Country of the Blind (16 page)

86

"It certainly looks that way. So he was a threat, you were a threat and this envelope was a threat. And at this point, according to their plan, there'd be no you, no him, and no envelope."

"But you said they wouldn't want to attract attention. Wouldn't two deaths at one law firm seem a conspicuous coincidence?"

"Not that conspicuous. Manson & Boyd's not a family solicitor's, remember. It's got, what, twenty offices across the West of Scotland, maybe a dozen in the East? And we're not talking about execution-style killings. One death by street mugging, one by car crash, same office, same day. . . tragic coincidence maybe, but not necessarily a suspicious one."

"But as far as
they
know, other people at the office could have seen the envelope too. They can't kill everybody."

"No need. Knowledge of the envelope's contents is useless if you can't produce them. And it's no good claiming it's been stolen, because anything you didn't give to the police effectively now never existed. You might entertain a few conspiracy enthusiasts with the story, but it's not going to cut much ice in court, is it?"

Nicole felt like she was climbing a staircase in an Escher painting, fearing her expression of baffled consternation might become a permanent feature as their circumlocutive argument continued to spin dizzyingly back and forth upon itself.

"But if that's the case, why would they still have to kill me and. . . "

"Because it's not this letter, this envelope that they fear. The letter was just a weapon, a catalyst, even. The danger to them is someone being motivated enough to start poking holes in what the rest of the world is perfectly satisfied is an open-and-shut murder case. The danger is someone believing not only that Tam McInnes and friends weren't there specifically to kill Roland Voss, but that they
didn't
kill him, full stop. You said that on TV, remember, in front of several million viewers, most of whom until that point were expecting this whole thing to unfold without hearing a single word of dissent against the idea that those four men did it. Jesus Christ, I mean, did you ever hear
anyone
say they thought Fred West didn't do it?"

"No," she conceded.

"But there
you
are, saying the unsayable, and suddenly some viewers out there in TV-land are wondering whether there might be more to this one after all. Suddenly there's a few people asking themselves: 'What does she know?'. And unfortunately that included the bad guys, who had a more urgent need than most to find out. Like I said, if it turned out you had nothing much, the bad guys would let it go. You'd be just a silly wee lassie with her knickers in a twist and the media would soon get fed up watching you bang your head off a brick wall. But you didn't have nothing, did you? And my guess is you had 87

proof not just that McInnes was receiving inside information, but that he was being set up. Tell me I'm wrong."

Nicole glared at him.

"You know, you're doing so well on your own, I can't work out what you need me for."

"Don't get huffy. We can't afford it. What was in the envelope, Nicole? What did the letter really say?"

She sighed, leaning away from the table and back in her chair. Body language of resignation and cooperation.

"McInnes was being
blackmailed
into carrying out a robbery," she stated.

"He didn't know who, just where. There were photocopies of floorplans of Craigurquhart House, diagrams showing the positions of closed-circuit cameras, electric fences, alarm trip-lasers, the works. There were also photocopies of security-camera stills showing McInnes in the act of burgling three different business premises, which were being used to ensure his participation. McInnes swears in the letter that the pictures are fakes, says he's never committed a burglary since leaving prison.

"The letter says whoever was behind it contacted him several times by telephone using a voice disguiser. McInnes was instructed to rob the safe of the house's VIP suite, as someone very rich would be in residence. It would be a safe with an electronic lock, the combination programmable by the distinguished guest, but there was an over-ride access code which would be supplied to McInnes at the latest possible moment in case it was changed. He wasn't told what was expected to be in the safe, just to take whatever he found and that he would be contacted again afterwards about handing over the spoils, upon which he would be paid a generous percentage."

Nicole held up her palms as if to say "that's it".

"Now," she said stiffly, "maybe this is me being naive, or perhaps my judgment might be clouded by a conflict of interest, but I can't see why they would want to kill me just because I know this. Surely, if anything, this information only serves to explain why McInnes was there. Obviously there is a factor of mitigation regarding his being coerced into doing the job - though that won't be worth a monkey's toss against a murder charge. But there's nothing of use in actually proving he and his colleagues didn't carry out the killings."

"That's not the aspect of it that worried them," Parlabane said. "It's not about whether or not people believe McInnes is guilty. It's about
them
. It's about who
they
are."

"I'm sorry, Mr Par. . . "

"Call me Jack. I know you don't like me very much, so it's not supposed to be a term of endearment, but it's easier."

"Jack. I'm not following this."

88

"Right," he said, pulling at the sleeves of his polo-neck as though he might be about to produce a bunch of flowers from one of them. "Let me put it this way. Here's their ideal situation. They kill Voss, McInnes and co are caught for it, and go to jail. McInnes whines to the cops about being given inside information, and the terrorist scare caused by the high profile of the victims forces the cops to look into this possibility. However, with no evidence, the trail goes cold. Bad guys live happily ever after. End of story.

"Situation number two: they kill Voss, McInnes and co are caught for it, and a lawyer shows up with a letter saying. . . yakka yakka yakka, proving McInnes isn't making up what he's telling the cops. Suddenly the world knows for
sure
there's someone else involved. But then a high-ranking member of the security operation commits suicide inside a police station and
voila
: the world has its mysterious background figure. A few people get jumpy about the fact that he popped a cyanide capsule rather than hung himself, but apart from the hyper-paranoid UFO-spotting brigade, everyone forgets about it after a while, because there's no hard evidence to suggest anyone further was involved. Cops won't go a-hunting when everyone's satisfied that all the questions have already been answered. Bad guys live happily ever after. End of story again.

"Situation number three: as before, but this time lawyer is in possession of information suggesting that whoever was behind it had sufficient resources to blackmail McInnes with faked security stills. Lawyer wonders aloud whether this was maybe a bit too impressive for a one-man show, and suddenly it's not just the UFO-spotters who are looking beyond Donald Lafferty for the source. However, if bad guys steal evidence and kill lawyer, or as it turns out, lawyers, before they can produce it and do the wondering aloud bit, then we revert to situation number two, in which, you may remember, the bad guys live happily ever after."

Nicole nodded, sighing.

"So who are they?"

"Bollocks," he said, patting his pockets. "I've lost their business card. That would have been really handy, too."

"You know what I mean. Terrorists? Organised crime?"

"Well, whoever they are, they're very well organised and extremely well connected. Enough to plan and execute the burglary of your offices in a matter of hours and leave so little trace that no-one noticed. Enough to find out the registration of your car and booby-trap it."

"So how did
you
find out which car was mine?"

"Friends in the police. Same as them."

"The
police
?"

"Like I said, well organised and well connected. Enough to acquire security shots of burglaries-in-progress and drop Tam McInnes's face on to them. 89

Enough to murder Finlay Campbell in broad daylight and make it look like a mugging. And enough to murder Donald Lafferty in a room inside the headquarters of a major regional police force."

The feeling of grasping, hopeless exasperation returned. Another encore in the interminable Jack Parlabane Contradictions and Impossibilities Showcase.

"Donald Lafferty committed suicide. I thought even you had just mentioned
that
."

He burned into her eyes with a look of such darkness that she suspected his previous glowers had been his idea of a sunny demeanour to put her at ease in this time of stress and anxiety. The idea of nipping out to meet the unseen assassins supposedly waiting in a car in the street acquired a fleeting allure.

"Donald Lafferty," he said, very quietly, in low rumbling tones she could feel in her own diaphragm, "is the reason I'm here. And by extension, the reason you're still alive. The fact that they murdered him was what made me realise they might also murder you, get it?"

She nodded solemnly, waiting until he had acknowledged her acquiescence to add, appealingly, "But how?"

"Well, what's the official story?" he asked agitatedly. "What's been on the news all day? Someone - some cop who 'can't be identified for security purposes' - walks into a room and sees Donald Lafferty swallow something, next thing he's dead? Bloke's supposed to have attempted to make him cough it up but he was fought off. Presumably there's signs of struggle to verify this. Maybe the bloke's got a couple of bruises and so has Donald. Maybe a few marks on the furniture, a knackered chair. So why am I the only person in the fucking universe who thinks this suggests that the struggle was Donald trying to
prevent
someone forcing a cyanide capsule down his throat?"

He closed his eyes and turned his head away briefly, letting the swell of emotion subside. There was a beguiling but sad and even pained smile in his eyes.

"Let me tell you a wee secret about Donald Lafferty," he said, "although it won't be secret for long, unless I'm way off the mark. He used to be a cop. That's not the secret. But get this: he was the cop who arrested Tam McInnes for the Robbin' Hoods burglaries. It's not common knowledge. He was just a plod at the time, and the credit officially went to the guy leading the investigation, but it was Donald who made the big breakthrough and it was Donald who physically put the cuffs on McInnes.
I
know this because he was also my friend. And the whole world will know it soon enough because somebody is about to use it to establish his guilt, posthumously, now that he isn't around to answer back."

Parlabane had a sour look, regret and anger.

"Cops at the time were totally stumped. They had few clues, little evidence 90

and the MO just didn't fit any of the usual suspects, or even any of the wilder cards. To cut a very long story short, Donald sussed that the reason they couldn't match up the methods was because the culprits were new to the game - previously, everyone assumed it was a gang coming in from another part of the country, or some bunch of housebreakers moving up the social scale. As a result he looked a bit harder at the details of the first place to get tanned, and from the fact that the items stolen there were fewer and on the whole more personal than in later robberies, worked out that there might be an element of grudge involved."

"And given that the house belonged to Sir Michael Halworth, the police concentrated their suspicions on recently laid-off car workers," Nicole said, happy to demonstrate that there was part of this she
could
follow.

"Indeed. Now, do you want to hear what I think is really going on?"

"I think it would be grossly negligent not to, given my circumstances."

"Donald Lafferty was murdered because he had worked out that they were setting him up. They were setting him up as the criminal fucking mastermind, just like they set up McInnes and associates as the killers. He's the ex-cop working on the security at Craigurquhart, who knew the place inside out, knew who was going to be staying there, dates, times, advance itineraries, the whole show.

"What the world was supposed to believe is this: Lafferty hatched the cunning and dastardly plan but needed someone to carry it out, so he enlisted the services of some gentlemen he knew for a fact had considerable experience in the field, keeping his own identity secret from them. But it all goes wrong on opening night: the hired help get caught in the act, and whether it was in Lafferty's original script or not, they've left four stiffs at their backs. Robbers tell the cops there's another party pulling the strings, and the hunt begins for the shadowy figure behind the curtain. Someone somewhere makes the crucial and timely 'discovery' that Lafferty was once instrumental in putting McInnes and Hannah away for a string of country-house break-ins, and Lafferty commits suicide after his terrible secret is revealed."

Nicole's face was a study in concentration, suddenly broken by a flaw in the logic.

"But that fact hadn't
been
discovered when he died. Unless it just hasn't been given to the media yet."

"No, it hadn't been 'discovered'. And cyanide wasn't part of the plan. Hear me out. According to my contact, and contrary to the bollocks the spokesman told the TV cameras, Donald Lafferty was summoned to police HQ
specifically
in response to what you produced. You buggered up the agenda. He wasn't supposed to be there right then - he was meant to be in Perthshire, where he had been all night, and from where he should have gone home. And my 91

guess is he was supposed to 'commit suicide' at his house later on, by more conventional means, after 'realising' or 'being told' that his secret was out. But instead he shows up at police HQ, knowing now that McInnes and Hannah -

to whom he has a connection - are among the men in custody, and that inside knowledge is suspected. On the way into the building he gives a brief, nervous and extremely weird interview to a TV reporter. The interview is broadcast at 6:20. Donald Lafferty is dead before seven.