Dark Suits and Sad Songs (33 page)

After much contrition and assurances of good behaviour, Tracy and Sissy took their leave. On her way out, Sissy gave her sister a wink and a knowing smile.

‘What can I say, Annie?’ said Scott, glad that the shadow placed over him by Wiley had now been removed.

‘Aye, well, a wee thank you widna go amiss.’

‘That’s a given. Come on an’ I’ll buy me an’ you a wee nightcap.’

‘Aye, jeest the one, mind you. I’ve got work the morrow, an’ so have you come tae that.’ She moved closer to Scott. ‘I’m
night duty manager the night, so I’m sleeping in the hotel, Brian.’

‘Aye, well,’ spluttered Scott. ‘You’re maybe right aboot the drink. I’m still feeling a wee bit groggy after that thump I took on the heid today. I think I’ll just head off for a kip.’

‘Oh, right you are, Brian. I’ll need tae get tilled up here, anyhow. Jeest you get some sleep. It wisna fair o’ me keeping you up so late, no’ after the day you’ve had.’ She moved to the till, opened it to a noisy chink of coins held within, then started counting bank notes.

‘Aye, well, no bother. I fair enjoyed oor wee night oot, Annie,’ said Scott, shuffling from foot to foot.

‘Aye, me tae, Brian.’ She kept her head down. ‘Goodnight.’

As Scott left the bar and headed up the sweeping staircase, his feet felt heavy on the faded carpet. I wish tae fuck I’d had that nightcap, he thought to himself.

42

Daley arrived at Kinloch Police Office early the next day. He’d been unable to sleep; his worries ranging from Liz, Mary Dunn and John Donald, to the wellbeing of Alice Taylor. As he pulled into the car park behind the office, he hoped he’d discover Alice had been released or found safe and well. Sadly, after a quick word with the nightshift it was clear that, as far as the abduction was concerned, nothing had changed.

He could already feel the familiar pressure behind his eyes that presaged a blinding headache. It was almost half past eight; he decided to get a coffee then make a call he’d been dreading.

Daley knew Assistant Chief Constable Willie Manion was a notorious early riser, driving colleagues mad over the years with sudden appearances in the middle of the night, newspaper under one arm, a pack of sandwiches in the other, ready to face a full day’s work which could begin as early as three in the morning. But even Kinloch’s DCI was surprised when, after a gentle knock on the door of his glass box, the ACC popped his head around the door.

‘Now, Jim, how are we today? Thought it was high time I took a wander down tae the far-flung parts o’ the empire. I
want tae take charge o’ getting this bastard Abdic back up the road, tae.’

‘Good to see you, sir,’ said Daley, getting out of his chair to welcome his visitor with a firm handshake. ‘Please, take a seat.’

Manion was adorned with the braid and extravagant epaulettes that befitted his rank, but somehow looked out of place with the zip-necked T-shirt that was now regulation uniform for the Chief Constable down.

‘No word on the wee lassie yet?’

‘No, sir. We’ve got just about everything out on this.’

‘Aye, but what’s your instinct, Jim?’

Daley thought for a few moments. ‘Well, with his friend here, and given that he seems to have been very active in the area, I just sense that the Dragon, and the girl, aren’t far away. According to Interpol, he and Abdic always work as a team, so unless he’s managed to get help elsewhere, he’s operating alone.’

‘Aye, my thoughts precisely. That’s why I’ve decided tae keep Abdic here for the time being. I know there’s trouble communicating wae the bugger but you needn’t worry aboot that. I’ve got an expert in such individuals on his way down. We’ll get something out o’ him.’

‘He’s asleep now, but the nightshift tell me he was awake until about four this morning, laughing fit to burst.’ Daley sighed. ‘I hope it’s not too early to have a quick chat about something?’

‘No, Jim, not at all. You know me, none o’ this buttoned-up carry-on. Up and at ’em, that’s what I say. What is it?’

Daley marvelled at the way Manion sounded and behaved like Scott, yet had risen to the top of the tree. They had the
same disregard for political correctness and perceived etiquette, even accepted codes of practice. But Manion and Scott had been friends for a long time; Daley knew he could trust the man.

‘John Donald contacted me last night, sir.’

‘I’ve got tae say,’ said Manion, ‘in all my years in the job, I’ve never come across a mair slippery bastard than oor friend Donald. I’m tellin’ you, if the shit hits the fan wae him the way I think it might, there’s goin’ tae be a few red faces up the road. What did he have tae say? Nae doubt he was lobbying you for support.’

‘No, sir. He wants to meet me. He says he has information as to the whereabouts of Alice Taylor.’

‘Does he now? Where an’ when?’

‘He’s going to text me the location and time today, sir. What do you want me to do?’

Manion sighed, and rubbed his chin. ‘Dae you think you’ll be at risk, Jim?’

‘Not really. I mean, he says he’ll meet me here in Kinloch, so as far as risk is concerned, it’s minimal stuff.’

‘I’m pleased you talked tae me aboot this, Jim. We a’ know the bastard is as bent as fuck, but he’ll slide oot o’ the net if we’re no’ careful. If we use obs or surveillance on him, he’ll clock us straight away; and then there’s the issue o’ entrapment tae consider. I’ve been worrying aboot this for ages. You’ll know that we had tae move against him earlier than we wanted tae.’

‘Yes, sir, I gathered that from Inspector Layton.’

‘Aye, Layton. As far as he’s concerned, best no’ tae mention what’s been happening. Seconded fae Special Branch – no bastard has a clue aboot him, or which way he’d fall if we have
some difficult housekeeping tae do, if you get my drift. But we may have won a watch here, what wae big John bein’ stupid enough tae want tae meet you on the fly. You’ll have tae wear a wire.’

‘Really?’

‘Aye, we want tae nail him good an’ proper, Jim. Tell me, does oor Brian know aboot any o’ this?’ asked Manion, sounding hesitant.

‘No, I haven’t seen him since Donald called me last night.’

‘Aye, well, oor auld buddy isn’t exactly firing on all cylinders. We’ll keep this between you and I. Tae be honest, Jim, I don’t know how far this all goes.’ Manion looked suddenly careworn. ‘Me an’ you’ll nip it in the bud, old style, eh?’

When Manion left his office, Daley wished he had told him about the letter from Sarah MacDougall, but somehow the time hadn’t seemed right.

Now he was to spy on his old boss. Was this the right time to bring the man down? Daley wondered.

Elise Fordham woke on a sofa, in a strange room. There were no pictures on the walls and what furniture there was looked old and cheap. Her head felt heavy, as though she had been drinking heavily.

She heard the door creak and someone enter the room.

‘Not feeling as chipper as you were last night, I see?’

She squinted, trying see the man talking to her. The voice was familiar; she tried to focus through the fug that was clouding her brain.

‘I’m afraid we needed more time, so I had to keep you quiet for a while.’ The voice was coming from somewhere
behind her, and she didn’t have the energy to sit up and look over the back of the couch.

‘Here, take this,’ said the man, moving forward to stand over her with a glass of water in one hand and two white tablets in the other. ‘Take these and you’ll feel much better soon. Then we can have a wee chat.’

She squinted at the man’s face in the dimly lit room.

‘Gary! Gary, what’s going on? What are you doing?’ She made to get up, but couldn’t.

‘Take the pills and rest. You and me have a lot to talk about.’ He thrust a tablet between her lips and held the glass to her mouth. Obediently, she sipped, but even this seemed exhausting, so she let her head flop back onto the couch.

‘Get some rest,’ she heard Wilson say as she drifted off to sleep.

Daley was about to draw a recording device from the stores in anticipation of his meeting with John Donald when Sergeant Shaw rushed up to him, shouting, ‘News of the girl, sir!’

‘What?’

‘Come with me, sir. It’ll be easier to show you.’

Daley followed the man into the AV room. Sitting at a desk behind a computer was DC Dunn, who smiled weakly when she saw him. Despite her presence, Daley’s eyes were immediately drawn to the large screen on the wall that showed Alice Taylor bound and gagged. Her head lolled forward, moving from side to side even though she looked unconscious. In the corner of the screen a timer was running down; when Daley looked, it was at 23:16:52.

‘What’s strapped to her chest?’ asked Daley. Alice was
wearing a dark gilet, strapped on to which was a dark box with a flashing red light. ‘Please tell me that’s not what I think it is.’

‘I’ve got the audio, sir. Give me a second,’ Dunn said, punching several buttons on the keyboard in front of her.

‘This is Alice Taylor.’ The disembodied voice echoed around the room via the sound system. ‘Her time is running out. The Semtex attached to her will detonate when the clock runs down. This video you are seeing is in real time. It is also being streamed to her father. Release Abdic and the girl will live.’ The man gave a mobile number, then all was silent.

‘What the fuck is this?’ The door burst open to reveal DS Scott, looking open-mouthed at the screen in front of him.

‘This is our worst fucking nightmare,’ replied Daley. No sooner had he spoken than the disembodied, echoing voice began again with exactly the same message.

‘It’s some kind of loop, sir,’ shouted Dunn. ‘I can’t pinpoint where it’s coming from. Somehow he’s managed to tap into our internal communication system.’

‘Find out what they can do at HQ,’ replied Daley.

‘Poor lassie,’ said Scott, shaking his head. Just as he did so, from the crack in the door to the AV room, crazed laughter echoed around Kinloch Police Office.

43

Fordham forced her heavy body from the couch, and on her hands and knees made for the door of the room. She reached up to grab the handle, and with all of her might pulled it, but predictably the door was locked.

‘Let me fucking out of here,’ she called weakly, banging her fists on the varnished wood. She heard footsteps, slow and measured, growing louder until they stopped at the other side of the door. A key turned, and there, towering over her, was Gary Wilson.

‘Gary, what is happening . . . just tell me.’

‘Certainly not looking like a First Ministerial candidate now, Elise. Get up.’ He grabbed her roughly by the arm.

‘I’m going to be sick.’

He pulled her along a polished floor and kicked open the door to a small toilet. She managed to crawl towards the bowl then vomit into it.

‘No, not First Ministerial at all,’ Wilson sneered behind her.

When she had retched up the last of the sour, stinging bile, she paused, propping herself up against the toilet bowl.

‘What have you done to me, you bastard,’ she said, her eyes heavy with tears. Somehow, through her aching head and
muddled thoughts, she knew she must remain strong. She willed herself not to cry.

‘You come with me.’ Wilson pulled her back across the polished floor and into the spartan room. ‘Time for a little lesson in the realities of life, Elise.’

Scott and Daley were examining the video feed of Alice Taylor, this time on a laptop in Daley’s glass box. It appeared as if the girl was beginning to rouse into consciousness, raising her head lazily for a few moments, before letting it flop back forward, her chin against her chest.

The image was at an odd angle, and was not stable, swaying slightly as the detectives looked on. Alice was slumped in a corner, and at her side, just in shot, the corner of something was visible, possibly a table or chair.

‘She’s on a boat, Jim,’ said Scott. ‘An’ that bastard’s going to blow her sky high if he doesnae get that giggling halfwit back.’

‘How are we going to find her?’

‘We better get somebody who knows aboot boats tae have a look, pronto.’

‘Go and find Hamish. He’ll either be on the pier or down at his cottage. Do you know where it is?’

‘Dae you think that’ll help?

‘Well, it might be a start.’

Scott pulled on his jacket and left the room, cursing as he tried to find his car keys.

Daley looked back at the screen just as Alice Taylor briefly raised her head again. Whatever drug she had been given to pacify her was wearing off. Soon she would be conscious and the full horror of her situation would dawn on her. Daley felt a wave of despair at the thought. How could they save her?
He knew that while the powers that be might try and negotiate, they would be unlikely to release Abdic. They had twenty-two hours and forty-six minutes to save Alice.

The chime from the phone in his pocket dragged Daley’s attention from the screen. The text message was short:
Meet me on the last bench on the promenade at midday.

Daley lifted the phone on his desk. ‘Sir, Donald’s been in touch.’

Elise Fordham was propped up on the couch, her arms folded across her chest. Wilson smiled at her. He was holding a large envelope.

‘Now, let’s have a look at what you get up to of an evening, Elise.’

‘You know that half the Edinburgh Police will be looking for me now?’

‘No, they’re not. As far as anyone at parliament is concerned, you and I are holed up together, working through this Cudihey crisis. Sorry, Elise, another hope dashed, my dear. You have more pressing things to think about. Have a look.’ He held out the envelope; after a slight pause she grabbed it with both hands.

She removed four large photographs from within and stared at the images in disbelief. In the first, she was in a park talking to a tall, good-looking man. In the next, she was sitting on a park bench with the same man, handing him something. As she flicked to the third image, she recognised the restaurant from last night. There were more images, one after the other picturing her with the same man in different locations, mostly in and around Edinburgh, but some taken in London, and even one from a recent trip to Brussels.