41
Cabdi looked round Peter Scally’s front room. The chair on which he sat was worn in places, and the table in front of him, where Scally had placed a mug of unhealthy-looking pale tea, was dotted with the rings from previous drinking vessels.
In the corner beside a large TV, a rubbish basket was filled with empty beer cans and discarded cigarette packets. There were a few photographs on the walls, one of which showed a young Peter Scally with his bride.
‘Aye, she was a bonny woman, my Elaine, eh?’ said Scally, who’d just walked into the room bearing an armful of clothes.
‘Your wife?’
Scally coughed. ‘She was.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’
‘In the past. Long time in the past now.’
‘But you are having an affair, yes?’
Scally shrugged. ‘Aye, true, but what’s a man to dae?’
While Cabdi mulled over the distastefulness of the remark, Scally laid out the clothes on the couch.
‘Here, some o’ these should do you – until you get back on board and get your own gear, eh?’
Cabdi stood and looked through the rag-tag selection of clothing. Though mostly too large for his thin frame, the trousers and jackets would be a near enough fit in length, certainly better than the clothes in which he was currently standing.
‘Thank you, Mr Scally. I may change, yes?’
‘Aye, jeest across the lobby, bathroom’s on the right. You can get changed in there.’
As Cabdi nodded, an old-fashioned phone sitting on a small table beside an easy chair rang loudly. Scally sidled over to it and answered. ‘Hello, son. What can I do you for?’
Cabdi watched him intently, and noticed the change of expression that passed across his face. Suddenly, the rosy glow of alcohol had been replaced by a paler complexion. The older man stole worried glances at his guest.
‘Right, aye, right, son. Thanks for letting me know. Funny you should say that, right enough.’ There was a pause. ‘Och, I’ll tell you later.’ Scally put the phone down and straightened his jumper before looking back at Cabdi. ‘Jeest my grandson,’ he said with a smile, but his expression was different. ‘You get yourself changed and we’ll take a wander down the pier and get you back aboard your cruise ship, eh?’
‘I thought we were going to have something to eat?’
Scally shook his head. ‘Jeest had a look in the pantry, son. Clean oot o’ everything, so we are. You’ll be better served having a good feed back on board. Here, I hope I’m getting an invite?’ Though he smiled, gone was the drunken bonhomie, and the wary eyes were not in tune with the rest of the face.
‘I’ll get changed then.’ Cabdi grabbed a handful of clothes and made for the bathroom. ‘I won’t be long.’ He pulled the door behind him, but didn’t shut it. Instead, he hung back and listened.
In the lounge, he heard Scally cough, then the sound of the telephone being lifted.
Before Scally had a chance to dial 999 Cabdi dashed back in the room and pushed him to the floor, grabbing the receiver from his hand and placing it back in the cradle.
‘You bastard! Whoot dae you think you’re at?’ Though Scally was attempting to be aggressive, Cabdi could hear the tremble in his voice.
‘What did your caller have to say, Mr Scally?’ He loomed over the older man.
‘Jeest my grandson. He was asking me about some family matter, if you must know.’
‘I don’t believe you.’ Cabdi reached into the waistband of his trousers and produced the pistol he’d concealed there. ‘Now, what did he really say?’ He pointed the weapon straight at Scally’s face.
‘You’ve nae chance. You might as well gie yourself up!’ wailed Scally, pushing himself back in the chair as though wishing he could disappear through it.
‘Tell me what was said, or I will kill you!’ Cabdi drew back the trigger.
‘Come on – I’ve helped you!’
‘Tell me, or I promise your life is at an end.’ Cabdi leaned over Scally and thrust the barrel of the gun into his face.
‘You’re all over the internet – you and your mate. You killed him after you tried tae blow up the cruise ship. You’re nae more a guest than I am – you murderer!’ Despite his fear, a mixture of alcohol and desperation had produced a defiance in Scally he hoped would save him.
‘Tell me more!’ Cabdi pushed the gun further into Scally’s face, making him cry out in pain.
‘They’re looking for you – they described you, aye, and the van. It’s you, I know it!’ Scally shrank away from the weapon.
‘And where was this reported?’
‘On that internet. I don’t have it, but my grandson does and he’s just telt me on the phone. You’re a murdering bastard!’
Cabdi pulled back the weapon and in an instant pistol-whipped Scally across the face, smashing his nose in a splatter of blood and sending the older man spiralling into unconsciousness.
‘And you know all about death, Mr Scally,’ he said under his breath as he hurriedly removed his clothes and replaced them with the ones the stricken man had given him. His mind was whirling. How could this have happened? He thought about it as he pulled on a pair of trousers and drew the baggy waist tight with a black belt that was threaded through the loops of the garment.
There could only be one conclusion: he’d been betrayed, but why?
Symington ran into Kinloch Police Office and made directly for the CID suite. It had taken her only a few minutes to make her way back from the hospital.
‘DS Potts, what do we have?’
‘Here, ma’am. The initial report was put up on a minor political website, American, but it’s been picked up and is now being reported widely on the likes of CNN and MSNBC. Look, I have it here.’ He was scrolling down the screen as he spoke.
Symington read:
Reports are coming in that the UK cruise liner Great Britain has been the victim of a failed attack by a Middle-Eastern terrorist group. The attack is thought to have happened recently when a drone was deliberately crashed into the ship, which is carrying senior businessmen and women from across the globe. This incident is alleged to have taken in place in Kinloch harbour, a remote location on the West Coast of Scotland.
The UK Government refuses to confirm or deny the story, though it is believed that both police and military personnel are searching for a tall, thin Afro-Caribbean male who is responsible for not only this attack, but also the murder of two people in the area. More to follow. AP
‘Where did that description come from, Potts?’ asked Symington. ‘Majid isn’t tall.’
‘I have no idea, ma’am. But DCI Daley did report that there were two people on the hill.’
‘Yes, he did. Thank you, Potts. Keep me up to speed on this. I’ll get hold of security on the Great Britain.’
She rushed into Daley’s office and dialled the direct number she’d been given for the ship’s switchboard. ‘Commander Brachen, please. It’s Chief Superintendent Symington from Police Scotland.’ She listened for a few moments. ‘I don’t care how busy he is, I want him on the line, now!’
As Symington held on, she heard an indistinct oath, followed by the familiar patronising tones of Brachen.
‘Chief Superintendent, this isn’t a good time.’
‘Well, make it a good time. Where did this description that I’m seeing online come from? It doesn’t fit Majid, and although Jim saw another figure on the hill he couldn’t really describe him in detail. The only person who has ever mentioned someone tall and thin is a man we’ve been questioning. And what happened to the D-Notice? You assured us the drone man took his own life, but now he appears to have had an accomplice, just as DCI Daley said.’
‘The information appeared online in the States about an hour ago. Not much we can do about what gets said across there. We have no idea who the source is . . .’
The hesitation in his voice made Symington suspicious. ‘What else do you know that you’re not telling me?’
‘All I know is classified. I’m not at liberty to tell you.’
‘Classified? That’s a joke. I’ll just wait and read it online, shall I?’
Brachen sighed. ‘Reports from America have alerted us to the fact that the man we’re looking for has been spotted in Kinloch. They haven’t made it public yet, but they will do.’
‘We’re waiting for some political website in Washington to tell us what’s happening under our own noses?’
‘The picture has changed. It was an anonymous message sent by fax – untraceable.’
‘So I have a dangerous terrorist at liberty on the streets of Kinloch, with some of the richest men and women on the planet in the mix, and you weren’t going to tell me?’
‘We’re recalling passengers now.’
‘That’ll be fun. Half of them are drunk!’
‘And we have security and the Royal Marines searching for this man. If this is true.’
‘People aren’t stupid, Brachen. Everyone knew this was no exercise to keep the troops fit – that was so obvious. As the senior officer in Kinloch, I should have been given this information immediately. I’m contacting my superiors, but I’m sure that within the next few minutes the whole thing will be declared a civilian matter and I’ll take command of what’s happening in the town.’ She paused for breath. ‘I must say, you have dealt with this in a thoroughly unprofessional manner from the beginning. This was no paparazzi stunt gone wrong, but because of the delicate nature of things and the assurances that your people gave, I went along with it. Now I have a terrorist who has probably tried to blow up a ship and has already killed two men loose on the streets of Kinloch. And just where did this detailed description of the man we’re looking for come from? DCI Daley only caught a glimpse of him through binoculars!’
‘I don’t know. It was first reported online by Slugnet.’
‘The political website?’
‘Yes.’
‘Great!’
‘So you believe everything that you read on the internet?’ He laughed.
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means, just how much did your DCI Daley see? My understanding is that he’s not fit for duty. Is he trying to find a way to supplement his pension? It’s amazing what some people will do for money, given the right circumstances.’
‘I’m not even going to dignify that pathetic nonsense with a response. First, one of the crew of your ship disappears, now this. There’s something not right aboard the Great Britain, Commander Brachen, and you know it. I want to speak to my superiors. I’ll get back to you shortly!’
Symington was out of breath when she finished the call. As she dialled the ACC in charge of the overall operation regarding the Great Britain, she thought about the ‘thin, tall man’. Regardless of the Security Service and the Royal Marines, she was now responsible for a potentially major problem.
42
The man in the maintenance uniform was leaning against a rail on the upper deck of the Great Britain, casually smoking a cigarette. It was now a sunny day, and he could see the roofs and spires of Kinloch huddled around the head of the loch under a blue sky dotted with cotton wool clouds.
A Royal Marine walked past him and stopped. ‘Here, mate, any chance of tapping a fag off you?’
‘Sure.’ The maintenance man thrust his hand in the pocket of his boiler suit and removed a cigarette packet. ‘Here, there’s two or three in that one. I’ve got a fresh packet.’
‘You sure? Thanks, mate.’ The Marine looked about him before taking one of the cigarettes and lighting it in his cupped hands. ‘Nice place, isn’t it?’
‘It’s okay. I’ve been to better. You can’t beat the Caribbean as far as I’m concerned.’
‘You blokes are a bit like us: get to see the world, right?’
‘Yeah, sure do.’
The Marine took a few deep draws on his cigarette and sent it spinning into the blue waters of the loch. ‘Cheers, just what I needed. Thanks again.’
As he walked off, the maintenance man’s lip curled. ‘Arsehole,’ he muttered under his breath. He was about to go back to work when the mobile in his pocket vibrated.
Now, the text read.
Like the Marine before him, he sent the butt of his cigarette spiralling into the waves, then made his way back into the bowels of the Great Britain.
‘So there was another man. Oor Jimmy was right,’ said Scott, his mobile phone to his ear. ‘What now? Do you want me to come ashore?’
‘No,’ said Symington. ‘I want you to check out a Patrick O’Rourke. He’s one of the VIPs on board.’
‘Here, I thought it was Arab terrorists we was after?’
‘To be honest, Brian, I don’t know who we’re after. All I know is that we’ve been lied to from the start by the Security Service. O’Rourke’s name was flagged up by DCI Daley. He was going through a passenger list I managed to obtain.’
‘Aye, well, tell him tae slow doon. I’ve only the one pair of hands.’
On the other end of the line Symington hesitated.
‘What’s up, ma’am?’
‘Jim’s had to take a break, Brian.’
‘Aw, no, no’ his heart again?’ There was genuine concern in Scott’s voice.
‘No, not that. It’s Liz.’
‘What about her?’
Symington sighed. ‘I’m only telling you because I know he’d tell you himself. She took some pills.’
‘What, Liz – an overdose? I cannae believe it!’
‘She’s going to be okay, but Jim’s with her in the hospital.’
‘I should come back, ma’am – phone him, at least.’
‘Brian, you have a job to do. And you can’t break cover. This line to me is encrypted, but any other calls from the Great Britain might be monitored. I need you on there. I can handle what’s happening in the town. We have more resources on the way.’
‘Tell me one thing, ma’am.’
‘What?’
‘Is Ella safe? Because, see, if she isn’t, I want her off this tub PDQ. I might have orders, but she doesn’t – she’s no’ in the police. Tell me the truth now.’
‘To tell you the truth, Brian, I don’t know who’s safe, or where.’
‘You’re no’ exactly filling me full o’ confidence. I mean, what do you think’s going tae happen? Catch this guy and you can get it oot o’ him.’
‘Somehow, I don’t think it’s going to be that easy, Brian.’
Cabdi tied Scally’s hands behind his back with an old rag he’d found and ripped up. His legs were already trussed with some rope Cabdi had found in a cupboard under the kitchen sink. As the older man began to stir, he applied another piece of rag as a gag, ensuring that if he regained consciousness he couldn’t cry out.
‘He watches us all, Mr Scally. He watches us all.’ Cabdi stood over Scally for a few moments. He knew what he was going to do. He’d found a set of car keys on a small hook in the hall; no doubt they would match the old van that was parked in the driveway outside.
The tall Somali stooped through the front door, the red baseball cap pulled low over his face. He ducked into the van, and couldn’t help but be relieved when it started first time and he noticed the tank was just under half full.
Indeed, there was a strong smell of fuel in the vehicle. When Cabdi turned to look, he saw two red petrol cans sitting on a filthy blanket in the back.
He shook his head, turned the key in the ignition and made his way slowly, carefully out of Peter Scally’s driveway.
The man in the boiler suit nodded to one of his colleagues when he arrived back in the engine room of the great ship. He opened the bag he’d found aboard as arranged and looked inside. It held everything he needed.
He pulled the zip tight on the canvas bag and walked towards his foreman. ‘Right, Joe, I’ll take a wee look up at the board. Are you ready to switch on and test anything yet?’
‘Nearly. Give the panels a good look over, because whoever did this knew wha
t they were doing. There’s no one on board could’ve fixed this – they don’t have the right diagnostic tools. Off you go and get sorted. I want out of here as quick as I can, know what I mean?’
‘Aye, get your point. Leave these rich bastards to it.’
‘Bang on!’
The man strolled along a gangway to the room through which the vessel’s electronics were funnelled, turning the lock when he’d closed the heavy steel door behind him. He unzipped the bag, removed its contents, and went to work, quickly and quietly.
‘She’s still a selfish cow,’ said Ella.
‘Gie the lassie a break. She near died fae what I hear,’ replied her husband.
‘Aye, exactly. Him just oot o’ the hospital and still ill, and all she can think aboot is herself. I swear sometimes I wish Jimmy had never set eyes on her. Bugger knows how the wee fella will turn out with Liz bringing him up. He’ll have a few new daddies before his time’s oot, that’s for sure.’
‘Listen, Ella.’ Scott’s expression was serious. ‘I want you tae stay in the cabin tonight, got it?’
‘And miss the reception for the locals? Not likely, Brian.’
‘Woman, would you just take my advice for once in your life!’
She stared at him for a while, looking straight into his eyes. ‘You know something I don’t, Brian Scott.’
‘Aye, that’s why I’m telling you tae stay put. On here everything might look normal, but it’s no’. That’s what they want you tae think – business as usual.’
‘What is it?’
‘I’m no’ saying. And nothing you do will change that, Ella.’
‘Ach, I know anyway.’
‘Eh? How?’
‘I’m no’ daft. I listen tae the gossip on the boat. I was out on deck earlier; the place is full o’ it.’
‘Well, you listen tae me – there might be nothing in it. This O’Rourke guy could be as white as the driven snow.’
She grinned. ‘How you ever got tae stay in the polis, I’ll never know.’
‘Eh?’
‘You’ve never been able to keep a secret – not ever.’
A Breath on Dying Embers Page 22