Snow Storm (18 page)

“
No,” Andy
replied, “Seemed like a laugh, that’s all.”

“
Seemed like
a laugh, that’s all?” he parroted. “You don’t seem to be laughing
now do you?” The man looked at his two companions. Toothless boy
wouldn’t return his gaze. In a way it was like being in the
headmaster’s office, taking a bollocking and knowing that you
weren’t entirely to blame but at the same time, dobbing in the
school psychopath wasn’t going to do anyone any favours.

Andy looked away as far
as his head and eyeball mobility would allow, to the fertiliser
bags piled high against the far wall. He wondered why they should
need to stock quite that much of the stuff this time of
year.

“
What do you
know?” the suit demanded.

“
About what?”
he replied, genuinely stumped and a little curious.

This was the wrong answer
again. The man nodded to goon number two who rewarded Andy with
another blow to the side of his head for his trouble. He felt his
pulse quicken and a pounding sensation, no doubt where his eardrum
was. Something warm trickled down his neck and he tasted salt water
again. He realised now that he may have thought it on occasion, but
in reality, until this point, he’d never truly known
hate.

“
I’m asking
the questions,” the suit replied, trying to convey an air of calm
and control but succeeding in giving off the exact
opposite.

“
I don’t know
what you mean or what you want from me,” Andy
spluttered.

Again the crack of an
AK47 butt against the side of his head.

“
Oh I think
you know something,” the man replied.

“
I know it
all looks a bit fucking suspicious,” he growled back, spitting
tears as he did. “I know this isn’t a good way to keep your
customers happy and I know you’re gonna get yours you wee
prick.”

With that, the suit
laughed, shrugged to his goons and tilted his head towards Andy in
a theatrical motion before walking away. The next thing he knew he
was waking up where he now found himself, trying not to
gag.

He caught something
moving in the peripheral vision on his right side and his heart
lurched into his mouth as he realised he was not alone. He jumped
again as something began to touch him on the damaged side of his
head.

He relaxed as
he realised it was a gentle hand, before losing consciousness
again.

“
Interview
room three, Thursday December thirteenth, two thousand twelve,”
Edwards began, speaking into the tape recorder. Burke cringed and
hoped it was noticed. He hated it when people pronounced things in
an American way, clearly believing themselves to be in a
film.

“
Present; DI
Edwards, DI Burke and Victor Andreyevich.”

He even noticed it on the
news these days, MSPs referring to the Scoddish Parliament or the
Scoddish Government or Scoddish independence. Whatever happened to
a good old fashioned glottal stop or, heaven forbid, pronouncing
your Ts properly.

The Lithuanian sat on the
other side of the cheap table, seemingly trying to bore holes in
Edwards’ eyes with his own. So far all communication had been of
the non-verbal variety, save for his demand for a lawyer, though
even then he had waived his right to delay the interview before one
arrived, opting instead to get straight into the posturing
contest.

The air was cold in the
interview room and his breath could clearly be seen exiting via his
nose in the form of steam. He looked like an angry bull. He
returned his gaze to a point he’d picked on the table clearly
feeling he had suitably berated Edwards for what Burke decided was
likely to be bad pronunciation of his name. As he looked down his
chins seemed to multiply. He looked more like a walrus now, only
meaner, with a face hardened, no doubt, by seeing things no one
should. He wore an expensive looking grey suit with a shirt whose
main body was purple with a gold chalk stripe and collar was white.
His chubby fingers swelled round various gold rings, some religious
in nature, others merely expensive. His hair was almost too small
in comparison like a top which could easily pop given the right
amount of pressure.

“
So Victor,
can I call you Victor?” Edwards began in earnest.

No movement or
acknowledgment was forthcoming.

Edwards raised his
eyebrows in Burke’s general direction before readdressing his
suspect. “I suppose you how much trouble you are in?” He
continued.

Andreyevich let out a
long drawn out sigh and leaned back in his chair. He folded his
arms and regarded Edwards with a look of disappointed contempt and
more than a hint of boredom. It was a look that said ‘I can do this
all day.’

“
Do you think
he understands English?” Edwards asked Burke with mock
sincerity.

“
Enough to
tell you my lawyer will be here in due course and that you’d be
better advised to wait until that point.” Andreyevich answered
coldly, before adding “Inspector,” as though this in itself was an
insult.

“
Alright,
alright, you have it your way Victor. We’re only trying to help. I
mean you’ve hospitalised how many? Three people?” Edwards looked at
Burke conspiratorially, “Three people, possibly four, depending on
your perspective. Other people might not be so kind after reviewing
the CCTV footage we have, but let’s give you the benefit of the
doubt, three people, hospitalised Victor, and they don’t seem to be
getting out any time soon. Nope, and you know what that means don’t
you?”

Victor concentrated on
his finger nails which he was now more interested in than listening
to Edwards. Burke couldn’t help noting that they were a bit too
well manicured to require picking.

Edwards pressed on.
“Should they be there for more than two days Victor, that changes
things significantly.” He kept his gaze locked on the interviewee
despite the lack of response. “Right now you’re looking at assault,
a fairly serious one at that, but assault none the less. Maybe in
this case worthy of say a year in the big house.”

Again Burke couldn’t help
but notice Edwards using phrases which were clearly not his own.
“But those stack up Victor. I’d say you’re looking at three years
if it comes down to it.”

Andreyevich laughed at
this.

“
It’s not
funny really, three years is a long time in there. Do you have a
wife Victor?”

No response.

“
A girlfriend
then?”

Nothing again.

“
Kids?”

At this, Andreyevich
dished out an icy glare in Edwards direction before turning his
attention to the palms of his hands.

“
Kids eh?
I’ve got kids. Have you got kids Inspector Burke?”

“
No.” Burke
replied. Technically he had one on the way of course, but something
in him felt he didn’t want his unborn child involved in this in any
way, like it was bad luck or might harm him or her. The protective
instinct in him meant that he now visualised smashing Edwards’ face
off the table. Not that he that would do any good. The table would
probably crack and buckle if tested that way and he suspected that
wasn’t one they did down at the Ikea engineering lab.

“
It’s tough
at the best of times,” Edwards continued, aiming his monologue at
Burke. “Just working means you don’t get to see them as much as
you’d like. You worry they’ll forget who you are, that you won’t
perhaps be the influence or the steady hand they require in their
formative years, that they might go off the rails or just start to
resent you.”

Burke decided there were
now two people in the room wishing Edwards would shut the fuck
up.

“
Of course
that’s day to day life. We’re all busting a gut trying to get on,
make our way in the world as it were, which I suppose is all any of
us are trying to do. Only, how much harder must it be, how much of
an impossibility is it all if you’re in prison in another
country?”

He really was trying to
string this out, milk it for all it was worth.

“
Of course
your children aren’t actually in another country are they
Victor?”

Victor’s
expression changed rapidly to one of an evolved predator about to
pounce.

Even Edwards, despite his
best efforts, showed the briefest hint of awkwardness, looking away
towards Burke again. “No, they’re at Fettes College Jim, getting
probably the best education this out of the way wee country has to
offer, safely hidden away you might think, or maybe somebody did
think.” He looked back to Andreyevich again, a renewed fire in his
eyes. “What a coincidence eh? The day you happen to turn up in
Edinburgh is the day your boys, Boris and Sacha I believe, the day
their school happens to have a murder right on the doorstep a
couple of hundred yards from where they sleep.”

Andreyevich regarded
Burke and Edwards in turn, probably sizing them up for the
kill.

“
Or perhaps
less obviously at first, on the day Vlad the Inhaler, aka Vladamir
Petrovski, that name familiar to you Victor? On the day his head is
left outside your sons’ school you happen to turn up in this fair
city; coincidence? I’m not a great believer in coincidence Victor.
That’s the problem I have. It’s the thing that keeps me awake at
night. It’s the thing that makes me start digging around like I’m
trying to scratch an itch or something and that’s how I find things
out.”

Victor was now just
staring straight through Edwards, like he’d picked a spot on his
head and focused on that.

“
That’s how I
find out things like who people were in prison with.” Edwards
carried on. “And we know which particular headless man you were in
prison with, don’t we Victor?”

Now it was Burke’s turn
to be angry. Nothing like being kept in the loop. He imagined the
table smashing scenario again, only this time when the government
bought tat disintegrated someone had accidentally left a big spike
underneath it.

“
Inspector
Burke has an evil sense of humour Victor and that seems to have
made him smile.”

Still no response from
Andreyevich.

“
I wonder
what he might think about the fact that if any of these current
hospital patients remain there for, say two days, just one more
really, that would probably be grounds for considering these
charges to be more like attempted murder.” He looked at Victor
briefly again as he paused and sipped his coffee. “You may never
see the light of day again. Oh I know you can do the time. I know
you’ve got form. But can your kids?”

Andreyevich looked at him
in disbelief. Was this a suggestion that they would be sent away?
Was this country so corrupt?

“
Oh not
literally of course.” Edwards reassured him, “We wouldn’t send them
to the salt mines or anything. We don’t do that here but we do
deport people, back to wherever they came from, even if say,
wherever they came from was like the wild fucking west. Without
protection in sight, what with daddy dearest in the clink, I wonder
how long a couple of posh school boys would last with everyone
coming out of the woodwork to pick over the carcass of your…”
Edwards scoffed, “Respectable business empire.”

Victor was now gripping
the table firmly with both hands. His nose curled up in a sneer as
he struggled to stay in some kind of control and retain a composed
façade.

Edwards suspended the
interview and stopped the tape before making to leave. “Of course,
there are things we can do Victor. You really should give it some
thought.”

He was, Burke decided
like a man trying to close an insurance sale which made him want to
hit Mike Edwards all the more.

********************

Giles was not a well man.
The booze alone he could probably have coped with, given his track
record, but he was not the greatest flyer. It was one thing he
tried to work on; a major bone of contention he had with himself.
There was no point getting the jet set lifestyle together when you
couldn’t get on a jet without feeling the urge to retch. The Cessna
was not exactly an improvement. Everything had started off well
enough. He’d been so keyed up by the violence preceding take off
and at the same time subdued in part by the residual drink that he
hadn’t really thought too hard about it. The familiar feel had
returned in full force though. As he climbed into the cockpit and
belted up he couldn’t help notice the shaking of his
hands.

The pilot took one look
at him and handed over a sick bag.

Take off wasn’t quite as
bad as expected, mainly because he’d been expecting the worst case
scenario, the one that ended in a fire ball. The view was quite
something if he’d been into that kind of thing, if he hadn’t been
in so much of a mess, hadn’t been thinking about not throwing up
and hadn’t been trying to work out what to do with his biggest
client.

As the bay disappeared
behind them he began to toy with the idea of drifting off for half
an hour. The Galloway hills had other ideas. The turbulence was a
wakeup call. As things seemed to gain a modicum of calm they would
drop what seemed like six feet without warning. It wasn’t easy
keeping it together in the throws of a full on fight or flight fit
when you couldn’t run anywhere and the only person available to
fight was currently in charge of keeping you alive.