Heads or Hearts

by Paul Johnston

  ‘You tested it?’

  ‘See the taped-over section? Yes, I tested it. I’m not a chemist but I think it would blow the minds of many tourists.’ I paused for a couple of seconds. ‘Or citizens.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The Leith Lancers, even though some of them work in the tourist zone, don’t supply drugs to outsiders. They don’t have to, since the Tourism Directorate does that, using the stocks kept in the castle. They supply to ordinary citizens. The point is, who controls the Lancers?’

  ‘I have the feeling you know.’ The guardian was irritated by the way I was playing her, but she still didn’t seem to be hiding anything.

  ‘Derick Smail. I think he was facilitating the Porty Pish’s drug pushing too. It’s a shame the medical guardian’s truth drug went missing.’ I caught her gaze. ‘You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?’

  Her face flushed, but her eyes didn’t leave mine.

  ‘No, citizen, I wouldn’t. Nor do I know anything about Derick Smail’s activities.’

  I turned to the door. ‘Fine. Let’s put the squeeze on him.’

  I was taking a risk presenting my back to her. To my relief, her Guard-issue knife remained in its sheath.

  Davie was outside Derick Smail’s cell. When he saw us approach, he stood to attention but his eyes were restless. I nodded to him to calm him down.

  ‘Put him in interview room two, please,’ I said. That was the one I knew was wired for sound. ‘Then get Eric Colquhoun and stick him in there too.’

  I led the guardian away, but then she took me to the listening station.

  ‘This Colquhoun is the father of the beheaded man’s girlfriend?’ she said.

  I nodded. ‘He’s been a friend of Smail’s since school – and he’s got a record as long as my leg.’

  ‘You think they’re involved.’

  ‘Certain of it. I just don’t know how. If this doesn’t work they’re both getting the twelfth degree.’

  The guardian raised her eyebrows. ‘Torture was banned after the end of the drugs wars.’

  ‘The Leith Lancers taking delivery of five pounds of coke doesn’t strike you as movement towards new drugs wars?’

  She rubbed her forehead. ‘Let’s see what happens.’

  ‘I’ve got another idea before you get out the thumbscrews and pliers.’

  ‘I’m so glad.’

  We stopped talking when we heard the interview-room door open and close. The two men were now together. For over a minute nothing was said. I began to wonder if they knew sign language. It was typical of the austerity of the original Council that a two-way mirror hadn’t been provided. Then again, the original Council didn’t question drugs-gang members, it just killed or – rarely – imprisoned them.

  ‘What the fuck’s goin’ on?’ Derick Smail asked in a low voice.

  The guardian twiddled knobs.

  ‘You fuckin’ tell me, big man,’ Colquhoun replied. The title was honorary, considering that Smail was about half the size of his interlocutor.

  ‘D’ye think they’ve found the shipments?’

  ‘Naw. We’d be in chains.’

  ‘We are locked up. Here, d’ye think they’re listening?’

  Guardian Doris and I exchanged frozen looks.

  ‘Who cares?’ said Colquhoun. ‘They’re wurse than we are.’

  ‘Have we got enough?’

  ‘Nearly. Another week should dae it.’

  ‘Wheesht. I dinnae trust these cunts.’

  And that was it. Audition over.

  After two minutes the guardian asked, ‘Enough what?’

  I shrugged. ‘Search me. Remember what I said about not going after the Leith Lancers? I think you should do now. Maybe they’re not only talking about dope.’

  She looked at me uneasily. ‘What else?’

  ‘With all these outsider leaders visiting the city, don’t you think they might be talking about weapons or explosives?’

  That turned her whiter than a boiled codfish.

  ‘What was your other idea concerning Smail?’ she said after a long gap.

  ‘Stay here and you’ll hear it.’

  I called Davie as I was walking out. ‘Want to act the heavy, Thunder Boots?’

  ‘Act?’

  ‘Ha. Get down to the interview room. We’re going to put on a performance for the guardian.’

  ‘Hold me back.’

  ‘Try not to kill the subject this time.’ Thinking of Yellow Jacko stirred something in the depths of my memory, but it remained stubbornly out of reach.

  We’d only just started on Derick Smail – no application of fists or boots – when the door burst open and Guardian Doris ordered us out. ‘Follow me!’ she yelled, setting off down the corridor at a run.

  ‘What is it?’ I called after her.

  ‘Male body missing a heart at the Salutation.’

  By the time we made it to the esplanade – only mildly damp from the drizzle that had set in – she had lost her breath. Davie, fitter than almost every member of the Guard, had been in touch with the command centre.

  ‘The governors of Orkney and Shetland were having high tea with the senior and finance guardians when the corpse made its appearance. In a wheelchair, would you believe?’ He followed Guardian Doris’s 4×4 down Castle Hill, turning left at Bank Street.

  ‘What the hell were they doing in the Saly?’ I asked. ‘It’s the most old-fashioned place in the city.’

  ‘Maybe the islanders don’t like naked waitresses.’

  We roared down the Mound and were at the tea rooms on Princes Street in a couple of minutes. There were several Guard vehicles outside, a tape barrier having been erected. The tourists were walking round it without interest, their minds fixed on gambling, sex, shopping or simulated death – the New Tolbooth had executions till well into the evening.

  A tall Guard commander led us into the building, which had been refitted as a Victorian establishment, full of cast iron, aspidistras and lace. The smells of fried food and fresh baking made my mouth water. Then I remembered why we were there.

  ‘The senior guardian and his guests were in a private room on the third floor,’ he said.

  Guardian Doris and her gorillas took the lift, while Davie and I stuck to the stairs. We got there last, even though I’d paid only passing attention to the hunting prints on the walls. To think the cream of society used to saddle up to chase foxes. The Lord of the Isles has probably reinstituted the practice, though his ancestors preferred persecuting crofters.

  ‘Citizen!’

  I came back to myself to find the guardian glaring at me.

  ‘Sorry. Where’s the body?’

  We were taken into a large room with a single round table in the centre. It was piled high with silver serving dishes, cake towers and teapots. All the chairs had been pushed on to their backs. The reason why was in a wheelchair, head flung back. The smell here was of rotting flesh, despite the feast.

  Sophia looked round at me. ‘Come and see, Quint.’

  I joined Guardian Doris and looked down at the naked male body. The arms and legs had been tied to the frame with cord. There was a gaping hole in the dead man’s chest. It was crawling with maggots.

  ‘Fuck,’ I said.

  Sophia looked at me dubiously.

  ‘Is this the donor of the first heart?’

  ‘Probably. He’s been dead for at least three days, I’d estimate.’

  I took in the swollen abdomen and blue-veined flesh. ‘Not an auxiliary.’

  ‘Obviously not,’ Guardian Doris said waspishly. ‘The shoulder-length hair and moustache make that crystal clear.’

  ‘As does the state of his teeth.’ They were stained, cracked and worn, despite the fact that the dead man didn’t look over thirty. Citizens do have access to dentists, but the waiting lists are long and anaesthetics are rarely used.

  Davie came in. ‘I’ve been checking how he got here. There’s a service lift. They – two people dressed as
waitresses – came up that way and pushed the others aside before rolling him in here. In the chaos they got away down the back stairs.’

  ‘What about the guardians’ bodyguards?’

  ‘They’d been told by their bosses to make themselves scarce. Apparently they made the governors nervous. They were down in the kitchen filling their bellies.’

  ‘No Guard personnel in Rose Street?’ I asked. It was behind the building and was a pedestrian precinct.

  ‘Yes. Two male citizens in standard-issue overalls and caps were seen getting into a Supply Directorate van, registration number not recorded. Their faces weren’t visible, but I know they were clean-shaven because the waitresses said so. Presumably they’d left a change of clothes somewhere in the building.’

  A slim guardswoman appeared at his side and spoke to him.

  ‘Right. The waitress uniforms have been found inside the back door. The forensics team has them.’

  There was a creak to my left.

  ‘What do you think then, great detective?’

  I looked down at Billy Geddes. ‘Have you been here all the time?’

  He smiled crookedly. ‘I thought it best to keep out of your way.’

  ‘You were at the tea?’

  He nodded. ‘Unfortunately I had my back to the doors, so I can’t help you with the waitresses’ looks.’

  ‘Who else was here?’

  ‘The senior and finance guardians. They’ve taken the island governors back to their quarters in Ramsay Garden.’

  That’s the gaggle of luxury flats to the east of the esplanade where the city’s honoured guests are housed.

  ‘How were they?’

  Billy shrugged. ‘Shocked, but not excessively. From what I’ve gathered, life in the far north has been short and brutish since the oil ran out. Apparently there aren’t many fish either.’

  ‘No doubt the Fergus and Jack double act jollied them along.’

  ‘Quint,’ Sophia said sharply.

  Billy cackled. ‘You can’t stand them, can you, Quint? But without them, life here would be even worse than it is in the islands.’

  Guardian Doris beckoned Davie and me to a corner.

  ‘Why did this happen?’ she asked.

  ‘And who did it?’ I countered. ‘They’re both good questions. It looks like a statement of intent to me.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘They’re saying, “Look what we can do – get to the senior guardian and his guests right in the centre of the tourist zone.” Meaning, nobody’s safe anywhere.’

  I went to Billy and wheeled him over. I knew that would annoy him intensely – he always insisted on getting himself around – and that was the point. I wanted him fiery and loose-tongued.

  ‘Any reason why these particular leaders should have been given this show?’

  ‘Fuck off, Quint.’

  ‘Answer the question, please,’ Guardian Doris said, giving him the eye.

  ‘No … not that I can think of.’

  ‘Come on, Billy,’ I said. ‘Why are they in Edinburgh? What do we want from them and vice versa?’

  ‘That’s confidential.’

  ‘Take him to the cells,’ the guardian said curtly.

  Billy laughed. ‘I’ll be out before you can do fifty press-ups.’

  ‘Very well, we’ll break your bones here. Commander?’

  Davie stepped up and took a hold of Billy’s twisted left arm.

  ‘No!’ Billy shrieked.

  ‘So talk,’ said Guardian Doris.

  ‘We … we want their support with the referendum,’ Billy said, whimpering.

  ‘What?’ I said. ‘How can they support us? And who’s “we”?’

  ‘The Council, of course.’

  The guardian stared at him. ‘That’s news to me.’

  Billy looked at us like we were nursery school kids. ‘The referendum isn’t only taking place in Edinburgh. It’s happening all over Scotland.’ He shook his head. ‘Apart from Commie Dundee and the mad women in Stirling.’

  ‘I’m aware of that,’ Doris said. ‘But each referendum is separate. How can Orkney and Shetland support us?’

  Billy groaned. ‘Where do they find you people? The referendums are just the start. It’s what happens after that really matters.’

  ‘What happens if Scotland is reconstituted,’ I said.

  ‘Which it will be, you can be sure of that.’

  Could I, or even he? How did he know which way the citizens of Edinburgh would vote?

  ‘So the senior guardian is getting other states on his side to bolster his bargaining position.’

  ‘Bravo, Quint! Of course he fucking is. We want Edinburgh to be the capital again, don’t we?’

  I looked at Guardian Doris. She seemed all at sea in a pea-green boat. ‘That doesn’t explain why the heartless body was wheeled in here,’ I said.

  ‘No, it doesn’t,’ Billy said. ‘Over to you, Sherlock.’ He rolled himself over to the window.

  ‘The implication is that some people in the city don’t want Edinburgh to become capital of Scotland,’ the guardian said.

  ‘Or they don’t want Edinburgh even to be part of the new nation.’ I thought about the head and heart symbolism. Was the idea that a no longer independent Edinburgh had no heart? Or head? Or were the two things unconnected?

  ‘The Supply Directorate van,’ Davie said.

  ‘Quite.’ I looked at Guardian Doris. ‘Tonight’s Council meeting would be a good opportunity to ask the senior guardian what’s going on in his fiefdom.’

  ‘It would,’ she said, her eyes wide. ‘If I want to end up on a farm.’

  I knew it. Any shit storm would have to be raised by me. Oh well.

  SIXTEEN

  As it turned out, there was no Council meeting that night. It was rare but not unprecedented. Fergus Calder advised that he had to tend to the city’s guests after their shock. Given what Billy said, I wondered if the senior guardian was running scared.

  I didn’t fancy another post-mortem, so I left it to Sophia and the Tall and Short pathologists. Back in the castle, Davie and I went back to Derick Smail’s cell. Only to find it was empty. A quick check of the other football managers showed they had all gone too.

  I stormed over to the guardian’s office.

  ‘I’m sorry, Quint, it was out of my hands.’

  ‘The senior guardian.’

  She nodded. ‘He said it was essential not to cause citizen unrest with the new season about to begin.’

  ‘But they’re all as bent as a Rose Street exotic dancer.’

  ‘That may be, but with the referendum coming up, no risk can be taken.’

  ‘Fantastic. So illegal betting’s been given the green light.’

  She frowned. ‘You haven’t actually proved that any such thing’s been going on. The forensics team in the recreation guardian’s accommodation has found no hidden documents or diskettes.’

  ‘What about the coke and the treasure trove in the Pleasance?’

  ‘That’s a Leith Lancers operation. You haven’t established a firm link to Derick Smail.’

  I groaned. ‘You heard him talking to Colquhoun. What else are they smuggling?’

  ‘Circumstantial at best. Oh, and by the way, the senior guardian vetoed any action against the Lancers. He doesn’t want chaos in the northern suburbs while there are guests in the city tomorrow and the day after.’

  ‘So we’re just going to sit back and wait for the Lord of the Isles, the Glaswegians and the missing heart to appear, are we? Or more heads to be detached? This isn’t exactly the Public Order Directorate’s finest hour.’

  Guardian Doris gave me a sharp look. ‘There’s no shortage of leads to be followed up, citizen. Kindly do so.’

  I almost told her to kindly stick her head in the toilet bowl, but managed to restrain myself. The thing was, she was right. I went out of her office at speed and called Davie to a meet in the canteen. He was already there.

  ‘Fill a
few holes?’ I said, taking in the pile of plates.

  ‘Getting there.’ Davie was taking bites from a banana.

  I ate some soup and a pork chop. At least heart wasn’t on the menu.

  ‘All right, chief,’ he said, ‘what do we do?’

  ‘Go back to basics.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Nail the outstanding leads.’

  ‘Oh, that kind of basics.’ He looked disappointed. ‘I thought you meant we’d go to Easter Road and pick up where we left off with that shite Smail.’

  ‘It’s a thought, but we need more proof. You saw how he and the others clammed up.’

  ‘All right, what’s outstanding?’ He looked across the room. ‘Apart from that guardswoman’s—’

  ‘Mind on the job, please.’

  He grinned. ‘It was.’

  ‘I’m serious, guardsman. Take notes.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  I glared at him ineffectually. ‘Hume 481.’

  ‘Michael Campbell, poor sod. There’s not much we can do for him now. Or his parents.’

  ‘Wherever they are. No, but we think he was in contact with outsider gangs, as was the late, decapitated Grant Brown.’ I paused. ‘I wonder what Campbell knew about the old church that’s full of treasure. Anyway, we need to get out to the city line and see what’s going on.’

  ‘That should be fun. We’ll need reinforcements.’

  I shook my head. ‘Just you and me. I don’t trust anyone else.’

  ‘Let’s hope I know some of the personnel on the line then.’ His face brightened. ‘They’ve got firearms.’

  ‘What do you need them for? You’ve got your trusty Hyper-Stun. Next, Grant Brown’s foreman in the Housing Directorate. We need to talk to him – he might know what the dead man got up to.’

  ‘Before he was dead.’

  I sighed. ‘There are plenty of ghosts in Enlightenment Edinburgh.’ Immediately Caro’s face loomed up, followed by a succession of others who’d died on my watch, some worthy of death, others definitely not.

  ‘Of course,’ Davie said, looking down.

  ‘Then there’s Grant Brown’s head. How did it get on the spike at the Tolbooth?’

  ‘The Guard squad claimed they didn’t see anything.’

  ‘Let’s go and scare the shit out of them.’