He cradled his mug, eyeing me. “Shay says you probably didn’t see what happened, from where you were. You thought that Mike Gordon fellow had taken Conall off the cliff with him, didn’t you?”
I nodded. “A murder-suicide charge, yes, that’s what it looked like.”
He shook his head, just a little, and grunted. “That was his intention, but Conall jumped off backwards before he reached him.” He pulled out his phone, found what he was looking for and handed it across. I saw a photo of a pair of free climbers, scaling what looked to be an impossible cliff face. I zoomed in. It was Conall and Shay, grinning at each other like a pair of lunatics. They both looked as if they were having the time of their lives. Daniel swallowed the last of his tea and put his empty mug down. “An old friend of the boys took that shot in Sicily, a couple of years back. They’re always doing things like that, trying to give me a bloody heart attack. If it’s not climbing, it’s skydiving or base jumping or something just as bad. Still, I expect he’d have died yesterday without all that experience.”
“I had no idea he did anything like that,” I admitted as I handed the phone back. All those conversations along the lines of “Did you have a nice holiday with your friends?” “Yes, it was very relaxing, lovely beaches.” Daniel shrugged again.
“I’m not surprised. Conall’s become very practised at keeping his work and private lives separate. His cousin’s odd little arrangement with The Ids works well enough to suit them both, but it does have its drawbacks. We have to be careful about how much people get to know.”
“Odd?” I had no idea what that was supposed to mean. He gave me another considering look, deciding how much more he should tell me, or how to phrase what he was willing to reveal.
“Our Shay possesses some unique skills that make him invaluable to a certain governmental department... not that they’ll ever get him to sign any form of a contract. He doesn’t trust them quite rightly, and there are certain things he won’t do.” Daniel stopped himself again there and thought some more, “It took some doing, but he finally convinced the Invisible Division, as he calls the chaps working up here in Scotland, to take a ‘glass half full’ view of the situation. So he’s ended up as an independent civilian consultant.” He gave me another headshake with a wry smile. “That boy’s so smart he makes the rest of us look brain-damaged.”
That might have been the most unlikely thing I’d ever heard. Conall’s father was a top-level aerospace engineer; he’d even consulted for NASA! I didn’t think anyone could be much smarter than he was.
Daniel made a little dismissive gesture with his hand, still reading my face. “They eventually conceded everything he asked for. He has the clearances and most of the freedoms he wanted.”
I blinked. And whoever heard of anyone bargaining with the boys from the Box like that?
“What?” my mouth said stupidly. Daniel grinned.
“Yeah, the Ids used to say that a lot too, just like that. People who don’t know Shay get the wrong idea sometimes, although I’ll admit he can come across as a bit of an oddball, if you don’t know him like we do. He’s not great around strangers. Drink your tea now, before it goes cold, Caitlin.” And that was all that Daniel was prepared, or authorised, to say.
I sipped a little more tea whilst I digested that last titbit, then abandoned the rest so we could retrace our steps back to the lifts. After hearing all that, I was dying to meet the genuine article at last.
Conall gave me a smiling little wave as we walked back in, before turning to shoot his cousin a meaningful look. Shay dutifully shuffled over from where he’s been staring out of the window.
“I’m sorry if I was a little short with you yesterday, Sergeant,” he apologised, squirming a little but looking me in the eye, so I could be sure he meant it. My suspicion that Daniel had been hinting that his nephew was ‘on the spectrum’ heightened a little further. “I’m afraid I wasn’t quite myself at the time.” He offered me his right hand, but it would have been both unwise and needlessly cruel to shake it.
What had Daniel said? “…flinging himself down that cliff.” He hadn’t been exaggerating.
He’d torn half of his nails off and made a good start on skinning both of his beautiful, long-fingered hands. I had a feeling that he hadn’t noticed at the time and wouldn’t have cared anyway, not if Daniel had been correct about the rest of it too. Both hands were covered in a pungent ointment that made them glisten moistly.
“Don’t be an idiot,” Conall told him, coming to my rescue as the moment threatened to become awkward. “She’ll get your weird, stinky gunk all over her if she touches that mess.”
“Oh, right,” he snatched the offered limb back as if surprised by the sight of it. “Sorry.”
“Not at all, Mr Keane,” I reassured him. “You don’t have anything to apologise for. I’m just glad that you were where you were needed yesterday.” Daniel beamed at me, as if to let me know that I’d said exactly the right thing.
“How are you feeling today, Caitlin?” Conall butted in, patting the side of his bed invitingly, so I went over to perch on the edge of it.
“A lot better than you are, I should think. A bit stiff and sore but pretty good, actually. Honestly, Conall, that Daryl clown barely did more than scratch me. The doc who fixed me up said I’ll have nothing but thin white scars to remember it by.” I looked him over. “I doubt they’d say the same about you.”
He was wearing some old running kit with the top hanging open over his extensively bruised torso. There was a long dressing stuck in place down his left side, but they’d left the rest free, because of the hairline fractures on the ribs. He reached out with his right hand and picked up a little tub of pills, rattling it cheerfully.
“They’ve given me the good stuff, if I need it,” the seal wasn’t broken though, “and I’ve had much worse.” Shay hopped up onto the other bed and pulled the laptop tray towards him.
“That’s true,” he said, pulling a wry face. “Our Con’s always been a bit accident-prone.” He’d slipped a pair of touchscreen gloves on, the thinnest and softest I’d ever seen, to protect his computer from the gunk. Daniel pulled up a chair so he could watch Shay work and declined to comment. Wait, wasn’t that the same laptop he’d been using yesterday?
“Shay nipped out with one of McKinnon’s boys to fetch his van once da turned up to take over here,” Conall explained, seeing what had caught my attention. “Not that I needed a babysitter.” A double snort from the other two. Conall shot them a look. “Unlike some people I could mention so no, it’s not the same thing at all! Are you in yet Shay?”
“I said it’d be about an hour. Give it a few more minutes.” Then, in a low mumble, he added, “And at least I don’t scowl suspiciously at your doctors and nurses every time they go near you either.” Conall grunted and turned his full attention back to me.
“Nobody showed up at the Ramsay place last night,” he told me. “So Shay’s going to cross-check the properties that Collins and Mills listed yesterday against the cell towers that picked up Crawford’s phone’s IMEI.”
I liked that idea. Any tower within reach would have registered the phone’s International Mobile Equipment Identity number, whichever SIM card he’d used. Only…
“Don’t we need a signed warrant to get the service provider to supply that information?”
“Ugh!” Shay muttered disgustedly, “Not if you’re in a hurry.” I craned round to see what he was doing, but he was switching tabs too quickly for me to read anything. “That Volvo was registered to dear, departed Vince Martinelli, by the way. All legit and no help at all. Oh, that’s interesting!”
“What?” Conall peered over.
“That old ruin they took the hostages to. Guess who the owner is.”
“Ferguson?” I hazarded.
“No, it can’t be him, we checked his holdings yesterday,” Conall told me. “He doesn’t own anything up here. Who, Shay?”
“Archie Ramsay. He bought it nearl
y thirty years ago. The place even had planning permission to expand the cottage back then. Six acres of land too. Must have been that lump sum he got when he married Wendy.”
“What lump sum?” I asked. Conall explained.
“Their parents left the whole farm to Gareth, but there was a clause in the will that said Archie was to get ten thousand if he ever married.”
“Gareth had to take out another loan to pay that,” Shay added. “I bet he wasn’t too thrilled about it either, after already dealing with the Inheritance Tax.” Then my sluggish mind caught up with what they’d said before and finally added two and two together.
“You’re a hacker?” I blurted. Shay stopped what he was doing and gave me an aggrieved look.
“More of a cyberghost,” Conall corrected me. “He can walk, undetected, through any wall.”
Shay sniffed. “I’m not an anything. I’m lots of things.”
I had to give him that one. Carpenter, polyglot, computer whizz and God knew what else, except for extremely hard not to stare at, like a mesmerising work of art.
“Sorry,” I said, “but it’s something you’re good at, right?”
Daniel snorted. “If coding was an Olympic sport, I’d definitely back him for a medal.”
“Conall?” Shay had gone back to whatever he’d been doing. “We’ve got an address. Time to call McKinnon?” Conall leaned over to look.
“That’s on the Beauly, less than a thirty-minute drive to the Ramsay place. Holiday let?”
“Yeah, one of the ones on Collins’ list.”
“Can you pull up a satellite feed?” He was already tapping at his phone. “Sir? We know where Pete Ferguson’s crew have been staying.” He rattled off the address then listened, frowning slightly. “Not yet, Sir, but that’s next on the list…Yes, I did… I will.” He was starting to sound a bit testy by then, “Yes, I’m well aware of that.” Shay tapped his leg, and he looked over at the screen again. “Sir? We’re looking at a satellite feed of the place now. There’s still a car in the driveway… Yes, I’ll call straight back if it moves.” He hung up. “He’s scrambling a team immediately.”
“Let me guess,” Daniel said, getting up. “Have you eaten any breakfast yet? Did you get any sleep? Take the damned meds if you can’t! You know you need to feed yourself and sleep as much as possible if you want to heal quickly.”
That was so spot on it made me smile. Shay snickered.
“I got the strong impression last night that James McKinnon is rather fond of our Conall.” He threw his uncle a set of keys. “Grab my thermoses and get them filled too, please. Two each… but make Con’s half decaf. Top left cupboard above the sink.”
Daniel nodded. “Can I bring you anything, Caitlin?” he asked. “I’m off on a breakfast run. These two won’t touch hospital food if they can do better. Fussy buggers.” I was still stuffed from my enormous breakfast.
“Just a latte thanks, Daniel. I more than made up for missing dinner yesterday before I came over.”
“Good girl.” I got a delightful, approving smile, before he turned away to give his nephew a suspicious look. “Is your van going to let me in without the security system going ballistic, Shay?”
“Oh, right. Sorry.” He swiped and tapped at his phone. “All good, Uncle Danny.” After he’d gone out, I turned my attention back to Conall. He was looking a little drawn. Pain or fatigue?
“Did you sleep?” I asked.
He nodded. “A solid six hours after they brought me up here. What about you, Shay?”
“I napped, on and off. More than enough for now.” He stared glumly at his laptop. “This is going to be like watching paint dry until McKinnon’s team gets there.”
Conall grunted. “Stick your latest language thing on then. What’s the new one?” His cousin brightened instantly.
“Hungarian. It’s a really fun one, and there are a few different regional dialects for me to work on too.” Good grief! He thought that was fun?
“There you go then, problem solved.” Once Shay had popped in his earbuds and was happily but silently working his mouth and throat to mimic whatever he was listening to, I went to grab myself a chair, so I could rest my back, kick my trainers off and put my feet up on the bed.
“What on earth have you got your left hand and foot wrapped up in?” I asked. I’d noticed the odd, metallic fabric when I first looked him over, and the wires trailing from it.
“Oh, those are one of da’s little gizmos, his ‘kitties’. You know how cats purr when they’re injured?”
“No, I thought they only did that when they were happy.”
He shook his head. “It’s also, and primarily, a healing mechanism. The vibration speeds tissue regeneration, so damaged bones and muscles heal faster and stronger. I think that’s where the whole idea for vibration plates came from.” He reached over with his right hand and pressed a little switch on his left wrist. I heard a faint, rhythmic rumble. “Feel it.” He invited moving the arm onto his chest, so I placed a careful hand on the wrapping. The vibration I felt was stronger than I’d expected. “It reduces pain and inflammation too.”
“Seriously?”
“How can you not know any of this, Caitlin?” Ge frowned slightly. “They sell thousands of vibration plates in the UK every year, for exercise. And quite a lot of the better ones, set to the proper frequency to help with osteoporosis and injuries too. Da made sure we got one of those each ages ago. I thought it was common knowledge these days.” He nudged his cousin, who popped out an earbud. “Pass me mama cat again please.”
Shay hopped up and went to dig around in a bag by the wall and came back with what looked like a soft, black fleece throw. He gave it to Conall and went back to his recording. Once carefully unrolled, the little control box was revealed. “Wrap that around you and drape it over your leg. Careful with the wires.” I did as I was told, and he handed me the box. “It’ll keep going for twenty minutes if you don’t turn it off.” I pressed the button, and my throw began its artificial purring vibration. It felt rather pleasant once I got used to it.
“It was Shay’s idea to give mama cat a furry cover.” Conall grinned. “Nice, isn’t it? A few sessions with these a day and I should be all good in three or four weeks.” I stroked the fleece down over the cut on my thigh. Amazing! I could feel the stiffness beginning to melt away.
“Where can I get one?” I asked.
He shook his head doubtfully. “They sell vibrating massage blankets, but I don’t know if anyone’s doing quite what da did yet. You have to hit the right frequency for maximum healing effect. I’ll ask him to make you one.”
“He ought to market them.”
“I’m sure someone else will get round to it soon enough. He’s got bigger fish to fry just now, the new space race and all that.”
Daniel came back after another fifteen minutes of idle chatter, and Conall and Shay fell on his offerings like a pair of starving wolves. The smell coming from their paninis made me regret my ample breakfast a little, but it was good to see that there was nothing wrong with Conall’s appetite. He ate three of them, one after the other, and must have chugged down half a pint of coffee too.
Shay, chewing a last mouthful, nudged his cousin and pointed at the laptop which had been rolled further down the bed while they ate. We watched as McKinnon’s team drove up and spilt from their cars, but it was hard to make out much detail, even on maximum zoom.
“Six in, seven out?” Conall said doubtfully. Shay nodded.
“Looked like it. Can’t be sure, though.” We weren’t left wondering for long. Conall’s phone rang minutes later, McKinnon again. They had Pete Ferguson.
Twenty-Six
That Saturday was not my best day ever. McKinnon promised to leave Pete Ferguson for us to deal with, he could cool his heels until Monday, but I hated being forced to sit around. I sent Caitlin off to rest up, once we’d got news of the arrest, but I suspected she was planning to pop in at the station next. Lucky her! Da and Shay wer
e about as reasonable as I expected about the idea of me checking myself out too.
“One more day Conall,” Da told me firmly. “We’ll get you home tomorrow. Just behave.” Shay backed him up.
“It won’t hurt to keep that foot up a bit longer. Take some ibuprofen too, now you’ve filled your stomach. That wincey breathing thing you do when you laugh is really annoying, you know.” He’d dropped his defensive little Asperger’s act as soon as Caitlin left. Don’t get me wrong, I know Shay isn’t normal, but whatever weird wiring system he operates on, it’s beyond any known means of classification. He certainly wasn’t on that spectrum. I did as he suggested and popped the offered ibuprofen. Even hairline fractures on the ribs knew how to make themselves felt. It was alright for him. He always had something he could keep working on in his head, even when he was stuck in bed without any toys to play with. Da went off to my place to get some sleep, and I dozed most of the rest of the morning away, on and off, while Shay dug into the Ramsay clan for me.
“I’m no accountant,” he told me over lunch, generous servings of Pad Thai delivered right to our room by a lad who’d been promised a good tip for doing so. “But if Gareth Ramsay found Archie’s cache, I don’t think he tried to sell any of it. The farm accounts all seem to make perfect sense, stretching back to long before the robbery.”
“What about Mary’s brother, Iain?” I asked, fishing for another chunk of spicy chicken with my chopsticks.
“The same story really. He’s on a good salary, enough to live comfortably. He pays his bills and his mortgage on time, but everything matches up with the earnings he and his partner, Charles, bring in.” He frowned thoughtfully over his tofu and peanut mix as he chewed. “If he found them, he probably left them where they were and kept his mouth shut. A nest egg against a rainy day?”
“Yeah, and he might not have seen them at all. Just because Archie left that photo for Ferguson doesn’t mean they were buried right up against the stone. What else have you got?”
Dark of Night Page 26
