Dark Suits and Sad Songs (32 page)

But he had just spoken to this man again, and it seemed that some lives did matter to him. Some lives were so important that they must be taken. He must roar again.

The Dragon looked at an image on the screen of his smartphone. He remembered the big policeman who had stood on the beach in Kinloch such a short time ago, sniffing the air, sensing his presence.

He had to complete this final task, then he would save his friend, no matter what anyone wanted, said, or ordered.

He stared at the silver case. He was the taker of lives, he was the bringer of death, he was the Dragon.

Scott was used to taking his wife out for a meal occasionally, but usually that entailed sitting in a dining room filled with strangers, each table interested only in their own company. Young couples would whisper to each other conspiratorially, while their older counterparts seemed less likely to enter into conversation, often staring around the room as though anxious to get the ritual of dining out of the way and return
to less inclusive pursuits such as watching TV or having a pint in the pub – well, in his experience anyway.

In Kinloch, however, things were different. In this Chinese restaurant, it was as though all present in the establishment were dining together. Nods, winks and ribald comments had been exchanged as they walked in and were seated. Once the novelty of that had passed, he sat and listened to conversations between tables when Annie left to ‘powder her nose’.

‘An’ I jeest looked at him, Jessie, an’ jeest says, no. It’s no’ going tae happen, no’ until you dae something aboot that snoring,’ remarked a large lady to her friend across the room. She spoke as though they were alone, not speaking over the heads of other diners, including Scott himself, whose table lay directly between theirs.

‘An’ whoot did he think o’ that?’ Scott turned his head as Jessie replied. ‘From whoot you telt me aboot his habits, he widna like that one wee bit.’

‘Aye, you’re right. Sometimes I jeest wonder if I would be better on my ain. The weans are a’ away an’ me and him jeest sit aboot. If we speak mair than four sentences tae each other in a night, we’re doing well.’

‘Och, at the end o’ the day, Senga, they’re a’ the same. Mine’s mair interested in the new seat for his bike than taking a ride on the auld banger that shares the hoose wae him.’

Scott felt like a spectator at a tennis match as, despite himself, he turned his head back and forth in time with this very public conversation.

Then a head poked forward from beside Senga, and a man with an ample double chin spoke. ‘Ur yous forgetting that me and Donald are here?’

Scott was relieved when Annie rounded the corner and smiled at him, a bottle of wine and two glasses in her hands.

Jessie and Senga, eyebrows raised, exchanged knowing looks.

‘I’ve got a wee surprise for you when we get back tae the hotel, Brian,’ she said in a stage whisper.

‘Oh, eh, have you noo,’ said Scott, beginning to wish he was enjoying a quiet pint in the bar at the County.

‘Aye, I dae. And see you, Senga, you can stick that smile o’ yours where your mother never kissed you. Noo, whoot will we order, Brian?’

‘I know, Liz, of course I want that,’ said Daley wearily into the screen of his computer. Liz liked to Skype, so now he had to like it, too. ‘It’s just there’s so much going on at the moment. Couldn’t you wait until it was all over?’

‘No, darling, it has to be this way. Can’t you see? The longer we leave things the way they are, the more chance there is that we’ll never do this at all. I’m coming down at the weekend. You, me and James are going to be a family, a proper family.’ She moved nearer to the screen, her face almost filling it. ‘I love you, Jim Daley. Now get some sleep, you look knackered,’ she said, dismissing him in the way he had become accustomed to over the years.

He hesitated. ‘I love you, too.’

She blew him a kiss and ended the call.

He looked around his dining room. It was almost ten o’clock, but he hadn’t yet bothered to turn on any of the lights. The shadows cast by the setting sun complemented the dark recesses of his mind.

Alice Taylor was clever, full of promise and hope for the
future, but she was in the hands of a man who cared nothing of life and death. Was she even still alive? Daley’s heart was gripped by a cold hand, a familiar feeling that was tightening its grip as the years went by.

Another young woman’s features filled his mind, her pale blue eyes filled with sadness and hurt. He felt his heart lurch at the thought of Mary Dunn.

He heard a buzz coming from the pocket of his jacket. He reached behind and pulled the smartphone from the inside pocket.

It was John Donald. Daley wavered, then answered the call. ‘Good evening, sir. I’m not sure that you and I should be having any kind of conversation, given the way things are.’

‘Listen, Jim, forget that shit,’ said Donald, his voice thick on the other end of the phone; he had obviously been drinking, and the hard edge of Springburn was back in his accent. ‘I need to meet you. I have information about the Taylor girl.’

‘If you have information you can give me it now. This isn’t a game, John. Regardless of what you’ve done, surely you have the decency to save that girl’s life?’

‘I can’t tell you now. You have no idea the kind of scrutiny I’m under,’ said Donald, sounding desperate. ‘I only have a short time. I’ll send you a text of the location – don’t worry, it’ll be near Kinloch. You won’t recognise the number, but if you truly value Alice Taylor’s life, you’ll be there. This goes no further than you and I; any deviation and the girl will die, trust me.’

‘Trust you! You fucking–’ Daley didn’t get to finish the sentence before Donald hung up. He flung the phone on the table in front of him, and looked out across the loch and the darkening sky.

41

The restaurant was in a fashionable part of Edinburgh; tucked up a cobbled lane, quiet and discreet. She had been going there for a number of years, and knew the owner well; in return for having a member of the government dining regularly in his establishment, he always made sure she had a table away from prying eyes, and that the rest of his customers on the night were not members of the fourth estate.

Her dining companion walked into the room a minute before he was due, and she was glad she had arrived early. He smiled at her; he was tall, dark-haired, clean shaven and wearing a grey suit, casual, but well cut. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against her cheek.

‘Elise, you look ravishing as always.’ His Home Counties was accent clipped and authoritative.

‘Thank you, Jonathan. I do my best to look good for our little dates.’

‘I do love my trips up north, you know, especially now you’ve managed to sort the food out. One can dine as well in Edinburgh as in just about any other European capital, these days.’

‘We’ll turn you into a flag-waving Scotsman yet,’ she said, grinning.

‘Let’s not go too far, Elise. Lovely to get a break from the Big Smoke, but live here? Bugger off!’

‘I had hoped that with me helping you, you would consider it polite to be nice about my home.’

‘Your home – yes,’ said Jonathan. ‘Not fucking mine.’

Elise was amused by the way he even swore in an upperclass accent. ‘Let’s order, shall we?’ she said, straightening her back and looking down at the menu.

Brian Scott had never been so happy to leave a restaurant in his life. Throughout their meal he and Annie had been watched by everyone. Annie had remained calm and cheerful, and, apart from a few brief words with Senga and Jessie, had remained pleasant company. Scott had the distinct impression that she was more than happy to be seen with him, and relished the fact that their Chinese meal would be the hot topic amongst Kinloch’s battalion of gossips.

‘Well, did you enjoy yoursel’, Brian?’ asked Annie, linking her arm through his as they walked towards Main Street.

‘Aye, though I must admit I felt a wee bit awkward. You know, as though every eye was on us?’

‘Och, jeest you keep your hand on your ha’penny. This is Kinloch, it’s a wee bit like being famous. You can be sure that by the time we get back, they’ll have me an’ you re-enacting the scene wae the butter – you know, fae that film wae Marlon Brando.’

‘Butter?’ asked Scott, confused. ‘I liked him in
The Godfather
an’
Apocalypse Now
, but I cannae say I ever had him doon as the culinary kinda fella.’

‘No,’ said Annie. ‘You cannae have seen the film I’m on aboot.’ She smiled and tugged his arm. ‘Come on, me and
you’ll get back tae the hotel, an’ I can gie you that surprise I was tellin’ you about.’

‘Oh . . . Aye, right,’ said Scott, as they turned the corner onto Main Street and headed up the hill towards the County Hotel.

They were just about to order when Jonathan changed his mind, picking up the menu she had left on top of his in the middle of the table.

He was good, she thought. She hadn’t noticed him remove the small flash drive she’d tucked into the menu; in fact, for a moment, she worried that he’d missed it altogether. Then he smiled at her, and held his hand up to summon a waiter.

‘Sorry, I thought I’d missed something, Elise. I’ve got it now.’

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ she said.

They had a good meal, both starting with a delicious salmon terrine, followed by rack of lamb with crushed potatoes for her, and the venison served with a dark chocolate sauce for him. After lingering over the excellent Rioja, they had a glass of port each, coffee and shortbread.

Throughout the meal they had spoken about every subject bar politics. As he drained the last drops of coffee from his cup he yawned and looked at his watch.

‘You’ll forgive me if I retire. Off back to London early tomorrow.’

He asked for the bill and paid in cash. They exchanged a few pleasantries, then he stood, kissed her on the cheek, and left, shooting his cuffs as he did so and not turning back to wave.

As she sipped the last of her port, Elise Fordham let out a long sigh.

Her cab arrived quickly, taking her along quiet suburban streets to her Georgian villa on the outskirts of Morningside. As the cab pulled up, she was surprised to see a familiar car parked outside her front gate. She paid the taxi driver then walked over and leaned into the open window.

‘Gary, what the fuck are you doing here?’ she asked, concerned that this master of spin looked pale and worried.

‘Jump in, Elise, something big’s going down. I had to come and get you myself. This is too sensitive even for the mobile phones.’

‘Fuck!’ She rushed around the front of the car and jumped into the passenger seat. ‘Right, give it to me as we go. I take it we’re heading into the office?’

Wilson turned towards her. ‘No CCTV in this neck of the woods, eh, Elise?’

‘No, Gary, and even if there was, I doubt they’d be able to lip read what we’re saying. Now, get on with it, what’s going on?’

Without warning, Wilson pulled back his arm, and before she could take in what was happening, hit her square on the side of the head.

‘Maybe it’s time you got it installed,’ he said, as he buckled his seat belt, started the car and gunned it down the street.

Brian Scott noticed how quiet the bar at the County Hotel was when he and Annie walked in. In fact, only two women were to be found, sitting at a table in the corner. The older of the two, probably in her late forties, stood and smiled, embracing Annie. Scott immediately noticed how alike they looked.

‘This is my sister, Sissy,’ said Annie.

‘How you, Brian,’ she said, ‘I’ve heard a lot aboot you.’ She winked at Annie.

‘Aye, well. How are you doin’?’ replied Scott, feeling uncomfortable at being introduced to Annie’s family. ‘Sissy, that’s an unusual name. What’s it short for?’

‘Sister,’ said Annie.

‘Aye, since she’s the auldest, she got her ain name, an’ I got Sissy, you understan’.’

‘Oh right, quite unusual, is it no’?’ said Scott, struggling for something to say.

The two women looked at each other with puzzled expressions. ‘No’ really,’ they replied in unison.

‘Hey,’ said the younger woman, still sitting at the table. ‘I’m here tae.’

‘Aye, an’ you’re lucky you’re no’ in the jail efter whoot you’ve been up tae,’ said Sissy.

‘An’ if that wisna bad enough, you chose tae dae it in my hotel!’ shouted Annie, who for a moment looked as she was ready to take a step forward and strike the young woman.

‘Noo, ladies, what’s this a’ aboot?’

‘You don’t know this lassie’s face,’ said Annie, ‘but you know her name: Tracy Black.’

Scott looked at the young woman. She was probably in her early twenties, but the bloom of youth had been removed by hard living, and most likely drink and drugs.

‘I’m really sorry, Mr Scott,’ said Tracy. ‘I was jeest tryin’ tae make a wee bit o’ extra money. That weirdo promised me sixty quid if I said you tried tae sell me drugs, then tried it on wae me.’

‘I should skelp your arse, Tracy.’ Annie sat down, a look of
disgust on her face. ‘You widna believe it, Brian, but this is oor young niece.’

‘Aye, takin’ after her faither, unfortunately,’ added Sissy.

‘Oor brother has always been a dead loss, Brian,’ said Annie. ‘Mair at hame in the pub than by his ain fireside. Nancy, oor sister-in-law, has had a hell o’ a time wae him.’

‘Aye, an’ jeest when she thought it couldna get worse, up pops this article; jeest a chip off the auld block,’ said Sissy.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Scott! I’ll say anythin’ you want tae put it right . . . Honest.’ Tracy was almost in tears.

‘Aye, well, what’s done is done,’ said Scott, tired yet relieved. ‘I’ll need you tae come up tae the office tomorrow and make a statement tae one o’ my colleagues.’

‘Does that mean I’ll get the jail? You telt me I’d be all right, Auntie Sissy.’

‘I said nothin’ o’ the kind. Whoot I said was: before you get yoursel’ intae mair bother, put a stop tae it noo.’

‘Listen,’ said Scott. ‘I cannae make any promises, but I’ll dae what I can for you. You cannae go around lying aboot police officers though. I hope we’ve got that straight?’