by V Clifford
She stood, lifted both their empty plates and took them to the dishwasher and stacked them inside. ‘I’ll carry on looking at the CCTV footage. There’s more than one person in the pick-up and I don’t think it’s mum.’
‘Does that make mum’s chances of escaping more difficult?’
Viv shrugged. ‘No idea whether the brothers are in this together or not. Best case scenario would be that the pianist is trying to reason with his brother.’ This sounded weak and she knew it. ‘We’ll see.’
She went back to her laptop and continued her search. Each camera had its own file and it was a laborious task scanning through them. Occasionally she’d get another false alarm, but by the final file she’d only had that one sighting. The strath that ran between Dunblane and Perth was huge and was divided into large agricultural units, mostly pasture for sheep, cattle or both.
From the view on Google Maps most farms had massive sheds, no doubt to house their livestock in bad weather, like now. It wasn’t outwith the bounds of reason that he could be using one of them, but it was unlikely since the farmers were active. Then she homed in on one farm that looked derelict. She’d been so focused on the military buildings she’d overlooked the fact that any building would do. She scratched her head, irritated with herself for not thinking about this sooner. The last file on the USB came from a camera directed on a farm track that edged a spruce plantation. It was like watching slow TV as snow blew and swirled then eventually built up along the edge of the plantation. Finally she rubbed her eyes then started as a set of headlights came into frame. She slowed the film right down and stared as a black pick-up edged along the track. It stopped and Kristian Hahn got out. What the heck was he doing? She could only see the top of his head as he faced the trees. He must be taking a leak. She couldn’t help herself snorting, imagining the irony of his body parts freezing off in the process. He jumped back inside and drove on. She couldn’t make out who was in the truck and cursed that she hadn’t got the software to properly enhance it. She thought of sending it back to Ruddy then remembered he had his own issue to deal with. What the hell. She’d send it anyway. Surely he had a PA who could do it? She did have somewhere else she could pack it off to, but decided that the most important thing was that she now had a date, time and sighting of at least one Hahn. She checked the weather forecast. The heaviest snow was over, but the threat of it freezing was high, meaning that driving anywhere but the main roads would continue to be difficult. On the up side if she did find his tyre tracks there was less chance of anyone else having been over them. Worth a look.
She went upstairs and tapped gently on Mand’s bedroom door. ‘Mand, I need to go out for a bit. Could you lock up again?’
Mand opened the door and put her finger to her lip. ‘He’s not yet sound asleep.’ She walked to the top of the stairs. ‘Where are you going? I don’t want you to do anything stupid.’
Viv bristled, but knew what she meant. ‘I’m not planning to do anything stupid, but I’ve found a track where he was. I think it’s worth checking.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I’m going to go off my head if I just hang about here all night.’
‘Yeah, you might, but I’ll go off mine knowing that you are out there on your own in the pitch dark. You’ll just have to stick it out until Mac gets back.’
Viv was about to object, but the look on Mand’s face told her there was no arguing. She bit the inside of her lip and nodded. ‘I’ll go over the tapes again in case I’ve missed something. You head off to bed. It’s been a long day.’
‘You think I came up the Clyde in a banana boat? There’s no way I’m going to sleep until you do. So how about you go to bed. If it’s been a long day for me it’s been even longer for you . . . You’re doing your best, Viv. You don’t have to be superwoman.’
Aware of her irritation rising Viv said, ‘Okay, I’ll wait for Mac to get back.’
Mand shook her head. ‘You’re such a bad liar. I can see from your face that you have no intention of waiting for Mac. You’re just palming me off with a story so that I’ll hit the hay and you can sneak off and do your thing. I don’t want to lose two people I . . .’ she choked back the words and retreated to her bedroom.
Viv’s phone vibrated. Surprised to see Sal’s number she rushed down to the conservatory so that her conversation wouldn’t wake James.
‘Sal! How the hell are you? I’ve been dying for you to ring.’ This wasn’t quite true but close enough.
The voice that spoke wasn’t Sal’s, but another woman’s. ‘Oh, I pressed the wrong number by mistake.’ The call ended and Viv was left with echoes of an American accent lingering in her ears. Why was someone else using Sal’s phone? Who was she? She pressed to return the call, but it went straight to voice mail. What was going on? Exasperated she rubbed her hands through her hair. The last thing she needed was to worry about Sal, but at least she could be thankful for the small mercy that the bump on her head was no longer as tender. She dumped herself onto the couch with her laptop and revisited the CCTV. She couldn’t concentrate and went back over each frame two or three times before finding a rhythm. Her phone vibrated again. This time it was Mac’s number.
‘Hi. Have you sorted out the . . .’
He interrupted her, ‘He shot himself.’
Viv gasped, ‘My God, so what happens now?’
‘Damage limitation. It all took place inside Fettes, but that’s a double-edged sword. Whatever way we release this to the press they’ll have a field day. We’ll be here for at least another hour then I’ll get back up the road.’
‘Will you come straight here?’
‘I wasn’t planning on that. I need to get some shut-eye. Why, what have you found?’
She gave him the info about Hahn’s last sighting on the CCTV and said, ‘I think it’s worth taking a look. There won’t be much, if any traffic along that track.’
He interrupted, ‘Look, let me get a couple of hours’ sleep and then we’ll both take a look.’
She was itching to get going, but this was as good as she was going to get. ‘Okay. What time will I set my alarm for?’
‘Six.’
She drew in a breath, about to object, but he continued.
‘Just in case I get stuck here longer than I think I will.’
It made sense, but still, if it was his mum . . . he’d probably do exactly the same thing.
She said, ‘Fine.’
‘Viv, even at six it’ll be pitch dark.’
‘I know, but what if it snows again. We’ll lose any tracks that . . .’ She was on a hiding to nothing. ‘Okay, okay. Here at six then.’ She wanted to add ‘sharp’, but Mac was as much a stickler for punctuality as she was.
‘Right you are.’
She shook her head. That was the kind of thing her mum would have said.
Chapter Fifteen
Tuesday
True to form Mac’s 4x4 approached at one minute to six. Viv had been out for a short run with Moll who’d objected to being woken at such an ungodly hour, but once she was out had embraced the snow like a puppy. The ground was frozen and it was hard to break through the skin of ice that had formed over the powdery snow, but she’d needed at least fifteen minutes across the river park to release her trapped adrenaline. Feeling refreshed she made porridge and coffee, expecting that Mac wouldn’t have had breakfast. An extra ten minutes wouldn’t matter now.
Molly greeted him at the door like a long-awaited friend, which Viv realised he probably was. She beckoned him through to the kitchen, pointing above, ‘Mand and James haven’t stirred yet.’
He said, ‘Not many do at this hour.’
She placed two bowls of porridge on the table and poured out mugs of steaming coffee. ‘Here, fortify yourself. I bet you haven’t eaten.’
‘Nope.’ He rubbed his hands across his face. ‘What a night. Got three hours in the end. This looks great.’ He drew a chair up and they ate in silence.
Eventually he murmured, ‘I understand why this is
a national dish.’
‘Mum used to tell us it would put hairs on our chest. Imagine, as if two daughters would want that.’
Viv put the empty bowls and mugs in the dishwasher and they both kitted up. ‘It’s Baltic out there.’
‘I know. My cottage is almost a thousand feet above sea level. Colder than here.’
‘It’s not a competition. I was just saying so that you’d wrap up.’
‘Why thank you for your concern.’
‘Sarc will get you everywhere. C’mon, let’s find my mum.’
‘It’s odd that he hasn’t sent a drop-off time.’
‘Agreed, but I don’t think he’s in this alone. The CCTV showed two males in the front of the truck and I checked Kurt’s concerts again. They’d been cancelled. Facebook is a wonderful thing when people are aggrieved.’ She grinned. ‘There’s no way to keep that kind of thing quiet these days. He thinks we’re amateurs. First rule of conflict, “Know thine enemy”. He hasn’t done his homework.’
‘Don’t tempt fate.’
They walked into the village ankle deep in snow, to where they’d left the Rav. The main roads where clear and Doune was shrouded in that silence that only comes with snow. Once in the car Viv showed Mac on a road map the position where the last sighting of Hahn had been. It only took them ten minutes on the motorway to reach the turn-off but at the top of the slip road the surface remained untouched by a plough and they had to slow to a crawl again. Compacted tracks had turned into an ice rink. Even the Rav struggled to stay in a straight line.
Mac stayed in as high a gear as he could, but the wheels spun and they veered off the centre of the road towards the ditch. Viv covered her eyes, unable to believe that the weather could hamper their progress this early in the search. Mac managed to steer into the skid and they remained on the hard surface.
‘Phew. Well done. I’m never sure what to do, but instinctively always hit the brake.’ Her phone vibrated. ‘Early bird.’ She fished around in her jacket pocket and hauled it out. Sal’s number again. Before she answered it stopped vibrating. Odd. She tucked it back into her jacket. She’d deal with Sal later. For now they had to keep on the look-out for landmarks that would give access to the track at the back of the spruce plantation. It had looked as if there were two options on the map. One through a farmyard, round a field then onto what must be a track otherwise he wouldn’t have driven it.
She glanced at Mac. ‘It might not be a track at all. I’ve just assumed it was because he was on it. But a pick-up has much higher clearance even than the Rav.’
‘Only one way to find out. But we’ve got to locate the farm first. Then worry about whether there’s a track or not.’
They drove along a straight stretch lined with high, but mixed planting, branches heavy with snow caught in the headlights. ‘These mono-plantations only have a thirty- or forty-year cycle. Forests marked on this map may no longer be here.’
He slowed to stop. ‘Look at this.’ He pointed to a long straight road. ‘Roman. Still there to this day. Don’t look at features that man can interfere with. Roads can change but are less likely to. Streams and rivers, crossing points usually chosen because it’s the point of least resistance, easiest or narrowest.’ He drove on.
‘I’m not daft. I was just saying about the mono-plantations because they’re planted specifically to be harvested.’
Mac said, ‘Here, what about this place?’
On the right the plantation ended and a field edged with post and rail fencing came into view. The headlights flickered over a wooden stable with a Shetland pony munching on a net full of hay hanging outside its door. A turn-off at the end of the field led towards a farm.
‘This is it.’ Viv looked at the map, then at Mac. ‘What will we say if the farmer is about?’
‘We’ll tell him the truth. We’re looking for a black pick-up.’
‘That’s lame. And by the way the farmer could be a woman.’ He ignored the jibe and she continued, ‘You any idea how many black pick-ups were rented or sold in the last three months?’
‘No, but I get the feeling I will soon.’
‘Plenty. Most of them Nissans, like the one we’re after.’ Her phone vibrated again. She hesitated. If it was Sal’s number she wouldn’t answer anyway. It wasn’t; it was a text message. ‘Time to deliver the money’, she held it up for Mac to see. ‘It was sent yesterday. It’s been sitting on a server somewhere. He sent it at nine-thirty last night. What shall we do? There’s an address. Gloagburn café at ten-thirty am.’
Mac shrugged, ‘Never heard of it, have you?’ She shook her head.
He continued, ‘Besides we don’t have the money. Maybe we can call his bluff.’
‘I’ve got a sports bag in the boot. Got some stinky running kit in there but . . .’
‘You think we should about turn? Get some dosh and see if he’ll bite?’
‘The bank doesn’t open until nine-thirty and by the time we do that . . . oh God. Let’s think this through. We can probably come up with enough money to make it look like £500,000.’
Mac said, ‘I’ve got an idea.’ He pulled into the farm entrance and took out his phone. ‘He’s not going to thank me for ringing at this hour but needs must.’ He let the number ring and ring then just as he was about to cut the call a voice bellowed out from the speaker. Mac held the phone away from his ear and grinned. ‘Viv’s had another message from our kidnapper.’
It was disturbing to hear him called that, but it’s exactly what he was.
Mac continued, ‘He’s sent us a drop-off place and time. I thought we could get the bank to issue the amount in recalled ten pound notes. That way they’d be of no value if he did manage to take off.’
Viv couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation from the other end, but Mac made noises of acceptance and it sounded as if his idea was possible, with a couple of calls by Ruddy to the right people. Finally Mac said, ‘We can get to Dunblane in . . .’
Ruddy obviously interrupted, wasn’t concerned that Mac could get to a bank and agreed to make the calls.
‘So what now?’
She said, ‘We might as well take a look since we’ve come this far.’
‘Okay, your call.’
They drove through the large farmyard where there was evidence of lots of vehicle movement. On the left a dark green modern shed housed cattle. They were already feeding, their heads protruding through metal rails and munching from a trough that was almost full. The farmer must have been around very recently, but there was no sign of anyone now. Viv opened her window, but rapidly shut it again. ‘Wow, what a stink. I suppose you get used to it when you’ve got it day in day out.’
Mac grinned. ‘A country girl you are not.’
‘Well, that should be no surprise to you who’ve known me for . . . ever. Always loved the feeling of tarmac beneath my feet. Never been a fan of anything squelchy.’
He raised his eyebrows. She play-punched his upper arm. ‘You!’
A modern farmhouse, with lights on in the downstairs rooms, stood at the furthest point on the yard away from the road. The roof of the two-storey villa was topped with photovoltaic panels, its plain white pebbledash exterior a sign that it was built for purpose not aesthetics. A flat area to one side with a sagging washing line seemed to confirm this.
Mac said, ‘Always an early start for these guys. Unsung heroes. I mean where would we all be without them? I wouldn’t make a habit of getting up at five or six in the morning. And I don’t even need to ask if you would?’
‘There.’ She pointed, ‘There’s a gap between those small barns.’
Mac drove the Rav towards it. Another vehicle had already been there. He turned his wheels to drive through but noticed, in the rearview mirror, the door to the house open and a man come out tucking his trousers into boots and shrugging into a jacket. He marched towards them, scowling like the proverbial grumpy Farmer Jack as he pulled on a cap.
‘What do you think you’re up to?’ he gr
owled at them.
Mac didn’t waste any time and pulled out his ID. He lowered his window and held it up.
‘That’s all well and good, but doesn’t explain why you’re here.’
Mac said, ‘We’re looking for a black pick-up.’
The man stepped back slightly, ‘Why? What’s he done?’
‘It’s complicated, but if you’ve seen him where would we find him?’
The farmer pointed to the house. ‘He’s in his bed. No chance of him being up before daylight.’
‘I think we’re talking at cross purposes.’
‘My boy drives a black pick-up.’
‘Nissan?’ Viv asked.
The farmer didn’t look at her. ‘No, his is a Mitsubishi.’
‘So, have you seen another pick-up around?’
The farmer removed his cap and scratched his head. ‘Can’t say I have.’
‘Not heard anything in the night?’ Viv said.
Again he replied to Mac. ‘Well, that’s a different question. I have heard someone in the night, but they didn’t stop in the yard; they went along behind the wood.’
Viv again. ‘Did you follow them?’
‘No.’ He turned and gestured with his head. ‘There’s a way out about a mile further on. There’s a development of houses on the old military site. There’s nothing to steal between me and the building site. There used to be pheasant in the pen at the end of the wood but not now.’
Mac said, ‘You mind if we take a look then?’
‘On you go. There hasn’t been anyone at the development for weeks. Think they’ve run out of cash.’ He gave a hint of a smile, as if he was relaxing.
