The guilty parties, p.2
The Guilty Parties, page 2
The man smacked Tom with the back of his hand, then drove the butt of his gun into Tom’s face, sending him to the floor. Tom covered his face, feeling the blood pouring out, but somebody grabbed him and hauled him back up to his knees.
‘On your knees, please,’ said the man. ‘I want everybody to watch this. Well, I wanted everybody. Alas, a few of them seem to have left early,’ said the man, motioning to Allison’s body lying beside Tom.
‘On behalf of all people who are decent, on behalf of everyone you guys have screwed over physically, morally, financially, I hereby sentence you all to death. Oh, and with extreme pain.’
The man walked up to Allen, took something out, and drove a knife up into the man’s stomach. When he retracted it, the grey monk kicked the chair away, and Tom watched Allen’s body fall, and his neck half snap. The man continued down the line, doing exactly the same to each member of the family. The man in the grey monk’s habit then walked over to the camera that was filming the entire event.
‘Try to work it out,’ he said. ‘You boys in blue, try to work it out. They’re deserving of it. I want you to find it out for yourselves. I want you to tell everyone because this won’t be the last.’
Tom watched as guns were kept trained on the crowd. Both boxes were packed up, and as quickly as they’d come in, ten monks disappeared back out the side door. He looked across at the body of Allison and felt his own body shaking. The blood was still coming down from his face, and tears were involuntarily coming to him. He’d almost died. Almost died.
There was no screaming in the room. People were running over to those who had been on the gallows. Someone hauled down the curtains that obscured the lobby. People were reaching for phones to call the police.
Tom stood up, looked down at Allison with regret, and then glanced across at Allen swinging on his gallows. Well, that promotion was screwed, wasn’t it? ‘Bugger,’ said Tom. He reached for a bottle of wine, poured himself another large glass, and turned to Allison.
‘Would’ve been great, love.’ He downed the liquid.
Chapter 02
Macleod sat down, sweat running off the back of his neck. He wasn’t accustomed to this much dancing, but Jane deserved it. She’d put up with a lot of issues over the last while—his grumpiness, his anger at not having caught the killers that had dispatched three ministers and nearly got their hands on another two.
His mind had been caught up on them. He’d been elsewhere, not attentive to her. They’d gone on holiday, and he barely noticed where they’d been. The grey monks had been gnawing at him. A piece of unfinished business, a file that couldn’t be closed, but here was a joyous occasion.
It had been four months since Clarissa had left the office at the police station, saying yes to a man from the golf club. Only four months to plan and execute a wedding, but then again, Macleod knew Clarissa. She could do anything she put her mind to, except perhaps come back to being a police officer. She’d walked that day, told them all that she couldn’t take it, told them all that she was sick of it. He couldn’t blame her.
She had seen Patterson go down. Clarissa had held his throat, praying to God for an ambulance, praying she could keep him alive. And she had. Patterson owed his life to her. Even if the man wasn’t back on the force yet, he was alive. He’d have trauma, serious mental trauma from the situation. So would Clarissa.
She’d refused help from the police force, from the counsellors that Macleod tried to line up for her. She wouldn’t take any of it, desperate to be away from the place. He had pondered if he had been wise to bring her in. Was she the right option? She was an integral part of the team, though. Of that, Macleod was sure, but technically, it was now Hope’s decision if they were going to replace Clarissa. Hope’s decision, in conjunction with medical staff and HR, whether Clarissa would even be fit enough to come back.
A figure landed in the seat beside him. The long red hair swinging around in an unfamiliar fashion. Macleod had seen Hope so often with a ponytail that he swore that was the way her hair came. Tonight, she had let it out, and she was in excellent form. She needed this. They’d all needed this, something to celebrate. Clarissa’s marriage had been one tangible moment of joy to get hold of.
The church service had been splendid. Flowers down the aisle, everything decorated, and one thrilled woman who, in fairness, still stomped up the aisle. She didn’t walk that steadily, former injuries coming to the fore. She looked well considering her age. There was a fortunate man at the front of the aisle and Macleod thought he was well-suited to her. The groundsman from the golf club was quiet, thoughtful, and very patient.
Macleod had also managed to get Clarissa’s green sports car restored. The insurance had been a pain but he’d made it a personal mission, an attempt to bring a little joy back to her from the situation. It had pleased her but she remained distant about work.
Macleod had got the feeling that Clarissa had been avoiding him today, though. She never gave him more than the briefest of smiles. When he went over to give his congratulations, she had turned away, not rudely but hurrying off to some other engagement. He was a police officer. He noticed these things, and she was definitely shunning him.
‘Well, well, you certainly hide some talent,’ said Hope.
‘What do you mean?’ Macleod asked.
‘Strip the Willow. Who would have thought you would have done Strip the Willow? You nearly threw me off that back wall.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Macleod, and it was. When they’d come to the part where you swung round with each other, he felt he was the one being swung, not the other way around. Strip the Willow, a traditional Scottish ceilidh dance involved changing partners so often that Macleod felt dizzy by the end. Jane had dragged him out there with a smile and she was still smiling, and that’s why Macleod was here. He was no dancer. This was not him, but he needed to give her the time and the space to enjoy herself.
Jane was looking resplendent. She had bought a new dress and even bought him a new suit. It was bright for his liking, but he would not complain and he had stood for a part of the night, watching his partner talk to so many people. Jane was vivacious. She could engage and then every now and again, he saw the head turn round to look for him, check to see what he was doing.
Someone walked past and suddenly Macleod had a baby on his knee. Well, it wasn’t quite a baby, more like a toddler.
‘Grumps, is it?’ said Hope.
Macleod looked at her, giving a dark stare, but inside, he was loving it. ‘You know I don’t like it when Ross calls me that. And it’s Gramps!’
‘Well, he’s got none of his own. Child needs some sort of grandparents. Even a Grumps and a Grandma. I don’t see why you and Jane can’t do it,’ said Hope.
‘He could have chosen you.’
‘I am not old enough to be a grandparent,’ said Hope. ‘Oi, less of that,’ she said at Macleod’s raising of his eyebrows.
She swung her legs around to sit at right angles to the seat. Hope was wearing a dress, something Macleod didn’t see often. It really suited her because she had a terrific figure. Yes, she was tall and yes, she was strong, but the dress, simply cut in a plain orange colour, looked perfect on her. She shone in a way he never had. Sassy. He laughed. One thing Macleod never was—sassy, or even sexy.
Macleod felt a hand reach up and touch his cheek. The child on his lap reaching up, tweaking his ears.
‘Get off,’ said Macleod. ‘Grumps don’t like.’
‘See, you just said Grumps.’
‘Enough,’ said Macleod. He smiled and started bouncing the child on his knee. Angus, Ross’s partner, suddenly came past.
‘Do you mind if I grab him for a photograph?’ he said to Macleod.
He offered the child straight away. The music had become slower. Some sort of waltz, Macleod reckoned. Then he realised that Hope had stood up. She reached down with her hand.
‘I want to talk to you,’ she said. ‘Come and dance.’
Jane appeared at Macleod’s side. ‘Do you want this one?’ she asked.
‘If you want,’ said Macleod. ‘But Hope’s just asked.’
He saw Jane looking at Hope’s face. Then his woman half smiled. ‘Go dance with your inspector,’ said Jane. ‘I’ll be over there. Some top canapes.’
Macleod took to the floor with Hope, unsure at first quite where to put his hands when they danced. One minute they were quite close, then he tried to step back.
‘Just put an arm up on my shoulder, an arm around the back of my waist, and don’t be afraid to be close.’
‘You realise you are much taller than me? I mean, I don’t feel like a man dancing with a woman here. I feel like a child being pulled into his mother’s . . .’
‘Stop,’ said Hope. She moved back and forward in time with the waltz, and Macleod tried to follow.
‘Never come up with images again,’ said Hope. ‘We’re just two colleagues. We’re having a dance and we’re up here because I want to talk to you quietly.’
‘What about?’ asked Macleod.
‘Have you asked her?’
‘I’ve tried,’ he said. ‘I can’t get near her.’
‘Well, she’s a bride on her wedding day, to be fair. I doubt she’s running away from you.’
‘She’s running,’ said Macleod. ‘I’m not sure that she’s ready. Though you’re right; she is doing well.’
Macleod saw Clarissa over his shoulder dancing with her husband, a broad smile across her face.
‘The team’s not the same without her,’ said Hope. ‘We’re down Patterson. We could do with her back. We still haven’t . . .’
‘I know we haven’t. We haven’t found them yet. We haven’t been able to get into the group. Ross said there would be more. There will be more. It’s coming.’ Macleod bowed his head slightly, but found his chin being lifted by Hope.
‘It wasn’t your fault. We stopped two of them.’
‘We nearly lost the lot, though.’
‘But we didn’t. Patterson will be okay, and Clarissa . . .’
‘Clarissa will what? Be okay? I need her back in the unit, but I look at her now and I think, why? How can I do that? She doesn’t deal with the horror as well as we do.’
‘You deal with the horror?’
‘Yes,’ said Macleod. ‘I deal with it. I process it. I get rid of it. Don’t you?’
‘I have cried myself to sleep at nights,’ said Hope. ‘Ask John. I’ve spent nights in his arms sometimes when things come back at me. Don’t forget Cunningham had it rough, too.’
‘I know, but I need Clarissa back. She’s good for Ross as well. He’s different.’
‘Of course, he’s different, Seoras. We all are. We’ve all struggled with this one. It’s just you and I have had this before. Ross, too. Clarissa, she’s not used to it in the same way. I mean, to have to hold on to your partner, to have to keep him alive.’
Their heads went down, and the pair danced together until the music stopped. There was a quick silence, a round of applause for the band, and then murmuring started.
‘Are you okay, Seoras?’ asked Hope.
‘No,’ he said. ‘Neither are you. We need to end this, need to find them. The team needs to be put back the way it was. We need to . . .’
Suddenly, he was pulled very close, Hope hugging him tightly. ‘Quiet,’ she said, ‘You need to talk to her. It’s her big day, but we need to know. Do it.’
Macleod turned away from Hope, saw Clarissa with a glass of champagne in her hand, and strode over to her.
‘Congratulations,’ he said. ‘You look happy.’
‘I am, Seoras. I really am. How are you?’ Macleod went to speak, but no words came out.
‘That’s part of the problem,’ she said, ‘when it gets you like that. You haven’t been able to leave it, have you? You haven’t been able to deal with the fact that they got away, that they escaped. That’s just the way it went. Sometimes it happens.’
‘No,’ said Macleod, ‘that’s not just the way it happens. Sometimes you need to get them because more are coming. We took an enormous hit.’
‘Yes, we did.’
‘But Patterson’s going to be okay. He’s sorry he is not here today, but it’s just the way he’s feeling.’
‘I hope he’s okay, and Susan, and I think I’m okay.’
‘You’ve obviously landed on your feet. Ross is . . .’
‘Ross has changed,’ said Clarissa. ‘Ross has become hardened. Something’s going on in there.’
‘Aye,’ said Macleod. There was a silence.
Clarissa tapped Macleod on the shoulder. ‘Tell me what it is. I’ve been avoiding you, but now you’ve got me. Tell me what it is.’
‘I can’t,’ said Macleod.
‘Tell me. Just come out with it and tell me.’
‘We need you back,’ he said. ‘I know what you’ve seen has been horrific. I know what’s happened, but you got through it. You succeeded. You did what you needed to do. It’s not the same team without you. I need my bullish sergeant. I need my . . .’
‘Rottweiler?’ she said.
‘Yes, my Rottweiler. When you come back—if you come back—we need to get them. We need to.’
Macleod’s phone vibrated. Instinctively, he reached for it, taking it out of his pocket before he even realised he had done it in such a rude fashion. It was a call from the duty sergeant at the station. He knew where they were. He wouldn’t have called unless it was urgent. There came a tap on his shoulder. He turned and saw Hope mouthing the words, ‘Lot’s dead.’
Macleod held a hand up to Clarissa. ‘Excuse me,’ he said.
He made off a small distance before calling the sergeant. A minute later, he walked over to Jane, apologising, saying he had to go and pointing her toward Clarissa.
Four detectives headed off immediately from the wedding to get to the crime scene. But one remained, happy in her wedding dress, talking civilly to Jane. On the outside, Clarissa tried to smile as she spoke, but on the inside, she was feeling a panic.
Chapter 03
The Cairngorms looked stunning as the evening sun worked its way behind the mountains. The heathers spread across them showed up with the light, purple as the thistles were in flower. That, combined with the immature heather, cast a stunning carpet across the mountain’s contours.
As the car drove into the car park of the Holy Glen Hotel, Macleod could see many ambulances, and police officers trying to herd people towards the other services. Outside on the road, he had seen coastguards on traffic duty. Such was the size of the operation, and he wondered what was going to face him. The desk Sergeant had talked about some kind of organised killing, almost medieval in the way it was carried out. The car pulled up, Ross driving, and Macleod stepped out to an acknowledgment from one of the uniformed sergeants on the scene.
‘Detective Chief Inspector,’ he said.
‘So, how are we doing?’ asked Macleod.
‘Well, the area’s sealed off. Forensics are about to go in. It’s a mess though. I got people wandering around, stunned and in a mess. Been trying to get help to them all, and get a headcount. We’ve got as many ambulances as we can, but we’re trying to get information from people with severe trauma. What they’ve seen has been . . .’
‘What did they see?’
‘Five people put to the gallows and killed. Prior to that, several people executed for not obeying instruction. Apparently, it’s all been filmed.’
‘Are we getting any descriptions of the attackers?’
‘Well, they seem to have been disguised. I’m trying to round everything up for you, sir. Get you a better briefing. Maybe you want to check the scene first with forensics.’
Macleod was joined by Hope. Also arriving in the second car was Susan Cunningham. Macleod and Hope then walked over to the forensic wagon that had pulled up, donned sets of coveralls and then entered the front lobby of the Holy Glen Hotel.
The main lobby was looking distressed. Macleod could see the odd table having been turned over, glasses knocked to one side. Presumably, there’d been some sort of melee to get out. As he entered, he saw the figure of an Asian woman barking orders at people.
‘Can you give me a minute?’ she said, seeing Macleod. He nodded back.
Macleod stood for a moment with Hope looking around. ‘What do you feel?’ he asked.
‘Fear. Genuine fear amongst the survivors.’
It took a moment before he was called forward by Jona and, as Macleod entered the conference room, he saw five corpses swinging.
‘You got to us quick,’ said Jona. ‘I’ll have those bodies down shortly. We’re just taking the last of the photographs, checking through a few things. There are also some bodies on the floor.’
‘Do you want to walk me through your initial thoughts?’
‘Well, the initials are quite simple,’ said Jona. ‘A large group of people in here. You got one dead on the floor over there, one there, one there, and another there. All shot in the head, quick, accurate. Done by people that knew what they were doing. Although, given the distance some of them were shot at, possibly not specialists. More like people who’ve been trained recently. Not with practiced ease, shall we say?’
‘Interesting,’ said Macleod. ‘What about the people on the gallows?’
‘Still got to identify them. You can check with the duty sergeant out there. He might have a better idea. When we get them down, we’ll be able to pull out some ID. Although, I think many people knew who these people were. There was a conference that was running, so there’ll be a list.’
‘White tuxedo on that one,’ said Macleod.
‘A little more ostentatious than some people I’ve seen out there,’ said Hope. ‘Maybe that’s the boss boss.’
‘You mean the big boss?’ asked Jona. ‘Like Seoras here?’
‘Whatever. He’s a dead boss,’ said Macleod, ignoring the jibe. ‘That woman on the end, she’s like . . .’
‘I would say she’s in her nineties,’ said Jona.
‘Who hangs a ninety-year-old woman?’ asked Macleod.
