The Blood Tree (46 page)

“Sit over there, Dalrymple.” Macbeth pointed to a leather armchair against the far wall of the comfortable sitting-room. His other hand levelled a pistol with a long silencer at my chest.

On the opposite side of the room Aurora was curled up in the corner of a velvet-covered settee. Her head was buried in her arms and her thin frame shuddered with barely repressed sobs. When Macbeth sat down next to her, she shrank even further into the cushions.

“Is she all right?” I asked. “Aurora? Don't worry. Everything will be fine.”

The little girl held still for a few moments but didn't look across at me. Then she started shaking again.

“What have you done to her?” I said, jumping to my feet.

There was a dull thud by my knee. A hole had appeared in the surface of the chair.

“I won't tell you again, Dalrymple.” The king's voice was steel-edged. “First the girl will get it, then you. Do we understand each other?”

I nodded slowly and sat down.

“If it's any comfort to you,” Macbeth said, “I've done nothing to harm her.”

I looked across at Aurora, the impulse to console the terrified child almost impossible to resist. Somehow I managed, telling myself that I had to keep cool and wait for my chance to disable her captor.

“Nothing except kidnap her and drag her around Edinburgh like a rag-doll,” I said. A horrible thought suddenly struck me. “Jesus, did she see what you did to Godwin?”

Macbeth shrugged. “I imagine so. She was right next to me when I pulled the trigger.”

I felt the blood rush to my head. It was all I could do to stay in the armchair. “You're as bad as your brother,” I gasped. “You just don't care, do you?”

He stared at me unwaveringly. “I care about my cause, Dalrymple. That's more than enough for one man to worry about.”

“Your cause,” I scoffed. “Your deluded, self-centred cult, you mean.”

Macbeth's head twitched, but the imperious expression on his face remained. “Believe me, Scotland will be reunited. There's nothing that you or all the other doubters can do to stop the force of history. That's why I disposed of the old scientist. He had a computer disk containing his latest research that my brother told me about. Godwin was so proud of his lab that he agreed to show it to me.” He laughed harshly. “Unfortunately for him, he refused to hand the disk over so I had to take it by force. It'll finance my activities for years.” He laughed. “It was after I killed him that I saw the lump in the girl's pocket. I suppose you slipped the bug in there in the lab.” He looked at me inquisitively. “What happened downstairs, by the way?”

I glanced at Aurora's tremulous form. “Your loyal servant Broadsword has gone to Hecate's kingdom,” I said, trying to conceal what I'd done from the child.

A look of what appeared to be complete incomprehension flashed across Macbeth's face. “Broadsword?” His voice registered astonishment. “Broadsword was downstairs?”

“Come off it,” I scoffed. “He's been with you all the way from Glasgow.”

Macbeth shook his head. “No, he hasn't. The last time I saw him was at the performance in the necropolis, the one Inspector Hyslop and her friends ruined.”

“Cut the crap, Rennie. He was with you in the institute last night.”

He kept moving his head from side to side. “No he wasn't. I was waiting for him to call me, but he never did. I don't know where he's been or what he's been doing. He was downstairs, you say?” There were deep furrows in his forehead.

I gave him the eye. “Broadsword did kill the auxiliaries here last week, didn't he?”

Macbeth looked even more surprised. “What auxiliaries?” I told him about the two Edinburgh murders. “I don't know anything about that,” he said when I finished. “My brother asked me to arrange the kidnap of some teenage geniuses. I left it to Broadsword to work out the practicalities.”

“And Broadsword didn't mention the murders when he got back to Glasgow?”

He shook his head again. I almost believed him. There was a way to get confirmation of some of what he'd said. I turned to the little girl. “Aurora?” I said softly. “Aurora?”

She lifted one arm. I could see glistening brown eyes beyond it. “What do you want?” she said in a voice that was stronger than I expected. Her accent wasn't much like Caro's but the sound still took my breath away.

“Aurora,” I asked, “was there anyone else with you apart from this man when you came to this house?”

She ran her forearm across her face and looked at me with drier eyes. “No.” She glanced at Macbeth contemptuously. “Just this big bully.”

I swallowed a smile. Good girl. She seemed to be holding up well enough. Then I thought about Broadsword again. So he wasn't with Macbeth. The way he'd cursed his royal master gave credence to that, as did the lack of footprints his size in the former college of art. What the hell was going on?

“He was another of your brother's products, wasn't he?” I said, remembering Big Eye and linking him with the additional organ in Broadsword's brow.

Macbeth nodded. “An early one. He was a bit of a mess, really.” He spoke in an offhand manner, like he was describing a botched recipe. “The extra eye didn't function properly and the fool was so embarrassed by it that he always wore a mask of some kind. He was enormously gratified when I gave him the calfskin one festooned with that revolting beard to wear in the play.”

His callous tone washed over me as I tried to work out what Broadsword had been doing in Edinburgh. How did he get here so quickly? I'd seen another boat at the yard by the Kincardine Bridge, but would the man in the mask have had the authority to use it? Perhaps he'd hijacked it – he was certainly capable of putting the shits up the crew. But how had he found his way to the building Macbeth had taken refuge in? Obviously someone had opened their big mouth. Billy Geddes was the first name that sprang to mind. But why would he have put Broadsword on Macbeth's trail? Was he after what Godwin had refused to hand over to the king?

“What's on the disk?” I demanded. “People are dying for it.”

Macbeth looked at me then raised his shoulders. “I'm no scientist but from what my brother David told me, Godwin had been working on a method of prolonging human life.” He smiled harshly. “By replacing the human heart with a more reliable organ modified from pigs and dogs.”

“The old dream of immortality,” I said, shaking my head. Then I took in the little girl again. For me she was Caro brought back to life, immortalised – meaning that I had bought into the dream as much as anyone else. But I wasn't going to allow Macbeth any hope of a family future. “It might interest you to know that your brother the professor has gone to the same place as Broadsword. Big Eye did for him while you were running away.”

Derek Rennie's face hardly went a shade paler. He sat back loosely. “I wondered why he wasn't answering his phone.” He shrugged his shoulders at me. “Oh well. His work will live on.”

I stared at him in disbelief. His brother's death meant no more to him than Broadsword's. What kind of man was I dealing with? The frightening potential of genetic engineering was nothing compared with this maniac's twisted soul.

“What next?” I asked. “Are you planning on staying in Edinburgh to kill more old men?”

Macbeth shook his head. “Now I have the disk, I'll go elsewhere to sell it.”

“Elsewhere?”

His face darkened. “I'm not sharing my plans with you, Dalrymple.”

“Why not? I'll be coming with you, won't I?”

He laughed. “Only as far as the Edinburgh border.”

“Let the girl go,” I said desperately. “You don't need her now you've got me.” For a few seconds I thought he might accept the offer. Then his jaw tightened and he shook his head.

“Two hostages are better than one,” he said. “I imagine the people David dealt with here have run for cover. The City Guard's already waiting downstairs.”

“They won't bother you,” I said. “I'm in charge of this operation.”

Macbeth snorted. “You, Dalrymple? You're not in charge of anything. I have your destiny and the girl's in the palm of my hand.”

Sitting in the perforated leather chair and watching the familiar way he handled the silenced automatic, I couldn't think of a way to dispute that.

Later in the afternoon Macbeth allowed me to communicate with Davie, The king had finally accepted that without my okay he wouldn't get past the guard. He wanted safe passage for us and for two local members of his cult. I wondered if they were the two companions Broadsword had with him during the archive burglary and when he killed the auxiliaries. The arrangements were finalised. Macbeth wanted a guard vehicle outside at eight o'clock.

“And Davie?” I said urgently before I finished the last call. Rennie brandished the gun at me then turned it back on Aurora. I got the message. “Davie, whatever you do, don't let Hamilton or anyone else in on this – especially not Billy Geddes. If you have to, threaten the guardian with the Council. You've got nothing to lose.” I had the feeling they would do anything to get the disk back from Macbeth – I hoped its loss hadn't been broadcast.

“Got you, Quint,” Davie said. “We'll be on your tail.”

“No, you won't be on my tail,” I said clearly, looking at Macbeth. “Any sign of guard personnel and we die.” I let the words sink in.

“Aye, okay. Out.” Davie was obviously reluctant to hold back. I'd just have to trust him to remember that Aurora was in the firing line.

Macbeth relieved me of my mobile and made several calls from the far corner of the room, shielding his mouth so I couldn't hear what he was saying. While he was doing that, I managed to attract Aurora's attention. I smiled at her and winked in what I hoped wasn't an off-putting way. Finally I got a brief, nervous smile out of her. That made me very happy.

Then I calculated the chances of us surviving the night. Given Macbeth's indifference to normal human values, they were probably about as good as the odds of each Edinburgh citizen winning the compulsory lottery – that is, about 300,000 to one.

“The Land-Rover's here,” I said from the window.

Macbeth waved me aside and watched as the driver ran off down the rain-drenched crescent under the low-powered street-lights. Earlier we'd seen Davie and the others come out of the street-door and drive away. The king didn't seem to recognise Hel Hyslop – she had a guard beret jammed over her head.

“Move, girl,” Rennie said sharply, pointing the pistol at Aurora.

She stood up and gave him a disdainful look that almost made me burst out laughing. I frowned in an attempt to get her to be more co-operative.

“You go first, Dalrymple,” he said. “Remember, I've got the gun in the girl's back.” He grabbed Aurora and held her in front of him.

“Okay, okay,” I said, arms open wide. “Nobody's going to try anything.” I walked slowly out of the room to the flat door.

“Turn on the stairwell light,” Macbeth ordered. “Then go down very carefully with your arms outstretched.”

I nodded, breathing deeply and trying to convince myself that Davie would have cleared the area completely. I got down to the first floor without incident and walked past the open door. Fortunately Broadsword's body wasn't visible. Aurora had already seen enough.

In the ground-floor hall I saw no sign of the handgun I'd dropped from above. Davie had probably picked it up. Even if he'd left it, I wouldn't have risked bending down to grab it. I pulled the heavy front door open and stuck my head out slowly. The night air was chill and the drizzle was still coming down. Outside, the guard vehicle sat under a street-lamp, the orange light showing windows with no condensation on them – that suggested there wasn't anybody hiding behind the metal panels.

“You're driving,” Macbeth hissed as he pushed me out into the street. “Open the passenger door, then get in and wait for us.”

I pulled the near-side door open as instructed and walked slowly round to the driver's side, glancing both ways down the crescent as I went. No sign of anyone. Even people with a reason to be here would have been stopped on Davie's instructions. I got in and felt for the key. It was in the ignition.

Macbeth bustled Aurora into the seat between us and slammed the door.

“Where to, guv?” I asked, smiling at the little girl. She looked at me as if I was crazy.

“Head for Muirhouse,” Macbeth said, making sure the vehicle's phone was switched off. “I'll give you more directions later.”

I nodded and pulled away, narrowly succeeding in engaging the gears – I was never much good with Land-Rovers. Muirhouse. The run-down citizen suburb where we came ashore. It looked like Macbeth was planning on departing from the same beach he'd arrived on.

I headed down towards the Water of Leith. There's hardly any traffic in this part of the city as the roads are too steep for buses. There weren't any of the normally ubiquitous guard patrols. Davie would have ordered them off.

As we headed down the slope towards the northern sector I nudged Aurora gently. She turned her head towards me slowly, trying not to attract Macbeth's attention. I winked at her again and this time her face was wreathed by a spectacular smile that took my breath away. I remembered Caro smiling like that at special moments.

“Turn left at the roundabout,” Rennie ordered. Then he started giving me more complicated directions. After a few minutes of turning back on ourselves – making sure we weren't being followed – he pointed at a narrow driveway. “In there.”

I followed the track and the headlights swung over a harled eighteenth-century villa. I hadn't been there before but it had obviously been through a lot during the drugs wars. Some of the most destructive gangs came from the north of the city and they must have tried out their rocket launchers and grenades on this house. There were no windows or frames in the gaping holes of the façade and the rusted remains of a late-twentieth-century car were hanging crazily off the entrance steps. The Housing Directorate had evidently forgotten the villa existed.