by Lin Anderson
‘Pinpricks of pain,’ Sissons had recorded. ‘Perhaps inflicted for sexual gratification. As Dr MacLeod has recorded, both blades were relatively dull, only the points sharpened.’ He paused there. ‘The major incised wounds, however, were made by a different instrument. Sharp, clean-cut wound margins demonstrate a keen blade. Deeper at the entry point, with tail abrasions. Such wounds can be less dangerous than stab wounds, but in both cases I believe the wielder knew where to inflict the most damage. I suspect what was used was a long sword, heavy and very sharp, and whoever was wielding it was intent on death.’
The couple had been there to fight one another, Rhona thought, even to inflict real damage. Hence the small stabbings on the legs and elsewhere. Probably for sexual satisfaction. If so, the female had inflicted, or been encouraged to inflict, the most damage.
If they were on the Orlova to play such games, why had they died by another’s hand?
Someone offered more money to kill them, was her immediate thought. Or were they killed as a warning to someone?
All of which got them no nearer to finding out who the dead were, or their killer. Only unravelling Go Wild would do that.
Before leaving, she confirmed with Dr Sissons that they would need to do a comparison between the pool of vomit found at the scene and the stomach contents of the deceased.
Once washed and changed, she called Chrissy and told her how it had gone.
‘You sound knackered,’ Chrissy said sympathetically. ‘Still, you were right about both scenes.’
‘But no closer to discovering the identity of the victims or the killer.’
‘Not strictly our job,’ Chrissy reminded her. ‘You coming for a drink?’
‘Not tonight. I’m off out on a date.’ Rhona told her the unexpected news.
‘With Dr Walker?’ Chrissy tried.
Rhona laughed. ‘No, he’s still cutting up bodies, and I’m pretty sure he’s lost all interest in me. I think I’ve been replaced by one of the mortuary assistants, Rachel.’
Chrissy sounded disappointed, since discussing complicated love lives was one of her favourite pastimes. They’d spent most of breakfast discussing the McNab/Ellie/Baldy story from last night.
‘Who then?’ she demanded.
‘Sean. He’s booked us a table at the Ubiquitous Chip for dinner.’
‘Mmmm. Lucky you.’
‘I’ll see you tomorrow, when I won’t be telling you what happened.’
29
The boss was scrutinizing him as only he could.
‘What are you suggesting?’ DI Wilson finally said.
‘That the two cases are connected via the Go Wild company, so they should be followed up together, sir,’ McNab said.
‘Has this got anything to do with your face, Sergeant?’
McNab had his answer ready.
‘We located a Glasgow address for Go Wild. DI Cleverly and I took a look. It was abandoned, but I found something there that led me to believe that an illegal bare-knuckle fight had been arranged by the company.’
DI Wilson sat back in his chair. ‘And you went to this fight?’
‘Just me, sir. DI Cleverly didn’t know about it.’ He halted, seeing the boss’s expression.
‘You withheld this information from Cleverly?’
McNab cleared his throat. The next bit of the explanation was tricky since it might involve mentioning breaking and entering.
‘I revisited the former Go Wild office address after we parted company, sir. That’s when I found the invitation.’
McNab held his breath as DI Wilson interpreted this partial information, then quickly broke in before the boss could pose a further question.
‘The fight was held at an abandoned warehouse. It was a bout between a local called Kenny and a Londoner – they called him the posh fucker – who’d paid for the privilege of putting the guy down, sir, but then he proceeded to stamp on his head.’
‘And you intervened at that point?’
‘I think he’d paid to kill him, sir.’
‘Did they learn you were a police officer?’
McNab indicated no. ‘It seemed wiser not to mention that, sir.’ He paused. ‘The fight club is a direct link with Go Wild. We could put an undercover officer in there and maybe learn more. I’ve discussed that possibility with DS Campbell, plus what I’m about to say next, sir.’
He waited for the boss to indicate he could continue.
‘So far, the company has been linked to four deaths. Three on the Orlova plus the fire victim, all under our jurisdiction. I got the impression from Cleverly that the Met is not happy about that, which is why he won’t share anything with us regarding identifying Ms Richardson as the deceased. Plus Dr MacLeod and I had a meeting with Ava Clouston last night.’ McNab began to outline to the boss exactly what had been discussed, before ending with, ‘I think I should take a trip to London, sir. A reciprocal visit, so to speak.’
‘How’d it go?’ Janice said when he finally reappeared.
‘As we hoped. At the next strategy meeting we’ll consider the Go Wild connections to the four deaths under our jurisdiction.’
‘With no help from the Met?’
‘I’m off to London,’ McNab said with a smile. ‘Two can play at Cleverly’s game.’
‘Good stuff.’ Janice looked impressed. ‘Want to see what Ollie just sent through?’ She turned her screen towards him.
The facial reconstruction of the fire victim sat alongside an image they had of Olivia Newton Richardson.
‘Well?’ Janice said.
‘Could be, then again, maybe not. I’d like to see what the super recognizer thinks.’
McNab made his usual visit to the cafeteria en route to IT, this time choosing two iced doughnuts as an offering since Ollie’s girlfriend wasn’t around to see.
When McNab produced the doughnut bag with a flourish, Ollie took a look inside, then horror suffused his face.
‘I can’t eat those.’
‘Maria isn’t working today,’ McNab reminded him, before extracting a sugary concoction and taking a bite.
Ollie fought off his fear of Maria’s wrath and helped himself to the other one.
They munched together for a moment as Ollie brought up the images McNab had just viewed.
‘Okay,’ McNab said. ‘You’re the super recognizer. Is that her or not?’
‘I can’t be sure,’ Ollie admitted.
McNab nodded. That was good enough for him. ‘So how or why did she have Ms Richardson’s handbag, wallet and cards?’ It was a question he didn’t expect an answer to and Ollie didn’t give him one. ‘How’s the mobile doing?’
‘Remotely wiped and set to factory settings before it was found.’ Ollie looked a little guilty, as though that was his fault – or perhaps his guilt was the result of having eaten the doughnut.
‘Okay, let’s move on to Go Wild,’ McNab suggested.
‘I’ve been following up shell companies that may be linked to Go Wild. Remember the Scottish Limited Partnership registered here in Glasgow that was used to transfer £160 million out of Russia last year?’
‘You think Go Wild involves Russian money?’ McNab said.
‘Not just Russian. American, European and British too.’
‘So how does it work?’ McNab said.
‘You outline your Go Wild fantasy and they supply it at a cost. The important thing is they promise no comeback for whatever you choose to do.’
‘That could account for what happened at the fire death and the ghost ship,’ McNab said. ‘Which reminds me. Who’s dealing with the computer equipment from the Orlova?’
Ollie wasn’t sure.
‘Find out what’s on that equipment. We’re all in this together now.’
‘Will do,’ Ollie said.
‘Now, the bloke who tried to destroy my good looks,’ McNab said. ‘Known as the posh fucker. Arrived in a limo with darkened windows. Had a couple of minders.’ His mind flashed back to their arms pinning him
as the fucker got stuck in. Then the different face swimming above him, urging that they leave.
‘He’s a felon?’
If he was they might find him in a database.
‘I think more like a member of the county set,’ McNab said, realizing how impossible that made it. Little wonder no one had been allowed to take photos.
As he rose to leave, Ollie said, ‘There’s one other thing you should know. We’re not the only ones digging into Go Wild on the dark web.’
McNab immediately expected Ollie to mention the Met. He didn’t.
‘An investigative journalist . . .’
‘Ava Clouston,’ McNab finished for him.
‘She’s covering her tracks well, but maybe not well enough,’ Ollie said.
30
It was already approaching dusk as Ava watched the cow being loaded onto the truck and driven away. Mother and child butchered in the space of a couple of days. What the hell was going on?
A squally wind tugged at her hair, covering her face again. She’d forgotten how irritating the combination of long hair and an Orkney wind was and vowed to have it cut soon, and as short as possible.
A grey Scapa Flow seethed with the moving tide and gusting wind, the MV Orlova rising and falling in its wake. Like a curse on the landscape, Ava thought.
Or was she the curse for having written about it, for trying to discover its secrets? Maybe she should give up? Maybe then the killing on the farm would cease?
Her mobile buzzed and she checked it anxiously to find it wasn’t Dougie. He hadn’t been here when she’d got back mid-morning and she’d heard nothing from him all day. Erling had said he’d taken off with Finn, too upset to wait for the dead cow to be removed.
It was what Dougie did when things got too much for him. Head off on foot with the dog or take out his beloved boat. Seeing the seething waters of the Flow, Ava hoped it was the former, but she would have to check to be sure.
Her heart jumping a little, she made her way to the boathouse, all the while repeating the mantra that the Fear Not would still be inside. Even before she reached there, she knew it had gone . . . but where?
Her first thought was Hoy, because it was one of Dougie’s favourite islands. If he was over there, chances were he wouldn’t have got her text messages. Ava clung to that thought for comfort.
Checking the contents of the boathouse, she thought some of his camping gear might be missing. Surely if he planned to stay away, he would get in touch to tell her? Ava wasn’t so sure he would. Anger at her London trip, followed by a cow being killed in her absence, might just mean he’d keep her waiting and in the dark as to where he was.
He was seventeen, he’d reminded her constantly. A man. He didn’t need to answer to her any more. Just the way she chose not to answer to him.
A feeling of defeat accompanied her back to the house. That and the terrifying thought that Dougie might have had something to do with the animal deaths in order to persuade her to stay.
It was a ludicrous thought, but once it lodged in her brain, it demanded to be considered. On the other hand, if the cow deaths were connected to the Orlova investigation, that meant there was someone on Orkney with a vested interest in shutting her up.
How realistic was that? Not very, she thought. A local was unlikely, which meant it had to be an incomer with links to Go Wild. And, if they wanted to shut her up, why not just shut her up permanently?
Mark had sent her home to Orkney because he believed it to be the safest place in the present situation. Although I didn’t tell him about the dead calf, she thought.
That brought her thoughts back to where they’d begun. With Dougie. Was her wee brother capable of killing the cows in an attempt to make her stay here with him?
Remembering his face when he showed her the calf strangled by the wire made her want to weep. Dougie was a farmer, a natural one. He could no more stab a cow than she could.
Reaching home, she pulled the big kettle onto the hot ring of the Aga, then tried to call Mark, intent on running the latest developments by him. What she didn’t expect was to be told the number was no longer operational.
Why would that be the case? Her sensible side moved in to quash the fear. Mark had a number of mobiles. Stopping the use of one was par for the course, especially during an investigation. Her mind conjured up a vision of his face, which had resembled the detective’s last night. Who had jumped him and why?
Ava admonished herself. Mark was more than capable of looking after himself and had done so in far more dangerous places than London.
As is Dougie and as am I. It was a comforting thought but stayed only fleetingly.
She headed upstairs to check out Dougie’s room. Surely if he’d decided to stay away for a few days, there would be evidence there to prove that.
Walking into his room after so long (he’d never allowed her to enter when resident) brought back memories of the little boy she’d left behind. He had worshipped his big sister because she’d indulged him constantly. Twelve years’ age difference had made her into a second and more accommodating mum. And she had relished it.
The bedroom now was not the one she’d left behind. This wasn’t a boy’s room any longer, but a young man’s. Dougie had become a grown-up, and the death of both his parents had hastened that.
Shaking herself, Ava checked for possible missing clothes, for his rucksack. Then she spotted the most significant missing item of all.
Wherever he had gone, Dougie had taken his laptop with him.
31
Anchored in the waters of the small, sheltered inlet, he had a clear view of Houton Bay and the rusting hulk of the ghost ship.
Here, all was calm, but out there was a different matter. The Fear Not had braved the waves on the way over, Finn at the bow, but Scapa Flow was now made rougher by the changing tide and a rising wind.
Dougie laid his hand on the collie’s head, whispering words of endearment while the intelligent eyes watched him intently, ears on high alert.
The sun was sinking into the west, the sky a fiery red line below a threatening cloud mass. He felt the first sting of raindrops on his face as he started up the engine.
He had been sailing these waters since he could first handle a boat, encouraged by his father. Before that he had sat in the bow like Finn, confident that his dad could take them safely to wherever he chose.
Now it’s my turn, he told the dog.
The engine purring, the small boat began to trace a line across the calm waters of the bay. Two seals, who’d been his curious companions while at anchor, followed until the bow of the boat hit open and choppy water. Halting there, they regarded his departure from safety with large questioning eyes.
A wave broke over the bow, soaking Finn, who still stood as resolute as a figurehead. Dougie tasted salt on his lips, washed off intermittently by the raindrops that fell from an increasingly leaden sky.
There was a moment’s hesitation as he grew closer to the Orlova. A shift to port or starboard would decide. Finn, sensing his hesitancy, offered a little whine of encouragement.
Dougie had no need of it. He knew where he was going, and it wasn’t home.
32
McNab swirled the whisky round the glass, then paused to admire the colour before tasting.
He’d made the right choice with the Caledonian Sleeper, although it had been a rush. He wasn’t a keen flyer and by the time he’d agreed things with the boss, it was too late to get himself on a late flight anyway.
This way he would wake up in the centre of London, and avoid having to find a place to stay.
The boss had called him in again after his trip to IT, and it was obvious there had been a development. McNab had rarely seen the boss so angry. Whatever attempts he’d made to secure more cooperation from the Met had seemingly fallen on deaf ears.
The most likely next step, from what he could gather, was that the Orlova investigation would shift to London. The excuse being that the ship had been in
international waters until the storm had blown it ashore on Orkney.
‘What about the fire death?’ McNab had immediately asked.
‘That’s where you come in, Sergeant.’
So here he was, sitting comfortably, having enjoyed a satisfactory meal, drinking his dram, all of which made up for the fact he would wake up in London.
There were three others in the bar with him. A couple of businessmen who were deep in a combative conversation about work, and a single female. Late twenties and classy, she was currently reading a book and enjoying a cocktail the barman had mixed for her.
She’d noted his bruised face on entry, and had quickly tried to cover her reaction. Meeting this with a grin had resulted in a warm return smile from her. In fact, at this moment, McNab was considering trying to draw her attention to him again, rather than the book.
As he took possession of a second whisky, his mobile vibrated in his pocket. Hoping it might be Ellie phoning to discuss when she would be free to come to the dinner party, he was initially disappointed to find Ava Clouston’s name on the screen.
‘What’s up?’ McNab said.
‘I can’t reach Mark. His mobile’s out of action and his landline just rings out.’
McNab could hear the mounting fear in her voice, and Ava Clouston hadn’t struck him as a woman who scared easily.
‘Text me his address. I’ll go round there.’
There was a short silence. ‘You’re in London?’ she said.
‘I’m on my way there now.’
‘Is this to do with Go Wild?’
‘It’s police business, that’s all I can say.’
The tense silence that followed made McNab ask, ‘What’s happened?’
‘My brother’s disappeared. He took off after the cow was found stabbed to death.’
‘Does DI Flett know?’ McNab said.
‘I’ve spoken to Erling. He knows Dougie does this when he’s upset. He did it when our parents were killed in the car accident.’ She sounded as though she was trying to persuade herself. ‘Erling believes he’ll be back when he’s thought things through.’ She halted there and a pregnant silence followed.