Heads or Hearts

by Paul Johnston

  ‘Maybe he – or she – wanted to be sure,’ said Sophia.

  ‘Wanted to make sure Muckle Tony didn’t survive,’ I said.

  ‘That’s your department, Quint,’ she said.

  ‘Shame there wasn’t anything up his nose or down his throat.’

  The medical guardian looked at me coolly. ‘This was a human being.’

  ‘A multiple murderer who removed a young woman’s heart, arms and legs.’

  ‘Oh. Come with me, Quint,’ she said, turning on her heel.

  I went after her and we ended up in her office with the door closed.

  ‘How can an incarcerated drugs-gang leader’s death have anything to do with what was found yesterday?’ she asked, from behind her desk.

  ‘I don’t know if it has,’ I said, sitting down and putting my boots on the desk.

  ‘Off!’ she said firmly, as I’d hoped.

  ‘Trousers?’

  ‘Grow up, Quint.’

  ‘Speaking of which, how’s Maisie?’

  Sophia was the first guardian in office to have had a child, a sweet but precocious six-year-old whose idea of fun was looking at anatomy books.

  ‘Her manners are a lot better than yours.’

  ‘Maybe I could come round and see you both. When this case is over, of course.’

  ‘These cases can take a long time, Quint.’

  ‘Not if I can help it.’ I stood up and leaned over to kiss her.

  ‘Finish the case,’ she said after our tongues had reconnoitred thoroughly.

  ‘I’m on a promise, right?’

  She sighed, but there was a smile on her lips when I left.

  Davie picked me up outside the infirmary.

  ‘Hume 481, the night warden, has disappeared.’

  ‘One of your lot. Do you know him?’

  ‘Of course. He’s thirty, has a spotless record, and has done five tours on the city line. After the last one ended a month ago he asked to be put on dungeon duty.’

  ‘Interesting. What’s his name?’

  ‘Michael Campbell,’ he replied. ‘I presume we’re going to the castle.’

  ‘No, we’re going to your barracks.’

  ‘You’d better not stir things up there.’

  ‘No, no, I’ll just let the usual complement of dirty auxiliaries get on with ripping off the city.’

  The rain came on again, stair rods from heaven.

  ‘We don’t have dirty auxiliaries in Hume,’ Davie said, his brow furrowed.

  ‘Let’s see about that.’

  Ten minutes later we were at the barracks, the traffic confined to buses and taxis, and citizens on bikes. It was in St Leonards, to the south-east of the centre, in a block that had housed a police station in pre-Enlightenment times. It was an eyesore, but Hume personnel were renowned for sticking together, as if the lack of a decent barracks made their communal spirit stronger.

  Davie led me in, nodding at auxiliaries. He’d been based at the castle for years, but he still turned out to support the Hume rugby team. The barracks commander’s office was on the first floor.

  ‘A pleasure, Citizen Quint,’ Hume 01 said, getting up from behind his desk. ‘I’m a great admirer of your work.’

  I glanced at Davie, who must have been aware of that but hadn’t bothered to tell me. Senior auxiliaries who approve of what I do are as rare as bedbugs in a tourist hotel.

  I nodded to the heavily built commander. The Hume canteen had a reputation for big servings and there was no shortage of large personnel.

  ‘Call me Stew,’ he said, touching his badge. His full name was Stewart MacBride.

  ‘Call me Quint,’ I replied, ‘without the citizen.’ No way was I calling him by his first name. There weren’t many auxiliaries I was on friendly terms with and I didn’t even know this one. Besides, I was about to get up his nose.

  ‘Michael Campbell. Why’s he bolted?’

  The commander immediately took the huff. ‘We don’t know he’s done any such thing. He could have been in an accident, he could have taken ill, he could have—’

  ‘Used his knowledge of the city line to cross it.’

  ‘That’s a highly offensive suggestion.’

  I shrugged. ‘Call the infirmary and the control centre, Hume 253.’

  Davie looked happier being addressed that way. A few minutes later he shook his head. ‘No reports of Mike in the system.’

  ‘I need to see his file,’ I said to Stew.

  That brought about the usual display of reluctance, but he handed it over before I had to flash my authorization. I started turning the pages.

  ‘Excellent physical fitness … commendations for bravery … no blots on his disciplinary record … heterosexual, not in a longstanding relationship … intelligence level B2 … member of the barracks athletics team, long jump and pole vault. Interesting combination.’ I looked up. ‘Anything you want to add?’

  The commander shook his head.

  I kept going, stopping when I reached the Family page. Six months ago the Council decided to allow auxiliaries to have monthly contact with their relatives, something that had been banned before to ensure their primary loyalty was to the city.

  ‘I see he didn’t miss a visit to his parents, even when he was on border duty.’

  ‘I believe that’s the case.’

  ‘John and Val Campbell, 15 Wardie Road.’ I looked at Davie. ‘What’s the nearest barracks? Scott?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Get them to send a patrol round right away.’

  ‘You think he might be there?’ the commander asked. ‘We checked a couple of hours ago. He wasn’t, but they were. Everything was fine.’

  ‘You didn’t think to leave anyone with them?’

  ‘No. Frankly, I think the idea of 481 being up to no good is ridiculous.’

  ‘I’ll convey that to the Council this evening.’

  He looked like a barracuda had attached itself to his backside.

  ‘There’s a patrol round the corner,’ Davie said. ‘They’re on their way.’

  We waited, not for long.

  ‘No one there,’ he said. ‘And the front door was open.’

  ‘Any damage, blood?’

  He asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Any sign of them having packed clothes?’ Citizens aren’t issued with suitcases because there’s nowhere for them to go. ‘Hangers on the floor by the wardrobe, that kind of thing?’

  Again there was a pause after he asked the question.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Get them to ask the neighbours if they saw the Campbells leave and call you back.’ The likelihood of citizens helping the Guard wasn’t great, but with the relaxing of regulations you never knew.

  I caught the commander’s eye. ‘Are you a hundred per cent sure there isn’t anything you want to tell me about missing Mike? You and I both know that personnel reports don’t tell the whole story.’ I glanced at Davie. ‘How about you?’

  He shook his head, but Hume 01 sat stiller than a statue.

  ‘There is one thing,’ he said eventually. ‘His post commander on the border told me unofficially that 481 crossed the line during his last tour.’

  ‘When was that?’

  ‘Three days before he finished – June the twenty-seventh.’

  ‘Then he had a week off and started his spell in the dungeons.’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘Why wasn’t it noted on his record?’

  ‘He told the commander that he wanted to pick brambles. You know how early they come nowadays.’

  ‘Pick brambles?’ I said, astonished. ‘And the leader bought it?’

  ‘Apparently he came back with a whole rucksack full.’

  And what else, I wondered.

  SIX

  The Scott patrol called Davie as we arrived on the esplanade. I spoke to them.

  ‘There’s no sign of a rushed departure, citizen,’ said the guardswoman. ‘We’ve checked the clothing in the wardrobe an
d chest of drawers. All that’s missing is what they’d have been wearing.’

  That’s one of the few advantages of the Supply Directorate. All citizens are issued with a standard number of shirts, sweaters, trousers etc., so it was possible to see if anything was missing. Of course, there was the black market but it was more directed towards drugs, cigarettes and jewellery, all still banned though not, of course, to tourists.

  ‘What about the neighbours?’

  ‘Nobody saw anything. To be fair, most people are at work. Do you want us to haul some of them in?’

  ‘What, old ladies and the like?’

  ‘Em, yes.’

  ‘Em, no. Get your vehicle picked up and take up positions in the house. You never know, parents and son might just be out for a walk.’ I cut the connection and gave the phone back to Davie.

  ‘What now?’

  ‘We need to do some research into Muckle Tony Robertson’s gang. If it’s still active, we need to nail the lot of them and squeeze their nuts.’

  ‘Rather you than me. The Leith Lancers do what they like, with very sharp instruments.’

  ‘Could Yellow Jacko have had him killed?’ The Lancers and the Pish had been sworn enemies for years.

  ‘His people might have got to the night warden – threatened to take a knife to his parents.’

  He was right, but it wasn’t a pleasant thought.

  We walked up to the command centre. I was hoping Guardian Doris wouldn’t be around – there was a lot I either had to tell her or keep quiet about. There was no sign of her. Davie sat down in front of a terminal and hammered at the keyboard.

  ‘Shite,’ he said after a few minutes.

  ‘As in?’

  ‘As in the fuckers are all either dead or have disappeared, no doubt over the city line.’

  ‘How many were there?’

  ‘That we know of? Seven, including two women.’ He called up the relevant mug shots.

  ‘At least neither of them has long blonde hair.’

  ‘Could be a wig.’

  He was right about that.

  ‘Let’s have a look at Yellow Jacko’s crew.’

  ‘The Portobello Pish.’

  ‘They’ve been around for years.’

  ‘Aye. They’re still operating on their home territory. Shall we go and rattle their cages?’

  ‘Maybe later. Let’s have a look at their faces.’

  Four men with threatening expressions appeared, then one woman with short red hair, a yellow star tattooed on her forehead and a ring through her left nostril.

  ‘Mavis “Maybe Not” Forbes,’ Davie said, shaking his head. ‘I nailed her once. She nearly had my eyes out – nails like eagle’s claws.’

  ‘I think we’d better have another chat with Jacko Greig.’

  ‘I think not, Citizen Quint.’

  I turned and there was the public order guardian, her face greyer than a citizen-issue sausage.

  ‘He’s in the infirmary. Can you explain that, commander?’

  Davie had stood up. ‘Yes, guardian. He came at us and I had to use restraining force.’

  ‘His small intestine is ruptured.’

  ‘Ah.’ Davie bowed his head.

  ‘Ah, indeed. Citizen, come with me.’

  I followed her to a meeting room off the command centre.

  ‘Progress report, please.’

  I confirmed that Davie had told the truth about Yellow Jacko – that scumbag deserved everything he got. She already knew about Muckle Tony’s supposed suicide and Hume 481’s disappearance – there was still no sign of him or his parents, she said.

  ‘There must be more, Quint,’ she said, dropping my rank at last.

  ‘There is, Doris,’ I said, returning the favour. ‘Are you sure you want to know it?’

  She smoothed back her lank hair. ‘Only if it directly concerns this directorate.’

  I could see what she was doing. As a recently elevated guardian, she was still establishing her authority over her own patch. Playing high politics with the likes of Jack MacLean was well beyond her.

  ‘All right. The heart was put on the centre circle at Tynecastle by a young woman with long blonde hair.’

  ‘How did you—?’ She broke off, raising a hand. ‘I don’t want to know, but I hope you were discreet.’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘We can hardly go through the entire citizen roll compiling a list of young blondes. There must be thousands now.’

  ‘That was my thought.’

  ‘And now you’re looking at the gangs.’

  ‘The Portobello Pish are still strutting around on the northern shore. I have a feeling that there’ll be Leith Lancers in action too.’

  ‘Do you really think common criminals would carefully cut out a heart?’

  ‘They might have been operating under instructions.’

  ‘From whom?’

  I raised my shoulders.

  ‘No one in Edinburgh would do something so calculatedly savage.’

  I left that highly contentious assertion unanswered, though the hearts in Glasgow and Inverness suggested she might have been right – was there a single individual behind all three extractions? I wasn’t going to tell her about the hearts in the other cities though – not yet. Foreign affairs weren’t her concern and besides, I had plans for that information.

  ‘There’s something else,’ the guardian said. ‘Alec Ferries, the Heart of Midlothian manager, has disappeared. The recreation guardian just told me. Apparently he hasn’t been seen since last night. He lives alone.’

  There was a heavy knock before I could respond and Davie’s head appeared.

  ‘Excuse me, guardian. A male body’s been found in the Union Canal by the Boroughmuir playing fields.’

  ‘Heart missing?’ I asked.

  ‘No,’ he said emphatically. ‘Head.’

  The rain had slackened, but the streets were still treacherous. We were there in ten minutes, lights flashing but no siren – the Council doesn’t like to scare the tourists. Davie might have given a few blasts, but Guardian Doris was in the back seat. A couple of Guard vehicles were already on scene, paramedics lifting a sodden corpse on to a tarpaulin. I saw the rubber-covered heads of three divers in the canal. The water level was high and the flow rapid. I heard a quick blast of ‘When the Levee Breaks’, Bonham’s drums thundering and Plant’s harp screaming. What Memphis Minnie would have made of it, only the god or devil of blues knows.

  This time I managed to grab a Guard-issue rain-jacket. I went over to the body, casting an eye over the surroundings. The grass was sodden and footprints would be hard to pick out.

  ‘Male, citizen-issue clothing, no ID,’ said the guardsman in charge. ‘And no—’

  ‘We can see that,’ I interjected. ‘Who found him?’

  ‘Her.’ The guardsman pointed at a middle-aged citizen holding an umbrella in one hand and the lead of a small black dog in the other. Pets were another of the Council’s recent innovations. In the height of the drugs wars, cats and dogs had been eaten by the starving citizenry. In the years of austerity that followed, nothing could be spared to feed the few animals that had lain low.

  I went over and asked her name.

  ‘Ann Muir,’ she said, shivering.

  ‘What did you see, Ann?’

  ‘That … horror,’ she said, pointing at the body, which was now covered by a transparent plastic sheet. ‘It was stuck against the side over there.’

  I made out a broken wooden prop that was projecting into the flow.

  ‘Did you see anyone else?’

  ‘Anyone alive, you mean?’ She glared at me as if I was responsible.

  I nodded.

  ‘No, but with the rain like it is …’

  ‘Do you often see people here?’

  ‘No. It’s usually just me and Bobby.’

  The dog was pulling at the lead, showing extreme interest in the corpse.

  ‘Go with the guardswoman and make your report,’ I
said, patting her on the shoulder. ‘Then get out of those wet clothes.’

  Her head jerked back as if I was propositioning her. I wondered how she’d coped with the compulsory sex sessions. Not well, I hazarded. Another triumph for the Council.

  I went back to the guardsman. ‘Was the body fixed to that piece of wood or had it just been caught by it?’

  ‘It wasn’t tied on or anything. I’m thinking it floated down and bumped into it.’

  ‘Which means we’ve no idea where it was dumped.’

  ‘Looks that way, citizen. The divers are looking for the head, but with this current it could be anywhere.’

  ‘Let’s get the body to the morgue,’ I said to the paramedics.

  ‘I agree,’ said Sophia, who had just arrived. ‘There’s not much we can do here except certify death.’

  I went over to Davie. ‘Get a squad to comb the playing fields.’

  ‘That’s already happening. We might be lucky.’

  ‘Aye,’ I said, looking up at the grey heavens. ‘And bacon rolls might fly.’

  In the morgue Tall and Short were busy, removing clothing, scraping beneath fingernails, taking photos and so on.

  I led Sophia to a corner.

  ‘You’ll have heard about a prisoner from the dungeons being brought in?’

  ‘The live one, you mean. What was he known as? Yellow—’

  ‘Jacko.’

  ‘Yes. He’s out of surgery.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘He had a heart attack when he was in the recovery room. The chief cardiologist says he’s unlikely to survive.’

  ‘Fuck.’

  ‘You needed him?’

  ‘It would have been good to have another conversation with him.’

  ‘I’ll let you know if there’s any change. Oh, and regarding the dead one.’

  ‘Muckle Tony Robertson.’

  She nodded. ‘There were significant traces of flunitrazepam.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘In the old days it was used as a date-rape drug. It was slipped into drinks and people woke up remembering nothing, having been sexually assaulted or robbed. More to the point, it’s not available in the city and never has been.’

  ‘So someone brought it over the line.’

  Sophia nodded. ‘I don’t think our drugs gangs are up to manufacturing it.’

  ‘Guardian?’ called the tall pathologist.