A Breath on Dying Embers

by Denzil Meyrick

  Ella leaned into Annie’s ear. ‘Dae you no’ think it’s something tae dae with the drink?’ she whispered. ‘You’ve no idea how bad oor Brian got.’

  ‘Aye, I’ve a fair idea, Ella. But no, he’s no’ even had that much to drink.’

  ‘Maybe that’s the problem.’

  ‘I’m still here, you know,’ said Hamish, drying his eyes on his orange kipper tie. ‘Tell me, Ella, where’s your Brian away off tae at such a rate?’

  ‘He got a phone call fae the office, Hamish. But he does that all the time. Weddings, funerals, parties – you name it, I’m left on my ain while he rushes off tae the latest emergency.’

  Hamish turned to Annie. ‘See, I telt you something wisna right.’

  Cabdi stared into Daley’s eyes, the gun still levelled at the detective. ‘The child in the car, he’s yours, yes?’

  ‘No. I don’t know who he is.’

  ‘I think not. Come with me.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You have to trust me, Mr Daley. I will not harm you or your son. And in any case, your choices are limited.’

  Daley searched the man’s face. ‘Yes, he is my child and that’s my car.’

  ‘Then we are going on a journey, Mr Daley. But don’t worry, it is a very short one. Get into the car.’

  With the gun trained on him, Daley got into the driver’s seat, while Cabdi climbed into the front alongside him. James was still howling in the back, and Daley turned to him in an effort to calm him. ‘It’s okay, James. We’re just taking this nice man somewhere.’ Still the little boy screamed.

  ‘What’s your name?’ said Cabdi, the pistol held low, out of James junior’s sight.

  ‘James,’ he sobbed.

  Cabdi smiled at him and took off the red baseball cap. ‘You have this – go on, it’s a gift.’ He handed the little boy the cap. ‘It’s yours. Put it on.’

  James stopped crying and grabbed it. Without further prompting, he put the cap on his head, where it flopped down over his eyes, making him giggle.

  ‘You remember me, James.’ Cabdi turned to Daley. ‘I want you to take me to where they are boarding the launches, but not the direct way – from the other end. I know the layout of your town. I’ve studied maps.’

  ‘And what if I say no?’

  ‘Then you will have made the biggest mistake of your life.’

  Daley took a deep breath, and just as sirens once more sounded on Kinloch’s Main Street he pulled away along the promenade, past the second pier, and turned right away from the seafront.

  ‘I’m not at liberty to tell you where Commander Brachen is, sir,’ said the young naval rating.

  Scott fished into his pocket for his warrant card. ‘Detective Sergeant Scott, son.’ He thought for a second. ‘Well, I’m actually an acting inspector, but that’s no’ important at the moment.’

  The young sailor stared at Scott’s ID, looking confused.

  ‘Come on, son. This isnae rocket science. Just tell me where he is!’

  ‘He’s in the power facility with a search party, sir,’ blurted the young man.

  ‘And what’s he doing there?’

  ‘Looking for something – that’s all I know.’

  Scott thought for a moment. ‘Right. Come on, take me doon tae this power facility.’

  ‘I’m not sure I should, sir.’

  ‘In that case you’re under arrest,’ said Scott.

  ‘But I’m in the Royal Navy, sir!’

  ‘I don’t care if you’re in the royal family. Just you get me tae this Brachen, aye and quick smart. Haul your yard arm, or whatever it is you navy chaps get up tae.’

  Finally the sailor relented. ‘Yes, Inspector.’

  ‘Eh? Oh aye – try not tae confuse me, son. Oh, and this power facility. Dae they not call them engine rooms any mair?’

  Brachen was with a team searching the electrical heart of the ship. ‘This is where he was, according to the other workmen, chief.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ The Royal Navy engineer was on his hands and knees, a small bright torch in his hand. ‘I can’t see anything, sir. Looks okay.’ He got to his feet. ‘There’s one more fuse board across there, sir. We can check that out, too.’

  Along with two armed Marines they made their way across the small space to a panel with buttons, switches and a monitor screen. The engineer turned it on and peered at it in the gloom. ‘All appears in order, sir. No malfunctions, or alerts. If he’s done anything, I don’t think it’s in here.’

  ‘What about behind the console, chief?’

  ‘Bit tight, but I’ll have a gander, sir.’ He knelt down and craned his neck in order to see behind the panel. ‘Sir, there is something here.’ His voice had tightened suddenly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I can’t see it properly, but there’s a red glow. It’s some kind of device, Commander. I’m sure of it!’

  Brachen heard the change of tone in the engineer’s voice. It had gone from one of routine procedure to a note of panic. He put the radio to his mouth. ‘Brachen to Tansie, over, come in.’

  There was silence for a few seconds before Annabelle Tansie’s voice crackled over the radio. ‘Go ahead, over.’

  ‘We’ve found some kind of device on an electrical board. Don’t know if it’s viable, but I’m taking no chances.’

  ‘I’m nearly at the pier, over.’

  Brachen thought for a moment. ‘Stand by, Tansie. Out.’ He turned to the engineer. ‘You keep looking. You have the areas where this man worked. Let me know the minute you find anything else.’

  As he was leaving the room he saw one of his ratings coming towards him, followed by a man he vaguely recognised.

  ‘Sir, this man is from Police Scotland – Inspector Scott, sir.’

  ‘You’ll have to come with me, Scott. We’re in big trouble.’

  ‘What kind of trouble?’

  ‘I’ve good reason to believe that there are explosives on the ship.’

  ‘Shit,’ said Scott. ‘There’s also a problem on shore – an armed man. We need your help.’

  ‘I’m afraid the police will have to deal with that themselves. We’re about to be blown sky bloody high, Inspector.’

  ‘Fucking boats, I hate the bastards!’ Scott took the phone from his pocket and pressed the screen to call Symington.

  The armed police team arrived on the seafront. Symington looked around, but there was no sign of Daley or the gunman. She saw the distinctive figure of Captain Banks at the head of the pontoons. ‘Potts, get over there!’ she shouted to her acting DS, pointing to where Banks was standing.

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said immediately, looking in the mirror to make sure that the van carrying the armed team was following.

  Symington swung in her seat with the sudden motion of the car. She looked at Potts behind the wheel. He was pale, and she could see sweat breaking out on his brow. She was beginning to wish she’d left any problems on the Great Britain to those on board and had the experience of the redoubtable Brian Scott at her side. Her phone rang just as they were pulling up alongside the pontoons.

  ‘Listen, it’s me.’ Scott’s voice was urgent, no preamble.

  ‘Yes, Brian.’

  ‘They’ve found explosives on this tub.’

  ‘How the hell could that happen with their security?’

  ‘I’m buggered if I know, but they have. You won’t get any assistance from here.’

  Symington bit her lip. ‘But half of Kinloch is on that ship, not to mention the VIPs.’

  ‘They have bomb disposal men from the frigate on it now, but I don’t think they’ve a clue what they’re dealing with. Aye, and I think they’re trying tae hush it up. What’s the situation you’re attending – this man with the gun, I mean?’

  ‘Don’t worry about that, Brian. Just try to keep yourself – keep everyone safe.’

  There was a short pause on the line. ‘You’re not telling me something.’

  ‘It’s okay, I’ll deal with things here, DI
Scott.’

  ‘Tell me, ma’am!’ Scott shouted down the line.

  ‘The gunman has Jim, Brian.’

  ‘But he’s off sick!’

  ‘It’s a long story. Please, do what you can over there and leave this with me.’ She listened. ‘Brian, are you there?’ The line had gone dead.

  60

  Daley was driving down the Glebe Fields. The situation was surreal. In the passenger seat Cabdi had the gun pointed at him, while joking with his son in the back.

  ‘Where now, Mr Daley?’

  ‘If we turn right here we can drive down to the far end of the Back Road and from there onto the seafront, as you wanted,’ said Daley.

  ‘Yes, good. Just keep driving and all will be well.’

  ‘How can all be well? You’re going to try to kill people.’ Daley tried to keep his voice as conversational as possible, trying not to alarm his son.

  ‘Keep driving, Mr Daley, that’s all I ask of you. You have my word: do this, and no harm will come to you and your son.’

  ‘If you try to harm him . . .’ Daley left the rest unsaid. ‘I’m pleading with you – whatever it is you think you can do, please think again. Nothing, no cause, is worth this.’

  ‘You are always so sure, you people. Everything in your world is black and white, when in reality all the shades are grey.’ He turned to James. ‘When you are a big man like your father, you will see all the colours, not just your red hat, yes?’

  The child smiled back at him, pushing the cap Cabdi had given him up so he could see. ‘You’re funny. I like you,’ he said.

  Daley drove on, as the thought that his son was as good a judge of character as his wife crossed his mind.

  Brian Scott was tearing up steps and along gangways. He found a lift that he thought would take him back to the ballroom, but when the door opened a group of chefs eyed him curiously.

  ‘This is private place,’ said one man bearing a set of trays, in broken English.

  ‘Where’s the ballroom?’ said Scott in the usual manner he deployed when addressing foreigners: shouting slowly.

  ‘Not my job,’ replied the man, moving on. But as he passed Scott the policeman grabbed him and pulled him towards him, sending trays flying and attracting the attention of the entire culinary staff.

  ‘You come with me and show me the ballroom, right fucking noo!’ Scott flashed his warrant card. ‘Police, get it?’

  The man nodded, laid down the rest of the trays, and stepped into the lift after him. When the doors closed he eyed Scott with a worried expression and punched a number on the panel.

  ‘Quick as you can, there’s a good man,’ said Scott by way of encouragement.

  ‘We have to change at next floor, get other lift.’

  ‘Right. Go for it, man!’

  The lift stopped again and the kitchen porter beckoned Scott to follow him. They ran along to the end of another passageway where three lifts doors faced them in a line. Scott’s guide pressed the up button, and the pair waited anxiously for a lift to arrive.

  The door to their left was the first to open, so both men hurried into it, the porter pressing another number on the panel as the doors swished shut. ‘You are in a hurry – arrest someone?’

  ‘No, no’ exactly, son,’ said Scott, watching the numbers rise.

  They had reached four when the lift juddered and the lights flickered off. The lift stopped and an eerie blue emergency light filled the small space. Scott pressed the doors open button, but nothing happened.

  ‘Lift is broke,’ said the kitchen porter with a shrug.

  ‘You must have been top of the class in your school, eh?’ said Scott, now pressing the alarm button repeatedly. Not only was he on a boat, but it was full of explosives, with his wife and some of his best friends on board while he was stuck in a lift. ‘No’ my day, son, eh?’

  The kitchen porter looked at him in the blue light, an apologetic look on his face.

  Sir Edward Chapelhouse looked as though his face was about to explode. It had taken on a crimson hue that any doctor would have baulked at. Commander Brachen stood before him, a Royal Marine with a machine gun slung over his shoulder at his side. ‘You incompetent fool! How on earth could this happen?’ he snapped.

  ‘Let’s not worry about that at the moment, Sir Edward. The safety of the passengers, guests and crew is now my only concern. It’s time to abandon ship, sir.’ Brachen jutted his chin defiantly.

  ‘I’ll damn well decide when it’s time to abandon ship, Commander!’

  ‘With respect, no, you won’t, sir. This is now an emergency operation, and that leaves me as the ranking naval officer in charge of the operation. All decisions will be mine.’

  ‘We’ll see about that! Get me the Foreign Secretary!’

  ‘Our comms are down, sir. We only have radio communication and that’s localised. The frigate is making its way into the loch now. I’ll be ordering that the Great Britain be evacuated as soon as possible.’

  ‘But you have no idea what these devices are?’ Sir Edward’s face became redder.

  ‘Sir, I’ll say again, one of the maintenance engineers had a bag that bore traces of explosive. Now we have found two devices. My men are isolating power from areas of the ship just in case they are being enabled through the vessel’s electrical system in some way. So far we have had no success. The two devices we have located are armed. Fortunately the timers are zeroed, but we can’t guarantee that will remain the case. In the meantime, though, there is absolutely no other course of action to be taken to ensure the safety of those aboard. My officers will be ready to implement evacuation soon. My decision is final!’

  ‘Think about it, man. You’ll make our country a laughing stock. Have we received any threats, demands? How do we know this isn’t some sophisticated prank?’

  ‘Whoever is behind this has gone to great lengths to conceal their actions. We can only respond in the way I describe. Please make ready to leave the vessel, Sir Edward.’

  ‘You’d better be right, my boy. Because if you’re not, you can take off that uniform and burn the bloody thing!’ Sir Edward strode away from the Royal Navy commander. ‘If what you say is correct, then how are they to be ignited?’

  ‘We have no idea yet, sir. What we have to do is avoid any panic. I’ve made arrangements to take the duke and duchess off by launch now. But everyone will have to be ferried to the frigate as quickly as possible. We’ll use everything at our disposal, sir, but how quickly it can be done, I don’t know.’

  ‘There seems to be no end to the things you don’t know.’ He paused to pick up a glass of whisky from the desk before him. ‘One way or another, Brachen, we’re all going to go down with this ship.’

  Annabelle Tansie ordered the RIB to stop while she observed from the other side of the loch what was happening on the pier and pontoons. As she stared through her binoculars all she could see was a launch alongside, a few figures still not on board. Despite the gathering gloom she could make out the distinctive uniformed figure of Captain Banks, but just as she spotted him her attention was grabbed by a procession of flashing blue lights making their way along the promenade.

  ‘Bell, get me Kinloch Police Office. I can’t see any gunman, and I need an update fast!’

  ‘Yes, ma’am!’ the man in the combat gear replied.

  As she peered she saw the lights stop at the pontoons and police officers disembark from the vehicles. ‘Chief, take us round behind the pier as discreetly as you can.’

  On her command the RIB began a wide arc, now out of sight of the old quay, heading slowly for the shore.

  Ella Scott was watching two stewards. The one with the fancy braid was talking in an urgent fashion to the other, his hand over his mouth, looking around furtively as he did so. As she continued to observe them, she saw the one she assumed to be the junior man run off, leaving his well-adorned companion looking uncomfortable in his wake.

  ‘I’m nae detective, Annie, but I’m sure something’s goin
g on. First oor Brian takes off, noo all they waiters are looking dead shifty – take a look.’

  Annie gazed around the large ballroom, and sure enough, the men and women who had greeted them with warm smiles now appeared to be on edge, grim looks passing between them. ‘What could be the matter?’

  ‘I’m no’ sure, but I hope it’s got nothing tae dae with my husband.’

  ‘Och, no. We’re in safe hands wae Brian aboard. There’s no’ much he can’t handle, I’m sure.’

  Ella looked at Annie doubtfully. ‘I wouldnae count on that,’ she said with a raised eyebrow. ‘But I’m glad you’ve got so much faith in him.’

  ‘Oh aye, Brian – and big Jim – are well respected in the toon, let me tell you.’

  Talk about starry-eyed, thought Ella, but turned her attention to Hamish. ‘How are you feeling now?’

  ‘Och, jeest as though I’m staring intae the abyss; as though I’m on a fishing boat being sucked doon by a whirlpool.’

  ‘Fuck me, you’re the life and soul, Hamish,’ said Annie. ‘If you start tae go under they can always catch a hold of your tie and pull you back up. I mean, it’s bound to stand oot in all this gloom that’s surrounding you.’

  As Hamish and Annie nagged at each other, Ella took in the scene before her. She watched as a man in Royal Navy uniform went from one steward to the next, whispering in each one’s ear.

  ‘I wouldnae give him a hard time, Annie. I think your man might have a point. There’s something going on, and by the look o’ some o’ the stewards, it isn’t good. Where the hell’s Brian when you need him?’

  *

  With a jolt the lift carrying Brian Scott and the kitchen porter began to move. The lights came back on, and the floors counted up on a dial at the side of the console.

  ‘Well, at least that’s something,’ said Scott as the lift came to another stop, pinged, and the doors opened.

  ‘This way, Mr Police, please. We go along here then at ballroom.’

  ‘You’re a fine man,’ said Scott as the pair took off along the corridor.

  His mind was working overtime. For no reason he could hear his mother’s voice in his head. When it comes doon tae it, son, those close tae you are all that matters. He could see her sitting in the scullery of their rundown tenement flat, wiping flour from her hands on her apron. The memory brought a tear to his eye as he followed the small man in kitchen whites. Aye, you’re not wrong, Mother, he mumbled to himself.