A common man, p.10
A Common Man, page 10
Chapter 13
Macleod was sitting in the rear of a BMW with tinted windows. Beside him sat Gleary, looking out the window and saying very little. In the front seat was his henchman and a driver Macleod hadn’t seen before. Gleary had not been threatening towards him, merely told him to get into the car, and Macleod had kept quiet for he’d no desire to talk to the man. He was a relic of another time, a time where Macleod was not himself, suffering after his wife had killed herself up in Lewis. He had buried himself in his work and then a staunch island conservatism had torn at him and left him highly devoid of affection, humour, and a decency towards everyone around him.
He’d been a swine of a detective. Brutal in the sense that he tore through the obstacles in the way. He learned a lot about how to see into the souls of killers, how to understand what was going on in their minds, how to merely pick up on the little minutiae that told everything. He’d also lost himself in the process and he was thankful the day he met Hope McGrath and that all changed—though he still looked back at the way he’d first reacted to her with a strong sense of shame.
‘You said she bites,’ said Gleary. ‘I heard she was the art department.’
‘You didn’t hear anything. You’ve kept tabs on me the whole time, haven’t you? Even when I’ve been up in Inverness, you know everything. You know my team.’
‘Two women and a gay man,’ said Gleary. ‘I never put you down for that. The Macleod that left here wouldn’t have done that. They would’ve been devil’s things.’
‘I’d say I know the devil’s things a lot more clearly these days,’ said Macleod, ‘and what I’ve seen with the knives and these children, they are the devil’s things.’
‘You were one of the few I couldn’t bribe, do you know that? You know that half your department was in my pocket?’
‘Of course, I did,’ said Macleod. ‘That’s why half of them had to leave.’
‘Yes, you screwed me up for a while. You really did. That’s the thing. You would always be on a job because the crime always comes back. People can’t get enough of it. There’s always a reason for it, always time to extort or to bribe. Crime isn’t the heartbeat of the human condition. It’s the blood flow,’ said Gleary.
‘The poison that seeps in, more like. You weren’t that stupid. You were a clever man. You could have led people. You could have done something good. Look at me. What did I have? I could just tell you. I could just see what’s been done. That’s why I was the detective.’
‘I’m still quite disappointed,’ said Gleary. ‘Fancy meeting that redhead you had and you picked another one. What is it? Just not like normal blokes since you left.’
‘I don’t pick my team on what they look like,’ said Macleod. ‘I pick my team on what they can do. Your supposed gay man is what holds our team together. As for the women on my team, the redhead that I haven’t brought will be the one to take over and she will be better than me, Gleary. You have anybody you can say that about? The one I left at your house, if I don’t come back, she’ll torch the place.’
‘You’re winding me up,’ said Gleary. ‘You don’t have to talk tough. We know who you are.’
‘You know I’m not lying. She’d torch the place if you do anything to me. She’d wreck a vengeance the other two wouldn’t have a clue about. Detective Clarissa Urquhart is old school and she is a tough nugget.’
‘It was a glad day the day you moved up there,’ said Gleary. ‘A very glad day. We haven’t found a wily bastard like you. At least not yet.’
The pair continued in silence as the car swept into a rather depressing set of tower blocks. Macleod glanced out of the window, saw them rising high up into the sky. Looking around, he saw a couple of shopping trolleys, people stumbling about, some not able to focus, others with bottles of spirits in their hand, others with tinnies. Cheap lager from down the off-license.
‘She lives in the classy part of town then.’
‘Business,’ said Gleary. ‘She lives amongst her customers. I wish it were different. She’s not normally a courier. Certainly wouldn’t be for that sort of thing.’
‘Well, why is she doing it then?’ said Macleod.
‘When I heard, I thought it was just one of these daft things she’s heavily into, I don’t know, what do you call it? Is it metal music? I have no idea what it is today. Rock music, pop music. Sounds like noise to me. But these people here, they suck it up along with the drugs and the booze. She’s got a good market here. She’s at the top of one of the trees. Let’s go pay a visit.’
Gleary got out of the car and didn’t wait for Macleod, instead marching straight over to the doors of one of the tower blocks. Macleod saw a couple of men moving to block him, young, no more than twenty, and Gleary’s henchman stepped in front. He cracked one with a punch to the face, dropping him instantly. The other, he put a flick-knife out to, holding it up to the man’s throat and telling him to get the hell out of the way. Gleary turned around.
‘Are you coming?’
Macleod followed and watched as they made it up to the next floor where some guns were pulled out. Gleary’s henchman stepped forward.
‘I suggest you call your boss, Miss Amanda, on the top floor. This is her uncle. If those guns are not away from him in the next five seconds, he’ll personally make sure that each one of you dies.’
Macleod could see the hesitation, the worry, and guns were lowered, if not quite put back in holsters. It took several minutes for voice communications to go from upstairs to downstairs and then suddenly the steps up were clear.
‘Thought at our age we could take the lift.’
‘What?’ said Gleary. ‘And get stuck in it? Have it suddenly descend quickly to the floor?’
‘Thought you said it was your niece.’
‘Yes. She’s one of mine. Taught her well; she could take over. You love them for it but you’ve got to be careful.’
Macleod didn’t know what to think but trudged up the many steps to the floor at the very top of the high-rise flat. As he climbed, he could see drug dealers at the doors, making transactions. There were also groups of women that clearly were there to sell themselves. This was not where Macleod wanted to be. If he had been on formal duty, he would have torn into the place. He must mention it someplace, drop a line to Glasgow about it.
When they reached the top floor, the henchman stopped. Gleary continued on his own, opening a large wooden door and shouting inside.
‘Mandy, are you in? Where are you, hen?’
Macleod walked into an incredibly dark flat, looking at the walls, with images, many of them bloody, like a horror movie scene. He also noticed the upside-down crosses on the wall.
His blood ran cold looking at them, and he thought back to the kids who would have been carved on. There was a lot of occult books on the shelves, but Macleod kept to himself as Gleary continued to walk inside.
‘Amanda, are you in?’
Macleod nearly collapsed when he saw the woman who walked around towards him. She had on a pair of long boots, and then what Macleod would have thought was a nightgown. It was black with thin lace material, and you could see that underneath she wore only bottoms. It was anything but attractive. Around her neck he could see the upside-down cross hanging from it, mocking him. Macleod put the girl at no more than about twenty-five. He watched Gleary staring at her as she stumbled over towards him.
‘Uncle, what the hell are you doing here? You don’t need to be here.’
‘I can come when I want, can’t I? Mandy, what’s going on?’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said. Macleod could see the whiskey tumbler in her hand. He also saw a line of veins that had been punctured recently, in her upper arm.
‘I asked you a question,’ said Gleary. ‘Mandy, what’s going on? What’s going on with these knives?’
‘None of your bloody business,’ she said. ‘That was a transaction between me and my client. They’re all gone. All gone off and been delivered. You don’t need to stick your nose into my business.’
‘Your business?’ said the man. ‘You’re lucky you have a business. Tell me now, hen, who ordered the movement of the knives?’
‘Not telling you that,’ he said.
‘You’re trying my patience,’ said Gleary. ‘You really are.’
He reached over, grabbed the gown she was wearing, pulling her close to him. Macleod stood at a distance, watching Gleary pull her up to his face.
‘Where did you take them?’
‘Why? What do you care about it for? Who the hell is this?’
‘This is a man who’s been chasing down the murderer of young children. He says our knives have been used carving details into a lot of kids. It’s not what we get involved in, you know that. I always told you that business is business, but you don’t bring the little ones into it. What have you done?’
‘Don’t need to tell you anything,’ said Amanda. Gleary grabbed her, hauling her over to the window that he threw open, and then started to haul her out of it.
‘Hey,’ said Macleod, but Gleary turned around and told him to shut the hell up. Macleod watched as he smacked the woman several times around the face. Then he had his hand on her throat. Macleod wanted to go forward, but there was a cough from outside the door. Gleary’s henchman was watching, keeping an eye. There was no way Macleod could intervene without being incapacitated by the man. Macleod watched as Gleary began to tip her feet up, and he wondered if he would drop her straight out of the window.
‘Don’t take the piss on me,’ said Gleary. ‘Those knives, where did they go?’
‘Don’t worry about that,’ she shouted. Macleod heard people running towards the room, and then there was a scuffle outside. A youth came racing through beside Macleod, his head slamming into the wall. He collapsed unconscious on the ground.
Meanwhile, Gleary had his niece’s legs up in the air, so her gown was falling unceremoniously around her.
‘Don’t do it,’ said Macleod.
‘I won’t tell you again. Shut the hell up. This is my place. This is my way.’
Macleod was thinking about stepping over, but outside he saw the henchman pull back his jacket, letting Macleod see the gun. There was too much animosity there and Ricardo could gun him down.
The girl was choking now. He saw Gleary smack her several more times, each time with the back of his hand, right across her cheeks. By the time he pulled her back up, there were tears in her eyes, and she flopped onto the bed nearby. Macleod made his way over, and knelt in front of her.
‘What do you know?’ he asked. ‘Tell me what you know.’
‘You heard the Inspector,’ said Gleary. ‘He wants to know what happened to the knives.’
‘They didn’t show themselves to me,’ said Amanda. ‘They just organised it. Drop notes. There’s nothing I can tell you.’
‘You can tell me where you dropped it,’ said Macleod. ‘Even though you might not have seen them.’ Macleod pulled out a notepad. ‘You’ve got to deliver it somewhere. Where did you deliver it?’
For a moment, this seems to flummox the woman. Then she muttered something. Macleod got down close. She gave him an address in Dunkeld. Dunkeld was up near Perth and over an hour away. A good area. Somewhere good to stop if you were trying to move things from south to north. It was right on the main road; while pulling off into it, you were reasonably out of sight of most of the traffic passing along. It sounded like a good place.
‘You must step out now, Macleod,’ said Gleary. ‘I think my niece needs to have a bit of a re-education, a few things explained to her. Ricardo will take you down to the car. He’ll drop you somewhere, let your Rottweiler know where you are. By the way, Macleod. I don’t want to see your face again. You come into my house again like that and I’ll shoot you dead. It’s bad enough you put half of my family in prison. Now you show me what this piece of dirt is.’
Macleod knew he was a police officer; he’d have to step in or stop him. The man was clearly going to abuse the girl, beat her or something, but if he tried to stop her in his current position, he’d end up probably dead in a body bag somewhere. Macleod turned on his heel, sick of the dark sight around him, and made his way down the steps all the way to the bottom, his knee joints suffering at every drop. By the time he got down to the bottom, the driver with the car and Ricardo made sure he entered the car quickly. They drove him out to the M8, dropping him at a service station, and Macleod phoned Clarissa.
‘Did you get anything?’ asked Clarissa on the other end.
‘Enough,’ said Macleod. ‘We’ve got enough. I hope you won’t mind doing a little bit on overtime for this one.’
Chapter 14
The morning following her escapade in the River Ness, Hope McGrath was discharged from Raigmore Hospital, having been watched overnight to make sure there was no longer any ill effects from her unconscious state. She’d been told it was purely precautionary, but she also needed to warm up for the cold had got to her and it was only in the morning that she felt herself again. The shivers had gone, and she was able to smile when her partner John walked into Raigmore hospital with a promised lift home.
He wasn’t surprised when she said she’d have to get back to work, although the DCI had sent a message that she could take off as much time as she wanted. On hearing this, Hope had called Ross, unfortunately waking him up after he’d been out most of the night. He told Hope that the DCI hadn’t organised anybody else to come in and take over the investigation. He was running it with a very loose rein, and Ross very much felt like he was on his own. Even if Ross hadn’t have mentioned this, Hope would have been back because she knew that Macleod and Clarissa were pushing on avenues further south.
Hope breakfasted with John before he ran her over to the River Ness to let her pick up her car. After a swift hug and a kiss, he raced off to the car-hire firm which he had left that morning in the hands of a junior colleague who he wasn’t entirely convinced of. Hope went to get into her car but then stopped and walked over to the railings at the edge of the river. There was still police tape up, still some constables on duty protecting the crime scene, and the forensics were still combing through. She could see further down the river another taped-off crime scene.
She wondered when Ross would be out to pick up the pieces. It was what he usually did. While she, Macleod, and Clarissa were running around, Ross was tying off the loose ends. It was what he was good at, but to leave him to front up an investigation, was an action she wasn’t entirely convinced by. There was that time in the Monach Isles where he was on his own. Seoras had always said he’d done remarkably well but that was also the time that Ross had been shot, albeit after the back-up had arrived. It was a time she didn’t want to remember.
Hope felt herself grabbing the railings tight as her eyes focused on the rushing water. She’d been in there. She’d gone from that island into the water and back out without even knowing it. She’d been compromised so badly that they’d simply tossed her into the river unable to defend herself because of her unconscious state, and then she thought of Clarissa.
I told Macleod that Clarissa had been reckless climbing up on the roof, falling down. Had she been more reckless? Had they been put under the cosh though? The resources hadn’t been there. Did that justify putting your own life at risk? Well, she thought, I was trying to save another. Not that it mattered anymore. Nathan Mackie’s body was the one further down, according to Ross. He’d given her a detailed brief by phone that morning, but now it was time for her to take over the investigation, to take charge. To do that, she’d have to handle her DCI.
Hope slipped inside her car, put on the stereo, and heard some modern poppy tune come across the radio, one that she particularly didn’t like. She pressed the button on it, allowing her phone to tap in. The Bluetooth connected, and she pressed the song that always woke her up in her younger days, and then hated herself for using that comment because she wasn’t that old.
She had dated a bloke into heavy metal, and although she didn’t really like the music, she had picked up a few tunes that rang with her. Some of them were quite old, really, well before she was born. Well, she didn’t think they’d be the type Seoras would like.
As she put the foot on the accelerator, the chorus rang out, the drums beat out a fast, hard, steady rhythm. She heard the woman begin to sing. She’d always liked Lita Ford’s stuff. Also liked the way she looked, and dressed, quite sexy really. Back in the day, she’d have tried to emulate it. Back in the day when she had confidence only in her looks and not in her own abilities or worth. She still liked the look though, even though she wouldn’t feel the need to dress like that for a boy. Anyway, she had a car-hire man—she didn’t need a metal head.
Many loud and head-banging minutes later, Hope pulled into the car park at the Inverness Police Station, turned off the engine, slipped the key in her pocket, and almost sprang up the stairs inside the building towards DCI Lawson’s office. She gave the door a thunderous knock, heard a ‘Come in,’ and opened it to find the DCI knocking a golf ball across the floor. A fallen cup at the far end remained undisturbed as the ball sailed at least two inches to the left.
‘Did I disturb you?’ asked Hope.
‘Not at all. Come in. Come in. You’re looking well. I thought I told you to take the day off. You’ve got the hair up in that ponytail again. I take it that means you want to work.’
‘I think I need to work, don’t I?’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Well,’ said Hope, ‘Ross has been out all night. He’s not got any cover. He’s a good guy, but we’ve just had a murder. We don’t have a DI and are down a DS. If you take me out of the equation, are you stepping in, sir?’
Hope used the word ‘sir’ deliberately, hoping to encourage the man that he actually had a rank that meant he should get off his butt and do something.
