“And Fiona?”
“She’s still in the chair in the middle of the room.”
That part of the news was good.
She would still be alive. The gas hadn’t been switched on yet.
McKenzie and Brown had rehearsed McKenzie’s plan over and over again on the helicopter trip back to Edinburgh.
By the time they’d landed, they both knew what to do.
The only thing was they didn’t know if it would work.
It was a bit far-fetched, but the plan was designed to play upon the frail mental state that Hamish Hamilton was obviously in just now. Not to mention that he must now be so tired that he was probably no longer capable of rational thought. He was probably only either functioning due to some drugs he was taking, or because of some incredible, overpowering emotional tie to Maggie Sutherland.
Which this plan was designed to exploit.
Put another way, McKenzie was going to fuck with Hamilton’s brain.
It was time for McKenzie to take back control.
-------------------------
Wednesday
The Pentland Hills
16.37
Stuart stood at the top of the Pentland Hills, looking out over Edinburgh.
He hadn’t felt stressed like this for years.
He’d needed to get away. To walk. To breathe. To think.
He felt a strange mixture of emotions. Excitement. Amazement. Awe. He had fallen head over heels in love with Marie, and it was, honestly, an incredible feeling. He was also in awe of her and amazed by everything she did, and had done.
His trip to Poland to find out more about her, her work, and her children had been an eye-opener.
That people like her existed was unbelievable. Selfless. Incredibly caring. So loving.
Before he had decided to invest in her, he’d needed to understand more about her and her work. In business, they would call it ‘due diligence’. It wasn’t spying. Just a normal business process.
He felt guilty however that he had not told her. Almost as if he had been intruding on her life.
And now he was scared.
At first, he’d thought that he could get away with it. Just give her money, spend time with her, visit her and work with her in Poland. Get to know her better. All without telling her who he really was.
It had been his idea to make a condition of the deal that someone from his company would have to spend time working alongside her to oversee activity and ensure proper allocation and spending of the funding.
That too could be excused as ‘due diligence’ or ‘standard business process’.
It was, after all, a lot of money that was being spent, and it was perhaps a legitimate concern that when spending such vast sums in Eastern Europe, he should be worried about corruption. The gift he would give her could attract a lot of unscrupulous attention, and good oversight may need to be established both to make sure the money was spent properly and not stolen, and also to protect Marie from any dangerous people who may now be attracted to her. In Eastern Europe, the money could be a flame that might attract a lot of dangerous moths.
However, Stuart felt uncomfortable about it all.
The thought of telling Marie who he really was, scared him. She was a wonderful person, a pure person. He’d never met anyone like her before. Money and wealth meant nothing to her, except for its power to save the lives of others and transform them in a positive way.
Yet, not to tell her was even more wrong. Stuart could see the white lie turning into a huge lie, and deception on a massive scale.
At some point she would find out.
Or, if their relationship deepened, it would be based upon a lie, and at its very core, distrust.
He needed to tell her.
But Stuart was scared. He knew from experience what money did to people. It corrupted everyone. And everything.
It wouldn’t corrupt Marie, that much he was sure.
But it would corrupt their relationship.
Destroy it.
And Stuart could not bear to lose her.
Not now.
Not after he’d finally found her.
Yet, he had no choice.
A relationship based upon lies was no relationship at all.
-------------------------
McKenzie’s Car
Outside the Old Portobello High School
16.39
McKenzie opened his car door and sat down inside. He switched on the engine and started driving his car towards the bypass that would take him to Stirling.
A minute later, as agreed, Brown called him on his mobile.
“Elaine. How are you? Any news?”
“No. I can’t seem to reach my wife. I’ve called her several times but her phone is not answering. I’m just leaving to drive up to Callander to find out if she’s okay. I’m just worried that there might be a problem with the baby. I’m leaving you in charge. Can you please just check with PC Jordon on the status of things and call me straight back? Can you get the team together for the 5 o’clock meeting as normal and can you lead it? Apologise to everyone but I’ve got to go and see Fiona. And can you please tell everyone not to leave me any voice messages at the moment? The fault with the voicemail that Fettes told everyone about this morning is affecting me too. I haven’t been able to listen to my voicemail all day. Fiona may have left me a message but I can’t listen to it yet. Tell everyone that if anyone needs to speak to me, they have to keep calling me until they get through to me, okay?”
“Yes, Guv.”
She then hung up.
McKenzie then waited for the text message.
It was a gamble. For what they were going to do next to work, they needed Hamish Hamilton to be listening to them.
-------------------------
Incident Room
The Old Portobello High School
16.40
Brown immediately called the Drone operator in the field several miles from the cottage in North Berwick.
It was good news.
“We’ve been watching him constantly on the Infra-red. The moment you started talking to McKenzie, we saw him stop what he was doing and walk across to the other side of the room and bend down. As if he was listening to something. Then a couple of seconds ago he stopped and went back to work again.”
“Good. He’s listening to us.”
Brown hung up, her heart beating faster.
Typing away as fast as she could, she typed a message to McKenzie and sent it: “North Berwick confirms he’s listening.”
Then she called McKenzie straight back and played out the rest of the scene.
-------------------------
McKenzie’s Car
En route to the bypass
16.41
“Guv, I just spoke to PC Jordan and DI Wishart. They’ve both been calling you and trying to get hold of you urgently. They’ve left you voice messages… ”
“I told you, I can’t get the voice messages just now.”
“I know, Guv. I told them. Anyway, it’s not good news. It’s very bad. And weird. You asked DI Wishart to supervise the exhumation of Maggie Sutherland’s body to check if she was murdered, and to establish if she really did commit suicide or not?”
“Yes.”
“It happened this afternoon. About 1 p.m. They had to wait for the minister to be there, but he had a wedding. Anyway Guv, the things is, they got the coffin up, and they opened it. But it was empty. There was nobody inside. Just several bags of sand to weigh it down … ”
“What do you mean? What are you talking about, Elaine?”
“Guv. Maggie Sutherland’s body was not in the coffin.”
“Are you serious? So where’s the body then?”
“That’s the other thing, Guv. DI Wishart immediately contacted the Advanced Cyber Team in England and they used Maggie Sutherland’s photograph and ran a scan using the new facial recognition system that’s been implemented. Maggie Sutherland’s face immediately
came up. Hundreds of times. She’s alive and well!”
McKenzie paused, adding a dramatic silence to the scene they were playing out. It was all made up. A dramatic storyline cooked up to get Hamish Hamilton’s attention, and get him out of the cottage.
McKenzie pulled the car over to the side of the street and stopped.
He knew his car was also being tracked via the tracking bug, and the whole story had to tie in if it was to be credible.
“Sorry, Elaine, I just pulled over. So, what are you telling me? That Maggie Sutherland is alive and well? She faked her own death? And that she could be behind all the killings all this time? She’d hoodwinked us all? Made fools of us? The whole time it was her?”
“Possibly Guv.”
“Shit…! ” He exclaimed, adding extra colourful language, and a surprised tone of voice.
“So, where is she now and what’s her name?”
“The cyber team have been tracking her for the past hour. Using the facial recognition system they got her new name from a driving licence that came up on the system and has her photograph on it. She’s living in Balloch just north of Glasgow. She’s using the name of Margaret Nowak. It’s a fake polish identity. It literally means ‘new Maggie!” She’s taking the piss, Guv.”
“I can’t believe this.” He paused. “Okay. I want you to get the cyber team to continue to monitor her. I want you to plan to get a team over to Balloch this evening. If the cyber team can confirm where she is, and can then tell us when she gets home using her mobile phone signals or local CCTV, then we’ll get a warrant issued and wait until she’s ready for bed and we know she’s definitely there in her new house. What’s the address?”
“48 Parkside Road, Balloch.”
“Hang on, I’m just writing that down… 48 Parkside Road?...Thanks… Okay… Get the team over there for 9.30 p.m. Hopefully I’ll be able to join you as soon as I’ve spoken to Fiona at the caravan or found out where she is.”
“Yes, Guv.”
McKenzie hung up.
He left it a moment more, and then called Fiona’s mobile and left a voice message. Again, just for effect.
“Darling, it’s me again. Where are you? Call me please. I’m worried. I’m coming up to the caravan. I’m on the way. I’ll see you soon.”
He then stepped out of the car and walked a few metres away before calling DI Wishart in North Berwick.
“Are you in the van with the drone technician?”
“Yes Guv.”
“What’s happening?”
“It looks like Hamilton has gone berserk… ”
“Is Fiona okay?”
“Seems so Guv. He hasn’t gone near her. He crossed the room again and bent down and was stationary for a few minutes. Then it looked like he was hitting the wall, or punching the air or something. Then he just stood there for a moment. Just staring. Then suddenly he started moving around the cottage really fast. He walked over to Fiona for a moment, then turned and walked to another room… and then came back and has been doing something to the door to the room Fiona is in… ” She paused, “Hang on, Guv, he’s just left the cottage. We’re pulling the drone back up and away. Switching to visual. Zooming in. Okay, we’ve got him. He’s looking really flustered, Guv. He’s walking over to one of the outbuildings… he’s gone inside. We’ve lost visual… ”
McKenzie was pacing the road beside his car. He could tell from Wishart’s voice that she was as nervous and excited as him.
“He’s back, Guv. A car’s reversing. It’s in the courtyard… Guv, we’ve got a number plate.”
“Track it. Get it straight over to ACT. Get them on it now!” McKenzie almost shouted.
“Will do, Guv… I’m passing my phone to Anderson.”
Another moment of silence.
“Guv, Anderson here. He’s out of the cottage. The car’s started to drive down the driveway.”
McKenzie glanced at his watch.
4. 51 p.m.
“He’s clear?” Campbell asked.
“Two hundred metres away now! He’s on a small dirt track, heading towards the main road.”
“Murray, give the signal for DS McLeish to contact the telephone company and issue the agreed codeword, now. And tell Lynch to issue the codeword to the gas company too. Get them to switch off the phone network and the gas immediately!”
“Yes, Guv. Doing it now… ”
McKenzie could hear Sergeant giving the instructions to the others in the van, who were both on open hotlines to the utility companies.
“I’m back, Guv. Hang on… McLeish is telling me they’re saying it’s done. And the gas is off too. Both done. I confirm they’re both off, Guv!”
“Excellent. Now, give Galbraith the signal to go in with the Tactical Team now. GO!”
“Roger that, Guv.”
McKenzie immediately hung up. He was so nervous, his hands were shaking.
The plan had worked.
Hamish Hamilton had heard the news that Maggie Sutherland was still alive.
In his tired, sleep-deprived, exhausted state, the news must have come as a bombshell to him.
Whatever his relationship was with Maggie, it must have been significant.
Significant enough for him to kill four people, possibly five.
And discovering that she was alive, but that police were going to arrest her tonight, for the murders that HE was committing, for her, in her name, must have driven him to the point of insanity. If he was not already there.
He’d dropped everything. Hopefully even abandoned his plan to kill GasBag, the fifth person he was planning to kill for the memory of his beloved ‘dead’ Maggie Sutherland.
Who was not dead after all.
Who had faked her own death.
Who had LIED to him. Had HIDDEN from him.
Who had made a fool of him.
Possibly even spurned his love.
Alternatively, there was another course of possible thought.
Maggie Sutherland would know nothing about the work Hamilton had done to glorify her memory. The revenge he had taken in her name.
When she found out the justice that he had exacted on all her aggressors, by him, for her, against all those who were guilty, she would be overjoyed!
Surely.
There was one problem. Either way, Hamish Hamilton had to get to Balloch before the police.
To warn her.
To save her.
Or to kill her.
Chapter 56
North Berwick
16.52
Galbraith was the first to make it to the cottage across the fields. All the time he had been kept aware of the infra-red feed from the second drone which had been sent up to give them eyes on the cottage. The first drone was now following the car with Hamish Hamilton in it as far it could: its operator had jumped in the white van and was now pursuing Hamilton’s car at a distance.
The news was neither good nor bad. Fiona, assuming it was her, was still sitting centrally in the middle of the room. She had been seen over the infra-red moving her legs. It meant she was still alive. Hopefully there had not been much gas in the room - in the ‘bag’ - before Hamilton had left, and hopefully he had not harmed her at all.
And there was one more thought.
Hopefully, hopefully, the last amount of TNT that they suspected Hamilton had, was not also now waiting for them on a local timer.
As they approached the cottage, they had less than seven minutes left.
His team approached the cottage from four sides. At least one man on each side of the building. Galbraith got to the front door and found it closed.
Normal options would include forcing it open, but they didn’t know how much gas may have been released or built up in the room. The worry was that if there was already enough, a small spark could ignite it.
Hurrying around the cottage to another side, he found a window leading to a lounge.
One of his team was standing in front of it. He was busy covering the glass
with sheets of very wide duct tape.
Galbraith immediately dipped into his own rucksack and quickly added two more broad strips to the window.
Then nodding at his colleague, the man smashed the window with a Halligan bar.
The glass collapsed, but did not fall into shards on the floor. Instead his colleague simply pulled the sheets of tape backwards and let it fall outwards onto the ground. He immediately formed his hand into a loop, and the Sergeant placed a foot on it and his colleague gave him a leg-up through the window into the lounge beyond.
Galbraith hurried through the room to the kitchen on the other side of the cottage.
He could smell gas.
He came to the kitchen door.
A large plastic sheet covered it from the outside. It had strips of duct-tape sealing it around the door, but it looked as if it had been applied very quickly.
“Are you okay, Mrs McKenzie?” he shouted loudly. “We’re here to rescue you. Is there any booby-trap we need to know about?”
He heard a muffled response. But nothing intelligible.
He looked at his watch. Four minutes left.
There was no time for thinking.
Only instinct.
Galbraith immediately pulled the long knife from its sheath on his calf, and started to slice the inside of the plastic away from the door.
He ripped it open and pulled the centre section away.
On the other side of the sheet, the door had been closed.
The sergeant reached out to the door handle.
He was just about to turn it and push the door open when he thought twice about it.
Perhaps the door was booby-trapped.
He glanced at his watch.
No time.
Instinct.
INSTINCT.
Hamilton had been tired. Upset. Panicked. He’d rushed out, and probably forgotten to set any booby-trap even if there was one.
Galbraith closed his eyes and prepared to turn the handle. He knew that if there was a booby trap and there was enough gas, he could also potentially be killed by the blast.
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