Paths of the Dead

by Lin Anderson

McNab’ssuspicions grew and began to flower.‘Messages? Like text messages, emails?’

  ‘No, they come via Patrick.’ She glanced again at Menzies. ‘But they’re from my son.’

  McNab lifted the polystyrene cup and swallowed the remaining double-strength coffee to avoid an immediate response. Within seconds the caffeine buzz was back.

  ‘Your son is dead, Mrs MacKenzie,’ McNab said gently. ‘Dead men don’t send messages.’

  ‘He wanted me to tell you he was playing a game. There were five of them. He’s worried about the others.’ Her hands trembled in her lap. Menzies reached over and patted her arm reassuringly.

  McNab felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. ‘What sort of game?’

  She looked to Menzies again, who then said, ‘I think a computer game over the internet.’

  The hairs on the back of McNab’s neck were still standing to attention. He ignored Menzies, who was leaning towards him, and concentrated on the woman.

  ‘Do you know who else was playing this game with Alan?’ McNab said.

  She shook her head. ‘We don’t know, so we can’t warn them.’ Her voice trembled a little.

  ‘Alan believes whoever set up the game intends their death,’ Menzies said.

  McNab glanced at the medium, resenting his intervention. ‘And when exactly did this message from Alan arrive?’

  ‘The first was on Monday night,’ Menzies said. ‘Alan has been in touch a number of times since, urging his mother to come and speak to you.’ He hesitated. ‘He has also tried to impart other information but,’ he looked distressed, ‘communication with those on the other side is not always clear, Inspector.’

  McNab forced himself not to add ‘because they’re fucking dead’.

  The office phone rang shrilly.

  ‘Excuse me for a moment,’ McNab said, grateful for the interruption, until he heard Janice’s voice.

  ‘You were due in with the super five minutes ago, sir.’

  ‘I’d like you to take a statement, Sergeant, from Mrs MacKenzie and Mr Menzies about messages from Alan,’ he said, and put the phone down.

  ‘I apologize, Mrs MacKenzie. I have a meeting with my commanding officer about your son’s case. DS Clark will take a statement from you.’ McNab studiously avoided another Menzies handshake. The truth was he couldn’t look at the medium without showing his distaste.

  Once out of sight, McNab composed himself. Whatever happened, he had to give the impression he was on top of the case – notwithstanding voices from the dead and viral maps. He approached the super’s room and knocked on the door.

  He had never liked Superintendent Sutherland. Most people didn’t like their boss, but he had been lucky with DI Wilson, whom he both liked and respected. Sutherland, to McNab’s mind, was like a career politician, in the job for self-aggrandizement, rather than public service. The advent of the single police force had seen a mad scramble for the fewer higher echelon positions on offer. Sutherland had scrambled as hard as the next man, but hadn’t reached pay-off and was thus a bit miffed. He still played golf with the great and the good according to office gossip, but that wasn’t enough compensation for more power.

  McNab suspected he was regarded by Sutherland on a good day as an irritant. On a bad day, as a scourge. Today was a bad day. McNab was reminded of a former headmaster of his. When called to his study, you were required to stand as remote from his desk as possible, thus rendering you a small and distant fly in the headmaster’s ointment. One that could be flailed at a distance by the whip-like strength of the master’s tongue.

  Here, McNab also remained at the door, although not so distant that he couldn’t see the twitching nerve to the right of Sutherland’s mouth, nor the rigidity of the muscles in his neck.

  ‘I’d like an explanation, Detective Inspector.’

  ‘About what exactly, sir?’ McNab strove to keep his tone deferential.

  ‘About how you’re handling this case.’

  ‘We are progressing, but it is a complex case involving two diverse locations. We’ve established how the Glasgow victim died and expect results on the Orkney victim shortly. We believe they may be connected via an online game which the Technical department is currently studying. There are five players, four of whose identities we have yet to confirm. My Glasgow sources tell me the cocaine find and the body are not connected.’ He took a break as Sutherland held up his hand. McNab felt as irritated as Pirie had looked last night, when he’d done the same.

  ‘How did this map and its implied connection to the case get online?’

  ‘That we don’t know, sir.’

  ‘You realize we are in danger of instigating copycat killings?’

  ‘I do, sir,’ McNab said, although until that moment he hadn’t, too intent had he been on the possibility that there might be three more potential victims.

  ‘I want a shut-down as far as the media is concerned. I alone will be interviewed. No one on the case is permitted to discuss it outside these walls. Not in the pub. Not online. Not at home. Not to anyone. Is that clear?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘I want the identities of the other gamers found and found quickly.’ He paused. ‘You have forty-eight hours to get on top of this, Inspector.’ He did not specify what would happen if he didn’t.

  McNab departed.

  The sudden silence as he entered the incident room was palpable. McNab was surprised to see Janice back at her desk. He motioned for her to follow him into his office.

  ‘I want everyone here at two p.m. with whatever they have, including the Tech guys. From this moment on no one is to discuss the case outside the station. Sutherland’s orders.’

  ‘Right, sir.’

  ‘Now, what the hell happened with Menzies?’

  ‘He had a written statement prepared, sir, giving details of Alan’s messages.’

  ‘And what do these messages say exactly?’

  ‘It isn’t clear.’

  ‘Mumbo-fucking-jumbo?’

  ‘Professor Pirie might make sense of them. He managed to decipher the victim’s diary on the Reborn case.’

  McNab caught the pleading tone in her voice.

  ‘That was maths, Sergeant, not messages from the dead.’

  ‘Mr Menzies knew about the game, sir.’

  That, McNab could not dispute, although he dearly wanted to know how the medium had got wind of it.

  Janice, taking advantage of his silence, went on. ‘The Tech department could check his statement in case it has something to do with the game.’

  McNab tried to behave like his former boss would have done.

  ‘Send it over, Sergeant. I’ll take a look.’

  30

  The T-shirt was a blue marl crew neck consisting of 65% polyester and 35% cotton, sporting a slightly faded Topshop label. The shorts were checked blue denim and had been purchased from the same company. His boxers were from Marks & Spencer, as were the socks. The trainers were black plimsolls, well worn.

  Close examination had revealed a spot of blood on the neckline of the T-shirt, which proved to be Alan’s and probably occasioned when his neck had been injected.

  Rhona had recovered a number of fibres from the clothing, of various origins and composition: animal hairs that matched the family dog; vegetable in the form of leaves and grass from the surrounding area. She had also identified two unique human hairs, neither of which were Alan’s, and a number of man-made fibres not belonging to the clothes he was wearing.

  The underwear held traces of semen which matched their owner’s DNA and a blonde hair sample whose morphology was pubic. A smearing of vaginal fluid in the opening on the boxers suggested Alan had had sex sometime prior to his death, but there was no evidence that semen had been spilt where he’d died.

  McNab had mentioned that Alan and a female flatmate were an occasional sexual item. Rhona imagined a Saturday-night or Sunday-morning coupling, after which Alan had set off to visit his mum. If he’d arranged to meet someone
at the stone circle, she didn’t believe he’d thought himself in any danger. From the evidence at the crime scene, Alan had lain down in the circle willingly.

  And what about the stone? It had turned out to provide both a question and a partial answer.

  Any surface that was as smooth as the miniature ridges on a finger could potentially bear identifiable latent fingerprints. Because of the flexibility of finger skin, she’d retrieved prints from cigarettes, paper, fruit, crumpled cans, bed sheets, rubbish bags and dead bodies.

  In this case, the stone, not the body, had provided her with one, from the Cathkin Braes victim at least. She hadn’t been so lucky with the Orkney stone, retrieving only a partial print which proved insufficient to match the two. Nevertheless, it was something, although if the perpetrator wasn’t on the database then they required a suspect before it could be used.

  Rhona went online and checked whether the crime-scene software had been brought up to date. The geological make-up of the stones was there, plus notification that a print had been retrieved, but no matches were indicated on the database search. That didn’t mean they wouldn’t yet generate one. Everything required time, resources and money. Especially money.

  She took a break and made some coffee. Chrissy was absent, attending a court appearance on another and quite different case, regarding a breakin. Rhona missed her company, having wanted to talk through last night’s proceedings with her forensic assistant.

  While drinking her coffee, she went online again to check for any further spread of the map story and found #stonedead still trending on Twitter. Rhona read some of the wild suppositions about where it would happen next, Stonehenge proving the most popular, probably because it was the one the majority of people had heard of. The eye of the public seemed to have moved south, which McNab would be happy about. She was momentarily grateful the map featured the entire mainland and not just the northern section of it.

  The call came through from Magnus just after midday. She’d been expecting him to get in contact despite the manner in which the previous evening had ended. Magnus wasn’t one to hold a grudge, unlike McNab.

  ‘It was the girl who came to see me at Houton,’ he confirmed. ‘Although I had to go mainly by the piercings, and the clothes.’

  ‘Are they any further forward on the Brodgar victim’s identity?’

  ‘Her name is Adelina Bacha, she arrived from Poland a week ago and started work at the local fish factory.’

  ‘Why was she at Brodgar?’

  ‘The police don’t know why or how she went there, although I suspect one of Jack’s team might. Most of them have transport and live in Stromness where the factory is, but I’ll leave Erling to find that out.’

  ‘Are you planning to stay up there?’

  ‘No. I want to talk about the map. I’ve had an idea.’ He didn’t elaborate and she didn’t ask him to. ‘I’ll catch an afternoon flight. Are you free to come over tonight?’ When Rhona didn’t immediately answer, he added, ‘Patrick Menzies gave a statement which contained messages he alleged came from Alan. DI McNab sent me a copy and asked if I could decipher them. I think they might refer to the map.’

  Rhona, covering her surprise at this turn of events, told Magnus she’d text to confirm later and rang off. It sounded as though a truce had been called between the two men. Even more amazing was McNab giving the time of day to the medium’s contribution.

  The room was packed. McNab ran his eye over the assembled group, who appeared tense and engaged. He contemplated for a moment that they might think he was about to announce his re-assignment, after his summons to the super’s office, so he gave them a grim smile to reassure them. If they were relieved it wasn’t immediately obvious.

  McNab had a sudden and startling out-of-body experience where he was part of that audience looking back at himself, standing up there, waiting to pontificate on something he knew fuck all about. He, like them, stood on the outskirts of a maze. Plenty of possible paths to follow, with no guarantee of reaching the centre. They had all been given specific jobs, sometimes boring, but which at least gave them a sense of purpose and direction. He, on the other hand, had to determine those jobs. He had spent the time since the meeting with the super working out what his next step should be, all the while worried that he was missing something important.

  He’d done what DS Clark had asked regarding Menzies’ statement, although it had stuck in his craw. Nutters like Menzies often cropped up in murder cases, inveigling their way in, sometimes claiming to have evidence, sometimes even admitting to the crime. Attention seekers and minor psychopaths. McNab suspected Menzies was a bit of both. But he had fooled the mother. That’s what worried McNab. That and the fact that his detective sergeant appeared to give credence to what the medium had to say.

  He dragged his thoughts back to the present and called for attention. He brought them up to date regarding the Orkney case, then set the ball in motion by handing the floor over to the boy wonder.

  Ollie, for all his youthful appearance, looked unperturbed as he approached the front. Touching the screen, he brought up an image of a stone circle. Above it was the name STONEWARRIOR.

  So now we know the name of the game, McNab thought.

  ‘The game, I believe, is on five levels, all of which appear to require an in-depth knowledge of Druidism and important sites both Druidic and Neolithic. A sort of Mastermind game. Unlike other warrior games, it’s not about fighting, but about gaining knowledge and solving puzzles.’

  Ollie brought up a series of images. One looked like a three-circled labyrinth. Another, an ancient gnarled oak tree. A third, a set of standing stones linked by lines with mathematical symbols. ‘I think the players were probably selected from one or more sites associated with Druidism and gaming, such as World of Druids, World of Warcraft and Druids Grove. They are unlikely to know one another except by their avatar.’

  Ollie continued: ‘In Druidism the number three is significant. Their philosophy is built on reverence for the earth, the ancestors and the gods. Land, sea and sky. Normally those seeking knowledge begin training as a Bard, who holds the knowledge of the stories and myths of the belief system. Then they become Ovate, who have the gift of prophecy and can converse with the spirits, a bit like clairvoyants today. The third and highest level is that of a Druid priest. As such, the game resembles this, but doesn’t mirror it. I think when a fifth level is reached there’s a ceremony, which involves a stone circle. A stone circle is regarded as a potent energy source. However, I’ve yet to break the password for full entry, so much of this is guesswork.’

  McNab looked at the bemused faces of his team, although one or two of the men had nodded when certain games had been mentioned. They were obviously far more aware of the gaming world than he was.

  When Ollie stood down, McNab resumed his place at the front.

  ‘As you are aware, a map of twenty-five stone circle sites has been released online, linking it to this case. Interest in this has sparked it trending on Twitter as #stonedead. This complicates the investigation. I have no doubt we’ll be besieged with calls offering help or information. Most of it will be unhelpful, much will be rubbish, but we’ll have to treat each call seriously.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Superintendent Sutherland wants nothing said about the case outside these walls. Not in the pub to one another, or to partners at home. Do I make myself clear?’

  McNab had been putting off mentioning the medium, but it had to happen, whether he liked it or not. He brought up a copy of the statement on the screen.

  ‘The medium Patrick Menzies claims to be in touch with the Cathkin Braes victim regarding this game. He states that the victim is concerned for the well-being of the other players and is attempting to help us locate them.’

  The hush was deafening.

  ‘I couldn’t help but notice that a number of those present seem familiar with the world of games. If any of you recognize anything in this statement that might help the investigation, then I want you to c
ome to me.’

  McNab took himself out after the meeting. As a DS he’d walked and driven the streets of Glasgow regularly. As DI he’d been spending too much time in the office contemplating the possibility of failure. It was time he acted on instinct.

  31

  Signature characteristics were more likely to be associated with a particular offender than their modus operandi. The two stone circle deaths matched in signature, via the careful layout and positioning of the bodies. One set of hands had been pierced, the other chopped off, which might indicate picquerism, where the perpetrator gained sexual pleasure from cutting or stabbing their victims.

  Modus operandi referred to the particular way by which the perpetrator carried out the task of killing his victims, which could change depending on circumstance. In the infamous Jack the Ripper case, the more privacy the killer got, the more time he took to mutilate the body. There was some controversy as to just how many killings were involved in the Jack the Ripper murders. Consensus said five, but an analysis in the Journal of Investigative Psychology suggested that on the basis of signature and modus operandi, Jack the Ripper had been responsible for six deaths. From his own research into the case, Magnus was inclined to agree.

  As for the unknown girl on Hoy, her death bore no resemblance to the two killed within the stone circles, and could not be determined as murder. Yet all Magnus’s instincts told him she shared the same killer and only the circumstances of her death were different. His visitor had suggested that Adelina Bacha had died at Brodgar in her stead. If that was true, then the girl who’d turned up on his doorstep had been right to be afraid. Had she not come to Magnus, her death might have been deemed an accident most likely caused by high winds, like the climbers on Yesnaby.

  Magnus had gone willingly to identify the body, but it hadn’t been an easy task. In normal circumstances, one quick look would have sufficed. In this case, there had been very little left of the pretty, overly made-up face he’d encountered on his jetty.

  According to Erling, they hadn’t recovered any belongings or mobile on the body, or in the vicinity of where they believed the tent had been pitched. The police were currently interviewing the residents of Hoy, but it was high summer and there had been a considerable number of day trippers, many of whom had already departed. Added to that, a cruise ship anchored off Kirkwall had disgorged a large number of visitors on the days leading up to her death.