The Nationalist (3 page)

“Oh man, what’s happening,” Dax said. Tony wasn’t happy.

“Look what you’ve done, you idiot. I’m going to have to clear all this up; it’s going everywhere.” Tony knew he was dealing with a drunk who would be slow to react and easy to handle. He crossed round from the counter. He had raised his voice. The boy looked riled.

“You talking to me? It’s just a can; I’ll give you the money you robbing bastard.”

A metal bell tinkled as Bob opened the shop door, “What’s happening? Is this guy giving you grief?” He turned to Tony, “What you giving my pal grief for?”

“Listen, I’m not looking for trouble.” The atmosphere had turned cold and Tony could sense the danger; he knew that a wrong move could spark off something he would not be able to finish. He backed off. He could feel his heart beat faster. Two against one suddenly didn’t feel like decent odds.

“Dax, this Paki says he’s not looking for trouble. That’s too bad mate, because you’ve found it. How come you’re open anyway? Looking to make money out of today were you? Was it your lot that did it – are you a terrorist? Do you think you can use my money to make fucking bombs?”

Tony tried to make a stand but he was worried, “Get out of my shop. I don’t need you in here. This is all being filmed. You’ll end up getting arrested.”

“Might as well make it worthwhile then,” Bob grabbed Tony by the neck and pushed him back, throwing him against a display unit, knocking tins from the shelves. Tony fell to the floor, “Why don’t you just leave; there’s no need for this.”

“There’s no need for bombs but you brought them to us didn’t you? We’re trying to help you lot, and look what you do.”

Bob picked up the first thing to hand, a large can of soup, and threw it full force at Tony’s head. There was a sharp crack, and after that, Tony didn’t move.

Bob and Dax walked calmly from the shop, both convinced they had done the right thing.

6

The TV news agenda was dominated by the aftermath of the attack and every major report came from central Glasgow. All of the reporters asked the same thing – why did this happen? Sandy Stirrit was front of camera on the BBC’s news channel – he was in demand, with live updates every 15 minutes. Given the lack of information he didn’t have much to say, but he was on form and stretching it out.

“I’m joined now by Brigadier, Alistair Watson. Brigadier, can you describe your reaction to today’s events?”

“Firstly I would like to take this opportunity to pay my respects to the families of all those caught up in this terrible tragedy. That this could happen at a memorial taking place to pay respect to all those that have paid the ultimate sacrifice for their country, is simply inexplicable.”

“There seems to be evidence to suggest that whoever was responsible may have been a veteran?”

Alistair Watson couldn’t believe the question had been asked. He gave the camera a stern look he hoped would let the audience know that the thought should not be entertained without evidence, “I think we shall have to wait to see exactly what has happened before we can make a statement either way. At this point it doesn’t help anyone to speculate.”

“With respect sir, the footage we’ve seen so far clearly shows an elderly man wearing Black Watch colours at the centre of an explosion at the Cenotaph. It would appear to be pretty clear cut?”

“We don’t know the exact circumstances around the incident at this time. We have all seen the pictures but we don’t know why this has happened.”

“You were at the service this morning. What did you see?”

The screen blinked back to black, “I’ve seen enough,” The First Minister had been watching the broadcast from Saint Andrew’s House in Edinburgh. Pressing the ‘off’ button on the remote control, he turned to his special advisor, “I need to get down there, to be seen.”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea right now,” Craig McAlmont had been expecting the question, “With respect, the focus for the day will be on the event. It may come across as slightly crass to appear so soon.”

“What’s come out of Whitehall?”

“Nothing yet – I imagine there will be a statement soon though.”

“Where’s ours?”

“In progress – I expect a draft shortly.”

“I want ours out first.”

“It will be.”

“I asked for the Justice Secretary – where is she?”

“She’s being briefed by Police Scotland on security but will be here by half-past.”

The First Minister looked at his watch, “15 minutes then, good. When do you think we should go to George Square?”

“Tomorrow perhaps, but I think Tuesday would be more sensitive.  I think the forensics operation will be pretty drawn out. I understand there’s a lot of evidence to examine.”

“Yes well, perhaps you’re right. Maybe we’d be better doing it somewhere else. The City Centre maybe – Buchanan Street perhaps? That way we could show life getting back to normal.”

There was a knock at the door. “Come in.” The Justice Secretary, Claire Jaimeson, hurried through, looking harassed.

“Have you seen the pictures? It’s a real mess. I’ve been on the phone with Norrie Smith in Glasgow. He seems to be doing everything he can. He’s calling in extra resources from neighbouring areas. We’re going to need to have a significant police presence for the next few days – maybe weeks. We’re looking to arrange shifts. Ayrshire and Lanarkshire are sending about 50 uniforms between them and we’re looking at the same again for Edinburgh. Leave is cancelled in Glasgow but they’ve been overwhelmed by offers of help from the rank and file. I think it’s also probably worth asking for the support of the Army. They’re involved here anyway and 45 Commando just came back from a tour of Afghanistan. They’re still on base; we could use their presence.”

Craig McAlmont had been drinking in the information, “Don’t you think that would look a little heavy handed? If we put armed police and soldiers everywhere, we’ll only stoke up fear.”

“This is not a theoretical situation. I’m already getting reports of racially aggravated violence. Norrie Smith seems to think a man may have been murdered in retaliation – he was a shopkeeper. Glasgow is keeping that quiet for now.”

“That’s wise.”

The First Minister looked visibly shaken, “We need to make sure this is well handled, no leaks.”

“The referendum’s less than a year away,” Craig said, “If this goes badly we could suffer at the polls.”

“We can’t dwell on that too much now, but you’re right. Does Norrie know what he’s doing?”

Claire nodded, “I think he’s trying his best.”

“I hope that’s good enough.”

7

Kath Finch didn’t know where to start. The scene at George Square was closer to a warzone than a field of memorial. This was the most complex case she had worked on as crime scene manager and she knew there would be repercussions if the investigation wasn’t handled properly. Her first job was to preserve the crime scene, in this case a huge public space in Glasgow City Centre. When she arrived she had been faced with a mixture of death, hysteria, and anger. Those who had witnessed the blast, and who were not suffering from shock, were taken to Pitt Street for interview. Given the numbers, a makeshift centre had been set up in the building’s auditorium. Back at the square, many people had been injured, mostly from shrapnel from the bomb, but significant injuries had also been sustained from the granite which had ricocheted from the lion’s head, which had been blown away in the immediate aftermath.

Preserving the crime scene was complicated. The site had access to Queen Street Station, one of the city’s two main stations, while no fewer than seven roads led directly out into town. Initially a Police cordon was put up around the site, but as the crowds of onlookers swelled to the thousands it became clear that more extensive masking was needed. The Forensics team erected a white ten foot tall tarpaulin barrier across the access roads which saved the investigators from prying eyes at ground level. However there were a number of offices, a hotel, the City Chambers, and a number of residential flats which looked into the crime scene, all of which had to be considered. There was a real risk of the press gaining access to one of the flats in the area where they would have a bird’s eye view of the operation, meaning sensitive details could leak out and compromise the investigation.

On arrival, Kath had appreciated the site would have to be split in two. The active area of the investigation took up the east end of the square from Walter Scott’s column through to the Cenotaph. A secondary barrier was erected around this part of the square which allowed the rest of the area to be given over to operations. Scanning ‘ground zero’ the complications she faced were clear. The deadliest area had been within the boundary around the Cenotaph where there had been 14 confirmed fatalities. Shrapnel wounds had been recorded to a distance of 100 feet but the immediate focus would be on the 40 square feet between the granite lions. Kath had been concerned that access was going to be an issue, but the location of the blast had made their job easier to a degree. The dignitaries had been packed-in and had been easy targets. The force of the blast had knocked everyone back, with pools of bloods forming around the fallen, caught by a raised ridge which separated the surrounding wall from the memorial proper. This meant the common approach path could be laid directly into the Cenotaph and to the bomber himself, his body now a bloodied mess of flesh and sinew; his Glengarry hat sat frayed and torn not far from the red poppy wreaths. The raised metal plates were laid for the Forensics team to gain access. Keeping track of the rest of the expected police contingent was going to be difficult given the Specialist Crime Division would be all over the case.

Arbogast had been interviewing some of the walking wounded. It was clear that no-one really seemed to know what had happened. Two of the three people he’d spoken to had said they saw an old man approach the Cenotaph, and that was when the explosion happened. One man in his thirties swore that the bomber had been ‘coloured’ and that he suspected it must have been an Islamic suicide bomber. It wasn’t what Arbogast had seen himself, but the evidence would paint the picture for them, it was just a matter of time. He saw Kath Finch and made his way to the inner cordon to see if she could shed any light on their expected timescale.

“Hi John, this is a real mess.”

Arbogast nodded, “It’s not nice to see. How difficult is this going to be for you?”

“It should be relatively straight forward to identify people as we know exactly who was here. We have live footage showing exactly where they were standing. Presumptive tests for 14 separate blood types, swabs across the affected area – which you can see is pretty extensive – as well as our background swabs will take time. We won’t be able to move the bodies until much later. It might even be early morning before we can do all the tests required. I feel sorry for the lab guys as the volume of sampling is going to be pretty overwhelming.”

Arbogast nodded, “It’s tough all round, Kath. Does it look like our bomber was working alone?”

“I don’t know but the blast pattern would suggest so. The fact that he walked into the middle of a relatively enclosed area meant that the impact against the walls, statues, and central column all intensified the blast. I can’t say at this point what he was carrying but the fact it took so many people out, indicates military grade explosives. I would certainly be surprised if this turned out to be a home grown fertiliser job. This guy knew what he was doing. Do you know much about him?”

“Not yet, but we do know he had an agenda. I just don’t know why he’d do this – what it was he expected to achieve.”

In the background Arbogast could see that the main body of the investigation unit had arrived. About six men and women were changing into the regulation white suits, masks, gloves, and distinctive blue shoes which would help to minimise contamination.

“I see your guys are here now, so I’ll let you get on with it. But you’ve got my number, Kath. If anything comes up—”

“—yeah, yeah John, you’ll be the first person I phone.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know. Now do me a favour and fuck off.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re most welcome.”

Arbogast knew his time would be best spent back at Pitt Street where a Major Incident Team was already in place. It was 3:00pm. Just four hours had passed since the incident but it already felt like days into the investigation. He could feel his phone vibrate against his chest and reached in to answer the call.

“Arbogast.”

“John, it’s Ian Davidson,” Arbogast’s heart sank. Davidson generally went out of his way to make his life difficult.

“Hello Ian – what’s new?”

“You better come back to base. We’ve found out some interesting information about our elder statesman.”

8

The debrief room at Pitt Street was packed. Given the size of the investigation there was standing room only. There was a loud buzz of chatter, with conspiratorial huddles leaking conflicting theories about what may or may not have happened in the square. It couldn’t have been just one old guy, could this be the start of something bigger; could it be linked to the wars in the Middle East? All agreed, however, that whoever was responsible would be caught. Norrie Smith entered the room and the chat stopped. Arbogast leaned against the wall on the west side of the room.

“Good afternoon. You know why we’re here,” He paused, “This afternoon the city experienced its worst ever peacetime attack. A lot of people have died, including some pretty high profile individuals, while many more were wounded. I’m sure that I don’t need to stress the gravity of this situation. There is international interest in this case which will not be going away any time soon. Closer to home each and every one of us is under intense pressure from both the UK and Scottish Governments. No-one wants this to happen again and we need to try to make sure that it doesn’t. I know we are all up to our eyes at the moment but I think it is worthwhile to take stock of what we know so far. We’ll start with the video evidence. DI Davidson from Major Crime has more on that. You might be surprised by what you’re about to see.”