Torch

by Lin Anderson

  The drill of the phone interrupted her explanation. The ansaphone cut in and started its bland message. Then a voice Rhona recognised ordered her to pick up.

  ‘Yes?’

  There was a short silence then:

  ‘I want you to know I can see you both quite clearly.’

  Rhona looked round, mentally stripping the room, searching for the camera.

  ‘Don’t bother. You won’t find it.’

  ‘Bast...’

  Rhona covered MacRae’s expletive with her hand. She spoke quietly into the receiver.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘We’re going to play a little game, you and I. If you win, MacRae’s child will live. If you lose, both the building you are in and Granny’s cottage will be destroyed by fire.’

  Rhona forced her voice to remain calm. The arsonist was power assertive. Confronting him would only make matters worse.

  Beside her MacRae’s breath was coming in rapid gasps, his skin grey.

  ‘Tell me what to do.’

  Rhona listened to his orders, sick with the thought of the consequences of his action. An explosion here would seriously undermine the building, break gas pipes. The arsonist would get his show alright. Bigger and louder than any pyrotechnic display in Princes Street Gardens.

  ‘We have to clear the building first,’ she insisted.

  ‘No! he said harshly. ‘You have exactly twenty minutes. You will go alone. MacRae will remain in my line of sight. Is that understood?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Rhona touched MacRae’s arm. ‘There’s still time. Try and call MacFarlane,’ she whispered.

  The basement was empty apart from some packing cases lining the walls. But if she had been sent to look, there had to be something to find. It just wouldn’t be obvious.

  Rhona walked up and down, stamping her feet, checking the sound. Nothing. She headed diagonally towards the opposite wall. This time the sound was different. She was a foot from the corner. Four packing cases stood between her and the wall. She dragged them back. A narrow set of steps led to a darkened room below street level. At the bottom a sewer vent pipe climbed the wall.

  MacRae’s voice echoed in her head. ‘Every building has a six inch diameter pipe leading into the sewer. They don’t all have a way in.’

  Rhona wouldn’t believe that. Couldn’t.

  She dropped to her knees on the rough concrete floor and began to crawl about exploring the surface with her hands. The metal ring of the manhole cover jabbed her shin. She grabbed it and pulled, her arms screaming with the effort. Sewer gas escaped from the black hole, making her gag.

  Rhona braced herself and dropped inside.

  Propane was denser than air. If the gas was already on it would have gathered below. He would set the timer to spark ignition ten minutes later.

  She stood trying to get her bearings. Beside her water flowed in muted silence. As her eyes became accustomed to the dark, she made out a door on her left. She reached for the handle. Inside was a pair of overalls, an assortment of tools and a torch. As she switched on the torch, she caught the scent of gas.

  Now was the time to run. Rhona felt her heart race away from her as her brain calculated how long she had. If the arsonist had been lying to her, then death was imminent. If he was telling the truth she had five minutes to find the propane and stop it igniting.

  In her head time rushed past, yet in the claustrophobic atmosphere of the tunnel it stood still. She breathed in the gas and followed its sickening hiss.

  The canisters stood side by side, hidden behind an archway that led from one sewer into the next. Attached was the trigger device. Simple and effective. A spark in a gas filled area. A memory of the carnage of an IRA terrorist bomb in the height of the Troubles flooded Rhona’s head. Forensic bags full of samples that had occupied her days and filled her nights with tortured images of the dead. This explosion would wreak the same havoc.

  As in the moments before death she thought of those she cared about. Liam, Sean... Severino waiting above, his child in the hands of a madman.

  She pulled off her jacket, immersed it in the dark water then walked towards the device.

  In the flat above, Severino stood in the same moment of time. In his mind his arms were about Amy, sheltering her from the fire that would rage round her. The scars on his back burned with the memory of his own pain and the pain that would be hers. He wept silently for what he had done to his daughter. He found himself praying. God let there be angels. God let Amy’s guardian angel protect her. Please God protect Rhona.

  He had turned on the mobile in his pocket and pressed what he thought was the key for MacFarlane. He’d whispered his message and hoped it was heard.

  All his fears about this arsonist had come true. He had focussed on the woman, given her a task that could not be fulfilled. Would laugh and gloat over her failure. Rhona’s death in that fire, Severino’s death, Amy’s death would be his favourite snuff movie.

  Severino could feel the eyes of the camera on him. Taste the watcher’s excitement. He understood it. He had tasted it himself. Fire. The ultimate cleanser. The ultimate life force. The ultimate orgasm.

  Rhona forced the small black box under the water, jamming it below the side ledge. Air bubbled to the surface and dissipated. She rose from her knees and walked back to the canisters, turned the valves and the hissing stopped.

  She stumbled towards the steps, waves of nausea sweeping over her, her body moving into sudden shock, her limbs shaking with fear, relief and cold.

  In the distance fire engines screamed their arrival. Rhona heard voices from the basement; MacFarlane’s then MacRae’s sharp with fear.

  ‘Rhona! Thank Christ!’

  He caught her as she stumbled up the steps and gathered her in his arms.

  She looked up at him.

  ‘Amy?’ she said.

  Chapter 32

  Above him the skylight was shrouded in white. Jaz reached over and flicked on the bedside lamp. This time he had been asleep. Well and truly asleep.

  The room was chilly, the radiator cold. He reached for his jacket. He would check on Emps. Make sure he was alright.

  Outside, a single line of footprints led to the cottage. Someone had arrived here recently. But who? Jaz crept forward, conscious of the crunch of his feet in the snow. The front door was off the latch. He slipped into the hall and stood listening.

  Someone was weeping, a small pitiful sound like a child. Amy?

  He pushed open the kitchen door. Amy sat in the chair beside the range, a teddy bear clasped in her arms, her face streaked with tears.

  ‘Amy. What’s wrong?’ His eyes darted to the empty dog basket. ‘Where’s Emps?’

  Tommy stepped into view and gave him a cold penetrating look. ‘Thought I told you to get lost.’

  Jaz looked from Tommy to Amy’s terrified face. ‘Amy, come here.’

  Amy tried to get up, but Tommy caught her arm and wrenched her back, holding the knife to her neck. ‘She’s not going anywhere Jazzy-boy and neither are you.’

  Jaz stood still, thinking. The most important thing was to get Tommy away from Amy. If he could get him outside, confuse him in the dark, she might have a chance. Jaz sprang through the open door, ran the length of the hall and dived into the open air, slamming the door behind him. Tommy was seconds after, promising to slit Jaz’s fucking throat from ear to ear.

  The hedge round the house was at least three feet thick. Jaz threw himself down and rolled beneath it.

  Tommy was outside now, sweeping the beam of a torch across the front garden. On the third swing, the beam hovered above Jaz then descended, exposing his hiding place and blinding his eyes. Tommy laughed. A horrible sound. But Tommy was so intent on mocking his prey he hadn’t spotted Emperor crawling belly down, stalking him across the snow.

  ‘Get him Emps!’ Jaz screamed.

  As the dog sprang, Amy came running out. Jaz grabbed her and pulled her towards the front door, meeting the razor sha
rp edge of Tommy’s knife on the way. Amy screamed and Emps started barking, as lights sprang from the trees and a half a dozen armed policemen came running across the snow towards the cottage.

  Chapter 33

  Rhona walked round the lab, touching the equipment which structured her life.

  She had stopped the arsonist blowing up the Edinburgh building. Amy was safe. Safe and sound and as far away from her father as Gillian could manage. But they hadn’t found the pyromaniac... yet.

  Outside January light touched the dripping skeleton branches of trees. Kelvingrove Park had survived the New Year celebrations. As had she. A New Year had begun, for Glasgow and for her. Sean had returned. Unexpected and... she toyed with the idea... almost unwelcome.

  Fear of death was erotic. She and Severino had tasted that fear together. It was worth everything in that moment, but when fear subsided?

  Her mobile drilled a sharp note. She glanced at the screen expecting Sean’s name.

  It was Liam.

  She pressed the green key and waited, holding her breath.

  His voice sounded improbably young. She conjured a vision of him in her head. As she had done a thousand times before.

  ‘Can I come and see you?’

  ‘I’d like that.’

  He stumbled. ‘I’m sorry... ‘

  She stopped him. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘I was scared.’

  Relief swept over her. So that was why he hadn’t turned up.

  ‘So was I.’

  There was a silence.

  ‘I’ll be there in half an hour,’ he said.

  She whispered okay and hung up

  She concentrated on the details of the case while she waited for Liam to arrive.

  The body in the sewer was the guy in Jaz’s drawing. His name was Joe MacMurdo. He was known to the Glasgow force as a small time drug dealer. MacMurdo’s DNA had matched the semen found in Karen. It looked like Karen had been raped by MacMurdo then left to die in the fire. After all who cares about a homeless girl without a family? But Jaz had cared enough to put his own life in danger, she reminded herself.

  Soon all the pieces would come together. The process had already begun. DI Wilson had passed details of Meldrum Holdings to the Procurator Fiscal. With Jaz’s statement on what he had overheard between Tommy and the Financial Director of Meldrum Holdings, they thought they had a case of intimidation and murder associated with the company. Bill Wilson suspected the Finance Director for Meldrum Holdings would be the fall guy. Already the big guns behind the company were marshalling their lawyers, pleading ignorance of any crooked dealing.

  Tommy Moffat was in the frame for MacMurdo’s murder and being involved in the rape. If Tommy thought they had enough on him, he might squeal about Meldrum Holdings in the hope of a reduced sentence.

  They had already established that he had been cutting the drugs with anything he could find, including the white stuff his wee brother brought home from the fireworks factory. So Tommy had it both ways. He made money from dealing, then picked up his hit money as the addicts died off and left the schemes empty for Meldrum Holdings to develop.

  The arsonist was the enigma. Severino had tried to persuade her to have a police guard until they picked him up. It seemed too melodramatic for Rhona. Security was tight in the lab already. Having a policeman stand around all day getting bored was overkill.

  She glanced at the clock. Where was Chrissy? She’d only gone to drop off a forensic bag at Chemistry. She should have been back by now.

  She checked the window. Liam should be arriving any moment. Sure enough a tall blond figure was coming across the car park. She watched the long-legged stride. Saw him hesitate then approach the gate guard. They both looked up at her window. Rhona stepped back, her heart hammering, her mouth dry.

  She was terrified to meet her own child. Frightened of what she would see in his eyes.

  The lab phone rang. She didn’t move. If she met Liam, things would never be the same again, for either of them. Sweat broke out on her brow as the phone continued to ring. She steeled herself and picked up.

  ‘Dr MacLeod?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I have a young man in reception called Liam Hope. Says he’s here to see you.’

  She asked the security guard to send him up, her voice sounding like someone else. She should have gone down to meet him, but she couldn’t trust her legs to carry her.

  She was facing the door, waiting for Liam’s silhouette to appear in the small pane of glass. The movement behind her caused her to turn, thinking Chrissy had returned unnoticed.

  Severino stood behind her, dressed in a white lab coat, a visitor badge pinned to his lapel. He smiled. She opened her mouth to ask how he had got in then realised it wasn’t Sev, merely a caricature of him.

  The man from Greg’s apartment wasn’t smiling this time and he wasn’t embarrassed. The blond hair had been dyed black, the glasses discarded.

  ‘How the hell...?

  She didn’t get to finish as he caught her arm and twisted it up her back. The pain was excruciating.

  She thrust her free hand backwards, hoping to hit him in the crotch. He laughed pushing her elbow even higher. Her mouth filled with bile as nausea swept over her.

  ‘Do that again and I’ll break your arm.’

  She spoke through clenched teeth, thinking all the time of Liam’s imminent arrival. ‘What do you want?’

  He stiffened, hearing the footsteps in the corridor.

  ‘Please God, no,’ she whispered.

  Then she heard the knock at the door and saw the tall silhouette behind the glass.

  ‘Who is it?’ he spat in her ear.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she lied.

  ‘Tell them you’re busy.’

  The knock came again.

  ‘Sorry, I’m busy,’ her voice sounded cold and remote. ‘Can you come back later?’

  Rhona willed Liam to walk away, but he wasn’t giving up this time. There was a moment’s silence then, ‘Rhona?’ He pressed his face against the glass. ‘Please. It’s me Liam.’

  The door began to open.

  A rush of fear and love swamped Rhona.

  ‘No!’ she cried as the cold metal of a gun met her ribs.

  Her son’s face was startled. Even in that moment, Rhona saw the resemblance to Edward in his eyes.

  Liam looked down at the gun then up at her face.

  ‘Get inside, now!’

  Liam didn’t hesitate.

  ‘Shut the door and lock it.’ He looked Liam up and down. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Dr MacLeod’s son.’

  There was a moment’s silence.

  ‘Now that’s one thing I didn’t know about Dr MacLeod.’

  Even the cynical voice reminded her of Sev.

  Rhona edged her body between the gun and Liam. Chrissy would appear any minute. She just had to stay calm and keep him talking.

  ‘Why are you here?’ she tried.

  ‘I made you a promise. I came to keep it.’

  ‘What’s he talking about?’ Liam asked.

  Rhona threw Liam a look, willing him to stay calm.

  ‘You’re very like MacRae,’ she suggested.

  A flash of anger crossed his face.

  ‘The bastard who ruined my life.’

  ‘How did he do that?’

  ‘I was a good officer. They threw me out of the brigade because of him.’

  He waved them towards the sample cupboard at the back of the lab and pushed them inside. Rhona grabbed Liam’s hand, squeezing it tightly. His pulse beat swiftly in the nape of his neck, but his face was resolved. He wasn’t going to panic. Yet.

  The door snapped shut behind them and the key turned.

  ‘What did he mean, what he promised?’

  The mix of letters in those emails rearranged themselves in Rhona’s head. BURN THE BITCH. That was his promise.

  ‘Security will be here soon,’ she told Liam, wishing she believed it herse
lf.

  A new sprinkler system had been installed the previous year. If it worked they had a chance, provided the smoke didn’t get them first.

  She heard him moving about the lab, piling stuff against the cupboard door. Then the crackle as the paper caught.

  Smoke began to drift under the door.

  ‘The sprinklers will come on,’ she told Liam.

  But they didn’t.

  The smoke was thickening. Where the hell was the alarm and the sprinklers? Liam’s face was grey with fear. She pulled off her lab coat and thrust it at him.

  ‘Cover your mouth with this.’

  At the back was a panel that led to the riser, a shaft that ran up through the building. It housed the network and power cables and more recently the sprinkler pipes when they did up the lab. It also had a metal ladder. But the panel needed a maintenance key to open it. Liam was watching her, his eyes bloodshot and streaming above the lab coat. She looked wildly about her for something to force the lock.

  ‘Here. Try this.’

  He thrust a Swiss army knife into her hand. He had flicked open a blade and she inserted it into the lock. It really needed a round key, but it might work. She was praying out loud as she felt the blade turn. There was a resistance then a sudden click. Tears streamed down her face as the panel dropped forward.

  Air rushed down the shaft, escaping through into the lab, feeding the fire even more.

  ‘Can you climb?’

  Liam looked up.

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘There’s an opening into the room above. Look for a panel on the left of the shaft. You’ll have to force it open.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘I’ll follow,’ she promised.

  She watched his feet disappear. What the hell had happened to the smoke alarms and all the fancy computer controlled equipment they’d installed last year?

  She had brought Liam here. If her son died it would be her fault.

  She began to climb.

  Liam had reached the panel. The shaft was full of smoke and she couldn’t see him but she could hear him battering the wall.