Body Politic (23 page)

“Maybe. But there's another problem we have to solve first.”

“Hit me. I can handle anything.”

“Uh-huh. After you've copied the file, you'll have to figure out a way to get it back without anyone noticing.”

He wasn't beaten. “Good enough. I thought you might be going to walk into the chief's office with this in your hand.”

I shook my head. “No chance. For the time being this is our little secret, guardsman.”

The Council meeting that evening was a bit difficult. I got my head in my hands for not being available throughout the day. I got my own back by telling them exactly what I thought about the fact I hadn't been allowed to question Roussos in the infirmary. Hamilton looked embarrassed about that. So much so that he forgot to mention that I was working on a long shot. Just as well.

I went back to my place after the meeting, having arranged to relieve Davie outside Billy's at midnight. I sat outside in the Transit trying to work out what to do about the missing young people. I knew one thing for sure. There were far too many for them just to be deserters – and the fact that the Council had a file on them meant that they weren't in the mines or on the farms. Christ, I'd even noticed an increase in my own workload before the killings started, but I'd forgotten all about it till now. Davie had remedied that. But what about Adam Kirkwood? What was I going to tell Katharine?

Then I saw her come round the corner. She had on a skirt that stopped about six inches above the knee. I noticed that because she was wearing red stockings and high heels that made her legs as striking as a smiling face in a philosophy seminar. I watched as she drew nearer. In the gloom she didn't see me. She went in the street door.

I didn't get out straight away because I was still wondering whether to say anything about her brother. Then I chickened out, decided to keep my mouth shut and followed her in. Her scent lingered in the musty air. By the time I reached the third floor, she was on her way down. Her legs looked even more stunning from that angle. There was the hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth. We stood looking at each other.

“I thought I'd missed you.”

“You were lucky.”

“I should say so.” She gave a light, mocking laugh then turned back up again.

“What a surprise,” I said, my eyes fixed on the back of her thighs.

She didn't answer, waiting for me to open the door. Then she walked in and dropped her jacket on the end of the sofa. The white blouse she was wearing was almost transparent. I could see the points of her breasts. She caught me staring.

“I'll have a drink,” she said coolly. “Before we get down to business.”

I poured whisky into a glass, wondering what she was after. I knew very well what I was after.

“Thanks.” She raised the glass. “Are you not having one?”

I sat down in the armchair opposite her and shook my head. “I've got to work later on.”

“He works nights too,” she said with a smile. “The dedication.” She put the glass to her lips and touched the rim with her tongue, unwavering eyes locked on me.

I suddenly felt breathless, like an astronaut, in the old days before space travel became too expensive, whose safety line has broken. “What is it you want, Katharine?” I asked weakly.

“What is it I want?” she asked, taking a sip of whisky. “I'd have thought that was obvious.” She opened her mouth, the tip of her tongue glistening as it protruded for a second. “I want you.” Then she moved over, stood in front of me and lifted her skirt up. She was wearing the full tart's get-up, suspender belt and knickers matching her stockings. I hadn't forgotten what I'd read about her in Patsy's file. I just didn't give a damn.

“Kath . . .” I began, then lost the power of speech as she straddled me, knees against my abdomen.

She knew exactly what she was doing. Lowered a hand to the bulge in my groin and squeezed, leaning back as I ran my hands down her buttocks. I slid my fingers under the elastic of her knickers and pressed them forward. To my surprise I found she was wet.

“Come on,” she whispered, “I want you now.” She unfastened my belt, unzipped me and touched my cock. Before I could move she rolled a condom over me with practised skill. And pushed down, directing me into her. My hands were on her breasts, which became taut as she leaned back again. I felt the dark brown nipples harden even more. Looking at her face, I saw that she had her eyes closed. I kept mine open.

As in all the best erotica, we came together. At least it seemed that way to me. When I spurted, she shuddered then slumped over me, her breath warm in my ear and the scent of her in my nostrils. I floated off into deepest space.

But she wouldn't let me go. Clenched well-exercised muscles and held me inside her.

“Actually,” she murmured, “there is one other thing I want.”

“To help find Adam?” I gasped, my breathing still all over the place.

“You're way ahead of me,” she said, sitting up straight and looking down at me. “Well?”

If she's working with me I'll be able to keep an eye on her, I told myself. It wasn't a difficult decision.

“All right,” I said, pushing her off gently. As she stepped back I caught sight of Caro's photograph.

There was the sound of water being splashed around in the toilet. Eventually Katharine emerged, shaking her head.

“You can tell the city's washing facilities were organised by men. Have you any idea how difficult it is for a woman to wash herself in a basin?”

“I suppose you've got used to the bidets in the Indie.”

She sat down and looked at me curiously. “What's the matter?”

I turned away, but not before Katharine saw the photo.

“Who is she, Quint?” she asked softly.

It was the tone of her voice that did it. Hoarser than usual, somehow suggesting a capacity to understand that I suddenly needed badly.

So I told her about Caro – about the law lectures we attended together at the university, about her belief in the Enlightenment and about our time in the Public Order Directorate. She didn't interrupt or comment, didn't show how she felt at all. Until I got to the last operations against the drug gangs and stopped. I couldn't go on.

“You have to share it with someone, Quint.” Katharine was looking across at me with eyes that had none of their usual steeliness. “You've kept this bottled up for years, haven't you?”

I nodded slowly. “You're the first person I've ever spoken to about Caro's . . . about what happened.”

“I've had a lot of experience of confessions.”

“Is that what this is?”

“Of course.” She smiled to encourage me.

It worked. I found that I could go on. “It was five years back. The leader of the worst gang was holed up with about twenty of his men in a farmhouse on the northern slopes of Soutra.”

“Just beyond the city's borders.”

“Yes. We bent the rules – it was my decision. Caro was in charge of the scouting group and I was with two other squads to the rear, waiting for her signal.” I stopped to get my breath. Usually my heart pounded like a piston engine when I woke up after dreaming about that night, but it was beating normally now. “Then everything went wrong. Their sentries must have spotted Caro's group. They grabbed them before we realised what had happened. We'd had problems with the mobile phones earlier. We didn't react quickly enough.”

“These things happen,” Katharine said. “It wasn't your fault.”

“Then we heard screaming, men's voices, and afterwards a high-pitched shriek that seemed like it would never stop. I didn't recognise it. We went in then. They were waiting for us, they knew exactly how many of us there were. A lot of my people were taken out. Not me, though. I had a charmed life. Ran right through the centre of their line and reached the barn. By the time I got there the screaming had stopped.” I had to stop, swallow saliva. The same thing had happened that night too.

“I was on my own. The guard were still fighting their way through the outer defences. The bastards had fortified the place. And all I had was my service knife. My pistol had jammed on the way in.”

Katharine moved round the table and sat on the arm of my chair. She didn't touch me.

“There was nothing else for it. I burst in the door and headed for the light in the centre of the barn. I had to jump over the bodies of a couple of guardsmen from Caro's group. There were four men in a huddle round the hurricane lamp. When they heard me, they broke up and . . . and I saw her.” I looked round at Katharine. “I thought she was all right at first. Except . . . except her foot was jerking crazily. Then I saw the blood round her mouth.”

Now Katharine put her hand on mine for a few seconds. It was cool, absorbed some of the heat.

“I put my arm under her shoulders and tried to find a pulse. I was too late. She'd been strangled. I put my fingers into her mouth to try to clear her throat. She'd . . .” I turned to Katharine again, suddenly not wanting to spare her anything. “She'd bitten through her tongue. It came out on my fingers. Like a little fish.”

Katharine gripped my hand hard. “Oh my God.”

“Then I was hit over the back of the head. I came round in the infirmary.” I pulled my hand away and slumped back in the chair. I was totally drained.

She was silent for a time, then nodded at my right hand. “You got that injury then?”

“Soon afterwards.” I wasn't going to tell her about the Ear, Nose and Throat Man, about how I'd seen him break away from the group first, a length of rope dangling from one hand. I had to keep something secret. For Caro.

Katharine got up and moved over to the sofa. “You've never forgotten her, have you, Quint? But you have to. It's finished.”

“You want me to let myself become a soulless robot like everyone else in Edinburgh?”

She shook her head slowly. “No. You just have to stop caring so much.”

“Like you stopped caring for that dissident – what was his name?” I remembered it perfectly well, but I wanted to shake her.

“Alex.” She looked at me without animosity. “I think I've got over him. He's out of the Council's reach now.”

I envied him. For all my pathetic attempts at independence, the Council still had its claws deep into me.

Chapter Fourteen

THE BUZZ OF
the mobile phone woke me. I fell out of the chair and crawled over to my jacket.

“What the hell's happened to you?” asked Davie in a caustic whisper.

“Good question,” I replied. “What time is it?” I fumbled for matches and lit a candle. Katharine was asleep on the sofa.

“You took my watch, didn't you?”

“Christ, half one. Sorry, Davie. I'll be down right away. Out.”

Katharine stirred, then sat up and stretched her arms. “Going to work? I'll come with you?” There was no trace of sleep in her voice.

I nodded. An extra pair of eyes would be useful during the surveillance. She was pulling on her short skirt.

“You're not exactly dressed for what we're going to do. I'll see if I can find you something warmer.” The first clothes I came across in my bedroom were the American tourist outfit. I didn't bother giving her the wig.

On the way downstairs I made the decision. “There's something I have to tell you about Adam.”

She pushed me up against the wall, almost knocking the candle from my hand. “You bastard,” she hissed. “You've waited all this time?”

I put my hand between her breasts and shoved her backwards. “Calm down, Katharine. It isn't bad news.” I shrugged. “It isn't really any kind of news.”

“What the fuck are you trying to say?”

“Look, this is seriously classified. If the Council finds out we know this, we'll both be in Cramond Island before you can blink.”

“If you don't tell me right now, you'll be in intensive care before you can blink.”

“All right.” I led her down the stairs and out into the street. There was a moon so we managed to get to the Transit even though the candle was immediately blown out. “The guard did register Adam as missing.”

“I know that, for Christ's sake. I more or less filled the form in for them. The problem is they haven't done anything about finding him.”

“I think they tried.” I opened the door and let her in. “He's not the only one though. Forty-seven other people have gone missing in the last three months. The weird thing is, they're all under twenty-six.”

Her face was yellow in the dull light from the dashboard. “What does it mean?” she asked slowly. “I don't understand.”

“Me neither. But it makes you wonder. Forty-eight citizens missing and a killer on the loose.” I heard her sharp intake of breath. “Shit, sorry. I didn't mean . . .” I glanced at her. Even in the unflattering clothes she looked striking, her high cheekbones prominent in the glow.

“Where are we going?”

“Heriot Row.” I started the engine and drove down to Tollcross. “We're tailing someone.” It suddenly occurred to me that Katharine might have seen Billy in the hotel with the Greek. “An auxiliary.” I watched her out of the corner of my eye. She didn't react. “Heriot 07. Know him?”

“I know him.” She sighed. “He's around the hotel all the time, playing God. He must be on the take.” She turned to me, a faint smile on her lips. “I think I'm going to enjoy this.”

I knew the feeling. No one likes catching auxiliaries out more than demoted auxiliaries.

When I parked the van at the end of Heriot Row, she was out like a shot. I took the opportunity to make a quick call on the mobile.

The moon was casting long shadows from the bushes in the gardens. We kept to them as we approached Davie's position.

“I've brought reinforcements,” I whispered. “Well, one reinforcement.”