by Ed James
Farrell put his hand on his heart, his lips pouting. ‘That saddens me.’
‘I’m not saying anything you haven’t heard before, you stoat.’
‘Stoat.’ Farrell burst out laughing, head back and roaring. ‘Haven’t heard that in a while. Anyway, all my partners are over-age.’
‘Bullshit.’ That got a kick in the shins from Chantal. ‘Okay, so who was this big Russian guy then?’
Just like that, Farrell lost all of his humour. ‘You’ll need to be more specific, friend.’
‘Big lumbering guy.’ Hunter leaned across the table, elbows touching wood, and crunched his hands together. ‘The one you either tried to escape with this evening or who was trying to kill you.’
And now it seemed Farrell couldn’t make any eye contact with Hunter. ‘I’ve no idea who you’re talking about.’
‘Well, this guy knows you. He drove up to your caravan. Looked like he meant business, too. And he’s got previous. In assassination.’
Farrell’s eyes bulged. His fingers were clasping and unclasping. A bead of sweat ran down his neck.
‘People who you seem to know too. Keith Wilson. He was also scoping out Shug’s cottage in Fortrose.’
‘Christ.’ Farrell put his head in his hands. ‘Christ.’
‘You’re safe with us, Derek. Nobody can harm you in here.’ Hunter let him squirm, holding the offer over his head like a sword ready to strike. ‘Now why would someone want to kill you, Derek?’
Still nothing.
‘Right now, I can see six good reasons someone would want to kill you. Probably a lot more victims than that who just haven’t come forward.’ All that got was a shake of the head. ‘But this big guy?’
Farrell looked over at his lawyer and cleared his throat. He sat back and folded his arms, staring at the table top, clearly avoiding their gaze. ‘He’s called Admir.’
‘Admir? Doesn’t sound Russian to me.’
‘That’s because it’s not.’
‘So where is he from?’
Farrell kept quiet.
‘Keep talking or I walk out of here and you’re going to be inside for a long, long time.’
‘I don’t know his surname. But I do know he’s Albanian.’
Hunter looked round at Chantal, saw his fears reflected in her eyes. Albanians were the worst news around. Big gangs running a lot of illegal business in the UK. And brutal with it, too. Then back at Farrell, whose eyebrows surely couldn’t go any higher. ‘Persuade me.’
‘I know Admir. Or rather Big Neil does.’
‘Who is he?’
‘Big Neil. He’s a friend. That’s all you need to know. He’s involved with these Albanians, or rather he’d like to be. It’s his caravan I was staying in. He rents the caravan off someone. Could be Al Capone for all I know. Who cares?’
‘I do.’
‘Well, I can’t help you, friend.’
‘It’s yourself you need to help. Probably worth you winding the clock back to before we found you in Edinburgh.’
‘Right, I heard you were looking for me. I knew Big Neil had access to a caravan in Kingussie, a few miles from Cromarty.’
‘A few miles? It’s an hour’s drive.’
‘Is it?’ Farrell shrugged. ‘Well, I figured I’d stay there until the heat died down on the… on what you were investigating me for. But then he had to go to London for some Albanian shite and I was getting really fucking bored. Went to Cromarty and got chatting to some guy off the boats, Shug. That guy put this couple on to me. Like this American couple who wanted a lot of gear. Had money to burn. Coke, E, special K, bit of speed. Pair of them were up and down more than my eight-incher.’
Patel elbowed his arm. ‘Keep it civil.’
‘But that was later, after I got back from Edinburgh. First was this guy Shug seemed to be mates with. Said he was a journalist or something. I thought I was in the shite, but turns out they had this block of pure heroin. Pure heroin. Not street stuff, uncut pharmaceutical-grade.’
Hunter’s heart started racing. ‘He give you his name?’
‘Keith.’ Farrell’s eyes narrowed. The little shit knew he had something Hunter wanted. ‘Asked him where he got it, but he wouldn’t say. Got in touch with Big Neil, he told me to pay half up front, get the guy’s details and they’d sort it out. Turns out his Albanian friends had lost some heroin. Had to drive down to Edinburgh to hand it over to them. Part of me was hoping to get in with them, maybe get some protection from them, but you don’t mess with Albanians. And that’s when you fucking found me. Someone tipped you lot off about my presence back in Edinburgh and I had to scarper back to Kingussie.’
‘A stupid arsehole selling pharmaceutical-grade heroin in Edinburgh is going to ruffle a few feathers.’
The insult bounced off Farrell. He focused on Hunter, his beady little eyes drilling into him. ‘Got away, didn’t I?’
‘You know what happened to Keith?’
‘Said he was going back home to Inverness when I bought the heroin off him.’
‘We found his dead body in that flat.’
Farrell’s throat bobbed up and down. He let out a gasp. ‘What?’
‘You know who killed him, don’t you?’
‘No, this—’ He gasped and shut up.
‘This what, Derek?’
‘I can’t…’
‘The co-owner of Shug’s boat was found murdered in Perth too.’
‘Christ.’ Derek shook his head. ‘Look, when I got back from Edinburgh, this big guy came to my caravan, asking where the heroin was. I told him Keith had it.’
‘Admir?’
‘Right. He believed me, that Keith had it. Left me alone. This guy had killed people.’
The door opened and Cullen stepped in, eyes narrowed to slits, focused on Farrell. ‘Admir believed you, just like that?’
‘Not just like that.’ Farrell pulled up his shirt to show his bald chest. His nipples and the surrounding flesh were dark purple, like someone had gone to town on him with electrodes and pliers. ‘Big Neil told me after, Admir’s a bit of a sadist, but I got to see it with my own eyes.’ He pulled his top back down. ‘Do you know how sore this was?’
‘He got the truth out of you, though?’
‘What he thought, anyway. If he’d have checked the cupboards, I’d have been in real trouble. Kept telling me I wasn’t the first to be hurting after messing with his operation. He’d already caught some boy at his drop point and kept him for fun.’
Hunter leaned forward. ‘He mention a name?’
‘All he told me was Murray.’
Hunter stood up, but almost toppled over. Light-headed and weak. ‘You know where I can find him?’
‘Not exactly, but when I went to Kingussie, Big Neil advised me to steer well clear of the Oswald estate after dark.’
31
The car rumbled along the road, cutting through the early morning darkness. Hunter peered out of the passenger window into the pitch black as Cullen climbed a hill. To the south, light crawled out of Inverness like a yellow-and-white-neon spider, scuttling across the Moray Firth and up through the Black Isle, just a few isolated pockets with Cromarty over by the black ink of the sea.
Hunter’s watch read midnight. Bang on, Hunter’s step counter refreshed to zero. His heart rate was in the hundred-and-tens, like he’d been drinking hard. Cullen-level drinking.
‘Wonder how we prove any of that.’
Hunter looked over at Cullen, then back out into the blackness, struggling to see anything. ‘We get in there and see what’s what.’
‘You know I have a reputation of being a cowboy?’
Hunter rolled his eyes. ‘Really, I hadn’t heard.’
‘We can’t just raid the place based on the statement of one man.’
‘We surely have enough to get a warrant.’
The tang of salt air blew through the cracked-open window.
‘As far as I see, Scott, our only play here is to get in there and search fo
r my brother. If anyone gets a wind of it, then…’
There’s a low moaning, like there’s a big monster in there. Has the monster got Grandpa? Has Grandpa turned into the monster? I take Murray’s hand and squeeze it, trying to make him feel better. Then I sneak past him into the kitchen, taking it very, very slowly, like Prince Adam and not He-Man.
Ahead, the road led to Cromarty, cones of light illuminating the tarmac.
Cullen looked over, his face glowing in the red light. ‘You think Lord Oswald’s involved in this?’
‘I’ve considered it. He was all full of shame and surprise and indignation. Meaning he’s hiding something, but none of it made sense. Now, things are slotting into place. Farrell’s story checks out with the video footage of boxes of heroin.’
‘But smuggling heroin? Torturing your brother? That’s a hell of a stretch.’
Good point, but it fitted together enough in Hunter’s head to warrant serious investigation. ‘Have you got a better plan?’
Cullen shrugged. ‘I’ve spoken to the guy and you’re right, he has the look of a man trying to hide something.’
They passed over the ridge and descended down towards the Oswald estate. Faint night-lights glowed red in the office building. Cullen slowed as they approached the front gate. Beyond, the house was mostly dark, just a light on up in the belfry.
Hunter blinked through his tiredness, but still saw two or three of everything. Looked like the gatehouse was unmanned. He got out into the cold air and hauled the gate up, the screech howling in the night, just enough for Cullen to squeeze the car through. He hopped back in and Cullen trundled along a rough old road through mature woods, only lit up briefly by the headlights.
Hunter leaned between the seats. ‘Kill the lights.’
With a deep sigh, Cullen cut them and his speed, easing the car through almost pitch darkness as the road wound round to the right, and the office surrounded by trees.
Cullen pulled up outside it and they got out. ‘Right, let’s see what we can find.’ He led them slowly and carefully along the path around the structure. Halfway along, he clenched his fist. ‘Stop.’
Hunter tasted bitter cigar smoke, harsh and rubbery. Up ahead, a man was lit up by a red dot glowing in front of him.
Hunter pulled Cullen into a thick leylandii hedge and put a finger to his lips.
The guard came over to their position, his smoke lingering in the air. He seemed to be looking right at them. Then his radio crackled, and some indecipherable words hissed out. He put it to his lips. ‘I smell something.’
‘Probably the chicken farm.’
‘Smells man-made.’ The guy was peering right at them. Surely he had to have seen them. The guard turned away, still holding up his radio. ‘I don’t like this.’
They were here to assess things. But this was a threat to the whole process. Cops should announce themselves. But if Murray was inside? These guys looked like they meant business.
Then the guard was back, a pistol in his hand, prodding at the foliage near Cullen.
Hunter jumped out at him, smothering his mouth and taking him down, wrapping an arm around his throat. Within seconds, the guy was out like a light.
‘Christ!’ Cullen raised his hands. ‘What are you playing at?’
‘He was going to spot you, Scott.’ Hunter picked up the guy’s gun and checked it. Didn’t recognise the make or model but it seemed to be working. He scanned the area. Looked like the rear entrance was a hulking steel door lit up from above. He found a ring of keys—about ten, identical. ‘I’m going in there.’
Cullen stayed still. ‘Be quick.’
Hunter set off, his feet squelching in the damp bark, pistol held in both hands like an FBI agent readying for a raid. He tried the door. Open. He looked round again. Cullen was staying hidden in the hedge, along with the sleeping guard. Hunter pocketed the keys and entered the building alone, into a long corridor. Craving silence, each footstep like a cannonball. Six doors on either side, another at the end. He tried the first on the left. Locked. Same story on the right. He kept going, getting yet more locked doors. He opened the end door. A metal staircase led down. He tried to match the layout with his memory of the outside, but all he remembered was a big single-storey box.
Nothing ventured…
Downstairs was a replica of the upstairs corridor, but it seemed at least twice as long, maybe three times. A fire door broke it up, probably directly beneath the office. Hunter set off down it, trying doors. Murray had to be behind one. But the keys didn’t work. Christ, where was he? Then one worked, six along on the left.
Pistol drawn, Hunter nudged it open. A man sat behind a desk, facing away, punching the screen. ‘No! No! Fucking no!’ The desk was filled with screens showing rooms, each one looking set up for a different torture method. Waterboarding. A rack. A cage full of rats.
Hunter crept up on him, gun out, ready for anything.
The man turned round. Lord Oswald, eyes wide, mouth hanging open. ‘Thank god.’
Not what Hunter expected to hear from him. Hunter pointed the gun at Oswald. ‘Where is my brother?’
‘Your what?’
‘My brother. Don’t be coy with me. You knew all about him this morning. Where is he?’
‘I can’t!’
‘Why, will your henchman attack me?’
‘My henchman?’
‘Admir.’
‘You’ve got this the wrong way round.’
‘What?’
‘He doesn’t work for me. He’s forcing me to work for him.’ Oswald pleaded with his eyes. ‘Listen to me. I’m not the big moustache-twirling villain here. I’m fucked. I don’t want to be doing this, but the Albanians have me by the short and fucking curlies.’
‘Explain.’
‘My business was failing, and I needed money, otherwise I’d lose everything. I’d been a bit cavalier with certain deals, meaning I couldn’t go to the usual banks. A trick my father used. You bankrupt companies when you don’t get deals you want. Trouble is, you do it too many times—’
‘—and you stop getting credit.’
‘Correct. So I found a business offering not-very-nice terms, but terms. Beggars can’t be choosers and all that. But it turned out the company was a front for the Albanian mafia. Admir works for them. They were in the shit after an operation down south got closed down last year. Needed to get heroin into the country quick-smart, so they forced me to help.’
‘Why not go to the police?’
‘Because they’ve got kompromat on me. You don’t run a business like this without doing things by other means. I’ve bribed people and they’ve got evidence of it.’
‘I need you to help me find my brother. Or his body.’
‘I can’t. Don’t you hear me? I’m ruined if I help you!’
‘This is my brother we’re talking about.’
‘I’m terribly sorry but I’ll lose everything. My home, my title, my wife. Christ, my children will never speak to me.’
‘You’re coming with me.’ Hunter grabbed his arm and frog-marched him back to the corridor. He pushed him along, then opened the door to the stairwell.
A thud came from above.
Cullen?
Hunter led him up the stairs, gun drawn, and eased the door open. The corridor was empty.
Someone lay on the floor.
Hunter darted over. It was Oswald’s guard, Callum. Hunter didn’t even need to put a hand to his neck. Dead, shot in the same way as Keith Wilson and Wee Ally McCoull.
‘My god.’ Oswald’s mouth hung open. ‘Admir!’
‘He’s done this?’
‘He was here. Locked me in one of his rooms.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘He tortures people in them. Anyone who steps out of line. You’ve got to understand! He’ll kill me!’
Hunter pulled him close, got right in his face. ‘You’re going to tell me where my brother is. NOW!’
‘He was here, but I know where
Admir will have taken him.’
32
Cullen was still with the guard, just by the thick hedge.
Hunter led Oswald over. ‘Did Admir come this way?’
‘Your big friend?’ Cullen shook his head. ‘Not seen anyone. Heard a car but that was all.’
‘Shite.’ Hunter scowled at Oswald. ‘He’s got away.’
‘Craig, Methven’s just got a search warrant, so the team are on their way over.’
‘I need to get out to the oil rigs. Admir’s taken Murray there.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘He thinks so. And I believe him.’
Cullen grabbed Oswald and started marching him away towards his car. ‘What’s going on up on those rigs?’
‘The Albanians smuggle heroin in from Venezuela. They take them to Osprey Alpha, winch the barrels up. Then we transport them to Osprey Bravo. There’s a walkway between them, it extends out to connect them. His men roll the barrels over and they cut the heroin there, under the guise of the decommissioning work.’
‘Why do you think he’s taken Murray there?’
‘One, for leverage against your friend here.’ Oswald eyed Hunter. ‘And two, he needs to cover his trail. I don’t know where he’s going, but he’s been panicking for the last week since he found your brother. He wants to close off all loose ends.’
Hunter stood on the harbour at Cromarty, looking out to sea. Hard to make out anything through the pissing rain and the darkness, just the muddy smudge of the oil rigs in the water, Osprey Alpha lurking among them. He brushed moisture out of his face. ‘Any word?’
Phone to his ear, Cullen stood by his car, Oswald in the back seat. ‘Coastguards are going to be an hour getting here.’
Hunter felt it like another punch in the guts. ‘That’s way too late.’
A car pulled up on the promenade. Jock’s Passat. Chantal got onto the pavement, waving over at them. She opened the back door and helped Fiona out.
Fiona joined them by the harbour. ‘Alright, bud? Bit late, isn’t it?’
‘This way.’ Hunter led Fiona over to the harbour. ‘How’s she looking?’
