by Lin Anderson
Davey’s story of the boxing bouts had proved true, except he had let them happen in his gym, apparently as a way to pay off a debt to Brodie, but for what exactly?
But whatever hold Brodie had on Davey hadn’t been paid off through the boxing bouts. So cocaine became part of the game, quietly and efficiently disseminated via the clubs and probably the betting shops.
‘He started coming home drunk. I thought he was meeting you. He never denied it,’ Mary had said.
‘You should have called me.’
Mary had shaken her head in a manner he remembered. ‘Should have covers a lot of things I didn’t do.’
And they were back there again, the night she’d told him that his pal Davey Stevenson was the one for her.
You fucking idiot, McNab admonished himself silently. This isn’t about you and Mary. This is about Davey.
‘Where’s his laptop?’
‘Here,’ she’d indicated a desk drawer. ‘There’s a mobile too.’
‘You told me he took his with him,’ McNab had countered.
‘His personal one. Not this one.’ She’d opened the drawer and taken out both items.
‘He conducted his business on this?’ McNab said.
‘He conducted the other business on it.’
Her face had been white and strained beneath the make-up, making McNab think of a painted doll.
McNab had told her to continue as normal. Any contact that featured Davey, via phone or person, he wanted to know about immediately. He’d taken her hand then, finding it cold to the touch. Mary Grant was a tough operator. McNab had never doubted that. But in that moment fear had overtaken her.
McNab carried the two mugs through to the sitting room which looked nothing like a place for sitting and relaxing. In fact it looked more like the Starship Enterprise than Ollie’s official workplace.
Both the phone and the laptop were already wired into his system, and on two adjacent screens things were happening. What, McNab had no idea.
Ollie accepted the coffee and took a sup, immediately grimacing. ‘How many spoonfuls are in there?’
‘Enough to warrant you buying another jar tomorrow,’ McNab told him. ‘Any luck?’
‘I told you I needed time,’ Ollie stated. ‘And you staring over my shoulder won’t make it go any faster. Drink your coffee or go for a kip.’ Ollie gestured to a decrepit-looking couch.
‘I’ve slept on worse,’ McNab informed him and, taking his caffeine with him, settled down on the sofa. Noting the time, he was suddenly reminded that he should have been on his way to the Granite City by now. He checked his mobile, expecting a message from Olsen, and found one. He contemplated leaving it unopened, but not knowing the result of his non-show seemed worse than knowing.
The text was short. They’d located the van near Aviemore, with evidence Isla may have been inside, and Ragnar Lodbrok was staying there with Dr MacLeod tonight and travelling to Aberdeen tomorrow.
Fucking hell. Maybe he should have gone north with Rhona after all.
He was awakened by the buzz of his phone. McNab imagined it was his morning alarm at first, until he registered he was on a couch and not a bed. The time at the top of the screen indicated he’d barely been asleep for twenty minutes, which was probably why he felt so groggy.
‘Ellie.’ He tried to sound awake.
‘Where are you?’
McNab glanced around, because in truth when he’d opened his eyes he wasn’t sure. Then his brain went into action as he recognized the back of Ollie’s head.
‘I’m working,’ he said.
‘Were you working in the pub across the road earlier?’
Fuck. She’d spotted him emerging from the pole-dancing club. McNab jumped in with his explanation. ‘That’s when I tried to ring you. I was back in the car when you called back and I couldn’t pick up—’
He halted as she interrupted him. ‘Are you near a TV? There’s something on the news you should see.’
‘What?’ he said, his heart suddenly upping its pace.
There was a catch in Ellie’s voice as she answered. ‘It’s Mary Stevenson. She’s been in an accident.’
‘Mary?’ McNab dropped the phone. ‘Switch on the telly,’ he screamed at Ollie. ‘Ellie?’ he said as he retrieved his mobile. ‘Tell me what happened.’
‘The news said she was knocked down coming out of her salon tonight. A hit-and-run, the police think.’ When McNab didn’t immediately respond, she said, ‘Will I come over to yours?’
McNab marshalled himself. ‘No. Don’t do that. I’ll call you.’
Stunned, McNab laid the phone down to concentrate on the TV. The broadcast currently playing made no mention of the accident, but below, the news McNab feared was running along the bottom of the screen.
Wife of eminent Glasgow businessman seriously injured in possible hit-and-run.
52
Rhona listened in silence to McNab’s angry voice.
‘I thought they had Davey. I thought he was the one in danger, but the fuckers obviously knew they could get to me via Mary.’ He gave a hollow laugh. ‘We’re fucked, and everyone close to us is fucked too.’
Traumatized by McNab’s tone, Rhona told him to stop, and asked if there had been any word from Davey.
‘No,’ McNab said sharply. ‘Ollie’s working on his second mobile and laptop, looking for a link to Brodie, McVitie or any of the bastards.’
McNab’s call had arrived just as Rhona had finally drifted off to sleep, her dreams plagued by images conjured up by her conversation with Olsen. It now appeared that McNab had been keeping more than one secret from her.
Rhona had known nothing of McNab’s friendship with the Stevensons, a couple she’d heard of. Who hadn’t in Glasgow? But she’d never met them personally. Now it appeared that McNab’s raid on Brodie’s club had resulted in more than just McNab’s skirmish with a bullet.
‘If what you say is true, might Davey just have gone somewhere on his own to cool off after the row?’
The silence that followed suggested McNab was contemplating that as a possibility. Then he came back in. ‘If he’s watching TV and sees the news—’
‘He’ll make contact,’ Rhona finished for him. ‘Go to the hospital. Stay with Mary until Davey shows up.’
This suggestion was followed by another silence, and Rhona guessed that that hadn’t been in McNab’s plan.
‘Don’t do anything about Brodie on your own,’ she tried to warn him. ‘This is official now.’
‘I’d say it was personal,’ had been McNab’s final remark.
Rhona decided that what little sleep she’d enjoyed was to be her ration. Dispensing with the idea of returning to bed, she headed for the shower, flipping on the kettle for coffee as she went. It would be dawn soon, and before that, she could study the recordings she’d taken in and around the van, and later in the woods.
Standing under the spray, she acknowledged her concern for McNab’s state of mind, and considered what to do about it. If Ollie didn’t produce any leads that might direct McNab to Brodie’s whereabouts, then he couldn’t pursue them.
Then again, getting to Brodie and hopefully finding out what had happened to Amena Tamar was vital, not just for McNab’s sense of justice over the attack on Mary, but because of what Olsen had told Rhona last night.
Her other option was to call Bill. He’d asked to be kept informed. His main reason for that was invariably his detective sergeant. Rhona had said she would, yet found herself reluctant to do so without knowing the current situation with Margaret. Eventually, Rhona emerged from the shower, her decision made.
Olsen was seated in the hotel dining room. They’d asked for an early breakfast, and he was already tucking into his. Rhona helped herself to the hot buffet and joined him.
Having given Rhona some basic Norwegian the previous evening, Olsen now tried it out on her. ‘God morgen,’ he offered as she sat down. ‘Hvordan sov du?’
Rather than tell the truth, which wa
s that she hadn’t slept much at all, Rhona answered in the affirmative.
‘Og du?’ she tried.
Olsen’s twitch of a smile suggested she may have got the words right, but not the delivery.
‘I’m going to head for Inverness, then Aberdeen,’ he told her. ‘I texted McNab to let him know that we stayed here last night.’
‘He called me early this morning,’ Rhona said. ‘There have been some developments.’
Olsen listened as she gave him the whole story, his expression growing grim at the news of the hit-and-run.
‘Brodie’s directly linked to this operation. If we can find him, Petter Lund might be persuaded to give us a location.’ He studied her expression. ‘You think McNab’s working off the record?’
‘He did it in the Stonewarrior case, with help from the same tech guy, Ollie.’
‘That’s how he lost his promotion?’
‘And nearly his life,’ Rhona said truthfully. ‘The perpetrator decided killing McNab was his ultimate goal and he almost achieved it.’
‘Because he went out on his own,’ Olsen said thoughtfully.
‘Don’t let him go that way again,’ Rhona said.
53
He’d intimated to Rhona that he wouldn’t go to the hospital, but McNab found himself headed that way anyway. The traffic across the Kingston Bridge had him swearing even at this hour of the morning. He’d done nothing yet about Ellie, and couldn’t bring himself to call her and let her know where he was and what he was doing. She and Mary had made friends, despite the fact that he had set Ellie up as his biker chick. Ellie would be worried about Mary, maybe even asking herself why the hit-and-run had happened.
She’ll find out soon enough, McNab thought, that choosing to hang out with a police officer needs a health warning. One that he should have handed out before getting together with her. Which was probably the reason most relationships in the force were in-house. Then nothing had to be said or explained about the job or the baggage that came with it. Reaching the new Queen Elizabeth hospital, locally known as the Death Star, he entered the giant car park again to look for a space, noting that the coming and going of ambulances hadn’t dwindled despite the early hour.
After the abrupt termination of his conversation with Rhona, McNab had considered his next move. There had been no result as yet from Ollie, but it would come soon, or so he’d been promised. NcNab had briefly wondered if Ollie was stalling, and whether he already had contact details for Brodie but was intent on preventing McNab from charging in, without proper authority or back-up.
After all, Ollie nearly lost his job the last time I did that.
Despite this, McNab had decided to take Ollie at face value, and had left him to it, and come to see Mary … for two reasons. First, to make sure she was alive and would stay that way, and second, to stoke his anger and determination by viewing what the bastards had done to her.
Accident and Emergency was brightly lit and though certain indicators suggested it had been very busy, there were now only about a dozen people still waiting to be seen. McNab assumed these were the ones deemed not serious.
At least she’s not in the mortuary, McNab consoled himself as he was directed towards the acute receiving unit.
It wasn’t possible to visit Accident and Emergency at any time of the day or night and not find at least one pair of police officers hanging about, having delivered a casualty who’d been involved in some nefarious activity. There were four of them tonight; two he discovered were there because of Mary’s accident. Recognizing McNab, they were quick to tell him what they thought had happened.
According to statements from nearby pedestrians and her staff, a black four-by-four had come out of nowhere just as Mary had emerged from the salon. Having mounted the pavement and mowed her down, the vehicle had regained the road and driven off.
‘There’s someone with her.’
‘Who?’ McNab asked.
McNab hesitated at the door, his heart quickening at the sight of the monitors and tubes attached to the still figure propped up against the pillows. Mary’s head and face in particular had taken a heavy punishment on impact, like a boxer whose opponent had far outclassed her, giving her little opportunity to fight back. The eyes were blackened, the cheeks a mass of bruising. A gash on the forehead had been sewn shut, as had one on the chin. McNab imagined what she would think when she saw herself in the mirror.
But she’s alive, thank God.
Her saviour sat alongside, her hand held in his. McNab couldn’t see Davey’s face, but it was obviously him. Rhona had been right. Davey had reappeared. And just as the attack had happened. So how come he’d been there at that moment? And where the hell had he been up to that point?
McNab made a concentrated attempt to control his anger. The way he felt towards Davey at this moment, he could have let fly. They had physically fought plenty of times as teenagers, a habit which had endured well into their twenties. These physical jousts had eventually become a war of words, and attempts at one-upmanship, as exhibited by McNab turning up at Davey’s posh house on the back of a Harley-Davidson, driven by a biker chick.
Had Davey’s disappearance been just another of his moves in the endless game they played?
Gathering himself, McNab opened the door. Davey didn’t turn immediately, so intent was he in his study of Mary. When he finally did, McNab could see that he’d been crying. The realization of that brought him up short and stifled the harsh words ready and waiting in his throat.
‘How is she?’ McNab said instead.
‘Until she comes round, they won’t know for certain. Her head …’ Davey tailed off in distress.
That news changed everything for McNab. His decision to suppress his anger gone, he said what he really thought. ‘Where the fuck were you? Mary’s been frantic.’ McNab clenched his fists as he waited for an answer. When he got none, he said, ‘Fucking tell me, Davey, or I’ll arrest you here and now for dealing cocaine out of the clubs.’
‘What?’ Davey’s head jerked round in disbelief.
‘Mary told me everything. She thought Brodie had you. She thought you might be dead.’
Davey looked at him in puzzlement, like a drunk man suddenly presented with reality.
‘Mary knew where I was,’ he said. ‘I texted her. I was at the cabin at Loch Lomond. I needed time to think.’
McNab wasn’t buying that. ‘Mary called me at work and asked me to come to the salon. She said you hadn’t come home and that you were in debt to Brodie. Why would Mary lie about that?’
Davey attempted a shrug. ‘I have no idea,’ he said, his face shutting down.
The bastard’s hiding something. McNab felt his anger bubble up again. How he would like to put a fist in that stupid stubborn face.
‘She gave me your laptop and the other mobile,’ McNab told him.
Davey’s expression moved through surprise to fury, suggesting to McNab that Davey hadn’t realized his wife knew about the existence of either item.
Davey rose to his feet, Mary’s hand dropping from his, to lie small and white and abandoned on the cover. ‘She shouldn’t have done that,’ he said coldly.
‘Why?’ McNab said.
A multitude of conflicting emotions crossed Davey’s face, none of which McNab liked.
‘It’s time we had a talk, Davey, a real one this time,’ he said sharply.
Davey’s laugh sent a shiver down McNab’s spine.
‘Fuck you, Michael Joseph McNab. You have fuck all to do with Mary. She chose me, or don’t you remember?’
As though cued by his outburst, an alarm when off, shattering the anger between them. In moments the room was besieged by hospital personnel and they were both ordered to leave.
Once in the corridor, Davey gripped McNab’s arm. ‘It’ll be your fault if Mary dies,’ he told him. ‘Your fucking fault.’
54
McNab had come straight to Ollie’s from the hospital, hoping that Ollie had managed to extract in
formation from Davey’s laptop or mobile that would lead him to Brodie. During the journey, McNab had tried to analyse Davey’s behaviour.
Davey had been terrified as well as angry, but it was the terror that had triumphed. That’s why he’d been accused of being responsible for the attack on Mary.
But maybe it was my fault? If Brodie or one of his minions was watching the salon, then me turning up there would have been bad news for Mary.
But other things Davey had said just didn’t add up. The cabin story for one. McNab was pretty sure that Mary hadn’t known where Davey was. Her fear when she’d called McNab and then later in her office had been real enough. McNab could still conjure up the image of her alarm, but now Mary’s battered face replaced the wide-eyed horror as she’d looked to him for help.
But Mary can lie, and lie convincingly, McNab reminded himself. She’d lied to him about seeing Davey when she was still going out with him. She and Davey both had. He’d been a fool to believe them back then. So what was different now?
McNab had eventually come to the conclusion that both Mary and Davey had been reluctant to reveal the true nature of their involvement with Brodie. And Davey’s been keeping something back from Mary too. Hence the laptop and mobile.
Whatever was on those devices might be the reason for Davey’s behaviour.
And here it was. The truth in all its ugliness.
Ollie was regarding McNab with sympathy. ‘That’s what’s on the laptop,’ he repeated.
As McNab stared at him in disbelief, Ollie set the show in motion. A bewildering array of images began to pass McNab’s eyes. Images he didn’t want to see, let alone absorb or remember. Eventually he slammed down the lid to end the agony.
Ollie’s shrug suggested he’d seen and heard it all before. The instant denial that you might have a friend, a partner, a relative with a double life. A sexual existence that you couldn’t conceive of. It happened with politicians and celebrities, and businessmen just like Davey Stevenson.
‘There’s something not right about this …’ McNab said, trying to get his head round it.
‘I’ll have to hand the laptop and phone in,’ Ollie told him, grim-faced.