Electric Light (Blair Dubh Trilogy #3)

by Heather Atkinson

  CHAPTER 14

  The surviving villagers were huddled together in silence, trying not to look at the three dead bodies that lay on the other side of the room where Steve and Craig had placed them and covered them with tablecloths. The living had formed a circle so some had their backs to the bodies while simultaneously blocking the view of the people sat opposite them.

  Deborah and Todd weren’t speaking, sitting as far away as they could from each other while remaining in the safe zone, occasionally casting glares at one another. Everyone was shiny-faced with sweat as the humidity continued to rise along with the pressure of the situation and the room was starting to smell.

  “I think - if we get out of this alive that is - that we’re going to move,” said Lizzy, Jimmy nodding his head in agreement. “I always said I’d die in Blair Dubh but now that it’s a possibility I don’t want it to happen. I want to live somewhere normal where people don’t keep getting murdered.” Her words were quiet and small, her throat sore from crying.

  “My daughter’s always on at me to move to Edinburgh so I can be closer to her and the grandkids,” said Jeanette. “I wish I’d said yes now. If I survive I’m off.”

  The rest of the residents nodded gloomily.

  “You had the right idea Craig,” said Mary.

  “Fat lot of good it did me, I’m back here.”

  “Because the village wants you.”

  “Please Mary, I don’t believe in that crap.”

  “Yes you do. Freya does too. You’re lucky she’s not here, it wants her more than the rest of us.”

  “I said stop it. Please,” he added when his voice came out hard and cold.

  Nora was sat on the floor beside him with her foot propped up on a cushion. She rubbed a hand up and down his arm, feeling the raw strength in his muscles. She recalled the look in his eyes when he’d attacked Hughes and fear plucked at her heart. “Try and keep calm Craig, we need you calm,” she said softly.

  He nodded, closed his eyes and rested his head back against the wall, needing to block out the sight of them all just for a moment. Hughes was scrunched up in a corner, looking scared and pathetic and Craig knew if he looked at him again he’d go for him. The hatred rolled about inside him, taunting him as he recalled Docherty strangling Freya, Mad Mandy - who Hughes had let escape - egging him on and his hands tightened into fists.

  Bill glugged miserably at a bottle of beer, wishing he could get rat-arsed and block out the horror, but the alcohol didn’t seem to be having an effect. He paused, the bottle held in mid-air as he strained to listen. “Can you hear something?”

  The pub had been quiet anyway but everyone held their breath, trying to hear.

  “Sounds like engines,” Jimmy eventually said.

  “It’s the police, they’re coming,” cried Jeanette excitedly. “It’ll be over soon.”

  They all started to smile, feeling safe again.

  “I don’t think Graeme’s going to make it that easy for them,” said Craig, spoiling the good mood.

  “Don’t say that,” rasped Jeanette, tears spilling down her face.

  “Do you honestly think he’s going to just let them walk in here and spoil his fun?”

  “Give over Craig, you’re talking crap,” said Bill. “What can he do against a load of armed police?”

  “He’s already given us a glimpse of what he can do. Look at how many of us he’s already killed.”

  “Stop it,” said Lizzy. “They’re going to shoot him dead like he did to the others and set us free.”

  “She’s right,” said Jimmy. “Just leave it Craig.”

  He held up his hands. “Have it your own way but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Craig, that’s enough,” said Nora.

  He decided it would be prudent to remain quiet. He was only winding them up and killing the hope they were finally starting to feel, but part of him wanted to douse their stupid optimism, it annoyed him.

  Craig shook his head to clear it, feeling a little fuzzy and disorientated. Something had happened to him outside when the sniper had been shooting at him and he’d cradled an injured Gary in his arms, something had changed when he’d seen Hughes jump over him to save his own skin. The hatred he’d felt for both Hughes and the sniper refused to relinquish its hold on him, it was growing and he didn’t seem able to fend it off. Correction, he didn’t want to.

  “They’re getting louder, they’re coming,” said Lizzy, clinging onto her husband’s hand. “It’s over, thank God.”

  “You hear that Gary, the cavalry’s coming,” Steve told his friend. “Just hang tight and we’ll soon have you in hospital chatting up the nurses.”

  The mood changed, became more upbeat. Only Craig didn’t join in the celebrations, convinced it was far from over, scowling at their happy, smiling faces. What the fuck did they have to be happy about?

  The bang was loud, even over the thunder that was starting to return with a vengeance. They all jumped and looked at each other blankly.

  “What was that?” said Nora.

  Craig remained quiet, fighting the urge to gloat.

  “I’ll look,” said Bill.

  “Don’t be stupid, you’ll get your head shot off,” said Jimmy.

  “Someone has to.”

  “Sit back down Bill, I’ll do it,” said Craig.

  “No you won’t, you’ve taken enough risks for one day,” said Steve. “I’ll do it.”

  Before he could object Steve had belly crawled back to the damaged window, being careful to avoid the blood and gore splattered around that side of the room. He reached the window and got up on his knees. He paused to steel his nerves before looking out. It was difficult to see anything because of all the holes and cracks.

  “What can you see?” said Craig.

  “Nothing, it’s too dark. Wait a minute…I can see a bit of moonlight reflecting off something. It looks like a van but it’s at a weird angle.”

  His radio burst into life, making them all jump. What the voice had to say sent the villagers into fresh despair, all except Craig. He’d been right.

  Graeme grinned as he shot at the armed officers who were jumping out of the back of the fallen police van and racing for cover. Not that he was seriously aiming for them. These were the good guys who were nothing to do with the evil of Blair Dubh, most of them had probably never set foot in the village before. They scurried away into the night, a bunch of scared black ninjas who had no idea where the firing was coming from.

  The bomb had been a simple one, triggered when the front left wheel of the van had hit it. Graeme had prepped it so the force of the blast went downwards into the earth, not damaging the van but blasting a hole into the ground, creating a small crater that the van fell into. The road in was so narrow that none of the following vehicles could get round it, the others coming up so close behind the front vehicles that there was no room to turn around. The two police cars slammed into reverse and sped away, allowing the undamaged van to move. Before it set off the officers threw open the back doors for their colleagues to jump in. Only when they’d collected all their men did the van reverse out too, leaving only the empty lead vehicle sat at a weird angle, broken and useless.

  Graeme kept them in his sights and fired a couple of warning shots at the retreating vehicles, smiling to himself when the last vehicle disappeared from view at the end of the road. They should be kept busy for a while as they rethought their strategy, giving him the precious time he needed to complete his work. He looked back at the pub and smiled.

  “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about you,” he said in a soft, sing-song voice.

  The shouting and raised voices receded away to nothing. The occupants of the pub held their collective breath in the hope of detecting more sound but nothing drifted towards them on the air.

  “Oh my God, he killed them all, he killed the police,” exclaimed Deborah, verging on hysterics.

  “Course he didn’t,” said Craig. “He probably just w
arned them off. He couldn’t take on an entire tactical firearms unit plus back-up.”

  “You mean they’ve left us?”

  “They’ll be regrouping, trying to find another way in. They won’t abandon us, I promise you.”

  “How many of us will be left alive by the time they finally get here?” said Bill.

  “Shut up Bill,” said Lizzy firmly.

  “He’s got a point,” said Jimmy. “What’s to stop Graeme - and remember we’re still not sure this is Graeme - from bursting in here and finishing us off? We wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  “Because of this,” said Gordon, brandishing his shotgun. “This is what’s keeping him at bay.”

  “How many cartridges do you have?” said Craig.

  “Plenty, don’t you worry. So all of you sit tight. He’s not coming through that door because he doesn’t want a load of shot in his gut.”

  “See,” said Craig, trying to sound reassuring. “As long as we stay down and keep calm we’ll get out of this.”

  “No we won’t, we’re going to die,” shrieked Deborah.

  “You calm down before I slap you silly,” said Nora with surprising coldness, causing the side of Craig’s mouth to lift into a smile.

  “Nora,” chided Todd.

  “I’m sorry but look at those three dead on the floor, at poor Gary with a bullet in his back. You’re a lot better off than most,” Nora yelled at her, “so just shut your stupid mouth.”

  Deborah went quiet, to all their relief. Todd, his mood softening towards his stricken wife, shuffled beside her and enveloped her in his arms. She released a distressed sob and buried her face in his chest.

  “So what do you think happened out there?” said Bill.

  “I think the van triggered an explosive and now the vehicle’s blocking the only road in,” replied Craig.

  “How will they get into the village now?” said Jimmy.

  “There’s always the woods,” offered Lizzy.

  “They wouldn’t make it through there in the dark,” said Nora. “Those woods are deadly if you don’t know your way. They’d need someone to guide them and we’re all stuck in here.”

  “They could come in by boat,” said Craig.

  “The water’s too choppy because of the storm,” said Bill.

  “But it won’t always be,” said Craig. “They’ll find a way, trust me. They’re professionals.”

  “So’s Gary,” said Jimmy.

  They all turned to look at the man laid on the floor, pale and shaking. Steve returned to his side and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

  Craig closed his eyes and rested his head back against the wall, sick of the useless speculating. He wished they’d all shut the fuck up.

  Freya wasn’t worried when DS Muir, Craig’s friend and colleague, turned up on her doorstep. He was the one who’d loaned them the boat that they’d taken to Blair Dubh, the very same boat on which Docherty had attacked her. Both he and his girlfriend were regular visitors to their home.

  “Hello Eric,” smiled Freya, holding Petie on her hip. “Craig’s not here, he’s visiting his mum in Blair Dubh.”

  “I know. It’s you I came to see. Can I come in?”

  Freya swallowed hard. “What’s happened to my husband?”

  “He’s fine. Can I come in for a brew? I’m parched.”

  She knew he had something dreadful to impart and she was torn between desperately needing to know what it was and afraid to find out. She found it hard to catch her breath as he followed her inside and she clung onto her son for dear life.

  Eric felt sorry for her as she stood in the middle of her living room clutching her child, looking pale and frightened. He liked Freya. He knew all about her history, she’d even been nicked by some of his colleagues and he admired how she had come through so much and how she’d managed to hold her head high among Craig’s friends and work colleagues. She had a quiet dignity that he admired and she didn’t deserve what he was about to tell her.

  “Stop arsing about Eric and give it to me straight,” she said, tilting back her head, as though preparing herself to take a blow.

  “There’s a sniper operating in Blair Dubh. He’s already killed several people. Craig and Nora are fine, don’t worry.”

  She stared at him in amazement before her body sagged with relief, she’d been so sure he’d come to tell her Craig was dead. The relief was compounded by guilt because people had been murdered. She put Petie down in his playpen, afraid she’d drop him, she felt so shaky. “Who’s dead?” she rasped.

  “We don’t have any names.”

  “Then how can you be sure they’re alive?”

  “PC McKay radioed through.”

  “Steve. He’s there too?”

  He nodded. “He said DS Donaldson and his mother are fine.”

  “Craig was right, Adam Michie wasn’t the sniper?”

  “It would seem so. We think he was set-up so the real sniper could continue operating.”

  “Just like Martin Lynch tried to do to him because he was mentally ill. It’s so wrong.”

  “I know.”

  “Have you caught the sniper?”

  “It’s not as simple as that. The only road into the village is blocked. Armed response has been organised but they can’t find a safe way in.”

  “You mean the residents are stuck in the village with a mad gunman on the loose while a bunch of armed police sit about scratching their arses?” she exclaimed.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Jesus Christ, what are you all playing at?”

  “This isn’t down to me. It’s being handled by North Ayrshire Area Command but they have to consider the safety of their officers too. The sniper has already set one trap for them. No doubt he’s arranged more.”

  Freya was rocked on her feet, the situation hitting her with the force of a train. It was happening again in that fucked up village, only this time it wasn’t herself in danger, it was her husband. “Craig,” she whispered, turning her back so Eric wouldn’t see her tears.

  Eric shuffled uncomfortably. He’d never got used to breaking bad news, despite the number of times he’d had to do it. The fact this involved his friends only made it harder.

  An idea occurred to Freya that caused her body to stiffen. Her head snapped up and she spun back round to face him. “The woods.”

  “What?”

  “The woods. The police can get into the village through the woods. They’re huge, there’s no way the sniper could booby trap all of it. But it would be dangerous, there are lots of slopes and ravines in there. Docherty fell and broke his neck and that was in broad daylight. They’d need a guide, someone who knows those woods like the back of their hand, which I do, they haven’t changed since I was a wean.”

  “Now hang on Freya, that could be incredibly dangerous. I don’t think they’d even let a civilian anywhere near that village.”

  “Someone has to do something or they’re all going to die.” He looked uncertain but she was determined to change his mind. “At least let me put it to the powers-that-be. For Craig.”

  “Alright,” he eventually replied. “But I want it noted for the record that I think this is a terrible idea.”

  “Objection noted.” She picked up Petie and started pulling on his shoes. “Can you swing by James and Vee’s? I need to leave Petie with them. There’s no way I’m taking him anywhere near that village.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Graeme sauntered back into the village, happy now the emergency services were being held at bay. They’d fart about for hours assessing the situation, deciding what to do next. That left him enough time to complete his work and get out. Worry niggled at the back of his mind. What if he left it too late and he couldn’t make his escape? He would be stopped from continuing his great work.

  The isolation of his situation hit him, as it had been doing more and more lately. If he had a partner there would be someone to carry on if he was arrested or killed. The sense of lon
eliness had been getting stronger lately. It was a hard life wandering from place to place, not putting down any permanent roots, keeping everyone at a distance. He liked women, would have liked to start a relationship, settle down, have a child. He envied ordinary people their ordinary lives, he’d not known normal since he was twelve years old.

  Graeme hesitated, his grip on the gun slackening. The thunder was returning, sweeping in from the sea, the clouds in the sky lit up from the inside by the accompanying lightning. He felt like that little boy again, scared, afraid. Never had the police got this close to him before. What would become of society if he was stopped? Evil would be allowed to flourish and that could not happen.

  He shrugged himself out of his melancholy. God had charged him with a sacred mission and he would not allow sentiment to get the better of him, it was just a trick of the devil to distract him.

  He stood in the centre of the main street, ignoring the bodies lying around him. As far as he was concerned he’d liberated those poor souls from burning forever in hell and returned them to the Saviour. But the rest of the disgusting sacks of evil were still holed up in the pub, thinking its thick walls and locks could save them. He was convinced he’d killed at least one of them in there with the volley of fire, the screams and exclamations had carried all the way up the road, sound had the strange habit of carrying far here. But now they would be cowering in a corner, well out of reach of the windows and Gordon was in there with that beast of a shotgun. He turned cold as he recalled the damage one of those things could do, the shredded bodies of his own family a testament to the power of such a weapon. He had no wish to get anywhere near it again. In fact just the memory of Gordon firing at him with that thing, hearing the roar it made as it spat its shot at him was enough to make his knees weak, the memories rushing back, surrounding him, overwhelming him. He saw his father’s chest cavity torn open, his mother’s dead eyes staring at him as he cowered under the table, his sister’s screams as she was mercilessly blown apart. Finally he saw Malcolm’s ruined corpse.

  Graeme closed his eyes and shivered. That would not be him. All he had to do was stay out of range of Gordon’s shotgun and he’d be fine. The weapon was big and cumbersome, it didn’t have the range or accuracy of his rifle. He had the upper hand in every way, he told himself in an attempt to rid himself of the last of the clinging memories and the cold fear that always accompanied him, reducing him to a child again. He bent double, resting his arms on his knees, the rifle clutched in one hand, and breathed deeply, his stomach rolling over.