by Jo McCready
Stuart washed and refilled the bowl too many times for RJ to count. The blood had started to clot, but now it ran down her arm again as he worked, dabbing the area thoroughly with gauze before setting up the suture kit. “I’ll do my best, but you’re going to have some pretty impressive scars and one hell of a story that, unfortunately, you won’t be able to tell anyone.”
Carstairs stood by, watching as he ran his cap through his hands in front of him. “I am sorry, Miss.”
“I just don’t get it, Wullie. All this, and now you’re helping us. What’s going on? It can’t just be a crisis of conscience, not now. That would’ve come before. If it didn’t come when two people died, then why now?”
“None of us are happy about this.” He sighed. “You don’t understand. Gamekeeping is all I’ve ever known. I’ve worked here since I was fourteen and the others have been here since they were teenagers, too. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s not exactly an abundance of jobs around here. We couldn’t just up and leave when Buchanan started doing things we didn’t agree with. When we raised our concerns, he threatened us, said we were complicit. That we’d go down the same as him, or likely longer as he’s the one who can afford the good lawyers. It’s not been easy. I’ll tell you that much.”
He sank to the floor, pulled his knees up, and rested one hand in his hair. The effort of his admission had drained the energy right out of him.
“But you’ve done nothing to rectify the situation. All you’ve done is help him run his business. You are complicit.”
“No, that’s not true. I’ve had help. We’ve been trying—”
“The fiscal,” RJ exclaimed.
“Aye, the fiscal. Him and I go way back. I knew I could go to him in confidence. He’s been looking into the legal side of things while I’ve been gathering evidence. We want to bring Buchanan down while protecting all the people who work here. It’s complicated because he has several police in his pocket.”
RJ swallowed past the pain as Stuart concentrated on her sutures. “How did James Sullivan die?” she asked quietly lest she shatter the already broken man in front of her into a million pieces.
“The black panther got him. That’s what he asked for, you see. He didn’t mind if it was a leopard or a jaguar, just that it was black. He could never have imagined what it would do to him. The dogs found his body the next morning. Half of his skull was torn off.” Wullie looked like he was going to be sick. “It was the same one you met this afternoon. We’ve been trying to find it ever since, but it’s evaded us, no matter how hard we’ve tried to find it. That’s never happened before. All the animals have been found before now. They’ve all been hunted down by their purchasers. This one . . . this one was different.”
RJ let him catch his breath and recover. It seemed he needed to get it all out now that he had started.
“Buchanan made us . . . Buchanan made us throw the body headfirst from the ridge. His head smashed like a melon. You wouldn’t even have known the thing that lay at the bottom of the cliff was human.” He laid his head on his arms, his body heaving as he sobbed.
“The doctor didn’t stand a chance, then.”
Carstairs shook his head.
Unbelievable, thought RJ. If he’d had any criminal training, the doctor would have suspected something, but the team at the estate had covered their tracks enough to fool the locum, who had no reason to suspect any wrongdoing and certainly no reason to suspect what had actually transpired.
“What about the suicide?” RJ pushed. “Had he had enough of what you were doing or was that a cover up as well?”
“It wasn’t a suicide. He was cleaning out the cages when something happened and the door that separates the sides somehow opened. At least, that’s what we think happened. It was a mountain lion that ripped out his throat. There was nothing we could do. He was dead when we pulled him out. Buchanan took him out himself and shot him with his own gun. He got rid of any evidence of animal damage by blasting it away with a shotgun.”
“He sounds like a cold-hearted bastard.”
“I don’t know how his father could have produced something like him. When Buchanan Senior died ten years ago, we knew we were in for a rough time, but we never could have imagined . . . Now, we’re wondering if his father didn’t die of natural causes.”
After learning what Buchanan was capable of, it wouldn’t surprise her if he’d committed patricide. “How did it all start? Surely there are other ways of making money off the estate?”
“There is. It’s always sustained itself. It’s a more common practice than you think, though. There’re other estates in poorly populated areas of Britain that do the same. Well, that’s what Buchanan told us. But it’s not about the money for him. It’s about greed and control. Most toffs like him, when they go off to university, they study art history or something else just as airy fairy. He studied zoology. He’s been all over the world learning about animals—mainly big cats.”
And he still wanted to see them slaughtered. That told her more than anything else Carstairs possibly could.
“He’s not right, Miss, something isn’t right with his brain. We didn’t dare stand up to him. I’m ashamed to say I was afraid of him. If you met him, you’d understand.”
RJ nodded, keen to keep Carstairs talking. “What’s this room for?” she asked, looking at the impressive array of equipment.
“He inseminates them himself. Likes to play God. It saves him on trips away to replenish stock.”
“Is that where he is now, replenishing stock?”
Carstairs nodded. “He’s visiting zoos that need to rehome some of their animals. I don’t know where—somewhere in Europe. He doesn’t explain any of that to us. Just tells us what we need to know . . . and anything that he thinks might make us fear him more.”
“Do you know how he manages to obtain them? He must need papers, licenses, and proof of where they’re going.” RJ was sure zoos wouldn’t just give their animals away to anyone offering to take them.
Carstairs looked up at her and shook his head. “I’ve heard him say that most of these places are desperate and just happy to have the animals taken off their hands. He’s fussy, though. He has to see the animals in person, check them out to make sure they’re healthy enough to either be hunted or used as baby factories. That’s why he goes there himself. That and the power trip, I imagine.”
“That’s you. Almost good as new.” Stuart leaned back to admire his handiwork.
RJ turned her head to look. She doubted it would have been neater or done better if she’d gone to A&E. When their eyes met, RJ sent him a silent message of thanks, which he shrugged off before taking clean gauze and wiping off the remaining blood.
Chapter 26
Carstairs drove them back to their car.
“Thank you, Wullie,” RJ said, grasping his hand.
“Well, if it wasn’t for you, pet.” He shook his head and swallowed down a sob that threatened to escape his throat. “Those wee boys wouldn’t have stood a chance. We’d never have made it up to the ridge in time if you hadn’t distracted her.”
“It’s over now.”
“Aye,” said Carstairs wistfully.
He’d played his part in all of it, even if under duress. None of them could be sure what was about to come his way. Whatever happened, he would always have those deaths and the day’s near misses on his conscience.
Stuart shook Wullie’s hand, then they got into the car and drove away. In the side mirror, RJ watched the lone figure of Wullie Carstairs get smaller and smaller as he stood staring at their retreating car.
Once out of the estate, Stuart pulled over and phoned in what they had found. The conversation was short and terse when Stuart finished detailing what had happened.
“Yes, yes, I understand . . . okay . . . but—yes.” He put the phone down and slammed the flat of his hand against the steering wheel. “We’re done.”
“What do you mean?”
“That
’s it. Case closed. They’ll send a report to the Chief Constable of Police Scotland, go right to the top, so they can deal with Buchanan, but that’s us done. We found out what happened. Everything else now goes through official channels.”
“If Buchanan gets word somehow, he’ll run. He’ll never be held accountable.”
“I know, but there’s nothing we can do now. It’s out of our hands.”
“Like hell there isn’t.” She wasn’t going to give up without a fight on this one. They had to get to Buchanan. It wasn’t over. They had to finish it.
She winced as she pulled her own phone out of her pocket.
“What’re you doing?” he asked.
“There are advantages to having family at the top.”
She looked to gauge his reaction. He appeared to be fighting a battle within himself. She knew it was a hard choice for him. He was a soldier; he followed orders, and it went against every bone in his body to go against a superior. But she also knew he wanted to catch Buchanan.
“This’ll make life difficult for us, you know that? You, more so. No one’s going to want to work with you after this. It’s only one step down from going rogue.”
“I don’t much like having a partner anyway.” She informed him with a smile. “And as for the teams at HQ . . .” She shrugged. “Some things are more important than having an easy life. Not that you could call any of what we do easy.”
She looked at him and raised her eyebrow in question. She wouldn’t do anything without his agreement. It wasn’t just her own career that would be affected.
Stuart looked skyward and gulped down some air. He looked straight ahead and nodded. “I’m going to regret this, I know I am.”
RJ smiled. If she hadn’t been in so much pain, she’d have leaned over and kissed him. Instead, she keyed in the private number for Benjamin Stone, Director of Kingfisher Enterprises.
#
Benjamin looked at the caller ID on his phone. RJ was calling him. She was the only employee in the organization who had a direct line to his office. Everyone else had to go through Martha before getting to him—if they even got that far. He was far too busy to talk to every agent, and Martha was generally able to sort out any issues that came to his office over the phone.
“Hey,” he said, picking up the phone in an instant, worried as he always was when RJ phoned him on assignment.
“Hey,” came the reply. He could hear the relief in her voice with just that one word.
He got straight to the point. “I take it this isn’t a social call, since you’re phoning the office phone.”
“It’s not,” RJ confirmed. “But I sure am glad to hear your voice.”
“As am I. What can I do for you?”
RJ outlined their findings, what they had been told to do, and finally what she actually wanted to do as Benjamin listened to her speech in its entirety.
“Where is Buchanan now?” he asked when she had finished.
“We don’t know. We’ll need some resources to help us ascertain that.”
Benjamin closed his eyes as he considered her request. He started his Newton’s Cradle as he ran through options in his head. If he allowed her this request, her career could be irreparably damaged.
“Okay,” he told her after what seemed like an eternity but was actually only a few seconds. “I’ll put a new team on it. The other team will never know about them. I’ll pave the way here. You just get Buchanan and take him down. Await new orders.”
“Thanks, Ben.”
“Take care, RJ.”
“Yeah, about that . . .”
“What?” asked her uncle, suddenly concerned.
“Nothing, its fine.”
There was the slightest hitch in her voice that told him it was not, in fact, nothing.
“I’ll explain everything when I see you.”
He sighed. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, and I’ll be a hell of a lot better once we have Buchanan.”
“Okay.”
Benjamin’s mind was already onto the next thing before he even hit the disconnect button on the phone. He immediately connected to Martha’s desk. “Get me the handler in charge of RJ assignment.” Martha held all of the current, and much of the past, working information of everything about the organization in her head. He was connected in seconds.
He dispensed with any pleasantries and launched straight into the reason for his call. “Hold fire on the police report on James Sullivan’s death. We’ve got some agents currently on the ground in the country where Buchanan is. We’re going to bring him in ourselves as a special favor to Governor Kowalski.”
“Yes sir,” came the reply. “Will there be anything else?”
“No, and thank you for your work.” He hung up and buzzed Martha to come in, detailing to her what he wanted when she appeared.
She smirked as he explained what was going on.
“What, you don’t approve?” he asked. In the grand scheme of things, it didn’t matter if she did or not—he was the director after all. He valued her input, though, even if it wasn’t always what he wanted to hear.
“That’s not the case at all,” she told him. “Seems your niece will do anything to ensure she gets the desired results, using all means available to her. If that’s not the sign of a good agent, I don’t know what is.”
“Yes,” he agreed and shook his head, “I suppose it is.”
“I’ll get it organized right away.” She hurried from his office and left him to ponder what she had just said.
#
Five hours later, RJ and Stuart were on a plane at Glasgow airport waiting to take off. RJ had left her shoulder exposed during their drive down but had covered it with a light silk scarf Stuart had picked up at a tourist shop on the drive down. Stuart’s face was not as easy to disguise but it had been a number of days since his accident and the wound had started to heal. Huge parts of the scab had flaked off to leave shiny pink skin underneath. The rest was dark and dry, and attracted attention wherever he went. His limp, although less pronounced than it had been before, added to the effect. He’d had to explain to everyone about his ‘mountaineering accident’, from the check-in clerk to security to the little curious boy who sat beside his mother across the aisle from them. After asking Stuart about it, the little boy continued to stare until his mother diverted his attention outside to the baggage train.
“You know that story isn’t going to work when we get over there.”
Stuart remained silent.
“It’s bad enough that we’ll have to go through it all again at the next airport for our connecting flight and then when we arrive—”
“I know.” Stuart looked dejected. “If we need to go in quiet, then you go alone. I’ll just have to provide you with remote back-up. It might prove to be useful. It’s a good thing.”
“Why do you look more deflated than the kid who always gets picked last for sports than someone who actually believes that?”
RJ squeezed his arm and stared at him, forcing him to meet her eye. He couldn’t help but smile. The change in the shape of his face amplified the crusty scabs that were left, parts of which looked like they could fall at any moment. The effect was just shy of terrifying.
She must have looked disgusted, or at the very least unnerved, because he asked, “Not that bad, am I?”
“Probably worse than when you first asked me that question when you woke up the day after the fall. Maybe if you just . . .” RJ mimed pulling at her face.
“Nope, no chance. It’ll scar if I start pulling bits off. Besides, looking like this could be much more fun.”
RJ looked out of the window. She was experiencing a vague sense of relief to be leaving Scotland, which was unexpected. She’d been okay to fly into the country, but now that she was leaving, a weight lifted from her shoulders. Perhaps it was the idea that they were going to get Buchanan—or partly that, at least.
Her phone pinged with an update from HQ.
&nb
sp; “They’ve tracked his phone to a hotel,” she told Stuart. So far all they’d had to go on was a record of his travel arrangements. Now, they had narrowed it down. “They’re attempting to find out if there are any nearby zoos or animal parks looking to relocate any animals.”
Stuart chewed on his lip. It had already started to bleed and added to his crazed look. “And a recent photo?”
RJ handed him her phone, which showed an overweight man in his early forties with a receding hairline and well-manicured beard that was trimmed close to his face.
“You’d never know if you walked past him on the street.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” she agreed, “Everyone will know soon enough, though.”
“Try and get some sleep,” Stuart told her. “We’ll need it.”
They closed their eyes and attempted to power nap. Sleep came more easily to Stuart as RJ struggled to get her thoughts under control and curb the intensity of her pain. She performed some of the breathing exercises she’d been taught at Kingfisher, and soon she was dozing gently. Neither of them was aware when the plane took off for mainland Europe.
By the time they arrived at their destination, they were both recharged and feeling better physically, except for the pain in RJ’s arm and shoulder.
“We’ll get you something stronger here,” Stuart promised her, after seeing her pale and clammy face.
“I’ll need it if I’m to go in alone.”
“We make a bit of a pair, don’t we? No offence. I like you, and I think we’ve worked well together, but let’s not partner up again. I’ve had enough injuries to last for quite a while around you.”
She laughed. “Agreed. But we’ll always have Scotland.”
“We’ll always have Scotland.”
“You stay here. I’ll get the rental car,” RJ told him when they exited the airport.
Stuart nodded and took his phone out. “I’ll organize supplies and better pain relief. What we need should already be at the hotel, but I want to make sure we’ve got the right meds.”