Torch (12 page)

‘You can’t keep
them apart. Whatever Sev is, he loves his daughter.’

‘I’m aware of
that,’ came the sharp reply. ‘Can we change the subject?’

‘I’ll be back
by teatime. You’ll be alright here on your own?’

The response
was short and tinged with suppressed fear. ‘Of course.’

The old woman
patted her daughter’s arm. ‘Keep Bess in the garden if Amy’s out.
She’ll look after her.’

MacRae’s wife
tried a laugh. ‘You’re beginning to sound as paranoid as me,’ she
said.

Jaz shifted
himself, easing the cramp that threatened his right calf. The
sodden shoulders of his parka were clamped to his skin like a neck
brace. The rain was off for the moment and watery sunshine broke
the pattern of grey. If Emps had been here he wouldn’t have been so
cold. Karen was right. Emps kept you warm.

The door opened
and the wee girl came running out onto the grass. Behind her padded
a big golden Labrador. Jaz was glad he’d had the sense to leave
Emps in the barn. All he needed was two dogs sniffing one another
out.

The Labrador
paced the lawn. If it caught his scent, it made no move to come
towards him, choosing instead to stay close to the girl. She was
scuffling around under a big pine tree, at last securing what she
was looking for. She threw the stick and it whizzed towards Jaz,
landing three feet in front of his hiding place. He held his breath
and lay perfectly still, planning what he would say when the dog
discovered him.

The rheumy eyes
found the stick and the greying muzzle sniffed at it. After what
seemed a lifetime the dog lifted the stick and headed back. Jaz
hoped that would be the end of it, but no. The stick came whizzing
back. It flew over the fence to his left. Bess was making a valiant
effort this time, running as fast as her fat stomach would allow.
She stuck her nose through the fence and whined at the
irretrievable stick.

‘Bess!’

The white socks
with the pink trim were on their way. He would give her another
metre then stand up. Better to pretend he was looking for his dog
than be caught lying in the undergrowth.

‘Amy! Where are
you?’

The socks
stopped. The child reached down. Jaz caught a glimpse of dark hair
as she selected a different stick. He could have sworn their eyes
met, then she was up.

‘I’m
coming.’

‘I told you not
to leave the garden.’

Amy was
indignant. ‘I didn’t leave the garden. I threw the stick as far as
the fence. Bess couldn’t find it. I had to get another one.’

The woman made
an effort to sound normal.

‘Granny’ll be
home soon. Come in and help me set the table for tea.’

Jaz watched as
the door shut behind them.

Darkness was
gathering. From the kitchen window, his shadow would be only one of
many. Jaz eased himself up and stood for a minute, letting the
blood run into his cramped limbs. The smell of wood smoke from the
cottage was making him think of food. He ignored the empty feeling
in his stomach and tried to work out what to do.

The occupants
of the cottage weren’t planning on going anywhere tonight. He could
take a chance and go and get Emps from the barn.

The barn was
silent as he approached but as soon as he drew close, he heard a
low growl, which soon transformed into a welcoming whine. When he
opened the barn door, Emps nearly knocked him over in his
delight.

Inside was warm
and dry. Bales of hay, stacked at the back, emitted the smell of
summer. Emps pranced about, pieces of straw flying from his
coat.

‘Good sleep, eh
Emps?’

The dog licked
his hand. It would be hard to leave the barn, but he had no choice.
He’d already decided on their resting place for the night. The
garage at the cottage might not have the warmth of the barn, but it
would do.

Emperor bounded
out the door ahead of him.

‘Wait,
Emps.’

There was a
yelp, then silence. Jaz ran outside. The dog was nowhere to be
seen.

‘Emps! Come
here boy.’

There was a
sudden movement behind him. Jaz swung round just as a giant weight
smashed his head. He screamed out, pain filling his brain.

‘Fuck!’

His legs gave
way and he dropped to his knees.

He swung round
to look at his assailant and the second blow struck him. With a
soft grunt, Jaz slipped unconscious to the ground.

Chapter
19

They had
adjourned to MacRae’s office. Rhona was surprised by its relative
cleanliness, then remembered MacRae had spent the last twenty-four
hours holed up at home.

‘With a bit of
luck the rain will keep the punters away tonight,’ MacRae suggested
hopefully.

MacFarlane
shook his head. ‘The Met says to expect a clear night for the Night
Afore Fiesta.’

‘Just our
luck.’

The sewer plan
was spread on the desk; detailed entrances and underground walkways
for sewer maintenance, a city beneath a city.

‘‘We need to
get a list of all those who have access to this information,’ Rhona
suggested.

MacFarlane
nodded. ‘We’re doing that.’

Rhona looked at
them both. ‘It’s a lot of time and man hours for a vague threat and
a gut feeling.’

‘The message
from above is to take reasonable precautions. Nothing else,’
MacFarlane looked apologetic.

Rhona could
imagine the City Fathers’ response to all this. Edinburgh was set
to make a lot of money from the next few days. The last thing in
the world they would want is the threat of arson keeping the crowds
away. Rhona felt sorry for MacFarlane. A hunch wasn’t currency in
this regime of balance sheets.

‘The traffic
stops at five thirty,’ MacFarlane went on. ‘We can do a full
security check of the street before we let the crowds in.’

‘And the
sewer?’ Rhona asked.

‘Scottish
Water’s responsibility.’

‘It would be
difficult for an arsonist to get something set up while the shops
are still trading,’ MacRae said.

‘Unless he has
access to a basement,’ Rhona reminded him.

MacFarlane was
looking more worried by the minute. Clearing and searching Princes
Street would be a major exercise, requiring time and manpower, both
of which he didn’t have. It would also attract interest. He voiced
what they were all thinking.

‘Maybe you were
right.’ He looked at MacRae. ‘Maybe he wants us to concentrate on
the Hogmanay celebrations while he goes elsewhere.’

MacRae looked
grim. ‘Well, we’re about to find out.’

Rhona pressed
the lab number.

She would have
to head back to Glasgow soon. It didn’t take numerous messages on
her voicemail from Chrissy to remind her where her real job was.
Besides Edinburgh didn’t officially want her services. Bill Wilson
had made that clear. She was here by her own choice.

‘Dr MacLeod. I
thought you were dead. In fact we are about to appoint a new Head
of Department,’ Chrissy went on.

‘I get the
point.’

‘No you don’t,’
Chrissy’s voice was serious. ‘There’s a murder case here you’re
supposed to be working on.’

‘They’ve
decided it was murder?’

‘There were
sufficient traces of thallium in the victim’s body to cause
death.’

‘I take it
you’re to be the new Head of Department?’ Rhona said laughing.

‘Of course.
Seriously though, when are you coming back?’

‘Tomorrow,’
Rhona said. ‘Whatever happens.’

‘Sounds
ominous.’

‘Tell Bill I
asked Dr MacKenzie to look for thallium in the latest Edinburgh
body. Find out if any traces were found.’

Rhona rang off,
promising to be back as soon as possible. Chrissy replied with a
cynical ‘yeah’.

Neither man
looked round when Rhona re-entered the room.

‘There’s
nothing down there, Sev,’ MacFarlane was saying. ‘You checked the
sewer yourself.’

‘If you’re
going back down I want to go with you,’ Rhona interrupted MacRae’s
glare.

‘There’s no
need,’ MacFarlane was firm. ‘Scottish Water are checking.’ He
concentrated on MacRae. ‘Go home for a while. Phone your kid.’

MacRae glanced
at Rhona.

She pulled a
face. ‘We could both do with a shower.’

‘Okay,’ he
seemed resigned. ‘I’ll see you back here in an hour.’

The call came
through on MacFarlane’s mobile as she was about to leave. Rhona
watched MacFarlane’s face register puzzlement then concern as he
listened. He waved her back from the door.

‘That was
Chemistry. They think the paint flakes were...’

She interrupted
him. ‘From a canister.’

His face
sagged. ‘Of the type normally used for propane.’

Rhona tried to
sound positive. ‘Maybe it belonged to the Water Board.’

MacFarlane
wanted to believe her. ‘I’ll check.’

‘Assuming
nothing happens tonight, I’ll have to show face in Glasgow
tomorrow,’ she told him.

‘I
understand.’

Traffic was
thick round the sealed off city centre. It took Rhona twenty
minutes to get to Greg’s flat. It was empty although there were
signs that Greg had come and gone. He’d opened a bottle of red wine
and drunk half of it with a quick meal. Rhona had no qualms about
pouring a glass and heading for the shower.

She stripped
off and dropped her clothes in a heap in the corner, stepped under
the cascading water and began going over the list of events in her
head.

Thallium
poisoning in the Glasgow victim coupled with the fact that he had
been tortured before the fire suggested a drugs war of some kind.
If she was right and the Edinburgh victim had been crucified, then
set alight, they only needed thallium to be detected in his system
to link the two deaths. At first examination, neither death could
be linked to the torched commercial property in Edinburgh, but
instinct told her they were. She just didn’t know how... yet. As
for the threats to herself and MacRae?

Rhona turned
off the shower and stepped out, the jigsaw incomplete. Dressed
again in fresh clothes, she headed for the kitchen.

When the front
door opened she thought it was Greg coming back. She called ‘Hi’
and finished stuffing the dirty clothes into his washer dryer. When
she emerged from the utility room, someone else stood in the
hall.

Chapter
20

Jaz opened his
eyes. His head was throbbing so hard he couldn’t think and his
hands were pinioned at a ninety degree angle to the wall. The wire
wound round his wrists was threatening to slice through his flesh
like a cheese cutter. Jaz adjusted his stance to ease the weight on
his arms and tried to remember what had happened.

They’d been
leaving the barn. He’d heard Emps yelp and he’d run outside, but
the dog wasn’t there. Then some bastard had hit him over the
head.

He caught the
smell of cigarette smoke as a figure emerged from the shadows; a
man with blond hair, cropped to the skull.

‘Tommy!’

‘Long time no
see.’

Jaz couldn’t
believe his eyes. He hadn’t seen Tommy since prison. ‘What the fuck
are you doing here?’ Jaz said and meant it.

‘Could say the
same to you.’ Tommy came closer as if to inspect his handiwork.

‘Gonna untie
me?’ Tommy wasn’t renowned for a soft heart but it was worth a try.
‘My shoulders are killing me.’

Tommy’s slow
smile would have curdled milk. ‘Can’t do that, Jaz, mate. Not
before you tell me what you’re doing here. Orders, you know.’

Tommy Moffat
had been thrown out of the army for not obeying orders. Doing what
someone else told him was an anathema to Tommy. Jaz had spent two
years with people like Tommy. It frightened him now to remember it.
Even when his own brain was scrambled, the way Tommy treated folk
scared the hell out of him.

‘You’ve been
pissing off a few folk Jaz.’

Tommy was
sauntering round him, wearing the same sardonic look Jaz
remembered.

‘Look Tommy...
’

‘I heard you
were working your passage back to Art College.’

‘I am.’

Tommy was
pulling something from his hip pocket. Jaz instinctively pressed
himself against the wall but it wasn’t a knife that emerged. It was
a hammer.

‘That’s a
pity,’ Tommy fished in the other pocket. ‘I haven’t heard of a
painter with no hands.’

Jaz didn’t have
time to scream. The three inch nail was through his right hand and
into the barn wall with one hard blow. The second blow brought the
vomit to his mouth. Tommy lightly side stepped the projectile.

‘Now a man with
one good hand might still be able to paint.’ Tommy kicked some
straw over the offending mess. ‘So Jaz. Want to keep one good
hand?’

Jaz would have
lifted his head if he could. As it was all his strength was in his
body, lifting its weight off his arm and the crucified hand.

Tommy was
selecting another nail. ‘Now’s the time to tell me why you’re here,
Jazzy boy.’ Tommy sighed. ‘Otherwise it’s bye-zz-bye to your
painting career.’

‘Jesus, Tommy.’
The words escaped in a hiss of pain. ‘Give us a chance.’

Tommy was
looking at him, head on one side, enjoying himself.

‘I’ll tell you,
right?’

Tommy pulled a
bale of hay nearer to Jaz. ‘A wee warning pal,’ he said as he made
himself comfortable. ‘Make it good. I’m not here to listen to
Jackanory.’

Jaz twisted his
head round to look at his one good hand. Tommy was getting
careless. Concentrating too much on his sadistic pleasures. The
wire was looser now. Jaz worked on the wrist turning it backwards
and forwards. Every turn brought a stab of fire to his other hand.
A dozen twists and his hand slid out. Letting his arm fall to his
side was almost worse than holding it at ninety degrees to his
body. Jaz muffled the scream, burying his mouth in the collar of
his parka. Now he had to pull the nail out of his other hand.