Skinner's Festival

by Quintin Jardine

  He stopped and looked at the bed. Slowly the man nodded.

  'In that case you’ll know this, too. When we go into action, we go all the fookin’ way.’

  He paused again.

  'People never quite believe us. So let me tell you a little story that’ll help. Few years back, there were some trouble in a jail up here in Jockland. Some lads held a warder hostage, and the prison governor, he gets fed up. Decides to teach 'em a lesson, and so he gets authority to send for us. So half a dozen of our lot goes up there in a truck, with plans of the jail – Peterhead, it were called – that they studies on the way.

  'It’s after dark when the truck arrives. The plan is for us to go into action straight away. So the truck gets backed right up to the hall where the trouble is, and the first of our lads jumps out, hood on, fookin’ submachine-gun in his hands. And there’s the governor, and he sees our lad. tooled up like. And he all but its himself. “How far are you chaps going to go?” 'e asks,

  And you know what our lad says? That’s right, he says, “All the fooking’ way, mate!” And he were right. They would have. Just gone in and wasted all the bad lads. 'Cos no one had told em different. Course they didn’t that time, in t’ end. The governor made 'em leave their guns behind. Gave them pick-axe handles instead. They didn’t half cream the shit out of those bad lads, though.’

  Arrow stood up again.

  'So that’s my little story. And the moral is, pal, I’m not here to piss about. You’re going to tell me everything you know that I want to hear, or I’m going to go all the fookin’ way wi’ you. You’d better be ready to die, 'cos if you don’t talk to me, you’ll be dead within an hour.’

  He looked at the glucose bottle on the stand, just about at his eye level, then continued.

  'You see, mate, after your stunt last night didn’t work, the guy who paid you did a really stupid thing. He decides he’s not going to give up, so he snatches the daughter of a friend of mine – and I really hate it when my friends get upset – and he says he’ll kill her unless we give him the swag and a plane out of the country. And that’s really dropped you in it, mate. 'Cos you’re the only bugger we’ve got that’s alive to tell us anything about this fooker – what’s his name. Black? – and where he might be hiding our lass. So this is the deal, mate.’

  As he spoke his hands began to fiddle with the connection of the tube to the bottle.

  'There’s a way of killin’ someone that works every time. As effective as a firework up the arse, it is, but a lot less messy.

  Untraceable, in fact. All you do is take a tube, like this, of stuff that’s goin’ into someone’s bloodstream, and you pinch it tight, like this, to stop the flow. Then you disconnect it – like this, see.’

  The prisoner watched, bug-eyed, as he spoke.

  'Then you squeeze out some of the stuff at the top – like this, see. Then you lets a little air in instead. Are you watching?’

  He needed no reply.

  “Then you reconnect the fluid, like this. See? Then you turn on the drip, like this. Then you let the tube go. And the little magic bubble works its way down the tube and up the needle and into the bloodstream, and round, and round, until . . . Embolism, I think they call it. Whatever they call it, it’s fookin’ fatal And that’s all that’s to it.’

  The man stared at Arrow’s hand as it held the tube. He had gone rigid on the bed.

  Arrow smiled at him. 'No, no. It’s all right. I’m not going to let go – yet. I won’t let go until you make me believe that you really want to die, and that you’re not going to tell me what I need to know to help me find my friend’s lass. But the second I do believe that, I let this tube go, and not long after that, my friend, you will experience very painful and quite inevitable death. Now. Let’s start wi’ your name.’

  EIGHTY-FOUR

  Skinner was touched by the Queen’s good wishes. Most of all he was relieved by Proud’s news of her insistence that all steps necessary should be taken to ensure Alex’s safe return.

  'I’ll take personal charge of this operation,’ said Proud Jimmy. 'I promise you that no risks will be taken, I’ll put marksmen in hiding around the aeroplane. If I’m completely satisfied that it’s safe for Alex, I’ll open fire. Otherwise I’ll let them take off. We’ll send word to every country within the plane’s operating range to watch out for its landing, and that way we’ll get Alex back as soon as possible.’

  Skinner smiled: a tired, drained sort of smile.

  Two things. Chief. First, you will need to tie me down to keep me away from this operation. Remember, I’m still head of the anti-terrorist unit Ballantyne set up, until his successor tells me otherwise. Next, if you have men waiting at the airport, they’ll be there all bloody night. Mr Black knows there’s no way I’ll let him get on board that plane with Alex. As soon as they were clear of our air-space, she’d be dead. They’re not going to show up at Edinburgh Airport. That plane’s just another feint. That’s the way our Mr Black works. He sells you a dummy, every time. He’s got something else planned. Well, so have I.’

  His jaw tightened, and some of the tiredness left his face.

  'Anyway, it might not come to that. Let’s wait to see what our guest in the Simpson has to tell Adam.’

  'What makes you think he’ll tell him anything?’

  Skinner laughed, quietly. 'You don’t know Adam!’

  EIGHTY-FIVE

  “Carl Stewart!’

  The name broke out of him in a strange, half-strangled squawk, as if the man had been holding his breath in disbelief while he watched the last of Arrow’s preparation for his execution.

  'That’s good. Seen the light, have we?’ Arrow’s right thumb and index finger were clamped tight on the clear plastic tube, holding up the flow of the nutrient – and of the deadly bubble.

  'Let’s have the rest, then. Nationality: Canadian, I’d guess by the accent. Right?’

  The man nodded.

  'And you are a fookin’ mercenary, aren’t you? Where’ve you been?’

  It came more slowly this time, weakly, as Stewart measured each painful breath.

  'I wasn’t always a mercenary. I was a regular in the Gulf. I came out after that. Since then I’ve been in Bosnia, in Africa, inGuatemala – and a few other places.’

  'What d’you know of this Mr Black, the fella who paid for the plane you lot were going to catch?’

  'He does things for people. Difficult things they need done – or want done.’

  'You worked for him before?’

  'Twice. Once in the States. Once in South Africa. First time, we busted into a gallery in New York – and stole a painting for a collector.’

  'Who?’

  'Don’t know. We never know who the customer is – or the client, as Mr Black calls them. And we know better than to ask.

  Mr Black wouldn’t like that. And you don’t cross him.’

  'So what did you do in South Africa?’

  'We started a bit of a Civil War. We killed a black guy, a leader.

  Made it look like one tribal group did it. Then we killed some other guys, leaders on the other side – and made it look like the first lot was taking revenge. Once they were all killing each other, we killed some white guys – and all the black guys were blamed at once. Christ, man, we had them all chasing their tails down there.

  Just like we’ve had you chasing yours up here. Once the cops were all used up, keeping the sides apart, we hit a diamond mine. We cleared one hundred million dollars in uncut stones. The nearest cops were sixty miles away, caught in the middle of a gun battle.

  Mr Black’s a great planner. What makes him so great is he thinks big.’

  'So what’s he like?’

  'I’ve never met him.’

  Arrow’s hand moved on the tube. The man flinched in quick terror.

  'Come on, Stewart. You expect me to believe that? You tell me that this fooker walks on water, then you say you’ve never met him.’

  “It’s true. None of us
have ever seen him. He sends his messages, his orders, through someone else, A woman, her name’s Ariel. She’s European of some sort. We all figure she must be his lady.’

  'If you’ve never seen this Mr Black, how d’you know this Ariel isn’t the boss herself.’

  'Ariel could never do what someone did to Klaus. That had be Mr Black himself.’

  'Who’s Klaus?’

  'He was our explosives guy on the New York contract. We were holed up in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, up in the Catskills ready to go – when Klaus decided that the money wasn’t good enough. He told Ariel that he was out unless the dough was doubled. He said he wanted to see Mr Black himself, not deal with his whore. Ariel got very steamed up – as she can – but she said OK, she would arrange for Klaus to meet him.’

  'So what 'appened?’

  'Next morning we all came down to breakfast. Ariel cooked for us all in that place, and she dished it up in this big mess hall. Klaus was there, waiting for us. He was nailed to the timber wall. I mean he was crucified, hands and feet, man. There was a big knife through the middle of his chest, pinning a notice. It said, “A deal is a deal. Anyone else want to meet me?” Wasn’t no Ariel did that to Klaus. The guy was a house. Six feet six. Looked like Hulk

  Hogan.

  'Mary Little Horse, she was brought in to replace him. A genius with explosives, and pretty good with a knife too. I read in the papers you’ve tied her into this thing. But I never saw Mary here. She did the jobs she was paid to do, but she didn’t know the whole story, or get to see any of my team.

  'Mr Black let only me and my guys in on the whole plan. Ariel said he had a very big commission, money no object, from some collector. Each of us was on 200,000 dollars, and if anybody had to do time, there would be an annuity waiting when we were released, so we’d never have to work again. No, Mary just did her thing with the bombs. Then she came up to town and did the singer. Ray helped her get in, but it was mostly her. She went underground after that. Ray, the guy you killed, he stole the special explosive in France.’

  Arrow nodded. 'So who was in on last night? Who planted the other bombs?’

  'Ariel and Ingo did that.’

  'Ingo!’ Arrow’s grip on the tube almost slipped.

  'Yeah. Ingemar Svart. He’s our pilot, engineer. An all-round mechanical genius. You need it built, lngo’ll build it. You need it fixed, lngo’ll fix it. You need it to run, lngo’ll run it. You need it screwed, lngo’ll. . .’ For a second, the man laughed, weakly, then coughed with the effort. 'Ingo flies us out of the action, so he tends to be kept out of the shooting. But he has pitched in sometimes. I saw him in Cape Town. He is very good with a gun.’

  Stewart looked pleadingly at Arrow. 'So how’m I doing, man?’

  Adam shook his bullet head. Somewhere along the corridor a baby was crying, but he put the sound to the back of his mind.

  'Not well enough, mate. You still haven’t given me any clue where Mr Black might be keeping our lass. Wi’out that . . . well it’s “Turn out the lights, the party’s over.” So tell me the rest of it. Then we’ll see.’

  'A farmhouse. That was where the four of us were holed up, and Dave our driver. He didn’t know the plan – only where and when to be waiting, and where we were going. Dave used to drive Indy cars. We rehearsed there, in the barn. Practised handling the Sidewinders. Looked at videos of the Castle that Ariel had shot. She just walked in there like any tourist with a camera, and cased the place. The videos showed us the tunnel entrance and the way up to the Jewel building.’

  'So where’s this farmhouse?’

  'The nearest name on the map is some place called Longformacus – if that’s how you say it. East of the City, and south. Way up on the moors, in the middle of nowhere. A shit-track road, way too far for traffic or tourists. Only snakes and sheep up there.’

  'Does it have a name?’

  'Stocksmoor, it was called. Ariel said Mr Black had rented it for the whole of August and September. So no one else would go up there until weeks after we were clear. If you want to find your friend’s girl, that’s where to head first.’

  He stared at Arrow again, a plea in his eye.

  Adam smiled at him. Along the corridor, the baby’s crying had stopped. He sat on the bed, still holding the tube pinched tightly,gently, almost, he took Stewart’s right hand in his left.

  'A-1, Carl. A-fookin’ one. That’s just what I wanted to hear.’

  And then the smile left his face, turning as hard as stone.

  'But you know summat. I still hate fookin’ mercenaries.”

  Especially them as kills soldiers, like you lot did in the Castle last night!’

  He let go of the tube. Now grasping both of Stewart’s hands and holding them vicelike, he stared into his eyes, without mercy or pity, as the man struggled in vain to find the strength and the breath to scream, as the air bubble made its way downwards, and finally out of sight.

  EIGHTY-SIX

  'So how’s our man Stewart doing now?’

  'Didn’t you hear? He had a relapse, the poor bugger. Must 'ave been just a couple of minutes after I left him. What a shame, eh. Now he won’t collect his pension.’

  Skinner eyed him pensively, but decided to ask no more questions.

  Their helicopter was flying low over the Lammermuirs, away from the setting evening sun. Skinner and Arrow, Martin and Mackie were crammed around the pilot in the small craft. Another helicopter, larger than their Jet Ranger, followed behind, carrying McGuire, Mcllhenney, Maggie Rose and six SAS men in full combat gear. All of the police officers, including Skinner, carried firearms.

  'So there could be as many as five of them?’

  'Yes, Bob. That’s if Mr Black’s there too. There’s him, Ariel, Ingo and Dave the Indy car driver.’

  'Right,’ said Skinner. 'We’ll assume that they’re all there, and that they’re all armed. Your men have seen photos of Alex, yes?’

  'Yes, Bob. Don’t worry, man. They’ll know her.’

  'God, they’d better!’ Skinner’s voice betrayed, for just a second, the unbearable tension which gripped him. 'Right, when we get there, we watch for five minutes. Then your guys go in

  hard, upper and lower floors, in sync. Her life could be in your hands, Adam. I trust you with it, my friend. With everyone else in there, your usual engagement rules apply. Do what you think best, and I’ll back you.’

  Just as he finished speaking, the helicopters banked in to land, some two miles away from the farmhouse called Stocksmoor. The group waited until it was fully dark, and until their eyes had grown accustomed to the night conditions, before beginning to move across the moorland towards where their maps indicated the farm buildings lay. They took bearings with compasses as they went, confident of the accuracy of the Ordnance Survey.

  The ground was completely open for the first mile or so covered by a mass of tangled heather, still soaking from the stormy of the night before, which caught at their feet as they moved through the night.

  'Christ, Bob,’ said Arrow. 'What do they farm here?’

  'Sheep, mate. Sheep and adders. Watch your ankles.’ ,

  Eventually the ground began to drop. The clinging heather began to thin out and gave way to grassland and gorse bushes. They found themselves descending into a narrowing valley, with a dark shape at its heart.

  Arrow raised his night-glasses. 'Down there.’ His voice was hushed, although they were still more than half a mile from their destination. They moved on.

  Three hundred yards from the farm. Arrow drew them all together, police and SAS. He handed Skinner the binoculars.

  'Take a look. Bob. Tell us what you see.’

  Skinner put the bulky glasses to his eyes, and adjusted the focus wheel.

  'There are two buildings. One’s a steading or barn of some sort. Looks half ruined. The house is more of a cottage, two-storey, but the upper rooms are in the attic. There’s a chink of light through the curtains of one of the upstairs rooms. There’s a car in the y
ard. Looks like a Vitara. I can’t see the registration from here.’

  'We’ll call it in for checking when we get closer,’ said Martin.’

  'No,’ said Skinner. 'We’re keeping radio silence, and your mobile won’t work up here. It’s a blind spot on the network.’

  'Any sign of movement?’ said Arrow.

  'No, none.’

  'Right,’ said the little soldier. 'My lads approach first. You coppers stay twenty yards behind. Stay quiet and keep your fookin’ heads down. OK, lads, you three.’ He pointed to the men

  nearest him. 'On the roof. But not a fookin’ sound, mind. The rest of us, on the ground. Five minutes from now, if nowt’s changed I fire one shot and we go in like shit off a shovel, through the windows, stun grenades first, then us. Now, you all know what Alex looks like? Confirm that everyone, please.’

  Six voices each whispered 'Yes’ in the dark.

  'Right. Everyone else goes down. No one walks out.’ Arrow turned back to Skinner. 'Right, Bob. Once we’re in, and the shootin’ stops, bring your people in. Better you don’t see what,

  we’re up to. But don’t worry about your lass. She’ll be all right wi’ us.’

  He gestured to his men, and they moved off towards the house.

  Skinner led his group after them at the distance Arrow had specified, keeping low and taking whatever cover they could. Eventually, behind the dilapidated steading, they hid in waiting.