Heads or Hearts

by Paul Johnston

  Raeburn 97 lowered his head. ‘All right. I’ve been doing favours for the Lancers for years.’

  ‘For Hume’s sake, why, man?’ Guardian Doris demanded.

  Rab kept his head down. ‘It gets to you after years – the discipline. No personal property for auxiliaries, sharing a dormitory even in your sixties. I … I wanted my own space.’

  ‘And where’s that?’ I asked.

  He hesitated. ‘A two-bedroom flat in Quarryholes. The Lancers arranged it.’

  ‘What will we find there?’ the guardian asked.

  ‘Nothing like the tourists get,’ he said fiercely. ‘Just a decent sofa and a soft bed. And outsider whisky, mainly malt.’

  ‘I think she meant what will we find that’s either useful to ongoing investigations or incriminating. Or both.’

  ‘I never gave them anything important. Just Guard dispositions and patrol times, that kind of thing.’

  ‘Not important at all,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘You helped those gangs make the north coast a no-go area for the Guard after dark for a soft bed?’

  ‘Give me the address,’ the guardian ordered. After she’d got it, she left to arrange a search of the place.

  Shouting started in the cell next door, though the walls were thick enough to muffle it.

  ‘You got this far, Rab, and you turned it all to shite.’

  He looked up at me. ‘Blast me with that fucking thing, full power. Go on!’

  I understood his anguish – after all, auxiliary life got to me nearly twenty years ago – but I wasn’t going to give him an easy exit. At least not yet.

  ‘I’ll think about it. But I need information from you, names and addresses. Who handled you?’

  ‘There were different contacts over the years.’

  ‘I’ll bring you a pad and pencil – no, I won’t because you’ll ram the latter into your eye.’

  ‘You think you’re so fucking smart, citizen.’ He pulled at the chains and got precisely nowhere.

  ‘Why did Hume 481 kill Muckle Tony? Did he get on to you?’

  ‘Did he fuck. He was in with the Pish. He got rid of Tony because he was told to – otherwise his parents would be turned to mince.’

  That sounded plausible. I hoped the elderly couple had managed to get away.

  ‘I need more, Rab. Did you deal with anyone in the Supply Directorate on behalf of the gangs?’

  ‘Are you going to shoot me?’

  ‘After I’ve got what I want.’

  ‘All right. The deputy guardian, Adam 159.’

  No surprise there. I’d been sure he was dirty.

  ‘The Recreation Directorate?’

  ‘Em, the guardian. The former guardian, I mean.’

  ‘Liar!’ I yelled. Peter Stewart was basically clean, I was sure, even if someone had a hold over him that had driven him to suicide.

  ‘All right,’ Raeburn 97 said morosely. ‘Cullen 366.’

  The female barracks ID rang a bell.

  ‘Alice Scobie,’ the guardsman said, before it came to me.

  ‘That might well earn you a stunning,’ I said, moving to the door. ‘But not yet.’ A long-drawn-out groan came from behind me.

  Davie was waiting in the corridor. It was time to start on Lecky and his men.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  We decided to let them stew for a while. We grabbed a couple of hours’ sleep, then got to it. The builders – and decapitators – were hard to break down. Even Davie’s imaginative threats about how he was going to use a screwdriver and a frying pan got us nowhere. These guys were professionals. Then it occurred to me. They were also Edinburgh citizens with families and friends. Some had gone to ground – or perhaps crossed the border – but we managed to find at least one relative and one friend for each of the quartet.

  ‘So what’s it to be?’ I asked John Lecky, my hand on the shoulder of the pretty, black-haired seventeen-year-old girl who had refused to accompany her mother to Fife six months ago.

  ‘Leave her alone, yeh fuck!’ the prisoner yelled. ‘Fi, are yeh aw right?’

  ‘Yes, Dad. What have you been up to?’

  That was interesting: father had kept daughter out of the circle; also, daughter was speaking the unaccented English that the original Council had insisted on. The only citizens who do that nowadays are keen on raising their social status. Auxiliary training starts at eighteen and I wondered if Fiona Lecky had applied. If so, she might be a useful means of applying pressure. I texted Guardian Doris to check if her name was on the list.

  ‘Nuthin’ for yeh tae worry aboot, darlin’,’ said John Lecky, glaring at me. No doubt he was embarrassed by that display of paternal affection.

  ‘He’s been cutting people’s heads off,’ I said, deciding on shock tactics. ‘Among other things.’

  ‘Dinnae believe them,’ Lecky said, smiling at his daughter. ‘Yeh ken how worked up these eedjits get aboot nuthin’.’

  Fi Lecky looked horrified. ‘You haven’t really been decapitating people?’

  Father kept his mouth shut but shook his head.

  We hadn’t found the hacksaw so I couldn’t brandish it in front of her. What I could do was show her the photos.

  ‘You didn’t,’ she said, her voice high.

  ‘Ah tellt yeh Ah didnae.’

  She looked at me. ‘Is he lying, citizen?’

  ‘Well, he came after me with a saw. And a rifle. And the house he’s been staying in is full of guns and other illegal weaponry. So, yes, he’s lying.’

  ‘How could you, Dad?’ she moaned, tears blurring her eyes.

  While Lecky proclaimed his innocence, I looked at my phone. Doris had replied.

  ‘Right, you,’ I said to the prisoner. ‘Do you know that Fiona here has applied for auxiliary training?’

  ‘Whit?’ The shock on Lecky’s face was genuine enough. ‘Are yeh oot o’ yer mind?’

  I moved closer to him. ‘You’ll be aware of what happens to the family of people convicted of major crimes.’

  He hung his head. ‘Aye.’

  ‘Do you really want your daughter to spend her life on the city farms? Or cleaning tourist toilets?’

  ‘Ah dinnae care,’ he said after a pause. ‘If she’s dumb enough tae want tae be one o’ yeh, she can take what she gets.’

  Fi stifled a moan, her face soaked.

  I nodded to Davie.

  ‘Remember what I said about the screwdriver and the frying pan?’ he said, his mouth close to Lecky’s ear. ‘Regulations permit us to use persuasive methods on family members.’

  ‘Dae they fuck!’ yelled the prisoner.

  ‘It’s a recent development,’ I said. ‘Very recent. Since you’ve been removing heads, in fact.’

  ‘Shite!’

  ‘All right, commander,’ I said. ‘Take the girl down to Room 111.’

  ‘With pleasure,’ Davie said, pushing Fi ahead of him.

  ‘Yer bluffing, ya cunt.’

  I met his gaze. ‘The Council’s given me full powers to investigate this case. And full means what’s going to happen to your daughter and the relatives of all your pals. You can be sure some of them will talk.’

  ‘No they willnae.’

  I didn’t reply, occupying myself by sending texts to Doris and Davie. The former reported that two of Lecky’s group had started to talk, while I told the latter to take Fi Lecky to the canteen.

  I informed her father that his sidekicks were already spilling their guts and that his daughter was about to be stunned.

  ‘Which is a shame,’ I added, ‘as she’s pretty stunning already.’

  ‘Dinnae!’ John Lecky screamed. ‘Dinnae dae anythin’ tae her.’

  I shrugged.

  ‘Aw right, I’ll talk,’ he said. ‘Fuckin’ bastards.’

  I called Davie and told him to lay off the girl.

  ‘He’s opening up?’

  ‘Correct. Out.’

  Then John Lecky told his tale.

  Four hours later we compared notes
.

  ‘I can’t believe this,’ Doris said. ‘Do you think the two other arms dumps are the only ones in the city?’

  ‘Obviously we can’t be sure,’ I said, ‘but all three of them gave the same addresses. Have the properties been secured?’

  ‘Fully,’ the guardian said.

  ‘Good.’

  ‘It’s hard to believe that Lecky’s little gang was able to bring so much over the line,’ Davie said.

  ‘According to him, they had help,’ I said. ‘The Dead Men.’

  ‘Glaswegians,’ the guardian said. ‘They’re supposedly out of the city now.’

  ‘I don’t believe that. Remember “approved by H”?’

  Doris stared at me. ‘We can hardly arrest the chief of the Glasgow police.’

  I smiled. ‘Maybe not yet.’

  Davie scratched his stubble. ‘So Grant Brown was working for Lecky both as a builder and as a gangster. Why did they cut his head off?’

  ‘According to Lecky, Grant had a big mouth,’ I replied. ‘He talked to team mates who were in the Pish, so he had to be dealt with. I think Lecky was wrong, because we never heard anything about it from them. Besides, they needed a head to put on the Tolbooth.’

  ‘To up the pressure on us,’ the guardian said. ‘You don’t think there’s any connection between these scumbags and the people responsible for the hearts?’

  ‘Could be, but I haven’t heard anything to support that.’ I looked at my notes, which were extensive. ‘What we do know is that auxiliaries in the Supply and Housing Directorates were involved, providing transport and properties.’

  ‘I’ve had Adam 159 and his opposite number at Housing brought in,’ Doris said.

  I picked up my pen and pointed it at her. ‘I think there are rotten apples in the Public Order Directorate too, in addition to Warden Rab and Hume 481.’

  The guardian’s head snapped back. Davie didn’t look too happy either.

  ‘It stands to reason,’ I said. ‘How did they manage to get the first head on to the spike at the Tolbooth? How did they manage to throw the second head through the Walter Scott Rooms window from one of the most heavily patrolled streets in the city? How did they manage to stick the guardsman’s head on the writer’s statue on Princes Street? They had to have Guard personnel looking the other way.’

  Guardian Doris grabbed the pencil from my hand. ‘Those are serious and, as far as I can tell, uncorroborated charges, citizen.’

  Quint had obviously been consigned to the dustbin as a form of address. I raised my shoulders. ‘It’s true, no names or numbers have been mentioned. Maybe you’d like to check the patrol rosters covering the relevant times and places.’

  She threw my pencil to the floor and stormed out.

  ‘Nice one,’ said Davie dourly.

  ‘I’m only starting – while you have the joy of watching the guardian grill Uncle Joe and making sure she doesn’t cut him any senior auxiliary slack.’

  ‘You’re only starting what?’

  I laughed. ‘Wait and see, big man.’

  He didn’t like that. If he’d known what I was planning to do, his countenance would have been even grimmer.

  Late afternoon. Sophia was at home – she always spent an hour with Maisie after school. That suited me. I took a taxi from the Lawnmarket rather than a Guard 4×4 – this was a private visit. On the way down the Mound, the clouds parted for a few moments and a dull sun shone down. Then it disappeared and the rain started again. There was a metaphor in there for contemporary Edinburgh, but I couldn’t be bothered to dig it out.

  ‘The guardian is not to be disturbed,’ said a pale-faced female auxiliary.

  ‘Tell her who it is.’

  When she was on her way back, Maisie pushed past her and ran into me. That hurt.

  ‘Hello, man with the funny name.’

  ‘Hello yourself,’ I said, moving her head gently backwards. ‘Doing your homework?’

  ‘Finished it already,’ she said, smiling proudly. ‘Do you know what a quadratic equation is?’

  ‘You’re a bit young for those, aren’t you?’ I said, trying to cover my memory failure. I was sure I hadn’t been able to do them.

  ‘That’s what Mother said.’

  Sophia appeared in the hall.

  ‘Isn’t she a bit young to be calling you Mother?’

  ‘It’s her idea.’ Sophia glanced at the auxiliary. ‘At least, I hope it is. That’ll be all, Simpson 492.’ She watched as the woman went into the office to the left. ‘Come on, there’s tea.’

  ‘And scones,’ put in Maisie.

  ‘Scone,’ Sophia corrected. ‘Quint can have it.’

  ‘You’re too kind.’

  After a while Sophia let Maisie go to her room.

  ‘She’s crazy about maths. I can’t keep up with her.’

  ‘Me neither. Well done with the measles outbreak, by the way. You kept that quiet.’

  ‘It’s what guardians do, Quint.’ She poured me the last of the tea. ‘Right, what do you want?’

  ‘Charming.’

  ‘These are difficult times.’

  ‘I noticed. Alice Scobie.’

  Sophia was immediately on her guard. ‘What about her?’

  ‘You must have heard talk.’

  ‘I hardly know her.’

  ‘Come on. Guardians and deputy guardians attend briefings and functions. You must have met her often enough.’

  ‘I have, but I never spoke to her beyond the usual greetings. I don’t know – she’s one of the abrasive ones who eye up their guardian’s seat from the day they’re appointed to a directorate.’

  ‘I think she’s dirty.’

  Sophia raised an eyebrow. ‘Where are you going with this? Oh, no, you don’t …’

  ‘I can’t ask Guardian Doris. She’s a friend of Scobie’s and she thinks she’s clean.’

  ‘No, I’m not going to let you access her file.’

  I took out my authorization and held it up.

  ‘That doesn’t apply to guardians’ records.’

  ‘Of course it does. Even if it didn’t, I’d expect you to give me special consideration.’

  She laughed. ‘You like taking advantage of me, don’t you?’

  ‘Hugely. And I’ll be hugely grateful.’

  ‘We’ll see about that.’ She shook her head. ‘All right, come on.’

  She led me upstairs to her private office. ‘Make yourself at home – as you always do.’

  I went over to the large Victorian desk and opened her laptop. ‘Password?’

  ‘I’ll do that. Look away.’

  I buried my face in her midriff. Which was good.

  She giggled, a rare occurrence. I was tempted to make the most of it, but time was also pressing.

  The Council has its own archive, for which Sophia had to input another password and I did more burying.

  ‘What is it you want to know about her, anyway?’ She smiled cattily. ‘I wouldn’t have thought she was your type.’

  ‘If she’s dirty, she’s definitely my type.’

  ‘But I’m not dirty.’

  I laughed. ‘Not in that way.’

  She gave me a slap that was probably meant to be playful.

  ‘Right. Cullen 366, Alice Buchanan Scobie, born 23/9/1996, parents members of the original Enlightenment, father former labour guardian – I remember him, he was reliable. Died relatively young – yes, 2014. Alice attended Primary School Number 3 and High School Number 2, then went for auxiliary training. Under-sixteen and under-seventeen city high-jump champion, also achieved honours for netball and weightlifting. Won numerous Education Directorate prizes for academic performance.’ I clicked through the pages. ‘Guard reports uniformly excellent. Served a year extra on the city line, six bravery awards. Then chose to enter the Recreation Directorate.’ Again I ran my eyes down the text. ‘Look at this. All her superiors give her glowing reports until Peter Stewart. He calls her “over-zealous”, “concerned more with herself than th
e directorate”, even “disobedient”. At least that was until two years ago, when she became deputy guardian – which is a surprise, judging by the guardian’s comments. Why did he choose her? Suddenly she’s “extremely supportive”, “the most dedicated auxiliary I’ve ever had the honour of serving with” and “a credit to the city”. No wonder she succeeded him. But why did he change his attitude towards her?’ I went back through the file and found no explanation.

  ‘Maybe she was in a relationship with him.’

  I went to the first page. ‘She’s classified as “homo”.’ Which might explain her friendship with Doris.

  ‘Maybe she just fell for him,’ Sophia said, grabbing my head. ‘It does happen, you know.’

  ‘But you’re not “homo” or “bi”. Surely Alice would have identified herself as the latter if she swings both ways.’

  Sophia’s forehead furrowed. ‘What are you getting at?’

  ‘That she had some kind of hold over him, not necessarily sexual.’ Guardians and their deputies are strictly forbidden to get involved sexually or romantically – the original Council saw that as dangerous for the smooth running of directorates.

  ‘Like what?’ asked Sophia.

  I leaned back in her ergonomic chair. ‘Peter Stewart killed himself over the football betting scheme. It’s a fair bet that his deputy was the one who set it up.’

  ‘On whose authority? There was never anything approved in Council.’

  ‘Good question. I’d better ask her.’

  Sophia looked dubious. ‘Would she tell you?’

  ‘Probably not, but she must have the records of the scheme somewhere. They were removed from the Recreation Directorate database – or perhaps they were never in it. Peter Stewart would have had access, but Scobie or one of her sidekicks got to his computers.’ I decided against telling Sophia that we had Stewart’s diskette. In any case, it didn’t name anyone in authority.

  ‘She’s got powerful backing,’ Sophia said.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Well, no one gets on the Council without the senior guardian’s approval.’