The Last Witness: A DCI Daley Thriller

by Denzil Meyrick

  As he felt Machie’s resistance slacken and saw his eyes beginning to glaze, MacDougall redoubled his efforts. He leaned close in to Machie, focused on the moment when he would see the life leave his body; he wasn’t prepared for the blow to his head that sent sparks through his vision and flashes of pain through his entire body.

  He felt the world slide from under him as he lost his hold on Machie and tumbled sideways onto the deck, the pine planking streaked with rivulets of Machie’s blood.

  MacDougall struggled to retain consciousness as he tried to work out what had happened. As he attempted to force himself from the deck, a kick to his chest propelled him backwards.

  ‘Stay where you are, Daddy.’ As he looked up, through a blur of pain, the vision of his daughter standing over him and pointing a gun at his head was plain enough.

  Daley held onto his seat, all the time trying to keep sight of the slender white fingers that grasped the roping on the side of the RIB. He slammed against the inflated sides of the craft and bounced backwards, losing sight of his DC. Frozen water from the deck soaked his face and took his breath away, as he flung his hand over the side of the vessel, blindly searching for Dunn.

  As the RIB heaved again, Daley was pitched forward. He knew he had only moments left to save his colleague: there was no way she would survive when the boat crashed into the next trough.

  As he was flung forward with the downward momentum, he grabbed a lump in the hard side of the vessel. His heart missed a beat when he felt a hand grasp his; he had her. He gripped Dunn’s wrist with all the strength he could muster and attempted to drag the wretched DC from the water. He managed to pull her slightly upwards but she appeared to be entangled in the ropes on the side of the RIB. Despite his strength, Daley couldn’t pull her free.

  Dunn’s desperate expression burned into him, as the darkness caused by their plunge into the next trough engulfed the boat. His grip on her wrist began to loosen, the numbing cold and the slick water making it almost impossible for him to keep a strong hold of her.

  A shadow passed in front of his eyes, as he watched Brian Scott propel himself out of his seat and grab Dunn by her shoulders. A split second later, his world went black as the RIB crashed back to the sea and his head hit hard against the metal deck.

  39

  MacDougall managed to pull himself into a sitting position, his back resting against the side of the vessel. In front of him, James Machie coughed and spluttered on his hands and knees, rubbing his red, finger-marked neck.

  ‘Don’t move, Daddy.’ Sarah’s voice was flat, emotionless.

  MacDougall looked up into his daughter’s eyes. Her flaxen hair was matted across her forehead and her cheeks flushed by the bitter cold, but she was still beautiful. There was steel there, though, a coldness in her eyes he had never before witnessed. His head sank to his chest as tiredness, pain and a paralysing sadness overcame him.

  ‘No time for a nap, Frankie-boy,’ said Machie, dragging himself to his feet. He stood for a few moments, regaining his balance, then staggered over to Sarah MacDougall, who stood over her father, the pistol pointed at his head.

  ‘Please, Sarah. What—’ MacDougall wasn’t given time to finish the sentence, as Machie’s right boot caught him squarely in the mouth. MacDougall retched from the pain, and spat out his two front teeth in a puddle of blood and saliva. As he tried to focus, he looked up at the two shadows looming over him. ‘Why, Sarah? If you wanted money, all ye had tae dae was ask’ was all he could manage to force through his ruined mouth.

  ‘Why, Daddy? That’s easy. I don’t give a toss about the money. In fact, I knew nothing about your grubby little deal until just now.’ Sarah’s voice remained calm, seemingly unaffected by the sight of her father lying injured and shivering on the deck of the boat. ‘You killed my brother, that’s why.’

  MacDougall was desperately trying to hold onto consciousness. ‘Tommy? I only found out a few hours ago. I—’ Again, his protests were cut short.

  ‘Tommy?’ Sarah’s voice was incredulous. ‘Who the fuck cares about Tommy? He was an arsehole. I’m talking about Cisco, my brother Cisco!’ She screamed his name at her father, her usual composure replaced by desperate grief.

  ‘I didn’t kill him, Sarah. He was a fool,’ said MacDougall, blood flowing freely down his chin.

  ‘Oh no, Daddy, of course you didn’t kill him. You never do your own dirty work, do you? You left that to Gerry Dowie.’

  ‘Aye, yer ain boy. Fuck me, Francis,’ Machie said, a cruel smile on his face. ‘Ye see, fate is a wonderful thing. Yer wee lassie here stumbled across a guy who knew ma brother.’

  ‘Oh, I wondered when this wid a’ blow up,’ said MacDougall.

  ‘So ye know,’ said Machie.

  ‘I suspected. I hoped it wisnae true, but as soon as I heard there wiz this ghost wandering aboot taking revenge on me and mine, well, I knew the polis couldnae fathom it, but they didnae know whit I knew, did they?’ He looked up at Machie, still struggling to focus after the blows to his head.

  ‘She’s a smart wee girl, ye know.’ Machie carried on as though MacDougall hadn’t said a word. ‘She’s been running a great business o’er the last few years – tobacco, drugs – made a small fortune. A real chip off the old block, aren’t ye, darlin’?’ He enveloped Sarah’s shoulders in an embrace.

  ‘I hate you, Daddy.’ Her look was poisonous. ‘You made my mother’s life a misery, and you killed my lovely brother. Gerry’s arsehole son-in-law told me; all it took was a few bags of heroin.’

  ‘So you believe the word of a hopeless junkie?’ said MacDougall, his voice distorted by the loss of his teeth. ‘Aye, makes sense, JayMac – turn everyone against me. As though killing ma boy wisnae enough.’

  ‘Aye, you’re the man, Frankie.’ Machie laughed. ‘Pity a’ yer family are no’ so smart.’ His gaze flitted between MacDougall and his daughter.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Sarah looked at Machie. ‘You told me that Gerry Dowie had Cisco killed, on my father’s orders.’

  ‘I’ve telt ye lots o’ things, darlin’.’ Machie’s stare was blank, suddenly devoid of any emotion and pitiless, like the predator he was.

  ‘Oh, and I suppose you know about what Gerry’s son-in-law told Cisco?’ Sarah said, looking less confident.

  ‘That’s the trouble with people like you,’ said Machie, pushing Sarah from his side. ‘Yous all think that just cos ye’ve got a few qualifications, an’ somebody telt ye that ye were smart, that other people are a’ stupid, and therefore of no consequence.’

  ‘Fuck you,’ said MacDougall, blood bubbling from his mouth.

  ‘Oh, don’t you worry, we’ll come tae the fucking shortly,’ Machie replied, leering at Sarah.

  ‘I’ve only ever cared about two things: Cisco and the truth.’ It was Sarah’s turn to shiver as she looked from Machie to her father. ‘Cisco told me you didn’t care, that you wanted him to leave well alone. He knew something wasn’t right.’ She stared at Machie. ‘He told me that our great-aunt said you had a twin. He knew he was in danger; it was all in his letter.’ A tear slipped down her cheek. ‘Do any of you ever tell the truth?’

  ‘Listen, Sarah,’ said MacDougall, his voice a rough whisper. ‘I begged yer brother to leave a’ this alone – begged him – ye must believe me. He told me he’d heard that Machie was still alive. Like the arse I am,’ he said, staring up at the man who had supposedly come back from the dead, ‘I didnae believe him.’

  ‘Aye, more fool you.’ Machie laughed. ‘Ye’ve got the same problem as yer daughter, here. Ye a’ think yer right a’ the time.’ He smiled patronisingly at the young woman who still levelled a pistol at her father’s head.

  ‘Will somebody tell me the truth,’ she repeated, her hand shaking under the weight of the weapon.

  ‘I think I can have a guess,’ said MacDougall, spitting blood onto the deck. ‘In fact, it’s no’ just a guess. That useless piece of shit that married Gerry’s daughter telt a’ who wid listen. I wi
sh I’d listened mair carefully. But ye cannae blame me; I mean, who wid’ve thought he wid’ve been stupid enough tae come back.’ He continued with a rueful smile. ‘Yer new partner here tracked doon his own twin brother and persuaded him to help him with a wee problem; then, instead o’ the two o’ them living happily ever after in a life o’ brotherly love, wi’ plenty dosh, drugs an’ women, he made sure the stupid cunt would never tell the tale by blowing his heid aff!’

  ‘No!’ Sarah shouted, looking at Machie. ‘You told me that my father and Gerry Dowie killed the man they thought was you in cold blood, and that you were lucky to survive. You said they had Cisco killed because he found out they were behind the ambulance attack and needed to protect their new identities.’

  ‘I wiz lucky tae survive,’ said Machie, his voice patronising. ‘Dae ye think dear old Daddy here wouldn’t have tried tae have me slotted in the jail? Nah, there wiz no way I wiz rotting in there, watching ma back fir thirty years. Fuck that.’ He smiled at MacDougall. ‘Ironic thing is, years ago, your auntie Marion wiz the one who gave me the clue. Telt me how I’d had a twin brother, an’ my poor dear mother could-nae afford the baith o’ us, so wan o’ us got sent tae the country tae distant cousins, or some fuckin’ thing. Guess I drew the short straw.’

  ‘Aye, an’ poor Marion paid the price fir that, ya bastard,’ MacDougall shouted, with all the venom he could muster.

  ‘Ye know fine how auld women gossip, Frankie.’

  ‘Aye, so you killed yer ain brother, but that wasn’t enough, was it?’

  ‘Come on, did ye really think I wanted yer boy runnin’ aboot tellin’ a’ who wid listen that I was alive an’ kickin’?’

  ‘There ye are, darlin” MacDougall’s voice was quiet again, and there were tears in his eyes. ‘James Machie killed yer brother. Oor Cisco.’

  When Daley came to, the sound and fury at the heart of the whirlpool had abated. He was lying on his side in the recovery position, shivering despite the silver thermal blanket draped over him. His head was aching, and his right arm felt as though someone had tried to pull it off. He remembered DC Dunn, and forced himself to sit up. ‘Dunn, is she OK?’

  ‘Aye, Jim, she’s OK.’ Scott’s familiar voice was reassuring. ‘She’s a wee bit battered, but alive an’ kickin’, thanks tae you, pal.’

  Daley focused on another silver blanket, which enveloped a pale DC Dunn. She smiled weakly at him. ‘Thank you, sir,’ she croaked. ‘You saved my life.’

  ‘We’re through the worst, you’ll all be glad to hear,’ said Newell. ‘Since you were incapacitated, I had to make the decision to carry on through Corryvreckan, then out the other side. There was nothing to be gained by trying to turn back. If I’d known the conditions were going to be as bad as they have been, we’d never have left port. We caught an unexpected flare in the damn thing. It can happen – saw it once in the China Sea. Mind you, I was in a bloody destroyer at the time, not this glorified beach ball.’

  ‘What now?’ asked Daley through chattering teeth.

  ‘I’ve called the Coastguard. They’re sending a chopper from Glasgow. It shouldn’t be too long. You and DC Dunn will be evacuated to hospital,’ said Newell, sounding every bit the Royal Navy captain.

  ‘Dunn, yes,’ said Daley, ‘but I’m going nowhere. Brian, get me the radio, will you? I need to talk to the Coastguard.’

  ‘Wait a minute, Jim, yer no’ in good nick. Ye’ve lost a bit o’ blood, an’ it’s fuckin’ freezin’ oot here. Me an’ the boys’ll chase Machie an’ MacDougall.’

  Daley eyed his DS. He looked wet, cold and miserable, but there was something in his face he didn’t recognise. ‘No, no, Brian, I’ll carry on. We’ve got the chance to put this nightmare to bed now, once and for all. I’m not missing this opportunity. Now get me that radio,’ he said, forcing himself to his feet.

  40

  There was an ominous silence as the two boats, tied together, heaved in the heavy swell.

  MacDougall, slumped against the side of the vessel, stared from Sarah to Machie. The former appeared genuinely appalled, while his old partner merely looked bored.

  ‘So what, darlin’?’ said Machie. ‘I telt ye a lie, so fuckin’ what?’ Knowledge is, in the end, based on acknowledgement. Know whit I mean? C’mon, Sarah, blow this cunt away. The past is the past. We’ve got a future together with mair money than either o’ us will ever need.’

  ‘Fuck you!’ she shouted, still pointing the gun at her father.

  ‘That’s the fuckin’ spirit, doll,’ said Machie, curling his lip in anticipation. ‘The auld order changeth. Time tae move on. Go for it!’

  Sarah MacDougall’s face emptied, suddenly devoid of the pain, confusion and revulsion of only moments before. She stepped back, not taking her gaze from her father, and raised the gun with both hands to point it directly at his heart. She stopped, as a sob shook her slender frame.

  ‘Sarah, I love you,’ her father pleaded. ‘I never stopped loving ye, any of ye.’ He looked at his beautiful daughter, the apple of his eye, as she squinted down the barrel of the handgun, ready to take his life. Despite himself, he closed his eyes in a silent prayer.

  ‘I know what you’re like, what you’re all like. Maybe it’s even my true nature, God help me,’ she said. ‘You go all out to get what you want with your charm, false kindness, generosity, empathy, the works. How is anyone to know the truth? And when there’s nothing to be gained, you turn; you turn on friends, family, anyone who’s in your way. Even the ones you love. You are a true sociopath.’ Her hands began to shake.

  ‘Fuck you,’ Sarah shouted. ‘And fuck Wittgenstein.’ In one fluid motion, she pivoted on her heel then discharged two shots in rapid succession.

  Frank MacDougall opened his eyes just in time to see the look of amazement on James Machie’s face as he tumbled backwards over the low side of the boat and disappeared, with hardly a splash, into the freezing sea.

  ‘Darlin’, thank you. Thank you,’ MacDougall croaked, his voice constricted with emotion.

  ‘Believe me, Daddy,’ she said, looking over the side of the vessel. ‘You have nothing to thank me for.’ A wisp of smoke issued from the barrel of the pistol, now held at her side, as she searched the waves for Machie’s body.

  ‘Aye, you’re my daughter, right enough,’ said MacDougall. ‘I’ve seen it mair an’ mair o’er the years.’ Slowly, he levered himself from the deck, then reached behind his back, as though he was about to scratch it.

  ‘Oh, and you’re an angel,’ she replied, not taking her eyes from the choppy waves.

  ‘No, you’re quite right, pet lamb. An angel, I’m certainly no’. So, drop the gun. It’s clear ye’ve still got a lot tae learn.’

  ‘Don’t call me that.’ She spun around to see MacDougall slumped against the side of the vessel, pointing a black revolver at her.

  ‘Families, eh, who’d have them?’ He smiled.

  She was about to reply when MacDougall held his fingers to his lips, a gesture familiar from her childhood, and one that she obeyed. They listened, as from somewhere overhead the powerful blades of a helicopter sounded above the crashing of the nearby whirlpool.

  ‘Quick,’ shouted MacDougall. ‘Get on the cruiser an’ let’s get tae fuck. Help me release these ropes.’ He straightened up, ignoring the pain, all the time keeping the gun trained on his daughter. ‘Think aboot it,’ he said when he saw her hesitate. ‘Dae ye no’ think the polis will work oot whit ye’ve been up tae? Didnae think I didnae have a good idea whit wiz goin’ on? Gie me some credit,’ he said. ‘Fuck me. Wi’ your brains, we can even go legit, but ye’ve got tae help me. Let’s put the past behind us and get away fae here.’

  ‘And what about Mum?’

  ‘Yer mum’s what she’s goin’ tae be; there’s nae betterment there. I’ll make sure she gets the best treatment. There’s things you don’t know, lots o’ things. She’ll be looked efter, I promise ye. Dae ye think she’s been happy stayin’ at the ferm o’er the last few years?’ M
acDougall stood with one foot on the side of the vessel, ready to launch himself onto the bigger boat. ‘It’s obvious the cops are intae yer little business. How long dae ye think it’ll be before ye end up in the same shit I’ve been in a’ ma life?’

  ‘So we just carry on, pretend nothing has happened? Leave my poor mother to rot?’

  ‘The way I see it, we’ve nae choice. Oh, an’ by the way, while we’re talking aboot loyalty tae yer parents, you were the one aboot tae kill me.’

  ‘I wanted revenge . . . for Cisco,’ she replied, scanning the sky for the helicopter.

  ‘Dae ye really think I’d have killed my own son? That’s near as stupid as you thinking JayMac wid have let me live. Look whit he did tae Gerald,’ MacDougall spat. ‘C’mon, Sarah, it’s noo or never.’

  She hesitated for a moment, then jumped nimbly into the other vessel, bending to untie one of the ropes that bound the cruiser to the small fishing boat she and Machie had arrived on, as MacDougall did the same further down the deck.

  ‘Oor only chance is tae make fir a wee bay or somethin’, set the boat adrift and hide oot for a while until they give up. That chopper’ll spot us, so we’ll head one way, then change direction, an’ make for the inlet o’er on that bit o’ land o’er there,’ he said, gesturing at the low smear of coastline in the distance. It was only mid afternoon, but already the light was leaching from the sky.

  MacDougall saw Sarah’s nod, and put his gun away. He limped to the cabin, and in moments the powerful engines of the cruiser roared into life.

  ‘The Coastguard report two vessels, less than three miles from here,’ shouted Newell. ‘One of them is making towards an inlet and the open sea beyond.’

  ‘What about the other?’

  ‘Moving much more slowly, probably drifting.’

  ‘How long will it take us to get there?’ asked Daley.

  ‘Minutes. We’ve got to get Dunn winched aboard the helicopter though,’ replied Newell.