“I failed her,” he sighed.
“This isn’t your fault. You offered her protection and a safe house but she turned you down.”
“I should have done more to persuade her.”
“You did your best. She’s a grown woman who made a choice. It was the wrong choice and that is on her shoulders, not yours.”
“Aye, you’re right hen,” he sighed. “Search the bedroom, will you? See if you can find anything to tell us what happened. I’ll search her handbag.”
“On it,” she said before exiting the kitchen.
“Err, I’d better do that,” said Pete, pulling on a pair of nitrile gloves before delving inside.
Elaine’s handbag yielded nothing useful, other than a printout of the confirmation for a booking for a week in a B&B in Crieff. She was due to arrive tomorrow.
“Bugger,” said Brodie sadly.
“Look at this,” called Cass.
The two men headed back into the main bedroom to find Cass studying the clock. “What is it hen?”
“Look up there,” she replied, pointing to the upper left corner of the room.
There was a small hole there, indicating something had been screwed into it.
“She had a camera,” said Pete.
“Yep but it was removed. However,” she smiled, handing him the clock.
He peered at the digital screen and smiled. “She hid one in this too.”
“She’s a smart lady.”
“Thank God,” replied Pete. He took out his phone. “I’d better call it in.”
“Jesus,” sighed Pete as he watched the footage on the television in Elaine’s front room with Brodie and Cass while a scenes of crime team examined the bedroom amid a rustling of white paper suits.
On the screen two masked intruders smashed in the bedroom window while Elaine slept, pinned her down and held a cloth over her nose and mouth until her struggles ceased. During the scuffle the camera toppled sideways, giving them a lopsided view. A limp Elaine was lifted from the bed and bundled out. Before they left, one of the intruders wrenched the camera from the wall and took it with him.
“There’s no doubt,” said Brodie. “She was kidnapped.”
“Aye but nothing on this footage tells us who did it,” replied Pete.
“It was the bats.”
“Probably but I need evidence. You got any of that? Because if you do I’ll happily nick the lot of them.”
Brodie’s sigh said it all.
“This lot look like pros,” said Pete. “This wasn’t perpetrated by a converted estate agent and a shelf stacker. This pair have real training, they move like soldiers.”
“Elaine told Brodie the compound is run like a fortress,” said Cass. “With armed guards and Malachi has the money to pay professionals.”
“Or they’re converts too and he’s chosen his followers wisely,” said Brodie.
“But,” said Pete. “Thanks to Elaine talking to you and Susan Silvers, I have cause to question Malachi about her disappearance.”
“That won’t get you anywhere.”
“Still, I need to try. Right, you’d better get off. We need to secure the scene. You both given DNA samples for elimination purposes?”
Cass and Brodie nodded.
“Good. Away you go then.”
They left, Brodie’s shoulders slumped. Losing their only witness was a major setback to their case.
“What do we do now?” said Cass as they got back into the car.
Brodie sighed and stared at the steering wheel. “I’ve nae idea hen. Elaine was our main source of information. Thank Christ she emailed me the map of the compound and the names of the cult’s major players before she got taken. That’s something at least. I just feel like I let her down.”
“You did all you could. You know, maybe we’re tackling this the wrong way.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, this case has already gone beyond freeing Steven Silvers. I take it you want to bring down Malachi?”
“Too right I do hen.”
“Perhaps we should take a little trip to Edinburgh and see what we can find out about Mary Strachan?”
Brodie turned to her and took her face in his hands. “Just when I think you can’t possibly get any more goddess-like, you do.”
Cass beamed and kissed him. “And we can book into a nice cosy hotel.”
“Even better,” he breathed, pulling her closer. He caught the constable on guard duty at the gate leading into Elaine’s garden watching them with a distinct leer and he released her. “Problem pervo?” he yelled out of the window at him.
The constable blushed and looked skywards, whistling nonchalantly.
Leaving Elliott in charge of the office, Brodie and Cass drove to Edinburgh, the journey taking them just over an hour. Cass’s heart sank as they walked into the hotel they’d booked. As it was the height of summer and tourism was at its peak the only room they could find last minute was in a very expensive hotel. Brodie’s business paid extremely well, so they could afford such luxuries but they usually avoided very posh places because he got tetchy around snobs.
Cass felt almost doomed as they approached the reception desk where a man in a very expensive dark blue suit waited to greet them, prominent nostrils flaring as he looked them up and down. Granted, she wasn’t dripping in expensive jewellery, tottering around on sinfully expensive high heels and clad in designer gear like the rest of the female guests. Neither was Brodie in a smart tailored suit and incredibly shiny shoes but they still looked respectable.
“Can I help you Sir?” pronounced the receptionist in a snooty voice that sounded like he was desperately attempting to conceal his Scottish accent beneath a false English one, something Brodie loathed.
“We have a booking,” Cass quickly said while beside her Brodie’s glower cut the man in two. “Under the name of MacBride.”
The man turned his curled lip and disapproving nostrils to the computer screen, tapping lazily at the keyboard. “Ah yes, Mr and Mrs MacBride.”
“No. Mr MacBride and Ms Carlisle.”
“Oh,” he said, a disapproving frown creasing his brow while his nostrils flared even more, having the effect of squashing the top and bottom of his face together.
“You got a problem with us no’ being married pal?” frowned Brodie. “Unless you’ve got a wormhole on the door that takes you back in time to eighteen ninety.”
The menace radiating off Brodie encouraged the man to ease up on his intense snobbery. “Of course not Sir.” He placed a form on the desk. “If you could fill this in please.” The look that accompanied this statement indicated that he wasn’t entirely convinced Brodie had mastered the art of writing.
Brodie filled it in aggressively, so hard the pen almost tore through the paper, before thrusting it back at the man.
“Thank you Sir,” said the receptionist. “Here is your key card. Room twenty one, second floor. William here will take your bags up for you,” he added, indicating the man dressed in the same blue suit standing behind them who Cass and Brodie had failed to notice because he trod so lightly.
“I hate all this shite,” muttered Brodie as they followed the tall, straight William to the lift who walked with his nose tilted so high it looked like he was trying to smell the sun. “I’m capable of carrying my own bags.”
He laughed out loud when William - who had failed to keep an eye on the lower things in life - tripped over a young boy following his parents to the main door. Brodie’s mood only lightened even further when William turned to glare at the boy, who gave him the finger in response, a mischievous smile dancing on his lips. His parents walked on, oblivious to the exchange.
They got into the lift and waited for it to ascend in uncomfortable silence, William still holding their bags, nose tilted in the air, refusing to look at them. Finally the doors pinged open and they progressed down the corridor to a room at the end on the left. William swiped the key card, opened the door and went inside, placing their bags on the f
loor.
“Thank you William,” replied Cass.
“You’re welcome Madam,” he replied with a small bow.
When he remained where he was, an expectant look in his eye, Brodie’s temper spiked. “You’re gonnae be stood there a long time if you’re expecting cash for doing something I could have done myself. A little tip for the future pal - if you want people to gie’ you their hard earned money try treating them like human beings. Now do one.”
William harrumphed and strode out.
“At least he had the grace not to slam the door shut behind him,” said Cass.
“Not a complete prick after all then.”
His fingers brushed his right jacket pocket. He’d brought the ring with him, thinking how a posh hotel in Edinburgh might be a good place to finally pop the question but so far it hadn’t endeared itself to him and he wanted the memory of asking her to marry him to be a pleasant one, so for now he’d see how it went.
Cass turned to the window and smiled. “Wow, that’s some view. We’re so close to the castle.”
Brodie came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. “Aye it’s pretty special.” Maybe this was the right place after all? That view was certainly something to remember.
“So, what’s the plan?”
“I want to talk to our old pal, Jeff Fraser.”
“You mean the private investigator Lucas hired to dig up the dirt on me?”
“Aye.”
“The man whose arm you broke and whose partner was murdered for failing to kidnap me and whose private parts I held a cheese grater to?”
“The very same.”
“What makes you think he’d even let us through the door?”
“Curiosity. He’s a private investigator, so he’s already a nosy bastard. He’ll want to hear what we have to say and I want to know what he has on Higher Light.”
“He might not have anything.”
“Maybe not but if he does I want to know what it is.”
“Worth a try I suppose. And you want to just stroll into his office?”
“Aye. It’ll be fun.”
“You have a strange idea of fun.”
CHAPTER 9
The office belonging to Jeff Fraser and his late lamented partner Ken was a lot more upmarket than Brodie’s. It was on the first floor of an office block with a fountain in reception and colourful hanging baskets dangling outside the main doors. A beautiful blond who smelled of expensive perfume politely directed them to the lift that would take them up to Jeff’s office which, since the demise of his partner, had been renamed Fraser Private Investigations - Professional and Trustworthy.
“He should add sneaky and willing to do anything for a quick quid,” said Brodie, scowling at the sign that greeted them when the lift doors pinged open.
They stepped out of the lift to find a second blond sat a desk, typing on the computer. She looked up and smiled as they walked in.
“Welcome to Fraser Private Investigations,” she said in a soft, sexy voice. “How may I help you?”
“Is Jeff in?” replied Brodie.
“Yes Sir, Mr Fraser is available. Do you wish to discuss a case with him?”
“Aye I do.”
“And your names Sir?”
“Brodie MacBride and Cass Carlisle.”
“Please take a seat and I’ll inform him that you’re here,” she replied, picking up the phone.
Cass was pleased that, despite the lascivious looks the blond was giving Brodie, he paid her no mind. As they sat down he took her hand.
“You okay?” she whispered to him. “You look troubled.”
“I don’t like being on this fud’s territory. It makes me itchy.”
“Me too but you never know, it could be useful.”
“I’m not sure that walloper’s ever been useful in his life.”
The blond winced at the shouting that echoed down the line, her skin turning ashen, looking shocked as she slowly replaced the receiver. “Err, I’m afraid Mr Fraser is otherwise engaged,” she told them with a frown, wondering who the hell these people were to make her normally affable boss react like that. “If you could leave your phone number…”
“Bugger that,” said Brodie, getting to his feet and pulling open the door.
Cass hurried after him as he strode into an ultra-modern office, everything painted white with ergonomically-designed chairs, glass topped desks with top-of-the-range computers, a massive coffee machine off to one side that produced cappuccinos and lattes and huge rubber plants and aloe vera dotted about the place.
“Puts our sad little cactus to shame,” commented Cass, admiring the thriving foliage.
The office was empty, apart from Jeff himself occupying the biggest desk at the head of the room, so long it could have catered for three people. He’d grown even wider since they last saw him, his face beetroot with rage.
“Who the hell do you think you are bursting in here like this?” he demanded, hauling himself to his feet. “I told my receptionist I don’t want to see you.”
“I’m so sorry,” stammered the woman, rushing in behind them. “I tried to stop them but they wouldn’t listen.”
“You cowardly shitebag,” Brodie told Jeff. “Getting this wee lassie to do your dirty work. You want us to leave you throw us out yourself.”
Jeff looked from Brodie to Cass and swallowed hard. He knew exactly what this pair were capable of.
“I don’t need to,” he said, retaking his seat and picking up the phone. “I’ll call the police instead.”
“You don’t need to worry,” grinned Brodie. “Cass hasnae brought her cheese grater.”
Jeff winced as he recalled what she’d done to his ex-partner’s genitals with that particular instrument.
“And we come in peace,” continued Brodie. “We’re here about Higher Light.”
This pronouncement had the same effect on Jeff as it had on Mason. He hung up the phone and looked to his secretary. “Leave us please Alice.”
“Yes Sir. Shall I fetch some tea or coffee?”
“No thank you and don’t let anyone else in. We’re in conference.”
“Yes Sir,” she replied before bustling out, relieved he was back to his usual polite self.
Jeff slumped back onto his fancy Swedish chair and grimaced. “I need a cushion for this thing. It’s great for my back but terrible for my arse.”
Brodie held back the quip he wanted to make at that comment. The man was willing to talk to him, which was more than he’d expected and he didn’t want to spoil that. Cass gave him a wink of approval.
“So,” began Brodie. “You’ve had dealings with Higher Light?”
“I have. A client asked me to investigate them. Her sister joined them and she hasn’t heard from her since.”
“How long ago was this?”
“About four months. I took on the case. What I found was rather disturbing.”
“What did you find?” said Brodie, leaning forward in his seat.
“Before I continue, I need to know why you’re asking about them.”
“I’ve taken on a case by a relative, only it’s her daughter who’s been brainwashed by the bats.” No way was he giving this man the exact truth.
“Bats?” said Jeff with something akin to amusement. “Yes, that is a good description for them.”
“And a woman who escaped the cult and who was giving me information about their activities was kidnapped yesterday.”
“Jesus,” he breathed. “Doesn’t surprise me though. People who cross them have a habit of disappearing.”
“We’ve got a lead that’s brought us here to Edinburgh. We thought you were the man to talk to.”
“You want me to share my information with you?”
Brodie nodded. “I’m willing to pay.”
Jeff sighed and leaned back in his chair, studying them both while chewing his lower lip. “I don’t want your money,” he eventually said. “I wan
t the information you have on Higher Light. Fair’s fair.”
Brodie looked to Cass, who nodded. “Alright pal. You’ve got yourself a deal, so long as you keep it to yourself.”
“Why, do you think I’m going to run to the church and tell them everything?”
“I don’t know. Are you?”
“If you thought that you wouldn’t have come here in the first place.”
It annoyed Brodie that he was right.
“And for all I know,” continued Jeff. “You’re one of Malachi’s minions.”
“I am not a bloody bat,” he exclaimed.
“No, I don’t suppose you are. You’re so stubborn no one could tell you what you should believe.”
“Too right pal.”
“Okay. I’ll tell you what I found out. My client’s sister - let’s call her X.”
“Very original,” mumbled Brodie.
“I tracked her down to the church, or more precisely, the compound behind it.”
“Sounds like the same arrangement as they have in Glasgow. They say the building behind the church is offices and living quarters but my source made it out to be a small fort with armed guards, hidden from view by trees. It’s set in its own park.”
“That’s exactly what we have here, except the fort is hidden by a high wall, not trees. I found an informant who’d been inside the compound and could tell me all about the layout, security and so on. One night me and two of my employees broke in, we hoped to find X and rescue her. We got three feet inside when the searchlights came on and we were cornered by six armed guards. We fought our way back out but not before one of my employees received a broken shoulder. Security was made up of trained professionals. We didn’t stand a chance.”
“Did you find X?”
“No, there was no trace of her and the church denies she even joined. My investigation has come to a standstill.”
“During your investigation did you ever come across a woman called Mary Strachan? She’s a member of the church, small with blond curly hair, very pretty.”
Jeff thought hard before shaking his head. “Can’t say I have. Is she the daughter you’re trying to find?”
“No. We found the daughter preaching outside the Riverside Museum,” replied Brodie, continuing to tweak the facts so nothing would lead Malachi to Susan or Steven Silvers. “She looked like shit, she’d lost a lot of weight but she was alive, although she wasn’t interested in what we had to say. We learnt about Mary from one of our informants. She vanished into the church, never to be seen again. Word is she was brought to Edinburgh for punishment and adjustment therapy.”
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