Bridge of Doom

by George McCartney

  ‘There’s only one way to find out, Annie. Right, let's go.’

  Chapter 11

  When they arrived at ward 105 in Glasgow Royal Infirmary, the staff nurse Annie had spoken with earlier took them to a storage locker, where the John Doe patient's street clothes were kept. Annie gasped and put a hand over her mouth, before nodding as she touched the blood-stained sleeve of a leather jacket. The same jacket Jamie had been wearing three nights ago.

  'Yes, I'm sure this is my friend's jacket. He was wearing it the last time I saw him, late on Saturday night. Can I see him?'

  'He was still sleeping the last time I checked, so you might not be able to speak to him right now. But, if you want to, it’ll be okay to sit with him for a few minutes. I'll go and see if there's a doctor available who can speak to you.'

  Standing next to Jamie's bed, Annie's eyes welled up as she took in the extent of the lurid multi-coloured bruising and swelling affecting her friend's face. Then, sitting on the edge of his bed, she reached out and gently squeezed his hand, before whispering, 'oh Jamie, I'm so sorry. What happened to you?'

  Jack decided to slip out for a cigarette and, just as he was leaving the ward, he passed an attractive young female doctor on her way in, who smiled and nodded as he held the door open for her.

  The same medic introduced herself to Annie at the bedside. 'Hello, I'm Dr Marshall. I'm told that you can positively identify our mystery patient. Thank goodness, I’m sure that'll be a big relief both for him and his family. It'll also let me update the police. I'm sure they'll want to interview him as soon as his memory's better.’

  'His name’s Jamie Boyd,' said Annie, before providing her friend’s personal details.

  'Are you a relative?'

  'No, we're just friends,' said Annie. 'Do you know what happened to him, doctor?'

  'I was on duty when he was brought in, early on Sunday morning and, believe it or not, he's actually looking a lot better today. He obviously took quite a bad beating, but the facial swelling has almost gone down enough for his broken nose to be re-set. That might be done later today and, if it is, I think he'll probably be allowed to go home in a couple of days.'

  'So is he going to be okay, doctor?'

  'Yes, he's young and fit, so he should make a full recovery physically. But he has suffered some short term memory loss, which is a concern. He can remember some things, but it seems to be totally random. It would be really good if you had time to talk to him and help find the missing pieces of the jigsaw. Often that's all it takes, you know. Somebody to patiently fill in the blanks in his memory and then all the rest just falls into place.'

  'Yes of course, I can do that. But what about when he gets home? Will he need any special care?'

  'No, assuming there are no complications,' said Dr Marshall, with a confident professional air. 'He'll obviously need plenty of rest and, of course, if he takes a couple of paracetemol when necessary, that will ease any residual pain as his nose and damaged ribs continue to heal.'

  'Thanks for explaining everything to me doctor, I'm starting to calm down a little,' sighed Annie.

  'No problem. Look, if you want to stay with him for a little bit longer, it's absolutely okay.'

  'Thanks, I will. You know, just in case he should …'

  Ten minutes later Jamie's eyelids started to flicker and, as he awoke, he rubbed his eyes and slowly turned his head to see who was holding his hand. He smiled in relief as he recognised Annie's face and immediately squeezed her hand tightly, causing Annie to wipe away another tear.

  'Jamie, it's me,' said Annie, leaning closer. 'I've been worried sick about you.'

  'Annie, am I glad to see you,’ croaked Jamie. ‘This has been a total nightmare. I thought I'd gone blind when I woke up and what made it worse is not been able to remember really simple stuff, like my name and where I live. It's been driving me crazy.'

  'Just relax, okay? And here, take a sip of water. The doctor said it's not unusual to have some memory loss with your type of head injury. The best treatment is just to talk about what happened.'

  'I can do that,' said Jamie, who began to slowly recount as much as he could remember of Saturday night's events. Annie prompted him and tried to fill in the blanks where necessary. Twenty minutes later they were chatting away together, almost like normal. Annie thought to herself that the doctor was right. Just seeing a familiar friendly face and then talking in a relaxed manner was all that Jamie needed in order to press his memory reset button.

  As Jack returned to the ward he smiled when he saw that Jamie was awake and chatting away happily. 'Hey, how are you doing, tough guy? You look as if you've been run over by a bus.'

  Jamie winced and sat up slightly. 'Because I was born and brought up in Glasgow, I know that this is where I'm supposed to say, 'if you think this is bad, you want to see the other guy, right? But the truth is I didn't get a chance to do anything, Jack. Not that I'd be much good at fighting anyway, but I'm still pretty fast over a hundred yards. It all happened so quickly, you know. One minute I'm trying to help this guy who had collapsed on the pavement, round the corner from my house, and then I wake up in here two days later covered in bandages. I've been telling Annie that the pain and not being able to see were bad enough, but the worst thing was losing my memory. It's been driving me mad, trying to remember everything.'

  'But it's not all bad, sport,' said Jack with a grin.

  'How so?'

  'Well, on the plus side, I see that you've managed to get Annie into bed with you. I don't know, the lengths some guys will go for the sympathy vote.'

  Unamused, Annie shot her partner one of her trademark withering looks and, despite his lurid facial bruising, Jamie still somehow managed to blush furiously.

  'By the way, my phone hasn't been handed in has it?' said Jamie, swiftly changing the subject.

  Annie answered, 'it's not been handed into the police as far as we know, but we're still working on it, Jamie. There's an outside chance we might be able to track down the thief. But don't get your hopes up, because your phone will probably be long gone even if do we find him.'

  'I know, Annie, getting the phone back's a long shot. I could delete the contents remotely, but I don't want to do that because I've got some important stuff saved on it. It's the vital final piece of a smartphone app that I've been working on for the past three months.'

  'Oh right, was that for the drone controller thingy you told me about before?' said Annie.

  'That’s right, I've been completely stuck for the last week, trying to work out how to finish off the development phase, and then on Saturday night when I was in the back of the taxi on my way home, the missing bit of the puzzle suddenly came to me. I made a quick note on my phone but because of what happened, I didn't get a chance to back it up to the cloud. So I'm totally screwed without it. Obviously I'm insured, and I can probably get a new iPhone within a few days, no problem. But because of that one saved note, it would be great to get my old one back if I could. I don't care, I'd even pay a reward to the thief.'

  Annie exchanged an embarrassed guilty look with Jack and, wisely, said nothing more. Sorry Jamie, I've already tried that one.

  She took the MacBook out of her courier bag, fired it up and passed it over to Jamie. 'Look, I know it's probably a complete waste of time but, if you can remember your Apple login details, let's see if Find My iPhone actually works.'

  Jamie stared blankly at the MacBook screen for a few moments, then his fingers instinctively danced across the keyboard.

  'Well done,' said Annie. 'You're in … any luck?'

  'Yeah, I'm in but there's no current location showing. It's obviously not switched on, Annie. Just what you would expect really.'

  'Remember, while you're still logged on, you have the option to delete all of the content on it, the next time the phone’s switched on.'

  'I know but, as I said before, while there's even a slim chance of getting the phone back, I'll hold fire on that meantime.'

  'O
kay then, we have a plan B. We brought you this,' said Annie, handing her friend an old Nokia mobile phone.

  Weighing the device in his hand, Jamie smiled and said, 'wow, this is a real clunker. Where did you get it, a museum?'

  'It was mine, actually,' said Jack, slightly miffed. 'Okay, I admit it's no longer very fashionable and yes, it’s also a bit slow and heavy.'

  'Just like you,' giggled Annie.

  'But, despite appearances,' insisted Jack. 'Everything still works under the bonnet. Just like me, thank you, Annie.'

  'Thanks for that guys,' said Jamie. 'I really appreciate you tracking me down and helping me get my memory back. I owe you both big time.'

  Annie got up from the bed and packed her MacBook away. 'Don't be silly. And remember to let me know when you're getting out of here and I'll come and give you a lift home. Oh, and I'll pick up your jacket on the way out, to see if a dry cleaner can get the worst of the blood stains out. That's definitely not a good look.'

  As they left the hospital ward together, Annie asked Jack, 'by the way, where did you disappear to? You seemed to be away from the ward for ages.'

  'This place is so big, it's not easy getting your bearings,' Jack replied. 'But I did eventually find my way outside and I'd just lit up a cigarette, standing near the main entrance minding my own business, when a little jobsworth prick, wearing a high-vis vest and carrying a clipboard, came scuttling towards me. Before I had the chance to say anything, he gave me a right bollocking in front of everybody and then handed me a stop smoking leaflet. Apparently there's no smoking allowed anywhere on hospital grounds, as of this year. Can you believe it? Here in Glasgow, the place where smoking was almost invented. It's fucking unbelievable. What about my human rights?'

  'This is a hospital, boss,' said Annie, rolling her eyes in despair.

  'Yes, but it’s a Glasgow hospital, Annie. So I said to mister high-vis, 'keep your hair on, general. Remember it's people like me, who smoke and drink who are keeping most of the people who work here in a fucking job. You should be a bit more grateful and try doing something useful for a change, like handing out clean ashtrays. But I could see I wasn’t getting anywhere with the guy, so I asked him where's the nearest place where I can go to enjoy a fag and have a good cough in peace?'

  'You're absolutely terrible. What did the poor man say?'

  'Airdrie. The cheeky bastard.'

  'Serves you right. Smoking’s a filthy habit.'

  'Yeah, I know, Annie. But the filthy ones are the most fun, right?'

  'That’s way too much information, boss.'

  Chapter 12

  An hour later, Jack was back in the JD Investigations office with his partner for the first time in six weeks. He eased himself in by checking through their email inbox, before announcing, ‘that was quick, Annie. This one’s from Andy Walsh. He's got a couple of possible leads on your iPhone thief. He’s had one of his slaves trawling through databases, cross-referencing mobile phone thefts for the last twelve months, where there has been a follow-up attempt to extort money from the rightful owner, with street muggings and thefts of high powered motorbikes.'

  'Did they get anything on the partial number plate?' said Annie.

  'The number plate on the motorbike was false, no surprise there. But Andy's guy is pretty sure that the bike they were using is a top-end Kawasaki model and there have been twelve of them stolen in the Glasgow area in the last year. Apparently anti-theft security on them is pretty good, for a motorbike. So because they're not easy to steal, it's possible that the same guy was responsible for all of them and he might be an associate of the phone thief. It's another angle and, if we could find the biker first, that might give us the link we need to the guy you’re really after.'

  'Anyway, all of these ifs, buts and maybes were fed into the wonderful new Police Scotland 16 computer system, otherwise known as the magic mixer, and it eventually spat out two possible names who might be worth a closer look. We have last known addresses for both of them. The deal is that, in exchange for this confidential information, we are being permitted to make some very discreet enquiries to try and either rule these guys in or out. That's all. If we find anything solid, that might link either of them directly to a crime, we have to pass it straight back to Andy for follow-up action.'

  'Does he say anything specifically about not kicking the shit out them?' said Annie sourly.

  Referring back to the email Jack smiled and said, 'funnily enough, he doesn't say anything about that. Why?'

  'Good, because this is personal,' replied Annie, with a steely glint in her eyes.

  'I don't have a problem with that. Speaking from long experience as a serving policeman, I can confirm that occasionally resorting to an outburst of righteous violence is very therapeutic. But some sensitive souls take the alternative view that it reduces you to exactly the same level as the thug in question.'

  'I don't care. I can't stop thinking about the state of poor Jamie's face. He could have been left brain damaged or dead because of what that animal did to him. And all for a stupid bloody phone. I'd really love it, boss, if we could nail the scumbag. Okay, so what do we have?'

  'Right, the first prospect is Frank Young, age thirty-one. He's a career criminal, who deals mainly in stolen electronics, such as laptops, tablets and premium mobile phones. Basically anything that isn't nailed down is fair game for this character. But he's nothing if not versatile and his last recorded conviction eighteen months ago was for stealing a Kawasaki motorbike. And he also has previous for mugging drunks in the street, for their wallets and phones. So he’s a bit of an all-rounder and seems to tick almost all of the boxes, in terms of the profile for your thief.'

  'Okay, what about the other one?'

  'Let's see, this joker’s name is Danny Duff, aka Fazzo, age eighteen. He has a juvenile record as long as your arm, mainly for vandalism, gang fights and trying to burn down his primary school, all the usual stuff. Obviously he’s a nasty wee bastard but, surprisingly, there are no crimes recorded against him as an adult. Yet. But his father Tommy is a whole different proposition. He’s a long time drug dealer, who has serious anger management issues. He’s been charged twice with attempted murder, although charges were later dropped in both cases, due to key witnesses conveniently suffering last minute memory lapses, just before the court cases were due to start. More recently, he did a four year stretch for possession with intent to supply class ‘A’ drugs, specifically heroin and cocaine. But since he was released from prison three years ago he's kept a low profile, and the latest intelligence reports in his file mention only low-level cannabis dealing. So, although he’s definitely on the cops’ radar, they only have a watching brief on him. He’s not a high priority target for Police Scotland at the moment, as long as he doesn't make too many waves.'

  'Let's check out this Duff character first,' said Annie, nodding decisively.

  'But why? Surely this other guy is the better bet.'

  'Look, I've spoken to the thief twice, remember. Once on the phone and then in person at the bus station. It was definitely the same guy both times and he sounded young and cocky. A typical Glasgow thug and you could just sense that he runs on a short fuse. I don't know for sure, but I also got the impression that he was fairly thick and maybe just following instructions from somebody with more of a brain.'

  'Okay, it’s your call, Annie. Although back in the day, this is what we used to call adopting an HBFA strategy, as described on page one of the rookie detective's training manual.'

  'What's that?'

  'A hunch, based on fuck all.'

  'Hilarious, not.'

  'I'm just saying …'

  'Well don't bother. Just print off that email with the address and get your jacket,' said Annie, picking up her bag and car keys.

  'Yes mam,' said Jack, executing a smart salute, with an accompanying click of the heels.

  Chapter 13

  Sitting in Annie's car, watching the Duff family residence through binoculars, Jac
k observed, 'you don't see the old twin horse’s heads plonked at entrance gates so much these days. They used to be quite fashionable at one time.'

  'Really, where was that?' said Annie. 'Palermo?'

  'But you must admit, they are a kind of crude statement, aren't they?'

  'Yes, they are. They state quite clearly to the world that the person who lives in that house has absolutely no taste.'

  'Agreed. But, trust me, when the people who live around these parts look at the two big four by fours with the blacked out windows, parked outside that house, they have a pretty good idea how the people who live inside make their dough. Tommy Duff is saying loud and proud to the local community, I have money and I have power. And do not dream of fucking with me or laughing at my big fake stone horses, or you will get a very sore face.'

  Yawning widely, Annie replied, 'I'm so glad you're with me, otherwise I'd be missing all of these fascinating insights into the criminal mind.'

  'There's no extra charge for it, Annie.’

  'By the way, aunt Peg sends you her best wishes and she has an idea to try and cheer you up.'

  'Really?' said Jack, hopefully. 'Don't tell me, is it free beer and pies for a whole year?'

  'Not quite. She thinks that you need to get out of your flat more and start socialising with new people, instead of the gang of boring old farts you usually hang around with at the Royal Bar. She reckons you're at an age where, outside of work, it's very easy to get stuck in a rut and end up doing nothing but sit in front of the television. I think she's absolutely right.'

  'So what's she suggesting?' asked Jack warily.

  'Online dating. Everybody's doing it apparently. All ages, shapes and sizes. It's gone totally mainstream.'