldn’t have been anything else. Not after the Molendinar. It was just too much of a coincidence. The Odeon meant urbexing. It had to.
He sat for an age, looking at it open-mouthed and with the feeling that something was crawling over his skin. He’d barely left the house, refusing Gabby’s pleas and threats to meet up, instead just sitting there obsessively poring over every bit of news he could find online. Then he’d found this. The Odeon.
He’d been scared before but now he was terrified. For him and for Gabby. More for her. He was hiding away at home and she was out there, exploring places like the Sentinel Works without him there to look out for her. It couldn’t be safe. He grabbed his phone and texted her, urging her to be careful, asking her not to go out. She got back ten minutes later to say she already had a mother and didn’t need another one.
He had to do something and while he didn’t know what that was, at least he thought he knew where to look.
OtherWorld was the main UK urbexing forum. He’d used it for about five years, almost as long as he’d known that exploring old places even had a name. People would gather online, post their photographs, chat and get ideas for places to explore or share leads for new locations.
He didn’t think anyone would urbex in Glasgow without knowing of OtherWorld. Most probably, although you just couldn’t know, every urbexer would use it.
It was a community of sorts. People who largely didn’t know each other but knew enough to say hello in the passing online. Not so different from the real world these days. There were those quick to congratulate someone on a good explore but there were also those quick to criticize and find fault, keyboard warriors who took what pleasure they could in being a pain in the arse to others.
Most people were cool though. They just loved what they did and wanted to share. Photography was a huge part of it, not just proof that you’d done what you’d said but to let others see what was out there. Often it was a case of capturing it before it disappeared. In a city like Glasgow which was doing pretty well, places tended to be abandoned for less time. They’d either be quickly demolished or tarted up into something else and pressed back into service. Their job, and lots of them saw it that way, was to get photos for posterity while they could.
It was all pretty much anonymous and that was the way it had to be. What they were doing was basically illegal, even if it was just common trespass, and that was the first reason not to put your real name to it. But also, it was just the nature of the beast. You got in, got out, no need to shout about it. They all liked the fact that it was a bit cloak and dagger. They were evening explorers. Night Ninjas.
At least that was the way it had seemed until now.
Secret identities had seemed cool and exciting. Now though it looked like the forum was hiding something. It was hiding everyone and everything and he didn’t like it. The forum was full of names that he knew by sight, but he could brush past these people in the street and wouldn’t know who they were. But maybe they’d know him.
Tubz. Digger9. BigTomDog. Ultrabex. DrJohn. SkeletonBob. Jonesy78.
All these stupid names. Did they hide witnesses or victims? Did they hide a killer?
His own user name was Magellan93. It had seemed like a good idea at the time but now it just sounded a bit wanky. He wasn’t a real explorer. He collected trolleys, he didn’t circumnavigate the earth.
He had to figure out what he wanted, what he hoped for. Help, reassurance, friends, answers. All of those. Maybe most of all he wanted to be told that everything would be all right. It was something that he’d doubted even before he read about the Odeon. From the moment he did, he knew there was something seriously bad going on.
The forum had a search facility and he put Glasgow into the keyword field and combed through the results. He went through every post and jotted down the name of every user who had replied on it in the past few years and their location. It was a long and laborious process, maybe a pointless one, but he had to feel he was doing something.
There was seven years’ worth of reports and a long list of people who’d either posted them or commented on them. All those made-up names, all those masks. The only one he knew in real life was Vixxxen, who was Gabby. He divided the others up into three separate lists. Glasgow. Rest of Scotland. Outside Scotland. He counted how often they’d posted and when. After an hour, he was confident he had the names of all the regular Glasgow urbexers. He had his list.
Tunnel Man was probably among them. In fact, Remy was sure he was. The person that killed Tunnel Man? It scared him silly that he - or she - might be in there too.
There were just fifteen names, a manageable number for what he had in mind. He sent all of them the same private message. If he was right, then at least one of them would be unable to reply. And maybe one of them would be unable to resist replying.
Hi guys. How do you fancy getting together for a forum outing? Just the Glasgow crowd. Nothing too difficult, not the Molendinar or anything stellar like that. I was thinking we could walk down the line to the old Botanics station then go for a couple of drinks on Byres Road. If the Botanics is too tame for some of you then you can just go straight to the pub and meet us there. It’s short notice but how about Thursday night?
He pushed send and immediately wondered just what the hell he’d done.
Chapter 19
Wednesday morning
‘Jacko. What have you got?’
‘Quite a bit, Rachel. Let’s just say that Saturn are of interest to us. A colleague has them on his list so I didn’t know all I might have but I’m up to speed now.’
‘I’m all ears.’
‘Well the first thing you need to know is that Saturn is not where this starts. There was once a company called Midas Homes and then one named LDM Holdings. Midas went bust with a tra
il of debts and a short time later LDM started up with the same client list. Nine months after that, LDM hit the wall and were liquidated.’
‘Then they became Saturn?’
‘Not quite. First there was Valhalla Homes, the phoenix that had risen from the flames when LDM burned.’
‘I thought they hit the wall?’
‘They hit the wall and burst into flames. It’s a regular occurrence with some companies in this business. Valhalla then led to Hastings Developments, hit the wall and then Hastings became Saturn.’
‘I’m slightly confused here, Jacko.’
‘You’re supposed to be. These kind of companies try to muddy the water as much as possible because when it’s clear they just look like the crooks they are. All five firms owned, sold, built and demolished properties around Scotland and the north of England. And all five have been dreadfully unlucky at various times over the years. That’s what brought them to the attention of IFIG.’
‘Unlucky how? Fires?’
‘Yes. Nine of them that we know of.’
‘Nine? And yet they’ve never been done for it? Nine fires in properties that they owned and yet they still operate?’
‘Nine times they haven’t been caught. In firms that technically aren’t connected. And the firms don’t still operate, only Saturn. Officially, of course, they have done nothing wrong. Officially, they are the unfortunate victims of firebugs and bad luck. Officially, they are merely companies of interest.’
‘And unofficially?’
‘I wouldn’t trust them to build a Lego house without putting a match to it. They’re crooks. They shut down, dump their debt and start again. They torch their own properties if they can’t get the planning permission they want or if it’s just cheaper to rebuild from scratch rather than renovate a listed building the way it should be.’
Narey scribbled notes on the pad in front of her, underlining crooks and nine fires.
‘So, Mark Singleton. Tell me about him.’
‘He’s just a front man. On the payroll rather than ever owning the business. I made a call and the word is he likes the limelight, the appearance of being in charge. He’s a chancer. A bit of a risk taker, likes getting his photo in the paper.’
‘A front man? But I checked myself and he’s listed as a director.’
Jackson laughed. ‘Almost none of the directors are real. The names you are seeing are wives or children of those serving seven-year bans as directors after the previous companies bit the dust, leaving creditors in the lurch. It’s all front.’
‘So if Singleton’s the front, who really owns Saturn? Could it be the Mullens?’
‘I guess it could be, sure. Come on, what’s this about, Rachel? You’re not chasing fires, I know that much.’
‘Saturn owned the old Odeon site. And Mullen Security had their name on the fence.’
She could almost hear his brain joining the dots. ‘And that’s where the woman’s body was found. I must be getting slow in my old age, should have made that connection myself. Okay, what do you want me to do?’
‘Keep looking, keep asking around.’
‘Happy to do it. Saturn are exactly the kind of company we’re after. Our clients aren’t keen on paying out for fires that these cowboys have started themselves.’ ‘Jacko, if I want to get at this mob, where do I look?’ ‘Well, it’s not easy, they’re sneaky bastards. But my advice, for what it’s worth, is that you don’t look for what Saturn are doing but what they’ve not been able to do. That’s when these guys get dirty.’
Chapter 20
The call to DCI Addison’s office was always a dubious pleasure and Narey feared this one would be no different. She was armed with the feedback from her chat with Johnny Jackson but she still felt a nervousness she wasn’t enjoying.
Addison was inevitably on the phone but cut the conversation short as soon as she stuck her head round the door. Alarm bells rang immediately.
‘I’ll get back to you, Charlie,’ he was saying. ‘There’s someone more important than you I need to talk to. Yeah - and the same to you with knobs on. I’ll call you back.’ He hung up. ‘Hi, Rachel, good to see you. Take a seat.’
The alarm bells were now ringing like a cathedral had been overrun by a troop of chimpanzees and they were swinging on the ropes.
‘I’ll stand, sir, if it’s all the same. What’s the bad news?’
He grimaced. ‘Look, Rachel, don’t start.’
‘You’re trying to be nice. Of course there’s bad news. What is it?’
He spread his arms wide as if ready to make some plea for understanding then gave up. ‘Sit down.’
‘No. Just tell me.’
‘Fucksake. Okay, have it your way. Rachel, you’ve got enough on your plate with the Molendinar body and everything else you’re working on. You don’t need another murder case on top of that. I’m giving the Odeon woman to Jeff Storey and Rico.’
It felt as if she’d been slapped.
‘What? No way. There’s no need for that. I’m all over this. Seriously, I can handle both. And I want both.’
‘It’s not about what you want. I’ve got people queuing up who want this. It’s about clearing both cases up and doing whatever makes that most likely. You running two separate investigations does not qualify as best practice. I’m taking it off you for your own good and the good of the team.’
‘My own good?’
‘I said don’t start. You know there’s guys out there gunning for you as it is. Some of them resent your promotion and it’s not going to help for you to be running two murder cases. They’ll be desperate for you to fuck up and I don’t want that to happen.’
‘I’ve no intention of fucking up. And I got promoted because I earned it.’
‘I know that. Christ, it was me that recommended you. But there’s knuckle-draggers out there who can’t see past your skirt and won’t believe you got it on merit. They’re the ones who will stir up trouble and I’m not giving them the ammunition. One murder case is plenty.’
‘So you are saying I should give in to guys who are still coming to terms with the fact that women have got the vote? That doesn’t work for me.’
‘No, I’m not saying that. You know I’m not. You’re a better cop than any of them and that’s all the more reason not to give them any room to slag you off. It’s not just about them either. I’ve a duty to manage resources and having half the MIT team sitting scratching their balls while you take on every case in the book isn’t the best way to do that.’
‘Leaving me in charge of the case is the best way to do it. We’ve got a probable name for the victim and if dental records match then I’m going to inform the husband.’
‘No.’
‘I’ve talked to the guy in charge at Saturn and there’s no doubt he’s dodgy. I’ve got Johnny Jackson all over the company history and it stinks. Saturn is a phoenix firm with a history of unexplained fires and they’re tied at the hip with the Mullens. I’m on this.’
‘No!’ He was shouting now too. ‘The Mullens? Are you trying to give me reasons to take you off this? If they are involved in any way then we’ll need to liaise with Organized Crime. You’re not getting all of that. Storey and Rico can pick it all up quickly enough. We need—’
‘This is out of order.’
‘Don’t push it, Rachel. I’ve made my decision. And unless you can give me a very good reason not to do this—’
She blurted it out before she could think it through. ‘I think the cases are linked.’
There was a bemused pause before he laughed in her face. ‘What? They’re linked. And you’ve just worked this out now?’
‘No, it’s a connection I’ve been looking at. I think it’s got legs and it makes sense for me to pursue both.’
‘This will be good. Go on.’
She breathed deeply, clutched at a straw, said a silent prayer to Danny Neilson and hoped for the best. ‘I think both cases are linked to urbexing.’
His face screwed u
p as if she’d spoken in Swahili. ‘Urbexing? I knew this would be good. What the hell is that?’
‘It’s a hobby. A pursuit, I guess. Short for urban exploration. People go into abandoned buildings and the like. Places they’re not supposed to go. Places like—’
‘Like the Molendinar Burn? Really?’
‘Yes. And places like the old Odeon. Both are known sites for urbexers. The people who do this kind of thing.’
Addison scratched his head and was clearly regretting the entire conversation. ‘People who break into places. They’ve got a fancy name now, have they? In my day we called them thieves.’
‘They don’t steal things. That’s not the point.’
‘So what is the point?’
‘The real point is that I think the cases could be linked. Yes, it might be speculation. Yes, it might come to nothing. But it’s worth a look. And for that reason you should keep me on both.’
He stared at her for a while, long enough for her to see the wheels turning in his head. He was almost there but she saw him pull back.
‘No. This is nonsense. You can’t just pluck this stuff out of thin air.’
‘I’ve already got Becca Maxwell checking it out. It’s not like I’ve just made it up. What do you take me for?’
She hoped he wouldn’t answer that. She had got Maxwell to check it out after the Odeon find but with no real expectation that there was anything in it. She still didn’t believe it but right then it was all she had.
‘Rachel, I’ve made my mind up.’
‘Give me a bit more time.’
‘No.’
‘Give me till the end of the day.’
He groaned. ‘You really think there might be something in this?
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