The Deep Dark Sleep

by Craig Russell

  ‘So where does that leave us? Where do we go from here?’

  ‘Well, I’ve got a few names I want you to check out, from the list Isa and Violet gave me. Watch who and where you ask though, Archie. In the meantime, I’m going to have to make a couple of visits I’ve been putting off.’

  I met Fiona White for tea at Cranston’s. We sat in the Art Nouveau tearoom and ordered tea and salmon sandwiches. She was wearing a smart outfit that I hadn’t seen her in before and what looked like a new hat. I also noticed that she was wearing a deeper shade of crimson lipstick and more make-up than I’d seen her wear before. I was flattered by the effort.

  ‘How are your new digs?’ she asked, a little awkwardly.

  ‘Very exclusive,’ I said. ‘I have to be constantly careful that I don’t bark, talk in brogue or tan too deeply.’

  She made a puzzled face. A pretty, puzzled face.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I said. ‘It’ll do me in the meantime. It keeps me dry, unless I get too close to the landlord when he’s talking.’

  ‘I see,’ she said. ‘There’s been no one around the house. No one suspicious, I mean,’ she added. ‘I’ve noticed the local bobby keeping an eye on us, but there really hasn’t been anything to cause me any concern.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. I’m sorry that you’ve been inconvenienced by all of this, Mrs White.’

  ‘Fiona …’ she said in a quiet voice that cracked halfway through the word. She cleared her throat. Her face reddened. ‘You don’t have to call me Mrs White. Call me Fiona.’

  ‘In that case, you don’t have to call me Mr Lennox.’

  ‘What shall I call you then?’

  ‘Lennox. Everybody does. I’m sorry you’ve been inconvenienced, Fiona.’

  ‘It’s no inconvenience. But the girls have missed you around the house.’

  ‘Just the girls?’

  For a second, I got a hint of the frosty defiance I’d been accustomed to. Then it melted.

  ‘No, not just the girls. Why don’t you come back to your rooms? I don’t think there’s any danger.’

  ‘You didn’t see the guy who jumped me. There’s something going on with this Strachan thing that I don’t understand. But I’m beginning to get ideas and those ideas tell me that there are some very dangerous people involved. I don’t want to place you or the girls at risk.’

  ‘Listen, Lennox, I’ve thought about what you said to me, about how you felt. I’m sorry if I seemed a little … unresponsive. I said the things I said because I meant them. Or at least I meant them when I said them. It’s just that … I don’t know, just that I’m not the kind of woman you’re used to. I’m not experienced with men or sophisticated in any sense. When I married Robert, I thought that was it. I saw my entire life ahead of me; how it would be. That’s what I thought I wanted back then. Then, when he was killed, it wasn’t just that I’d lost him, I’d lost myself. What I had decided I wanted to be.’

  ‘I know you’re not going to believe this, Fiona, but I know exactly what you mean. A lot of us lost our way during the war, became people we didn’t know we could be. Didn’t want to be. But that’s the hand we were dealt. All we can do is make the most of it. Nothing can bring your husband back and nothing can take away the things I did in the war. But we can try to move on. To find some kind of happiness.’

  ‘I think you should come back.’ Fiona looked down at the tablecloth. ‘I can’t promise you anything, say anything will change. But I would like you to come back.’

  ‘I want that too, Fiona, but I can’t. Not yet. I have messed up so many things in my life, but I’m damned if I’m going to mess this up. I’ll be back as soon as I am sure I’m not going to bring a lot of trouble home with me.’

  ‘But for all we know, the man who attacked you still thinks you live at home. If anything we’re in more danger without you being there.’

  ‘This is more than one man. And they’re clever operators and they know I’m not there any more. I’m just hoping they haven’t traced me to where I am now.’

  ‘The police …’

  ‘Can’t help me. At least not officially, and I think I’ve squeezed the last drop of goodwill out of Jock Ferguson. Listen, it’ll be over soon and I’ll come back.’ I laid my hand on hers. It tensed, as if she was going to pull away, then relaxed. ‘Then we can talk.’

  *

  I went back to my office to finish up a few things before heading back to my temporary accommodation at the boarding house. I was just taking my raincoat off the coat rack when someone swung open my office door without first knocking. I turned and my heart sank. I suddenly realized that not conceiving of anyone worse than Hammer Murphy to share my company with only highlighted the limits of my imagination.

  The man in front of me was six foot three and in his early fifties. He had broad shoulders and a brutal, cruel face. He was, as he had been every time I’d encountered him, dressed with precise and totally unimaginative neatness. In tweed. He decided to take the weight off his brogues without waiting to be asked. Like not knocking on a door before entering, waiting to be invited to sit down was something that Detective Chief Superintendent Willie McNab did not do.

  I decided it was best if I sat too. I preferred to have something substantial like a desk, or a continent, between me and McNab. I watched the door, waiting for some burly Highlander in an off-the-peg Burton suit to come in after McNab: one of the privileges of rank was that you didn’t have to do your own beating of suspects. To my surprise none came.

  ‘To what do I owe …?’ I asked McNab.

  ‘You know exactly why I’m here, so don’t piss me about.’

  ‘I tell you what, Superintendent, just so’s we’re clear, why don’t you spell it out for me?’

  ‘You’ve been sticking your nose into this Strachan business. You ought to know by now that I get to hear everything that goes on in this city, and anything that’s of special interest to me, I find out fast. What have you found out?’

  ‘Nothing of interest to the police,’ I said.

  ‘Who are you working for?’

  ‘Sorry. Client confidentiality.’

  ‘Oh aye, client confidentiality.’ McNab nodded sagely, as if appreciating the concept. ‘Do you know why client confidentiality and the shite are very similar?’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll enlighten me.’

  McNab did six foot three of standing up and leaned across the desk, bringing his face close to mine.

  ‘Client confidentiality is like the shite because both can be knocked out of you in the cells at St Andrew’s Square.’

  I found it interesting that McNab and Hammer Murphy, although on opposite sides of the criminal justice fence, had the same approach to my professional ethics.

  ‘You know something, McNab?’ I said. ‘I don’t think so. A year or two ago you could maybe have gotten away with that, but I don’t play in that end of the playground any more. I’m a respectable businessman.’

  ‘You reckon?’

  ‘I reckon. But that’s not the only reason I don’t think that will happen. You’ve come up here on your own and without due cause to arrest me, so why don’t you tell me the real reason you’re here? I’m sure it has to do with Strachan, but there’s something odd in the ether.’

  Despite the assurance with which I said it, I was surprised when McNab did sit back down. He took out a packet of Navy Cut and lit one. After a moment’s thought, he offered me one.

  ‘No thanks,’ I said, more because I was taken aback by the offer than anything else. ‘I want to be able to speak tomorrow morning. What’s the deal, Superintendent?’

  He took off his trilby and threw it onto the desk.

  ‘Lennox, you and I have had our moments. I don’t like you and you don’t like me. But one thing about you that I’ve noticed is that every time I’ve tried to get information from you, you’ve risked a beating or jail time by telling me where to go. So I suppose you have your own code of ethics, no matter how bollocksed-up they
may be. You know I dug the dirt on you from your time in Germany after the war. That German black-marketeer who ended up face down in the harbour, for example. The one the Military Police suspected was your business partner …’

  ‘Is there a point to this character analysis, McNab?’

  ‘I don’t care what happened in Hamburg, but I care what happens in Glasgow. Joseph Strachan murdered Charlie Gourlay. He gunned him down in cold blood and I want to see the bastard swing for it.’

  ‘But he’s dead, Superintendent. Officially, legally dead.’

  ‘You don’t believe that shite any more than I do. That wasn’t Joe Strachan at the bottom of the Clyde. I can’t prove it, but I know it. Strachan was too clever to be caught, and he was too clever to be topped by one of his own team.’

  ‘So whose bones were dredged up?’

  ‘I don’t know. But they weren’t Strachan’s, I’ll tell you that. Listen, Lennox, I’ve been a copper in this town for nearly thirty years. I’ve dealt with some of the hardest, most vicious bastards ever to foul the Earth with their presence. I’ve put a noose around the necks of over a dozen men: from kiddie-fiddlers to professional killers, from psychopaths to razor gangs. I’ve seen every type of fiend and monster you can imagine. But Joe Strachan is out there in a league of his own.’

  ‘Is he?’ I decided to play dumb. ‘From all of the “Gentleman Joe” crap you hear, and the way he’s idolized by every crook in Glasgow, you’d think he was some kind of folk hero.’

  ‘Do you know, we don’t have a single photograph of him on record? Or his fingerprints? He was questioned a dozen times but never arrested, far less charged. But do you know why we kept bringing him in? Glasgow criminals back then weren’t the brightest or most capable of villains. The basic principle was to batter the fuck out of something until you got money from it. Most of the stuff we dealt with was razor gang stuff, or small time robbers getting caught because they didn’t have the basic brains to plan a job properly. Things have changed. Now we’ve got your pals, the so-called Three Kings. Things have become organized. And do you know who started that? Who gave them the idea for that? Joe Strachan. But he was much, much better at it than they are. He didn’t try to control everything, to make every protection gang pay him protection, the way Sneddon, Cohen and Murphy do. Strachan assessed the risks and the rewards. He only went for the big hit, the big money. And he picked only the very best for each job.’

  ‘All of this I already know,’ I said.

  ‘Aye? Well what you probably don’t know is that some people talked: a handful of disgruntled crooks whose noses were put out of joint because Strachan didn’t pick them. One of them was already a paid informant. All of them turned up dead. Or presumed dead. Never a body to be found. No traces.’

  ‘Strachan killed them?’

  ‘His enforcer did. Someone else with no record. A name we never got. All we got from our informant was that this enforcer was young, and a protégé of Strachan’s. Strachan only ever called him the Lad. His apprentice. He may have been young, but he kept everyone who worked for Strachan in line. Like I said, he was a cool and professional killer. From the little we got, we know that Strachan treated him like a son.’

  ‘Hammer Murphy worked for Strachan for a while …’ I kept the dumb act going.

  McNab laughed. ‘No way. Murphy was building his own wee empire with his brothers. They did jobs with Strachan, but not for long. My guess is that Strachan realized what a psychopath Murphy was and stopped using him because he was unstable. And that meant unreliable. If there was one thing Strachan demanded from his teams, it was reliability.’ McNab paused to take a long draw on his cigarette. ‘Who hired you to look into this, Lennox?’

  ‘Now, Superintendent … you know I’m not going to tell you.’

  ‘It would be in your best interests.’

  ‘What … to avoid a beating?’

  ‘No. Listen, Lennox, sometimes you’ve got to put the past behind you, along with your personal feelings about people. Sometimes people who would never have thought it possible have to work together.’

  ‘What are you proposing?’

  ‘I know you’ve been tapping Detective Inspector Ferguson for information. That’s a dripping tap I can turn off permanently. But, for the moment, I’m going to do nothing. I’m also not going to put a man on your tail, twenty-four hours a day, following your every move and visiting every client we see you make contact with.’

  ‘That’s good of you, Superintendent. I’m guessing there’s a quid for your quo?’

  ‘I retire in two years, Lennox. I’ve bought a place out in Helensburgh and me and the wife are going to move out there, away from the city, after I leave the job. I want to have a quiet, peaceful retirement. But I’m not going to be at ease if I know that Joseph Strachan is still out there, enjoying life without paying for murdering Charlie Gourlay.’

  ‘Then why not just accept that that was Strachan at the bottom of the Clyde?’

  ‘Because I know it wasn’t. And, like I said, I’m pretty sure you know it wasn’t.’

  This was a surprising conversation. It was about to become even more surprising. Ferguson took an envelope out of his pocket and dropped it onto my desk.

  ‘There’s four hundred pounds in there, Lennox. That’s almost exactly what a City of Glasgow police constable earns in a whole year.’

  I picked up the envelope, more to convince myself it wasn’t an hallucination.

  ‘You want to hire me? Or is this from the City Police’s snout fund?’ I asked incredulously. Why was everybody so keen to throw cash at me all of a sudden …

  ‘This isn’t informer cash. It’s my money, not the Force’s. Yes, I do want to hire you. I have spent nearly twenty years trying to bring Strachan to justice. As much as I hate to admit it, I need someone like you, someone who isn’t a police detective and who can get to information that I can’t.’

  I tossed the envelope back onto the table in front of him.

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘You won’t, you mean? Listen, Lennox, you help me out on this, and I’ll make sure that there are doors stay open to you in the City of Glasgow Police long after I retire.’

  ‘Okay, listen. I would help you, but there could be a conflict of interest.’

  ‘You mean whoever’s hired you already?’

  ‘Something like that.’ I sighed, this was complicated and confusing. I was having a conversation that I never would have envisaged myself having with McNab. ‘Okay, here’s the deal. I’ve been hired by Strachan’s daughters to confirm or otherwise that that was Gentleman Joe who was dredged up.’

  ‘I don’t see the conflict of interest,’ said McNab. ‘You can tell them that and point me in the right direction. I know you’ve had a lot of shady stuff in your background, but I also know that you’re the kind of man who wouldn’t sit still and let someone get away with murder, whether it’s a policeman’s murder or not.’

  ‘It would be a mistake to overestimate my nobility, McNab. But from what I’ve heard about Strachan, yes, it wouldn’t upset me to see him caught. But we have different furrows to plough, Superintendent.’

  ‘Give me something, Lennox.’

  Again I paused, struggling with where I was with this.

  ‘Okay, like I said, I am looking into Strachan’s disappearance for his daughters. I had only made a couple of enquiries, barely putting my head above the parapet, when some guy jumps me in a foggy alley and tells me to lay off. Now this guy could handle himself, I mean really handle himself. Not like a street thug, more like a commando. It gets me thinking, if Strachan is dead, why am I getting serious professional advice to drop it?’

  McNab’s broad face lit up with something. I was telling him what he wanted to hear. I decided not to tell him that my dance partner had stuck a gun in my back.

  ‘Then … and don’t ask me how I found this out, because I’m not going to tell you … but then I get an account from an eyewitness who swears he saw Strachan du
ring the war. In the summer of Nineteen forty-two, to be exact.’

  McNab looked as if an electrical charge had just run through him. ‘I knew it! I bloody knew it! Where?’

  ‘Now don’t get too excited …’ I tried to inject a cautious tone. ‘The rest of this doesn’t seem to make a lot of sense, so just hear me through. This eyewitness, whom I tend to believe, said that he saw Strachan wearing the uniform of a major up at Lochailort. My witness reckons that Strachan was involved in the training of Auxiliary Units.’

  I could see the electricity drain from McNab. ‘That can’t have been Strachan,’ he said.

  ‘That’s what I thought to start with too, but don’t dismiss it. I found out about Strachan’s less than glorious service in the First War. He regularly went AWOL, wearing officers’ uniforms and made an embarrassingly good job of passing himself off as an officer. You know yourself that he probably passed himself off as some plausible upper-class type to carry out reconnaissance of the locations of each of his major robberies. So Strachan being seen in an officer’s uniform isn’t that big a leap.’

  ‘But you said he was at Lochailort. There’s no way anyone, even Strachan, could have bluffed his way in there without the right papers and without others knowing exactly who he was and from what unit.’

  ‘That’s where I get stuck. And that’s where we could do a little quid pro quo. I can’t gain access to that kind of information; but you can.’

  ‘I don’t know, Lennox. There’s only so much the City of Glasgow Police can get out of the military. Especially about places like Lochailort, that are still subject to the Official Secrets Act.’

  ‘You’ve got a better chance than me.’

  ‘And what do I get in return?’

  ‘A call. If I find that Strachan is alive, and if I discover where he’s hidden himself, I’ll stick a couple of pennies in a pay ’phone. You probably won’t believe this, but I’ve already cautioned my clients that if I do find Strachan is alive and well, I would be compelled to do my civic duty.’