“Who you calling?” Doug asked.
“Control,” Susie said as she hit Speed Dial. “I’ll get patrols to pick up that shite McBride then get SOCOs here.”
Doug held up his right hand. It was smeared with blood. “Wait a minute,” he said. “You sure you want to do that?”
“Why the hell wouldn’t I?” she asked, incredulous.
Doug shook his head, kept his eyes on hers. “Think about it, Susie. You call in the cavalry, they’re going to want to know why this guy McBride was here and what he wanted. And once the questions start, they’ll just keep coming. Meaning there’s a good chance that they’re going to find out what Redmonds did. And I don’t want that.”
She glanced at the phone, then back at Doug. “Fuck,” she spat. “But I can’t just let him –”
“And you won’t,” Doug interrupted. “But for now, let it go. First, let me tell you what I’ve found. I think there might be a way out of this, but I’m not sure you’re going to like it.”
Susie felt something leaden drop in her stomach. “How do you mean?” she asked, her voice heavy.
Doug shook his head. “Later. First, let me tell you what I’ve found. It’ll kill the time until Colin and Hal get here.”
50
She should have seen it sooner. Would have, Rebecca told herself, if it wasn’t for aftermath of the Chief’s shambolic live press conference the night before, the constant calls for comment and updates and the acid indigestion that felt like it was a scalding tide splashing up her throat with every breath. And then there was the package that sat waiting patiently in her bottom desk drawer, ready to answer a question she didn’t want to ask. So yes, she had been busy. Distracted, even. So not seeing it sooner was understandable. Maybe even forgivable.
Maybe. But she also knew that was, ultimately, an excuse. She hadn’t seen it until now because, bluntly, she hadn’t wanted to. But now, sitting in her office, the cuts from last night’s press conference and this morning’s headlines about Lack of progress in City murder probes and Fresh questions for police after attempted murder bid in New Town strewn on her desk, it was right in front of her. Or, more accurately, it wasn’t there, all the more conspicuous by its absence.
One name. A name that should have been splashed all over the coverage of the last few days.
Doug McGregor.
His byline was nowhere to be seen. Not on the follow-ups to the Redmonds murder or the Leith body find or the Chief’s car-crash TV appearance. True, he had written the initial splash on the Redmonds murder, along with the first follow-up, and he had filed copy on the discovery of Brian Coulter’s body in Leith. But what leapt out at her now was the complete lack of his byline in connection with the Chief’s STV disaster or the attack on Rab MacFarlane.
And that made no sense whatsoever.
She had initially though that perhaps he hadn’t heard, that he was so wrapped up with whatever he was doing in London that the news hadn’t filtered down to him. But she had quickly chided herself for the stupidity of the thought. She knew he and Rab were close, knew MacFarlane’s wife – what was her name, Jane, Janet? – would call him and let him know. Either her, or one of his other…
Susie
…contacts.
So he knew. He must do. And yet, despite that, he hadn’t been in touch. No call, no text. Not even an acknowledgement of her message wishing him a good trip.
So just what the hell was he up to?
When he told her he was going to London to see Colin and Hal, Rebecca had been too relieved to push too hard on why he was going. Something was bothering him, that much was clear, and if she couldn’t help, then perhaps Colin and Hal could. She knew they had grown close, Hal looking out for Doug like an over-protective elder brother, and she had liked both him and Colin when they met. But why was he going to London now? Two murders in Edinburgh in two days, a new Chief Constable floundering on TV and now an attempted murder on a close friend and contact – and the Capital Tribune’s crime reporter decides to take a working trip to London?
No. There was something else. Had to be.
She wanted to call him, make sure he was okay, ask what was going on. Knew she wouldn’t. She had never been that woman; the girlfriend who felt the need to fill the silence and uncertainty with forced contact and contrived conversation. If he needed to get in touch with her, he would. And yet, the thought of the last message she had sent him burned worse that the acid in her throat. Hope you find what you need. Here when you need me. Bx
Was it so much to ask for a response?
He was scheduled to fly back this morning, but she had heard nothing from him, despite checking her phone and email every chance she could in between the incessant media calls and demands for reassurance from a clearly rattled Chief. With the attack on Rab, Doug surely must have headed home. Had he been to the hospital to see him already? Maybe, but there was nothing in the last edition of the Tribune or on the website to indicate he had been. And if he wasn’t working the story, what was he doing? A thought rose up, shameful and petty, and Rebecca swallowed it down with another Rennie.
Susie. He had said he was following something up for Susie. Had he come back and gone straight to her? Were they working together now, the two of them talking in that shorthand they had, the outside world excluded?
She thought back to last night. At Susie rejecting her offer of a drink after a hard day, saying she had a headache. Innocent enough. And plausible. But was that all it was? Or was she working on something with Doug? Something they didn’t want her knowing about.
And, if so, what?
Rebecca sighed. Another question she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to. Her eyes drifted to the bottom drawer of her desk, an image of the small package sitting inside drifting across her mind.
Unanswered questions. When, she thought, would she have the courage to face them?
51
Eddie King’s first thought when Mark Hayes opened the door was simple and unequivocal: high.
He was a tall man, about two inches taller than Eddie who, at 6ft 2ins, wasn’t used to looking up to people. Sweat glistened on his brow below a mop of thick, dark hair that was trying to be fashionably unkempt and missing the fashion part of the description. His eyes were a disconcertingly pale blue trapped behind a set of rimless glasses, darting all over Eddie’s face as he sized him up in the doorway. Eddie gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile and stuck his hand out. Hayes returned the gesture, a thin, bony arm with skin the colour of old bread reaching out to his. His grip was cold and anaemic.
“Mr Hayes?” Eddie said, keeping his eyes on Mark’s. “I’m DC Eddie King. We spoke earlier on the phone. Thanks for taking the time to see me, can I come in?”
Behind the glasses, the blue eyes squinted for a moment, as though Eddie had gripped too hard when they shook hands. Then he seemed to remember where he was, and his face reorganised itself into something approaching a smile.
“Oh, of course, of course,” Hayes said as he swung the door open, the movement as erratic and halting as his speech pattern. “Sorry. Not thinking. Head full of work. Please. Come in.”
With a nod of thanks Eddie stepped into flat, waited for Hayes to shut the door and lead him into the living room he could see at the end of the hallway. He noticed a toilet to his left and a kitchen on his right. Just before they hit the living room, there was another door. It was the only one pulled shut.
The living room itself was large and surprisingly bright, with high ceilings and a huge window. Eddie took the room in with a quick sweep of his gaze: top-notch TV, stereo system with stack speakers, DVD player, Apple TV, games console. The typical lair of a well-paid IT geek.
Hayes stood in the centre of the room, gesturing to one of two couches that formed an L-shape around the wall-mounted TV. “Please,” he said, “take a seat. Can I get you anything? A drink,
perhaps? As you can probably tell, I’m no stranger to coffee.”
Eddie smiled at the joke. Could it be that simple? Just another desk jockey hopped up on coffee? After all, he had been working at home, on what he described as an important project. And if it was for the Scottish Government, then they were hardly likely to be forgiving with the deadlines. It made sense – and explained his appearance. Too much caffeine, not enough sleep, a punishing deadline and a surprise visit from the coppers to round the day off. No wonder the kid looked tweaked. He was running on nerves.
But still, there was something about him. Something that put Eddie on edge.
“No, no, I’m fine, Mr Hayes. Thanks, though. I just need to ask you a few questions about Brian Coulter. You know he was found murdered in Leith yesterday?”
Mark sat down on the couch across from Eddie. He leaned forward, thin arms crossed over his chest, as though trying to hug himself. “Yes,” he said as he stared at the coffee table, “I saw the news on the Tribune’s website just before you arrived.” He shook his head. “Poor Brian,” he said. “Makes you wonder how anyone could do something like that, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” Eddie said, reaching for his notepad. “Yes, it does. That’s why I’m hoping you’ll be able to help me.”
Hayes jerked his head up, eyes returning to their almost-frantic search pattern sweep across his face. “Help you?” he stuttered. “How can I…?”
“You knew Brian,” Eddie said as soothingly as he could. “I wondered if you could tell me about him. Your work together. Anything that might explain what happened.”
Hayes twitched a smile of understanding at Eddie. It wasn’t a pleasant sight. “Okay,” he said as he glanced towards the door of the living room. “I’ll try.”
• • •
Hal and Colin texted from the airport and, once they heard about Doug and Susie’s house guest, it was agreed that they would get a taxi straight to Musselburgh.
“No point in making yourself a moving target,” Hal had said in the call he made two seconds after he got the message, “and if he knows Susie is police it’s unlikely this guy’s going to try your place again any time soon.”
Doug wasn’t sure he agreed with Hal’s logic. But he was too tired and sore to argue, so he just murmured agreement and said he’d see them when they arrived.
It took about forty minutes, more than long enough for him to fill Susie in on what he had found, and the first rough outlines of his plan. They sat opposite each other as they had so many times before, but the woman sitting across from Doug now was as good as a stranger. At first he thought it was her anger at him – for grabbing the laptop from Redmonds, for dragging her into the confrontation with McBride and everything that was about to follow. It was only when the entry phone buzzer echoed through the flat, causing them both to jump, that Doug understood. It was just an instant, but it was enough – uncertainty and fear flitting across her gaze, the knot of muscle in her jaw pulsing once as she bore down on her emotions. He realised she had been preparing herself to face Colin and Hal – another two people who had seen what Redmonds had done to her, seen her vulnerable and used and exposed.
Unable to think of anything to say, he smiled and made for the door, using the spyhole to check it was Colin and Hal before he slid the deadbolt clear. After brief greetings, Doug began bustling them through into the living room. “Susie’s waiting,” he said, sharing a glance with both of them, hoping they understood.
They did. Hal strode into the room, dropping his bags and covering the space between him and Susie before she had a chance to properly get to her feet. He had his arms around her before she could protest, burying his head into her auburn hair. Doug couldn’t hear what he said, but watched as Susie tensed then relaxed, her weight falling forward into Hal’s embrace. He couldn’t be sure, but looking at the way she was breathing, he thought she might be crying.
Colin squeezed Doug’s arm briefly then stepped past him, joining Susie and Hal. He said nothing, just put one hand on Hal’s back and one on Susie’s head. He leaned in, kissed her on the head then backed off, leaving her and Hal.
After a moment, she pulled herself from Hal’s embrace, wiping tears from her eyes as she smiled uncertainly at him and nodded her head slightly. Doug wished he knew what Hal had said. He shook his head. Colin and Hal. Again, being better friends than he could ever hope to be. And they had made it look so easy.
Which begged the question, why was he finding it so hard to be what Susie needed in all of this?
And why did he want to be that so badly?
“So,” Colin said, “we going to stand around here all day or do we want to get to work? Though I’m not sure what more we’ve got to add, after you stole our punchline, Doug.”
Doug looked at Susie, pushed down the glow of embarrassment he felt as he explained about the porn playing in the background of the picture Redmonds had taken.
“You see,” he said, “the times didn’t match. Your records showed that the film you and Redmonds ordered was earlier in the evening, so whatever was on the TV had to be something else. So I asked Colin to see if he could clean the picture up. And he did…”
Colin unzipped his own laptop bag and produced a brown A3-sized envelope. He handed it to Susie without a word, watched as she opened it. She slid out the image, a blow-up of what had been on the screen, any trace of her carefully cropped out, just as Doug had requested. From where he was standing, Doug couldn’t see the image that was draining the colour from Susie’s face, but he didn’t need to. He knew who was in it. Had known since the visit from Dessie Banks.
Susie looked up, eyes darting between him, Hal and Colin. Despite everything, Doug had to suppress the urge to smile. He had missed this. Being one step ahead. Knowing what was going on.
Well, some of it.
“But that means that…?” Susie said, her voice little more than a whisper as she put the pieces together in her mind.
Doug nodded. “Probably,” he said, agreeing with her. “And your first job after we’re done here is going to be to call Burns. But there’s more to it, isn’t there, Colin?” He reached for his camera and popped out the memory card. “But I don’t see what use this could be? Unless it was holding a copy of the same image and others like it and Redmonds tried to destroy it? Is that why it’s corrupt?”
“Maybe,” Colin said, taking the SD card from Doug and inspecting it. “But I don’t think so.” He sat on the couch, taking Redmonds’ laptop from his bag and booting it up. “See, I couldn’t make sense of this. Why would a new laptop have such a knackered battery and show extensive use, yet be essentially a blank slate? Why didn’t it even have a password lock on it?”
“Nothing to hide on it?” Doug suggested.
“Possibly,” Colin said. “But remember what we found in the log files – that this was launching a web browser but not registering log files?”
“Yeah,” Doug said slowly. “But what does that…”
Colin held up a hand. “Remember the games consoles you played as a kid?” he asked. “You know, the ones that you loaded the cartridges into?”
“Yeah, what about them?” Doug asked, vague memories of PlayStations and Mega Drives flitting across his mind.
“Well, what if it’s like that?” Colin said. “What if this” – he held up the SD card – “isn’t a memory card, but something else?”
“Like what?” Doug asked. “A cartridge? Or a boot disk?”
“It’s not unheard of,” Colin said. “Programme a memory card to act like a boot disk for a specific computer and get it to run a program on the system. The two fit together like a lock and a key. Bit like this…”
He slotted the SD card into the side of Redmonds’ laptop. At first, nothing happened, the screen showing its standard landscape screensaver. Then, after a moment, there was the gentle whirr of the hard drive, and then, slowly, th
e mountains dissolved, replaced by a plain black screen with a hand clutching what looked like a trident etched in red. The screen seemed to dim, then, slowly, a single line of white text crawled across it from left to right.
Hell is empty, it read.
Doug blinked at the screen, looked around the room. Saw Hal, Colin and Susie were as lost as he was.
“What the…?” Hal muttered, looking to Colin.
Colin shrugged. “Could be a password challenge,” he said. “Looks like it’s trying to log on to something, the SD card acting as the boot disk and the browser. But what the answer could be, fuck knows.”
Susie stood up, paced to the window, arms folded across her chest, one hand massaging the rapidly reddening patch of skin just below her neck. Doug knew the signs well enough.
“Susie?” he said slowly.
She shook her head, stared harder out of the window. “Hell, hell, hell,” she chanted softly. She whirled back, eyes widening. “Something about…” Then she stopped, looked at the laptop as though seeing it for the first time.
“Try ‘Tempest’,” she said.
Colin looked at her blankly, then shrugged and started typing. Hit Return. Nothing. “Susie, you on to something?”
She nodded, eyes not leaving the laptop, as if scared it was about to leap from the table and attack her. “I think it’s a quote from Shakespeare,” she said. “The Tempest. ‘Hell is empty. And all the Devils are here.’ But if it’s not…”
“All the Devils,” Doug said. “Colin, try that.”
Colin turned back to the laptop, keyed it in. For a moment, nothing happened, and then the screen dissolved again, replaced by what looked like a list of numbers and file names.
“What the fuck is this?” Hal whispered.
“Files,” Colin said. “Look at this: .rar, .jpeg, .mov. They’re files.” He moved the trackpad to one subdirectory, marked Dom, then double-clicked, opening the folder. He scrolled to a random file and double-clicked. An image sprung onto the screen: a man strapped to a bed, naked but for a mask that did nothing to hide the agony as the woman straddling him poured wax from a lit candle onto his exposed genitals.
All the Devils Page 21