by Tony Black
‘Of course. Have to, as you know …’
‘And have you actually fired one?’
‘Oh, yes. I shot a cow once, had been hit by a post van and was in a dreadful way, blood oozing out the nose, the tongue lolling …’
Thank you for the image,’ said Valentine.
‘The kindest thing for it was to put it out of its misery.’
The DI turned to the chief super. ‘I’d love to see the paperwork on that.’
‘Oh, jeez, you wouldn’t have liked to fill it in,’ replied McNeil. ‘The best part of a day it took me, I had to reload a few times you see. I suppose I was lucky it wasn’t a built-up area, now that would have been a nightmare.’
The conversation halted abruptly as the Land Rover appeared and a uniformed officer opened the door and got out. The CS and the DI piled in as McNeil directed the uniform towards DS McCormack and the awaiting collars in the back seat of the Astra.
‘Come on, Rory, you have to drive us there. We’re wasting time,’ said Martin.
As he got behind the steering wheel McNeil detailed the route. Glen Rosa was a scenic spot on the edge of Brodick with a rambling track to the top of the Goatfell range. It could be boggy in places but there were beaten-earth tracks that the Land Rover could handle easily if it came to that.
‘There’s a wee road leads there, just outside Brodick, we’ll be there in no time,’ said McNeil.
‘What’s the story with the shots?’ said Martin.
‘There’s a campsite, with an old stone bothy, I think the campers use it as a washroom now. There was a call, shots were heard inside. Some voices, screams but nobody’s seen anything, we’ll be the first on the scene, I’m afraid. Can you handle a rifle, chief super?’
‘No I bloody cannot. And nor do I intend to.’
‘No worries. Sure, I’m a bit of an action man myself and Bob there looks the part.’
As they travelled, Valentine’s mind flushed with previous similar encounters. There had never been gunshots, only knives, but one of those had found its way through the walls of his heart and he wasn’t keen to repeat the experience. The pain had been inconsequential compared to the hurt it had caused his family, he couldn’t bring himself to think about Clare or the girls having to go through that again. He forced away his fears.
‘How the hell did it come to this?’ said Martin.
Did she mean an armed stand-off on Arran? Or, the pair of them sitting in a car heading for their potential doom? ‘Well, we were short-staffed before you bumped Harris.’
‘I’ve a bloody good mind to go and get him, send him in there now.’
Valentine agreed. ‘We could all march behind him, let Flash Harris do the talking.’
‘He’s used to shooting his mouth off, he wouldn’t need a gun.’
The Land Rover came screeching to a halt in a gravel road, spraying scree beyond the tyres and jerking the occupants in their seats.
‘Right, we’re here,’ said McNeil.
Valentine was first out of the vehicle. He spotted a small group of tourists and campers gathered beyond a dry-stone dyke; the DI observed them for a few seconds then summoned them away from the wall. The group trailed slowly towards him and as McNeil appeared with the rifles those in front of him increased their pace.
‘Get inside that house.’ Valentine pointed to a whitewashed cottage; the group stalled, some were ready to question but he blasted, ‘Move!’
As the officers descended the path towards the bothy, Valentine rebuffed the offer of a rifle and DS McNeil continued on with one gun strapped over each shoulder.
‘I don’t want you to fire that unless it’s a matter of life and death, is that clear?’ said the DI.
‘Yes, sir.’
The path was narrow and rutted. Gnarled roots from adjacent trees impeded the way and a damp covering from earlier rain made the going slippy underfoot. As he reached the corner of the bothy Valentine directed McNeil towards a gap in the adjoining fence where he could reach a rusting plough for cover, he jogged on and signalled a thumbs up to say he had secured a view of the open doorway.
‘Christ this is hardcore, Bob,’ said Martin.
‘You’re not kidding.’
‘If I’d known we were going to end up playing commandos in the wilds I’d have packed the Kevlar vests.’
‘Bet you didn’t imagine we’d be doing this when you sat down to your cornflakes this morning?’
‘No I did not. If I had, it wouldn’t have been milk I was splashing on them, I can assure you of that.’ Martin wiped some mud splashes away from the elbow of her jacket. ‘Right, what are you thinking?’
‘I’m going to make my way round the building, when I get close enough to the open door at the front I’m going to try and engage with them.’
‘That’s your plan, is it?’
‘Got a better one?’
She narrowed her gaze towards the bothy. ‘Sit tight and wait for the proper back-up.’
‘Not an option. It’s going to be dark in about forty minutes, there’s potentially a hostage or two in there, we can’t take the risk.’
She baulked, ‘And this isn’t a risk?’
Valentine didn’t answer. He crouched below the line of the window on the bothy’s gable end and started to feel his way around the outside of the building, his heart ramped and a damp line of sweat formed on his forehead. As he turned he spotted the chief super with the back of her head resting on the wall, eyes skywards; he hoped she was praying.
The DI heard movement inside the building, he tried to assess the number of people but it was impossible. There were words, a man’s voice, he seemed to be pleading, his tone rising and falling with increasing desperation. There was also crying, it sounded like a woman’s voice, or perhaps a young girl’s.
As he reached the open doorway of the bothy Valentine peered round the edge, ignoring that a bullet might meet him. The interior was in almost complete darkness, only a little light coming in from the small case and sash window on the other side of the building. When the sun finally receded, the place would be in complete darkness. From his own knowledge of bothies, there wasn’t likely to be an electric light source. If there was, surely they would have used it by now. He reasoned that it was unlikely they had candles or a torch and so darkness was definitely a fast approaching possibility. With a gun in the room, and a jumpy, captive party, the consequences of any attempt to use the diminishing light as cover could be tragic.
Valentine positioned himself on his haunches, started to remove his jacket and tie; the pinstripe jacket was a present from Clare that made him long for his family. As he rolled up the sleeves, folded the jacket away, he hoped he’d be putting it on again soon. At the doorway the DI leaned in – his only hope was establishing contact as quickly as possible. ‘Hello, can I have your attention, please …’
There was no reply.
‘My name is Detective Inspector Bob Valentine of Police Scotland … can we talk, please?’
The reply was direct, roared straight from the gut: ‘Go to hell!’
‘I’m afraid that’s not going to be an option, not immediately anyway.’
‘I’m warning you, bugger off now or you’ll regret it.’ The voice belonged to a young man, his accent was not as pronounced as Leask’s had sounded back at the hotel, but it was definitely Ayrshire.
‘Am I talking to Grant Finnie?’
The same voice replied. ‘No. I told you to do one, now get lost.’
Movement, bodies shuffling towards the door, was heard inside. Another voice shouted, ‘He has a gun.’
‘Grant, stop it,’ a young girl screamed. ‘He’ll shoot again, don’t … don’t.’
‘You’re bloody right I’ll use it, get back.’
The noise of shuffling feet came again, then the interior was lit with a flash and gunshot blasted off the walls.
‘Don’t shoot,’ yelled Valentine. ‘Please, put the gun down, we can talk this through without the gun.’
<
br /> The girl’s tears sounded heavier now, a confusion of voices moved inside the bothy. Scuffles, shoes scraping on hard, bare floors. A tense rush towards the deeper recesses of the building followed.
‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ the man’s voice came again, this time Valentine deduced it was a maddened Darry Millar. ‘All the talking’s been done.’
‘Darry, come on, put down the gun and come outside. We can sort this out, it’s not too late, trust me.’
‘Trust you? You’re bloody filth, where were you when my sister was raped? Same place my supposed best mate was, nowhere to be seen.’
Finnie spoke up: ‘Darry, I told you, I did all I could. I said I’d sort it and I did.’
‘How? She’s pregnant, that bastard raped her and now she’s having his baby.’
Jade’s tears became hysterical, broke into deep sobs. ‘Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.’
‘But he paid, didn’t he?’ said Finnie.
‘He paid and the filth have my mother for it, she’s going to get put away for that bastard.’
Valentine tried to intervene again, the situation was slipping out of control. The men inside the bothy were agitated and the girl was getting hysterical. ‘Darry, you’ve got it all wrong. Now come on, give me the gun and let us talk this through properly.’
‘Shut it, filth!’ He fired the gun again, this time the shot left the building, leaving a burst of smoke evacuating through the doorway with it.
The DI looked out into the ebbing light, he saw CS Martin peering round the corner, she was frantically waving her arms about, flagging him to withdraw, begging a retreat. He turned away. Beyond the path leading to the mountain ranges he saw the last bursts of daylight chinking in the burn. It was a beautiful sight, in the blue-black sky above, the winding waters and the humped backs of the hills. There were worse places to die. He stood up and headed for the doorway, leaving behind the hard breathing and heavy pounding of his heart that had kept him back.
As Valentine marched into the bothy and faced Darry Millar the gun was levelled at his heart.
‘You want some of this?’ said Darry.
‘What good’s that going to do you?’ said Valentine. ‘More importantly, what good’s that going to do Jade?’
‘I’m warning you, I’ll shoot.’
‘Darry, think about it.’ The strength of his voice emboldened him. ‘You’re all she’s got now, don’t make this any worse for Jade. If you get put away she’s got nobody.’
Jade called out. ‘Listen to him. Darry put down the gun.’
‘I’m in charge here, I’ll decide what happens with the gun.’ He walked towards Finnie, pushing the gun in his face. ‘I trusted you like you were my own brother. You said you’d look after Jade. She didn’t have a dad, only me. You were supposed to be there for her …’
‘I was. You don’t understand.’
‘You and Tulloch, eh, what really went on in Helmand? Why did you really get punted out of the army? The pair of you, like best mates together.’
‘No. It wasn’t like that, you know that. He followed me to Ayr, he blamed me because I reported him. He did it in Helmand too, but the girl was shot, everyone knew it … Even you knew it, how can you pretend otherwise?’
‘I don’t know what I know anymore. I lost everything the night Jade called to say Tulloch was dead. I took off that night, ran out on the army, because somebody had to sort it, but I couldn’t because he’d already raped her. I was too late … and now look at the mess.’
‘But I sorted it for you, Darry. Can’t you even see that? I sorted everything.’
‘She was wandering the streets, crying. Look at her, still crying. She’s cried every day since because she can’t see my mother and now she never will. The mother we knew died that night too. She killed Tulloch but do you think the courts will care why?’
‘She didn’t kill him,’ said Finnie.
‘She did. Read the papers, it’s there in black and white … They have her locked up already.’
‘She didn’t kill Tulloch. I did,’ said Finnie.
Darry lowered the gun, it shook in his hand. ‘What did you say?’
‘It was me, not your mother … I killed Tulloch.’
Jade wiped her eyes and ran to her brother, held him in her arms. Her grip squeezed the anger from Darry, he stood limply, like he might now be the one to fall without his sister’s support.
‘I killed Tulloch,’ said Finnie again. ‘Your mother stuck a knife in his back but he was still alive, still breathing, moving – I finished him like they showed us. I sorted everything, you see, for all of us.’
Darry turned towards Valentine. ‘What’s he going on about, it said in the paper you had charged Mum?’
‘That should never have happened, son.’ The DI held out a hand, stepped forward. ‘Come on, he’s confessed now, you can get your mum back.’
Darry dropped the pistol to the stone floor – Valentine was close enough to lunge and retrieve the Luger. He backed away again, turned and removed the magazine. As he stuck the gun in his belt he faced Darry and Jade again and motioned them to the door.
The brother and sister moved together, gripping each other separately, but somehow as part of the same crawling mass of limbs. They were both wounded and hurt but they’d survived. As CS Martin rushed in the doorway, disrupting the moment, Valentine shifted his perspective, he knew Jade and Darry would be all right, they had each other.
‘Right, Finnie, on your feet,’ said the DI.
Grant Finnie turned around and placed his hands on the back of his head – the move seemed practised like he had been in preparation for this moment for some time. ‘He’s better dead, you know,’ he said.
Valentine longed to agree but the words evaded him. He’d sworn to remove murderers from society, no matter how much he agreed with this one’s cause, it wasn’t his job to sympathise, or even try to understand him. He grabbed Finnie’s wrists and led him towards the door. Outside DS McNeil was waiting with handcuffs to lead Finnie away to the Land Rover that had just arrived, lights flashing. As Valentine handed him over, he made no struggle, just slopped off behind the DS, head bowed.
‘Are you OK, Jade?’ said Valentine.
She nodded through her tears, she was still clinging to her brother; CS Martin stood nearby, offering a comforting hug that appeared out of character.
‘What’s going to happen to us now?’ said Jade.
‘Hard to say. There’ll be questions, lots of them, but the first step is to get you checked out by a doctor.’
‘There’s money in there, Finnie brought it. It was for me, to go away and get it taken away.’
Darry looked up at the DI, spoke: ‘What’ll happen to her?’
‘It’s not for me to say, but your sister will be taken care of, Darry, you don’t need to worry about that. She’s a victim in all of this, we’ll look after her, there’s systems in place to make everything as stress-free as possible for her.’ Valentine eased them towards the car. ‘Come on, it’s getting dark, let’s get inside and get some warmth into the pair of you, we don’t need to clear this mess up tonight.’
As CS Martin led Darry and Jade up the path at the side of the bothy she summoned Valentine with a backward nod. ‘Bob, I just took a call from Ally, the MoD chucked a fit when he told them about the case. I’d say there’s a better than good shot at reopening the murder allegations against Tulloch from Afghanistan.’
‘Shame it’s come too late for the whistle-blower, not to mention Jade and Darry.’
‘Still, it’s something.’
‘Almost justice.’
More police cars were arriving, DS McCormack was in the same Astra she’d left in earlier. She stood on the edge of the bothy looking at Valentine as he retrieved the holdall containing the money Finnie had taken from Leask at the Meat Hangers. The sky was dark but luminous behind the DS as she called out, ‘Are you all right, Bob?’
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
�
��We had a running commentary on the radio from McNeil.’
‘Oh, right.’ He drew level with McCormack.
‘I was worried about you.’
Valentine let down the bag, it rested between them on the shaley path towards the glen. ‘This weighs a ton, must be a fair amount of cash in there.’
‘Are you tempted to run away with it?’
‘I wouldn’t get very far.’
‘Is that because you’re getting on a bit?’ She suppressed a laugh.
‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s because we’ve missed the last ferry home.’
‘Well, that means Dino’s budget’s going to get another battering tonight.’
‘I’d say you’re right once again, Sylvia.’
Copyright
First published 2015
by Black & White Publishing Ltd
29 Ocean Drive, Edinburgh EH6 6JL
www.blackandwhitepublishing.com
This electronic edition published in 2015
ISBN: 978 1 84502 974 6 in EPub format
ISBN: 978 1 84502 964 7 in paperback format
Copyright © Tony Black 2015
The right of Tony Black to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without permission in writing from the publisher.
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