The Killing Tide

by Lin Anderson

  Fetching her food from the microwave, she refilled her glass and settled down to eat. A series of incoming emails from Erling offered a set of initial flashlight photographs taken at the scene, to give her context. The body in the first set was in its original position lying below the high-water mark.

  He was on his front, head turned to the right. Dark skinned, with close-cropped black hair, he was wearing a light-coloured shirt, black trousers and shoes. The images were of a high resolution, but lighting had obviously been a factor in the quality of the resulting photographs.

  The second set had been taken in his new position above the waterline. They’d managed to maintain the pose and it was obvious they’d moved him just enough to not be encroached on by the incoming tide.

  Studying the images at closer quarters, Rhona was inclined to agree with Erling’s conclusion that the body hadn’t been long in the sea. Cold water slowed decomposition and the water round Orkney was cold enough to do that.

  Daylight would begin early tomorrow, so the sooner she could arrive to view the scene in reality, the better.

  Setting her phone alarm for the morning, she realized she had a missed call from McNab’s number. She contemplated calling back, then decided against it. Bill would explain where she was and why, and if McNab had managed to collect evidence for DNA analysis, Chrissy was there to start processing it.

  Still, it seemed ironic that McNab would arrive back in Glasgow just as she left again for Orkney.

  Packed and ready, Rhona climbed into bed and, glancing at the time, realized there was little sleep to be had between now and take-off.

  43

  Glasgow was well known for rain in all its forms . . . from a penetrating drizzle to the full ‘stoating down’ version. What he hadn’t realized was that it could stoat down in London too.

  McNab had attempted to stay dry by standing just inside the allotted Underground exit, but the crowds of people trying to get past him were pissing him off even further. Why would Cleverly choose a busy place like Leicester Square to meet if it wasn’t designed to punish him for coming to London in the first place?

  When the Met officer had eventually called him back, he’d apologized about the earlier misunderstanding, saying he’d been held up at work. ‘You know how it is, Sergeant?’

  McNab had known it was a lie, but he’d kept his temper in check and asked for an alternative meeting place and time.

  He checked his watch again, knowing it was barely past the time he’d last looked at it. It was also fast approaching the hour when he would need to start thinking about making his way back across London to Euston and the overnight train home.

  Scanning the crowds again, he finally spotted Cleverly approaching – or thought he did. McNab stepped out into the pouring rain. At that moment the bustling crowd surrounded him and he almost lost sight of the detective. He halted, checked again and spied him. He imagined Cleverly had spotted him too because he raised his hand in recognition.

  Just as McNab acknowledged his presence, Cleverly appeared to change his mind, turning to duck into a nearby doorway.

  Almost simultaneously, McNab felt the sharp point of a blade in his lower back angled towards his kidney. ‘Get in,’ a voice said, forcing the point in deeper. ‘Or you’re dead where you stand.’

  He had seen the result of enough knife attacks to know that the threat was real enough. Better alive in the back of the van than bleeding out on the pavement.

  The dark interior got even darker as a black bag was thrust over his head. He couldn’t see his attackers, but he could still scream abuse at them. Until the needle was plunged into his neck.

  ‘Shut the fuck up, Jock pig’ was the last thing he heard before his world collapsed and all the angry words died in his throat.

  44

  ‘Why was Erling really here?’ Dougie said when the car drove away. ‘Was it about me? I told you I was coming home, didn’t I?’

  Dougie’s sudden arrival with Erling there had been awkward, although she’d been overjoyed to see him home again. Erling, perhaps sensing this, had simply welcomed Dougie with a smile, and made a swift departure.

  ‘His dad came round earlier to offer you help with running the farm. Erling was talking to me about that.’

  Dougie’s expression changed from anger to one of surprise. ‘Is that possible?’

  ‘We’re definitely going to talk it over with him,’ Ava said, glad she had some good news at least. She stopped there, struck by something. ‘Where’s Finn?’

  ‘Outside,’ Dougie said.

  His face clouded over again and she thought maybe the collie was hurt in some way. ‘Is something wrong with Finn?’

  ‘No,’ he said sharply. ‘I have something to show you.’

  Ava’s immediate thought was he’d found another dead cow, but when she asked, he shook his head impatiently and beckoned her outside.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘The byre.’

  Dougie led the way, moving so quickly that Ava had to almost run to keep up with him. He’d put on his head torch and the beam bounced along the muddy track before them like a runaway ball. Ava’s brain was racing with thoughts of what it might be that was so mysterious. None of her imaginings were good.

  Now at the barn, he threw open the door. ‘It’s me, Finn,’ he called.

  The dog gave a little welcome bark and jumped up from the hay where he’d been lying.

  It was then Ava saw the girl, her eyes blinking in the sudden light. Ava was aware she was staring, open-mouthed, but couldn’t help it. Had Dougie found the girl here? If so, how long had she been in the barn and who was she?

  She turned to Dougie, hoping her startled expression asked all those questions.

  ‘Her name’s Nadia,’ he said. ‘She’s from the Orlova.’

  Before she could comment, or even absorb this, he continued, ‘She’s a witness to what happened there. If the men from Go Wild find out she’s alive, they’ll come looking for her and kill her like the others.’

  The girl had said nothing, her teeth chattering from cold and, Ava suspected, fear.

  Dougie rushed on. ‘I told her you’re trying to expose Go Wild. I told her you would help. She’ll give you her story. Once you publish it, she’ll be safe,’ he said, his expression determined and pleading at the same time.

  The girl was staring up at her, like a rabbit frozen by oncoming headlights.

  If she was the only witness to what had happened on that ship, then what Dougie had just said was true. Whatever she thought of the danger to Mark or herself from investigating Go Wild, it was nothing in comparison to the girl’s possible fate.

  She reached out to draw the shivering girl to her feet. ‘Let’s get you up to the house. Don’t be frightened. You’ll be safe here with us.’

  Once they were inside, Ava locked the door. ‘Although,’ she said, to assure the girl, ‘Finn always lets us know of approaching visitors. Plus we can see the headlights of any car that turns onto our road.’ She urged Nadia to the seat next to the stove. ‘Come on, let’s get you warmed up, then we’ll get some food into you.’

  ‘I promised her warm bannocks with bacon,’ Dougie said, his face flushed with relief.

  ‘Then bannocks and bacon it is,’ Ava said, welcoming the chance to do something practical.

  The girl hadn’t yet uttered a word. With a name like that, might she be foreign? Ava wondered what age she was, where she’d come from and why she’d been on the ship in the first place. But she knew those questions would have to wait for now.

  ‘Tea, coffee or something stronger?’ Ava said. ‘I have beer or Orkney gin?’

  Seeing the girl’s reaction to the word gin, Ava immediately fetched the bottle and, pouring two shots, handed her one. They downed them together, almost like a toast. Ava topped up their glasses again, pleased to see some colour coming into the girl’s cheeks.

  ‘Now we eat,’ she said.

  Devouring the spread Ava set out b
efore them prevented conversation for a while. Ava noted it was the most enthused she’d seen Dougie about food since she’d returned home. Up to now, his habit had been to take any meal she’d prepared to consume alone in his room.

  As the plates were cleared, Ava suggested Nadia should head for bed. ‘I’ll take you up and show you where everything is. We can talk properly in the morning.’

  The girl glanced at Dougie, who nodded his encouragement. ‘Finn will come with you. Keep you company.’

  The girl smiled her thanks, then turned to Ava. ‘You won’t tell anyone I’m here? Please.’ They were the first words she’d uttered, and the fear in them was obvious.

  ‘I won’t. I promise,’ Ava said.

  Dougie looked up as Ava arrived back in the kitchen. ‘You can’t tell Erling she’s here. No one must know. No one,’ he stressed, his face determined.

  Ava fetched her mobile and set it to record. ‘Tell me about the Orlova. Tell me everything.’

  The story poured out of him, like a tide rushing to shore. His trip first to the bay on Hoy, then out to the ship. His fear on the ladder, then finding the bloodstains where the bodies had lain. The terrible smell of burnt flesh that lingered in the computer room. He’d halted briefly at that point, his eyes haunted.

  He told her how Finn had led him down to the bowels of the ship where they’d discovered the cell-like room she’d been living in. Her initial attack as he’d broken into her hideout, then Finn showing her that they weren’t going to hurt her.

  ‘We drank Polish vodka and ate the remainder of the food I’d taken from home,’ Dougie said. ‘That’s how I persuaded her down the ladder and into the boat. I promised her warm bannocks and bacon.’

  His face broke into a tentative smile. Something Ava hadn’t seen in a long time.

  ‘You’ll record what Nadia tells you tomorrow? I’m certain there’s more to her story.’

  Ava realized he believed in the girl . . . totally. She wanted to do that too, but in her job you couldn’t just accept everything someone told you. There was no questioning Nadia’s fear of being found, but why be so afraid of being found by the police? Why was Erling a threat?

  The girl had told Dougie she was a virtual prisoner on the Orlova, yet she’d been working for Go Wild for a while. Had she entered their employment willingly? What had they asked her to do for them during that time?

  ‘What?’ Dougie said, catching her expression.

  Ava forced a reassuring smile. ‘Nothing really. Let’s talk in the morning. Nadia’s safe. You’re safe. That all that matters for tonight.’

  When Dougie went upstairs, Ava poured herself another gin. Having held her emotions in check since Dougie’s safe return, she now allowed herself to face them head on.

  She’d promised not to reveal Nadia’s existence. Promised. How could she keep her word without being on the wrong side of the law? The girl was a possible witness to murder and the workings of the company she was currently investigating.

  If only I could talk this over with Mark.

  The huge hole she’d made in both her personal and professional life by walking out on their relationship gaped open in front of her. She recalled his beaten face, his determination to pursue Go Wild, even if he was being watched by the Met.

  He told me to come home, while he stayed in the firing line.

  The dilemma she was in stared back at her. She desperately wanted to tell the girl’s story. What a scoop that would be. Her editor would never turn it down, despite his reservations about Mark. But if she did that, Erling, Magnus, Rhona, everyone who’d been involved in the Orkney part of the story, would know she’d broken the law or, at the very least, defied it.

  Taking a deep breath, she picked up her mobile and, saying a silent prayer, dialled Mark’s number again, only to hear the same grating message signifying an unknown number. The short and pleading email she then sent, asking Mark to get in touch as it was an emergency, bounced back almost immediately. Mark had disappeared off her radar and there was no way of reaching him.

  Despair swamped her. She gave it time to ebb and flow, then re-emerged to try an alternative. She would have to be careful what she said to the Glasgow detective, but she could at least check if he’d succeeded in making contact with Mark.

  Bringing up McNab’s name, Ava pressed the call button.

  45

  They were over the cliffs at Yesnaby now. Rhona had spent most of the flight across the Highlands studying the photographs from last night, keeping her mind off the fact she was up in the sky with only a rotary blade keeping her there.

  Interspersed had been the co-pilot’s enquiry as to why Chrissy wasn’t with her this time.

  ‘Too much work to do in Glasgow,’ she’d told him.

  ‘She’s an enthusiastic flyer,’ he’d said, somewhat wistfully.

  ‘Chrissy’s enthusiastic about most things,’ she’d assured him.

  ‘A busy love life too?’

  ‘Usually.’

  ‘So I’d have to stand in line?’

  ‘Chrissy likes being pursued,’ Rhona had offered as way of encouragement.

  There were a few moments of thoughtful silence before he drew her attention to where they now were.

  ‘There’s where the Orlova came ashore.’ He indicated a series of jagged cliff faces, frothed by crashing waves. ‘It was some job getting personnel on board and then towing the ghost ship into Scapa Flow.’

  Rhona could see what he meant.

  ‘Your bay is just ahead. After that’s the bigger Skaill Bay and the Neolithic Skara Brae settlement. Magic place.’

  They were dropping towards green fields and grazing cattle. Rhona spotted a row of police vehicles parked along a farm track and someone waving up at them. It appeared Erling was there as promised.

  Minutes later she thanked the crew and, dipping her head, walked towards his tall figure.

  ‘You’re back,’ he said with a smile. ‘Although I wish it was under better circumstances.’

  ‘All in a day’s work,’ Rhona said. ‘But the scenery always helps.’

  He pointed the way ahead. ‘It’ll take ten minutes or so to walk there.’

  ‘I’m glad to have my feet on solid ground again,’ Rhona assured him.

  Erling brought her up to date as she got kitted up. How a local farmer had spotted what looked like a body on the beach late yesterday afternoon and called it in.

  ‘I’d been expecting a body to turn up from the Orlova,’ he admitted. ‘And I don’t think it’ll be the last, although the tide might deposit them elsewhere on the islands.’ He went on, ‘The beach we’re heading for is easily accessible. If the body had been spotted at the bottom of the cliffs it would have been another matter.’

  ‘So nothing like Kilt Rock,’ she said. ‘That’s good.’

  ‘The weather’s set to stay breezy and dry, but the light will start to go by nine o’clock,’ Erling said as they reached the beach. ‘Just give us a shout should you need anything.’

  The seashore was small and curved, tucked between two headlands. The great slabs of rock that Orkney was famed for framed it with shingle and sand layers between. Here the air was ripe with the smell of seaweed, fresh and rotting, while clouds of small flies rose to follow her as she walked towards the cordoned-off area.

  Stepping across the tape, Rhona approached the tarpaulin and carefully drew it back.

  The young black male lay on his front, his head to one side, partially exposing his right cheek. The images taken last night in fading light had been, she acknowledged, a poor substitute for seeing the real thing.

  Her first thought was that the sea had been kind to him, the low water temperature delaying bacterial action on his body until he’d reached the shore at least. His back hadn’t been feasted on by fish. Nor had the rocks of Orkney battered and broken his skin. In fact, in this position he looked virtually intact, apart from the wound just visible on the right side of his neck.

  Rhona tilted his h
ead a little for a better view. Even at this angle you could see his neck had been sliced with a sharp implement, the wound most likely stretching from ear to ear.

  Often it wasn’t possible to distinguish injuries inflicted before a body entered the water from those inflicted afterwards, by rocks, sea creatures or even boat propellers. Not in this case, though.

  Turning the head a little had also exposed the GW insignia on the shirt collar. If there had been any doubt that the body had come from the Orlova, there was no longer.

  By the time she’d requested help with turning him over, the wind had strengthened, indicating that any tent they might have erected wouldn’t have stayed upright for long. The light, however, had remained as promised, allowing her the opportunity to study the victim face on.

  The frontal evidence of feeding had been more obvious, his eyes partially consumed, the soft fleshy lips nibbled on, as well as general feasting at the knife wound.

  When she’d completed her examination, four officers had helped lift the waterlogged remains onto a stretcher and carried it up to the waiting van, just as the sky was welcoming the advancing dusk.

  ‘Well timed,’ Erling said as they walked to his vehicle. ‘Even in Orkney, the day ends eventually. Now if it had been midsummer . . .’

  ‘I remember it well,’ Rhona said with a smile.

  ‘How long do you want at the mortuary?’

  ‘Just enough time to bag his clothing and photograph and tape the unclothed body. He’ll get a full forensic examination at the PM.’

  ‘I’ve had a report back from the second search of the Orlova,’ Erling told her. ‘They found a hidden room in the hold, possibly created for drug smuggling, where someone had obviously been living. Looks like you were right, someone might have been there when we searched before. I assume you’ll want a look in the morning?’

  She would, Rhona told him.

  Her mobile rang just short of Kirkwall. Answering it, she found Bill keen to know how the day had gone. Rhona gave him a brief résumé of the recovery of the beach body, plus Erling’s latest find on the Orlova.