by Lin Anderson
He also knew that if the police were to be given a chance to bring some of the people involved in these crimes to justice, then they must be told the whole story. Which meant they had to be able to question Nadia properly. Get her to identify suspects.
Even identify the dead.
He thought of the body washed up on the beach at Yesnaby. She’d said it was Guido, but that couldn’t be confirmed without her. And there would be others. The sea would return to land what it had been given. If they’d thrown Guido overboard, then it was likely they’d done that with the others too.
Nadia had only survived because she’d hidden. She knew everyone on that ship, and had worked on another before the MV Orlova. She’d viewed how many rich clients? How many famous customers?
She was stirring now, sensing perhaps that she was being observed. He watched as the fear in her eyes softened when she saw him.
‘What time is it?’ she said, half sitting up.
‘Early,’ he said.
She noticed his bare legs and feet. ‘You’re all wet,’ she said.
‘I was paddling. It’s flat calm in the bay and the two seals are back.’
She’d watched them a few times, from the safety of their hideout.
‘Are you hungry?’ he said. ‘I can mix some of the dried food with water from the burn.’
She nodded, aware that was all they had left.
He emptied some into the metal bowl and added water, watching it swell, unable at that moment to look her straight in the eye. He wasn’t sure whether he should tell her that he’d called for help or, when Magnus came, pretend it was a surprise.
Handing her the dish and spoon, he urged her to eat. ‘I ate something earlier.’ He hadn’t, but she didn’t need to know that.
Yet another secret.
Her face shut down a little then and he realized she was getting better all the time at reading him, his moods, and maybe even his thoughts.
He took himself outside, just in case.
Magnus had known the bay of which he spoke and had assured Dougie he would leave immediately.
‘Don’t tell anyone else yet,’ Dougie had implored. ‘I want to speak to Ava first myself and explain.’
Magnus had readily agreed, before telling him, ‘Ava has released everything online. It’s all out there now, including parts of Nadia’s story.’
Dougie’s mix of relief and fear had almost overwhelmed him in that moment, so he’d said a quick goodbye and urged Magnus to hurry.
Why didn’t I tell Nadia that? he thought. It was what she wanted.
As if on cue, she appeared behind him.
‘They’re still there,’ she said, pointing at the bobbing black heads. ‘It’s as if they’re on guard.’
‘This is their bay,’ he said. ‘We’re the interlopers.’
‘We should leave,’ she said.
He swivelled round to look at her. ‘And go where?’
‘Back.’ She pointed across the Scapa Flow towards Orphir. ‘I’ve decided to hand myself over to the police, on condition I’m interviewed in Glasgow by the detective Ava talked about.’
Dougie, too surprised to immediately respond, just nodded his agreement.
‘So how do we get back?’ she said, obviously pleased there were no arguments to be fought over it. ‘Light a big fire on the beach for the coastguard?’
It was time to tell her. ‘I’ve made a call to Magnus at Houton.’ He explained who that was. ‘He has a boat and is coming for us.’
He wondered how she would react, and was surprised and relieved when she just gave a little nod and slipped her hand in his.
70
‘Nurse Jenny!’ McNab said with a smile. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t come back sooner to repay my debt to you. Things got a little busy.’
Having stopped dead on spotting McNab in the waiting room, the young nurse now observed him in horror. ‘What happened to you this time?’
‘I’m fine,’ McNab said. ‘It’s my mate, in there.’ He gestured to the swing doors through which Jack Winters had been wheeled.
At that moment Firash appeared, thankfully carrying two coffees instead of an assault rifle.
‘Firash, Nurse Jenny. My saviour last time I was here,’ McNab said.
Firash offered her a devastating smile and a small bow, which almost made her blush.
‘I owe Nurse Jenny money for a taxi fare,’ McNab said. He indicated his empty pockets and looked to Firash to come up with the goods. ‘Twenty pounds, wasn’t it?’
Firash looked slightly abashed. ‘I’ll go and find a cashpoint. Can you direct me to one?’
Nurse Jenny smiled and gave a few concise instructions, after which Firash headed in that direction.
‘So,’ she said to McNab. ‘What exactly is it you do?’
McNab didn’t see any reason not to say. ‘In Scotland I’m known as the polis,’ he told her.
She nodded as though she’d expected as much. ‘It was either that,’ she said, ‘or the Mafia.’
‘Can you find out how my mate’s doing?’ McNab said. ‘He seemed pretty bad when we brought him in.’
‘If he went through there, then he’s in surgery. Someone will eventually come out and tell you how that went.’
Firash came hot-footing it back and handed her a twenty-pound note. When their eyes met, McNab imagined a spark between them, probably a result of the euphoria he felt at getting Jack here at least alive.
‘Firash is currently working with me at—’ He gave the name of the Afghan coffee shop. ‘I can recommend both the coffee and his company.’
At that moment a doctor appeared through the swing doors, as promised by Nurse Jenny.
‘Detective Sergeant McNab? If you could come this way, please.’
Nurse Jenny gave him an encouraging nod. Firash, on the other hand, was wearing his serious and concerned expression again as McNab followed the doctor back through the swing doors.
On the other side, the doctor stopped and turned. ‘Mr Winters survived surgery and is now in intensive care, if you would like to see him?’
When McNab nodded, the doctor added, ‘He’s not conscious yet and you can only stay a few minutes.’
The doctor led him down a corridor and into the IC unit. McNab had visited places like this before, in the process of doing his job, but it never got any easier.
The man who’d saved his life now lay in a bed in danger of losing his own. Pulling up a chair, he recalled Winters’s last words to him when he’d promised to get him out of there. ‘Good luck with that,’ he’d said before he’d closed his eyes.
McNab had wanted to question the doctor on the odds of him surviving, yet at the same time he didn’t want a definitive answer on that. Better to sit here for a few moments in hope than in despair.
They had called it in to the Met shortly before Nurse Jenny had turned up. McNab had got Firash to make that call and his own name hadn’t been mentioned.
His intention was to see Winters out of surgery and then leave. Get cleaned up and go back to Glasgow. He had no wish to meet Cleverly in the interim, whatever good words Winters had had to say about him.
As for the posh fucker . . .
That particular pet hate would have to wait a little longer to be satisfied. This time it would be done by the book.
Before he left, McNab took Winters’s hand and, leaning close, said, ‘Thanks for everything, mate. I’ll buy you a pint next time we meet.’
McNab rose to go, then halted as Winters’s eyes flickered open for a second. Taking heart from that, he nodded. ‘See you later, mate.’
Firash appeared slightly agitated on McNab’s return to the waiting room.
‘What’s up?’
‘There’s a couple of cops in reception, one in plain clothes.’
‘Okay, we find an alternative route out,’ McNab said.
They followed the sign for the hospital cafe, then exited and doubled back for their vehicle.
‘What now?’ Fi
rash said as he pulled away.
‘I catch the train north.’ McNab couldn’t believe how happy he was to say that.
Sometime later, cleaned up and, most importantly, fed, McNab pocketed the rest of the cash from selling Mark’s stuff and yet another mobile, and proceeded to say his goodbyes.
They were all lined up: Abu-Zar, the older man who’d welcomed him into the fold; counter guy, who turned out to be called Bahnam, which according to Firash meant ‘an honourable man’; Harim, the bulge of the gun still visible.
And Firash, looking bereft.
McNab thanked them all and promised to be back, although he still wasn’t sure if they fully understood his Glasgow accent.
Back in the vehicle and on his way to Euston Station, he told Firash to remember to get in touch with Nurse Jenny. ‘That way you can find out how Winters is doing, and let me know.’
The small smile that played on Firash’s lips suggested that was perhaps already in hand.
‘If the posh fucker is still here in London, I promise you we will find him.’
‘When you do, remember, he’s all mine,’ McNab said.
They shook hands at the entrance to the station and Firash wished him well in his own language – at least, that’s what McNab translated it as. He also told him there was a very good Afghan restaurant on Bridge Street in Glasgow. He should go there in honour of their friendship.
McNab promised that he would.
Picking up his ticket, he headed for the sleeper train. He’d spoken to the boss already and had told him roughly what had happened, promising the full story when he got back. In return, DI Wilson had informed him that Nadia Kowalski and Ava Clouston were due to arrive in Glasgow within the next twenty-four hours.
‘You found the girl, then?’ McNab had said, relieved.
‘Ava’s brother called Magnus and he picked them up from where they were hiding out on Hoy. She asked specifically to be interviewed by you, Sergeant.’
‘Good job I’m on my way back then, sir.’
There was one thing he needed to do before he hit the sack. One thing he’d missed in his Afghan pad. Dropping what little luggage he had in his berth, he headed for the bar.
It was just as he remembered it, minus the pretty woman he’d shared it with last time. McNab ordered a double whisky, paid for it, and took it back with him.
Sitting on his bunk, he put the whisky on the fold-down shelf and opened Mark’s laptop. In all the trauma he had yet to read through the material Ava had put up online. Opening Ollie’s email, he found his latest update, which included a list of the online sources for him to view.
McNab settled down to study them. If he was to interview Nadia Kowalski and Ava Clouston tomorrow, then he wanted to be certain he’d read all they’d had to say.
71
Ava went outside to watch the sunset, not knowing when she might see it quite like this again. She had no plans to linger in Glasgow, but something told her that by going there she was already re-entering her previous life.
The posting of her material online had echoed this.
No longer could she hide away on Orkney, pretending to run a farm and play happy families. A decision would have to be made about the future.
She headed for the field and the kye, taking pleasure in their presence, remembering how her father seemed to know every single one of his herd, had even given them names. She wondered if Dougie would do the same. Maybe he already had.
She stopped now and again to rub a head or to admire how much a newborn calf had grown, while above her dark clouds scudded across a blue and red sky. That was the thing about Orkney, she thought, it was all sky and sea, with the land playing a lesser role, green and luscious though it might be.
When Rhona had asked her if she believed Dougie to be alive, she had realized in that moment that she did. Even stronger than that, she’d known it to be true.
She’d been twelve when he was born, and had been thrilled by his arrival. In fact, she’d always thought of him as her baby. Her teenage years had changed that, of course, when she’d gone off to the city and university, but even then, each time she’d returned, things were the same as soon as she saw him.
It had only been in the years since she’d become a world traveller that the connection between them had been broken. So when she’d returned after their parents’ death, they had felt like strangers.
Dealing with the fallout from the Orlova and the Go Wild investigation had changed things between them. She recognized that now. Somehow, when she’d returned, she’d expected to find the small boy she’d left behind, whereas Dougie had become a man in the interim.
And had to be treated as such.
When she’d picked up what she thought was a call from Magnus, only to hear Dougie’s voice, she’d thought her heart would stop. He had been so hesitant, so apologetic for making her worry.
She, on the other hand, had dismissed all of that. He was safe. She understood. She hadn’t kept her promise about not revealing Nadia’s presence at the farm. She had broken her word. They were safe, she’d told him. That was the important thing.
The phone had been passed back to Magnus at that point.
‘I’ll bring them round now,’ he’d said. ‘They’re well, although I think a hot shower and food will be required.’
‘Where were they?’ she’d asked.
Magnus had described a small bay, one he used to go fishing in. ‘They had a tent, well hidden. No fire. I doubt even the coastguard launch would have spotted them.’
‘How’s Nadia?’ had been her second question.
‘As keen to come back as Dougie, I gather. What are you planning to do now?’
She had told him she was going to Glasgow. ‘I hope Nadia will come too,’ she’d said. ‘If she agrees, will you and Erling keep an eye on Dougie?’
‘Of course.’
In fact, Nadia had been full of the idea on their return and more than delighted that Ava had done what she’d promised.
The day had been spent planning the trip, with Dougie saying he would have further talks with Erling’s dad, Tommy, regarding the farm, while they were away.
And so it had all been arranged, the police helicopter for the flight down, plus an attempt to find spare clothes for Nadia from among her own.
‘We could shop when we’re there,’ Ava offered, wondering how possible that would be if Nadia was under guard.
The issue of where they would stay had also come up, which she could answer.
‘Dr MacLeod has offered to put us up. If the police okay that, I think we should.’
Nadia had seemed pleased by the suggestion.
Having reached the shore now, Ava walked along it, drawn as she was by the burnt-out remains of the boathouse. The Fear Not was already tied up by the jetty, having been returned by the coastguard.
The sooner they got the boathouse rebuilt, the better she would feel, she thought.
She stood for a moment watching the sun as it sank in the sea, knowing the likelihood would be that she would have left Orkney before the longest day. Glasgow, she realized, would be only the first stop. After that, it would be London. She would have to make arrangements for Mark’s funeral. Deal with his estate, because he had, she knew, left everything to her in the event of his death ‘in the field’, he used to say. Even after they’d split up, that hadn’t changed.
Besides, the Go Wild investigation hadn’t ended with his death or her release of material. In fact, it had barely begun.
72
Stepping out of the train, McNab took a deep breath of Glasgow air. He’d always considered the countryside as his pet hate, but his trip to the Big Smoke had proved he just didn’t like being anywhere outside his home city.
He could have arranged for a squad car to pick him up, but chose instead to get a taxi. That way he could be brought up to date with the world in general, via the driver’s patter, in the fifteen minutes it took him to reach the station.
‘Ah ken
t you were the polis as soon as you climbed in ma cab,’ he was told as he paid his fare.
McNab didn’t ask him how.
The desk sergeant, acting as though a welcome ghost had just walked in, informed him he was delighted to see him back.
Absence definitely did make the heart grow fonder, he thought. God, even Janice couldn’t quash the smile that lit up her face when he came through the door. McNab could only hope Ellie’s reaction would be the same when he finally got round to seeing her.
‘So, partner,’ McNab said, as he took his seat, ‘what’s been happening in my absence?’
‘We have Steven Willis in custody.’
McNab was delighted to hear it. ‘How did that happen?’
‘We put his picture on Twitter and a former girlfriend called the station. Told us where “the bastard”, as she put it, was holed up. Needless to say, he wasn’t pleased to see us. He denies ever having been near the scene. Didn’t know the girl. Never heard of Go Wild. He’s lying, but obviously terrified of repercussions if he does talk.’
‘So he should be,’ McNab said. ‘If Go Wild get wind he’s been picked up, they’ll want him disposed of, and quickly. Where is he?’
‘Awaiting an interview with you,’ Janice told him. ‘So what’s your story?’
‘The posh fucker’s still out there. The man who set me free is in intensive care. Not sure if he’ll make it.’ McNab heard his voice break a little as he said the words he’d been trying to avoid even thinking.
‘So the Met did have someone inside?’ Janice said quietly, noting McNab’s reaction.
He nodded. ‘Lucky for me. Not so lucky for him, when Ava Clouston’s piece went out.’
Janice, registering his anger at no forewarning, said, ‘You can tell her that when you see her. She arrives shortly, or so I’m told. And you’re her chosen one.’
‘We come as a team,’ McNab said. ‘Have you read her stuff?’
‘Multiple times,’ Janice said, pleased at the news she was to be involved.