Buried Secrets (DCI MacBain Scottish Crimes Book 1)

by Oliver Davies

  Alec gingerly avoided the stagnant water at the bottom of the boat as he made his way to the steering wheel. The rain made everything slick, and he shivered, wiping the droplets away from his eyes. There was a slot for the key just beside the wheel, though he had to force it in and fight with it to get it to turn. He primed the engine, but he had to press the ignition button five times before it finally caught and held, and each time, he felt a stab of fear go through him because Finn was waiting for him, and if he failed, he might as well let himself sink to the bottom of the firth.

  But the engine finally rumbled to life, and he did a little celebratory dance behind the wheel, feet slipping on the wet deck. He struggled to undo the rain-swollen ropes and tossed them onto the dock, using a long pole on the pontoon to push himself out towards open water. Then he put the boat in gear and twisted the throttle, the boat cruising smoothly despite its age and level of disrepair.

  There were no lights on the boat other than his weak torch, but there was a depth gauge by his left hand, and he used that to steer into what he thought was the middle of the firth. He could basically make a straight line towards the island; he just had to hope he wouldn’t stray too close to shore and hit one of the off-shoots. It was nerve-wracking, driving blind, but he took deep, steady breaths and tried to focus. The wind fought him, seeking to nudge him off course, and he had no real way of making sure his corrections were right.

  Some time later, though it was impossible to tell exactly how long in the dark, he spotted lights moving in the distance, seemingly suspended above him. That had to be the A9 which meant he was halfway there. And, since the lights were just about perpendicular to him, he wasn’t about to crash into anything. That was certainly a relief.

  Alec held his breath as he passed under the bridge. He wasn’t entirely sure why. It just felt like the right thing to do. He glanced behind him every so often as he continued on, using the occasional streak of light to make sure he was still headed in a straight line, though eventually the bridge and its cars disappeared in the distance, and he was left alone again with only the waves splashing against the hull.

  As a thief, Alec often worked in silence, so he found it easy enough to allow the pontoon to carry him along, his mind blank but for the adjustments he needed to make at the wheel. It was better that way. Too much thinking, especially about Finn, would lead to--

  He cut the thought off and focused back in on the feel of the wheel in his hands and the rumble of the boat beneath him.

  And then he spotted lights up ahead, twinkling in the dark. It could only be the estate on the island, and he angled the pontoon slightly that way, increasing his speed a little, his heart beginning to race in his chest. The lights grew closer, though he couldn’t yet make out their source as he glided past a dark, lumpy shadow to his left. After a few minutes, he could see the outline of a large building, an orange glow speckled across its face, and two bright white lights shone in front of it, reflecting off the water and the impression of a chain-link fence.

  Alec killed the engine, and the pontoon rapidly lost speed. The silence roared in his ears at the sudden absence of the boat’s constant drone. The waves continued to lap gently at the hull, but it was like the light brush of fingers across the cheek rather than a hard slap.

  There would no doubt be someone watching the dock. They would spot the pontoon as soon as it hit that circle of light, maybe even before. Alec groaned. There was one obvious option, but it was not one that he liked.

  Alec made sure everything was secure within his pockets, walked to the front of the boat, and then dove into the icy water.

  Twenty-Two

  My team shut off their engines and split up as soon as we saw the orange lights in the distance, spaced as if illuminating windows. The night quickly swallowed the other two fishing boats, leaving Fletcher and I alone, bobbing in the water. There was nothing left of Fletcher’s snack stash except a pile of empty wrappers at the bottom of the boat. The tang of brine was strong in my nose, ever-present even with the heavy wind and rain, and I took a deep breath of it to clear my head one last time before we made our approach.

  “Ready?” I asked Fletcher.

  “Ready.”

  We each picked up an oar and began to paddle our way towards the lights. Luckily, the tide was with us, sweeping us further into the firth. Before long, my arms and back began to ache, every bruise I’d sustained over the past couple of days alight despite the cold. We kept our strokes as quiet as we could as we approached the island, though it was impossible to silence them completely. Hopefully, the sound of the waves against the shore would cover any sound we made.

  As we drew closer, I could see the outline of the building in the orange glow of the lights. It looked to be three stories tall and heaped upon the island like a plate of food piled too high, but I couldn’t make out any other details. I didn’t spot any roving torches along the shore, which was a relief, but Fletcher stowed her phone anyway as we didn’t want anything giving us away before we were ready.

  The bottom of our boat scraped against rock, and suddenly, we were there, on the island which had sprung up so quickly in the darkness. I secured my oar and then carefully stood and stepped one foot out of the boat, wobbling until I found the ground, almost up to my knee in frigid water which flooded my previously dry boot and immediately soaked into my socks. I swung my other foot out and then held the boat steady for Fletcher, who bit her thumb at the shock of cold. Together, we dragged the boat higher onto the shore and hid it beneath a rocky outcropping.

  We paused there and listened. I could hear nothing by the sighing of the wind and the lap of water against stone. My phone buzzed, and I hid it within my coat as I took it out to check the text from Dunnel. “Collins and Fawkes unconscious. Haruto missing.”

  I cursed, clenching my fist around the phone. My gut crawled. There was nothing I could do about it, committed to this island raid. We would have to move fast and help Haruto after. I took the radio from my belt and turned it on, wincing at the crackle of static.

  “West Squad, ready. Over,” I whispered into the mic.

  “North Squad, ready. Over,” came the first reply.

  “We need a couple of minutes,” Reid said. “Sorry. Over.”

  I grimaced but fought down my frustration. “Radio when in position. Over and out.”

  I could barely see Fletcher in the dark as we crouched beside our boat and waited for the action to begin. My knees stiffened in the cold, my wet trousers and boots leaching warmth and dexterity from my legs which I would need as soon as things inevitably went south. I tried to rub some feeling back into my calves, but my gloves were just as wet, and I only succeeded in giving myself a hand cramp.

  “Callum.” Fletcher grabbed my shoulder to get my attention, but I didn’t need her to point out what she’d seen as I raised my head. Two white lights were bobbing towards us from the left, accompanied by the drum of feet over stone. We might get away undetected behind our rock shelf, but I didn’t like our odds. One wrong sweep of a torch and it would be all over.

  I glanced at Fletcher. We didn’t have much time. She nodded and scooted away from the boat, disappearing into the darkness to flank the pair of sentries. I waited where I was. It looked like they would pass right over the ledge above me. I flattened myself against the rock and turned my face into the stone to hide its white glow, listening as the footsteps grew closer and closer. The shelf was only about five feet tall, but it was slightly concave, hiding the boat from sight.

  Well, most of it, anyway.

  “Hey, is that--?” one of the sentries began when their light strayed just a little bit too far to the right, but I leapt out of hiding before they could finish, seizing an ankle and yanking it hard. Its owner spilt to the ground where they dropped their torch and let out a sharp cry of pain.

  I leapt onto the top of the rock shelf as Fletcher materialized behind the still-standing sentry, wrapping one arm around the man’s neck and bearing him to the g
round to keep him from struggling as she squeezed. The sentry I grabbed, a man with a shock of orange hair beneath his hat, managed to flip over onto his back, but he couldn’t decide if he wanted to go for his gun or his radio, and I was able to jump on top of him. I cracked his head against the rock and knocked him out.

  We heaved them into our boat to keep them out of the worst of the wind and rain and bound their wrists together with Fletcher’s handcuffs, securing them to the boat with a couple of zip ties tightened around the loop that held the oar in place I scooped up the fallen radio, and we confiscated their guns as well, patting them down to see if there was anything else of interest, but other than a half-eaten bag of Haribo gummies, there wasn’t much.

  “South Squad, are you in position?” I said into my own radio. “We already encountered some locals. It’s time to move. Over.”

  “We’re in position, over.” Reid’s voice was mostly static but still understandable.

  “Then let’s do this. Over and out.”

  I glanced around and took in our surroundings before we started to move. There were maybe two hundred metres of open space between us and the back of the building, but there was a chain-link fence right where the stony shore gave way to grass. It was about three metres tall, but it didn’t look like barbed wire topped it.

  Fletcher and I ran for the fence. She picked a stick up and carefully poked the chain, checking to see if it was electrified, and when it didn’t spark, we scaled it as quickly and quietly as we could. I struggled to wrap my cold fingers around the wire, and my hips fought me every inch of the way as I swung them over the top, but I was eventually able to drop to the ground, the landing only slightly softened by the layer of grass. I was starting to understand what old age felt like.

  The sentry’s radio crackled on my belt. “Ryan, you there? Over.”

  I shot Fletcher a slightly panicked look, and she mouthed, “Answer it.”

  “I’m here, over.” I could only hope that the radio’s static would distort the differences between my voice and Ryan’s.

  “You almost here? I’m freezing my balls off out here, over.”

  I cursed. Of course, the patrol we took out was on its way to replace a lookout. “Yeah, almost there. I slipped on a rock, slowed me down. Sorry. Over.”

  “What did I tell you about trying to fake the accent, man? It just doesn’t work. Over.” I had no idea what the man’s actual accent was, but the man continued before I had to reply. “Hang on. I think I see movement. S--” Whatever he was going to say cut off as something hit the ground with a thud, and the line went dead, filling my ear with static.

  I grinned. That had to be one of my teams, arriving just at the right time.

  We were in the clear for the moment, so Fletcher and I ran for the large building, bent almost double. The glow from the windows lit up the grounds around the estate, casting shadows on the two people lounging by the back entrance. We paused behind a bush and watched them, hoping they might just get up and move. I didn’t want to shoot unless we had to, gunfire would only bring every person on the island down on our heads, but the light meant we’d be seen well before we were within striking distance.

  But before I could come up with a suitable plan, I heard a shout and a gunshot from the left, and the sentries practically leapt off the wall, hands dropping to their belts as they looked around wildly.

  “I’ll go check it out!” one of them shouted as his radio began to crackle. “You stay here.”

  He ran into the darkness, the beam of his torch bobbing erratically across the ground. My stolen radio began to spit static and garbled curses at me, and I fumbled to switch it off before anyone heard it.

  This was our best chance. I motioned for Fletcher to flank the remaining sentry while I approached from the front, and she melted into the darkness. I gave her a ten-count to move into position before I stepped out from behind the bush.

  The sentry squinted into the darkness as she spotted my shadowy form, but I was able to get within a couple of metres of her before she realized I was an actual person and not just a trick of the light.

  “Stop!” she yelled and yanked a pistol from her belt.

  I stopped just shy of the glow off the windows and raised a hand in greeting. “Hi there. Lovely weather we’re having.”

  “You can’t be here. What are you--?”

  Fletcher whacked her upside the head with a branch.

  The sentry collapsed, legs suddenly boneless, and her gun skittered away into the dark.

  “Good swing,” I said as I rifled through her pockets, taking her ring of keys and cell phone.

  “I played cricket for a year when I was five,” Fletcher said and spun her bat to prove it. It flew out of her hand and clattered to the ground near my feet. “We lost every match.”

  “Clearly.”

  Two more shots rang out in the dark, and all the lights went on within the building, bright white floodlights bursting to life along the fence. Voices filled the air, the sentries shouting for backup as if they thought there were twenty of us rather than just seven.

  “We need to hurry,” Fletcher said.

  There were ten keys on the ring I’d taken from the woman she knocked out, and I began to try them one by one, my fingers clumsy within my gloves.

  “There!” someone shouted.

  “Company,” Fletcher hissed. “Hurry up.”

  “I’m trying,” I snapped.

  Fletcher drew her gun and fired two shots at the approaching footsteps. I wasted precious seconds to glance over my shoulder to see four people dressed in black dive to either side. I couldn’t focus on that. I had to get the door open. I tried the third key. It slid into the lock but refused to wiggle.

  I swore I could already feel the blaze of a bullet burrowing into my back like an itch right between my shoulder blades that I just couldn’t reach, but I tried to ignore the sensation, intent only on my keys. I dropped the ring as Fletcher fired again and cursed, scooping it up off the wet ground. All the keys looked the same, and I’d lost my place.

  “Any time now!” Fletcher yelled.

  I winced as a bullet ricocheted off the brick not far from my face and jammed a random key into the lock. Nothing. I tried another. No luck.

  “They’re almost on us!” Fletcher said helpfully.

  “Thank you,” I ground out.

  Two more keys and I could practically feel our assailants breathing down my neck. The next key twisted in the lock, and I yanked it out before I realized what happened, convinced that it would be another bust. I muttered a curse as I stuck it back in, cranked it to the side, and shoved the door open, half falling into the hallway beyond.

  “Fletcher!” I yelled, but she was already jumping through behind me.

  Together, we slammed the door shut on four furious faces just as the sentries slammed into the side of the building. The door shook against my shoulder as I flicked the lock shut, though I knew that one of them no doubt had another key. I braced my back against the door and turned to look for something we could use to barricade ourselves in.

  The hallway was short and well-lit, fancy for a back entrance. The walls were a sumptuous dark wood that reflected orange light in the sconces that hung beside each of the four doors. There was an oil painting of a sailboat above a high-backed chest inlaid with a mirror and porcelain bowl, flanked by two verdant potted plants.

  “There,” I grunted as the lock slipped and the door shook against my back. I reached behind me and grasped the knob as someone tried to twist it from the other side, but I could barely grip it through my sodden gloves.

  “You got it?” Fletcher asked.

  I nodded. “Hurry.”

  I almost lost it as she pushed away, the door opening a full inch before I managed to flip around, brace my hands on the wood, and slam it shut again, feet struggling to find purchase on the marble floor. A deafening screech filled the hall as Fletcher heaved against the chest, cursing at the heavy thing as she fought to get
it to move.

  “Out of the way!” she yelled when she got it up to speed, aimed directly at the door.

  I jumped to the side. The door flew open but didn’t make it very far before the end of the chest caught it and slammed it shut. I heard someone yelp with pain outside. The pounding only paused for a second before it started back up again, but the barricade held.

  Fletcher braced her hands on her knees, panting. “Remind me to start lifting weights again.”

  “I’ll go with you,” I said as my muscles trembled.

  We had a brief reprieve to rest, but I knew that chest wouldn’t hold the door forever, and we still had to locate Finn with the entire estate alerted to our presence. I stared at the three doors waiting for me to make a choice. If only we knew where to start.

  Twenty-Three

  The frigid water knocked the air from Alec’s lungs, and salt stung his eyes as he forced them open, though there was nothing to see. Just an inky blackness lightly touched by the pale fingers of light off the island.

  His head broke the surface of the water, and he gasped, the cold air like knives against his lungs. The island was right in front of him, and he kept his head low as he kicked towards it. He aimed for the end of the dock, planning to climb out between two sleek, white speed boats moored next to each other. There were no guards on the dock itself, but Fletcher could see three people stationed by the fence gate.

  Alec hauled himself out of the water, hidden between the boats, trying not to make too loud a splash. He crouched on the dock and shivered as the cold wind cruelly hooked its fingers into his sodden clothes and dripping hair. The boat was lost in the darkness behind him, set to drift until it bumped ashore or someone came across it. He hoped it wasn’t some poor bloke’s primary money-maker.

  If he didn’t move, he was going to turn into an ice pop on the dock, feet welded fast to the wood, his frozen form a curiosity to any who might stumble upon it. Joints creaking, he stood and poked his nose out from behind the boat in front of him. There was a stretch of shadow between him and the fence, but he would need a distraction if he was going to get through the gate because he certainly wasn’t fighting his way through in his current state. Not that he was much of a fighter in the first place. He generally tried to avoid confrontation at all costs.