by Tom Benson
“First of all, I’d like to help.”
“Okay, we’ll say I am the vigilante character. What would be the price of your help?”
“One small favour,” she whispered and turned away.
“Go on.” Phil lifted his wine and waited to make eye contact. They were sitting close to each other.
Amy’s breathing faltered. “I’d like you to ....” She sighed. “I’d like you to spend tonight with me.” Her tone became urgent as she rushed the words. “There’s no catch, and there would be no phone calls, or clinging afterwards.”
“Amy, it isn’t a favour you’re asking.” He shook his head. “You’re offering me a privilege many men would kill for. What about your boyfriend?”
“I haven’t had a boyfriend for over two years. I run, I swim, and I go to a gym.” She grinned. “I’ve got loads of stamina. In my spare time, I study for the detective course.”
Phil placed his glass on the table. “Amy, I shouldn’t consider—”
“Please, Phil.” She swallowed hard, and her eyes glistened. “One night is all I ask, and nobody will ever know.”
Phil took her glass and placed it on the coffee table. He reached out his hand and lifted her chin before their lips met. Amy’s body trembled as she leant towards him, and wrapped her arms around him. Phil held her close, and she moaned within their kiss.
Several miles across Glasgow in Dunglass Avenue, Scotstoun, Annabel had accepted Rachel’s invitation to dinner. During the evening, they were learning more about each other.
Rachel told Annabel about the dark incident from her past involving her uncle. She explained she’d already told Hawk about it, but felt it was essential for them to both to know. Rachel said she didn’t want them to think she was callous and mentally disturbed. As she confessed to her idol, she maintained her composure.
Annabel said, “I appreciate being brought into your small circle of trust. People will say they know how you feel, but it’s the wrong response.” She sipped her wine and stared at the glass. “I believe we all carry a deep, dark secret, but it’s the choice of whether to open up about it which makes it easier or harder to bear.”
“Do you think I was right to tell Hawk—and you?”
“From what you’ve told me, it made you break down in front of him, which tells me it was a release. You’ve carried it around for years, and you should never have been in the situation in the first place. Yes, you did right to tell us both.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes.
Rachel said, “How did you end up in covert operations?”
“If I told you, you’d be the only person I’ve ever told. Certain records and reports about me are hidden away in a filing system.”
“I find it strange, a woman who is so attractive and pleasant could be in a job where she kills people at the drop of a hat.”
“Thank you for the compliments.” Annabel gazed at Rachel. “You sound genuinely interested.”
“I am, but don’t worry, I don’t expect you to open your soul.”
“You were honest with me, and as long as it’s between us, I’ll give you the abridged version, okay?”
Rachel turned on the sofa to sit on one leg with the other dangling. She stared at Annabel’s face as if it was a life study.
Annabel said, “When I was a teenager, I joined the Army Cadets. I was a bit of a tomboy and enjoyed shooting and camping in the woods. I learned to climb, abseil, canoe, and a lot of other things.” She gazed at the floor briefly.
“I went to university to study languages and continued my military training by joining the Army Volunteer Reserve. I could dress in combat uniform, get dirty, and continue my shooting, which I loved.” She took a drink. “One day, two guys in suits turned up at the firing ranges. They had a chat with me about politics and idealism and other topics I’d never considered.”
“Did they say who they represented?”
“No, but my instructor referred to them as, ‘Spooks’. They were scouts for the Secret Intelligence Service.” She went on to tell Rachel about being sent on a sniper’s course and being given specialist training, including foreign languages, when on breaks from university.
Annabel had told Rachel the truth, but the full story was more in-depth and darker. She had never opened up to anybody about her earlier life. Before her days with the Army Cadets, she had been at a boarding school in Geneva. Her parents were both members of the Foreign and Commonwealth Office and were always in foreign locations. She hardly knew them and threw herself into her studies.
Like Rachel, Annabel had blossomed physically as a fourteen-year-old. In Annabel’s case, the predator was a language tutor. He suggested extra ‘French lessons’, for the beautiful girl who was keen to reach top grades in everything.
When the teenager visited the man’s study, she didn’t realise ‘French lessons’ was a euphemism. She also didn’t know she’d be the sole student in attendance.
The paedophile was found in his study the following morning, on his back on the floor. His trousers and underwear were around his ankles, and a sharpened pencil was thrust deep inside his left ear. He had been dead several hours.
Annabel became interested in the Army Cadets as a teenager because it was part of the curriculum at the next boarding school she attended. She was sent to a government approved establishment for youngsters deemed mentally unstable. Her parents had disowned her.
21. House Calls
.
Monday 22nd July
Phil arrived back at Southbank Street at 06:30, following his night with Amy. He showered and called Jake about working with Rachel on a mission. Jake was keen to take part and said his ribcage was strapped up. Phil confirmed with Rachel, before calling Annabel.
“Hi, Annabel ... the job is on for our associates. Please watch their backs, as we discussed. Yes, covert. Let them feel independent. Ciao.”
Phil watched the news while enjoying a leisurely breakfast. An outside broadcast unit appeared. The man with the microphone was standing beside the low parapet fence which ran along the west side of Loch Lomond. The camera zoomed out, and the picture encompassed the loch, the country road, and a single building.
‘This is Highland Heaven, the Bed and Breakfast near Luss, where the body was found ....’
The reporter highlighted the absence of the hotel owner and her car. A green Mazda saloon similar to Lindsey’s was flashed up on the screen and viewers were asked to contact the police if they spotted the vehicle. A registration number appeared on the screen.
Phil walked into the city to pick up the Transit van the police had taken for forensic inspection. On the way, he called Viking in Hereford to warn him about the television news in Scotland. Viking said he’d be ready if the police arrived at his door.
It was 08:00 when Sam and Eddie got together in the DI’s office.
Sam glanced up from a report. “Good morning, Eddie.”
“Hi, Boss.” Eddie paused in the doorway. “Should I fetch a brew?”
“Eddie my lad, you have the makings of a great police detective.”
Eddie was back five minutes later with two disgusting coffees from the machine.
“Right, mate.” Sam stood and closed the office door. “I don’t want everybody to know everything on this case, and I’ve got my reasons.”
“I thought we had been allocated extra uniform guys if we need them.”
“Yes we have, and they’ll be a blessing. Unfortunately, I think we have a leak in the building, and I don’t mean from the plumbing. I have my suspicions, and when I’m sure, I’ll tell you.”
“What makes you think there’s a leak?”
“Only the two of us have been privy to certain key evidence on the vigilante incidents. I trust you implicitly mate, but I don’t want your head full of the shit I’ve got in mine. There are only a couple of people who could have access to what we’ve compiled.”
“Well, the Chief is the person who knows as much as us. We rule him o
ut and—”
“Unfortunately, he is one of my three finalists, because we haven’t told him everything.”
“Fuckin’ Hell. I see why you’re keeping it to yourself.”
The pair spent an hour going over their notes from the scene of the B & B. At first, Eddie referred to it as a murder, but Sam reminded him it was a suspicious death, and it could have been self-defence—the perpetrator may have run off in fear. Sam said he had a short list of information which was suitable for briefing the Chief.
Eddie said, “You haven’t listed the note you found in the dead guy’s wallet.”
“With good reason,” Sam said. “What stood out for you in the note?”
“Well, it was careless for a hitman to have any names written down, even on a fuel receipt. For whatever reason—he had them.”
“Did you see the pen in his pocket?”
“One of them with the white blob on top,” Eddie said and squinted. “Was it a Mont Blanc?”
“Yes, and what colour of ink did it have?”
“Black,” Eddie said. “It was the same colour as the pen.”
“This is the receipt,” Sam said and produced it from his desk drawer. On the list were written the names; Cameron, Smith, and Kirsten. Two were written in black; one in blue.
“Okay, I see Cameron and Smith are in black. Maybe the guy’s pen ran out of ink, and he grabbed the nearest biro—” He stopped. “You have a theory, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Sam said. “I believe if you were to check the pen, there’s nothing wrong with the refill. I also reckon whoever wrote the note, wanted us to connect the hit-man with the three names.”
Eddie sipped his coffee, screwed up his face and stared at the plastic cup.
Sam said, “Kirsten is listed, to let us know she was the target because she is one of the missing slave prostitutes. Cameron is there to connect him to the hit-man. Smith is listed to confirm for us, the Cameron, in this case, is our local gangster. Martin Cameron.”
“Why are Cameron and Smith written in black?”
“It’s simple mate. I reckon the last person on the scene used the hitman’s pen to show us it was working alright, but the way to show the hit-man didn’t write the note was to write it in two different inks—in the same handwriting.”
“The murderer wrote the note—”
“I didn’t say the murderer Eddie. I said the last person on the scene.”
“Why didn’t this, last person on the scene, do something to help, like call an ambulance, or the local police?”
“I’d bet a month’s wages it was our vigilante. He decides who lives.”
“He’s been working Glasgow. Loch Lomond is a bit out of his way isn’t it?” Eddie squinted and shook his head. “I don’t follow your train of thought.”
“If I’m right, the vigilante turned up there because he has a connection with Kirsten Novak, and whoever else is now missing. This isn’t your average sleuth. He’s somebody who’s got under the skin of these bastards, and he’s choosing when to involve the authorities.” Sam tasted his coffee and rolled his eyes.
“Where’s our first port of call?”
“We’ll go out to Loch Lomond today, but I’d like to pay Cameron a courtesy call. We’ll ruffle his feathers.”
“What about his right-hand man, Smith and the 9mm bullet the doctors removed?”
“I think we’ll pay Smith a call too. He won’t be going anywhere.”
“Should we tell the Chief? He wants to be kept up to date.”
“I bet he fucking does,” Sam said. “We’ll go upstairs, but let me do the talking. It means you won’t be lying to him, and I’ll tell him what I want him to know.”
“I’m sorry, Boss, but you are one crazy bastard. Your career could be fucked up.”
“Sometimes in life Eddie, you have to take a chance on a gut feeling.”
“Yeah, but your gut feeling is about a guy who is out there acting as judge, jury and executioner.”
Sam winked at his sidekick. He had more than one theory about the vigilante.
Davenport listened to Sam’s brief about the scene at the Loch Lomond hotel. Eddie stayed silent and learned from observation, how Sam judged the minimum information to divulge, and how it was delivered.
The Chief asked who was dealing with the three murders which took place on Sunday. Sam had already called in a favour from a colleague. He explained to Davenport a team of detectives were following up leads on the McDougall twins and their driver, Wilson.
Sam said it made more sense to leave those three deaths for somebody else to investigate. He was confident the local people in the district would clam up about events surrounding the execution of protection racketeers. He also had a fair idea who had dealt with them and knew there would be no leads to follow. Davenport said he was satisfied—but he was lying.
Afterwards, Sam and Eddie were stopped at the front desk as they were about to leave. A message had been left to let to say, Mr McKenzie would be arriving to collect his van during the morning. Sam wanted to see Phil, but he had a lot to get done. He was pleased to hear about the van being released. His old comrade was officially in the clear.
Rachel picked up Jake in the morning, and they set off to Kirkintilloch. They parked and camouflaged the bike and headed for the hidden hash. Jake winced and held a hand to his ribcage occasionally. He wanted to be involved, and his partner ignored his discomfort.
Rachel unfolded the small entrenching spade she’d taken along. When she started to dig, Jake offered to help, but Rachel suggested it would be better if he kept an eye open for anyone turning up. It kept him occupied.
“I’m sorry Rachel, I feel fucking useless.”
“Cut out the self-pity, mate—I need you to locate the fence section which you’ve dug out previously.” She winked. “You can lead the way through the bushes and shrubs to avoid cameras.”
“Do you reckon Cameron will have installed a new system?”
“I don’t doubt it.” She lifted the cases of hash from the cache. “You’ll also be opening the side door to the garage.”
“I’m sure you could defeat the locks on the side door.”
“Jake,” she said and turned with her palms upward. “These fingers hotwire anything with an engine, but when it comes to opening doors ... I’d be using my boots.”
Jake grinned.
They ferried the four large cartons to the wire fence, and Rachel made haste digging under the fence. Jake had chosen well on his earlier visit, and on crawling out from the other side, they were behind a huge Rhododendron bush.
Rachel dragged the cartons under the fence, and Jake positioned them among the bushes at the side of the large lawn. Rachel pulled some foliage into the hole on the woodland side.
“Jake, you lead me through the bushes to the side of the garage. You go empty-handed, except for your lock-picks. I’ll carry a carton on the first trip. Okay?”
“What about the rest?”
“You concentrate on getting the side door open without being detected, or we’re both in the shit. I’ll manage the cartons.”
Jake stopped several times to kneel down.
Rachel used the brief occasions to take a breather. It took ten minutes to move through the greenery stealthily.
Rachel placed the first carton beside a bush, near the garage wall.
When Jake opened his small leather tool roll a friendly hand landed on his shoulder.
Rachel winked before she disappeared into the greenery.
Jake gained entry to the large garage rapidly, but it was an hour before they got the cartons indoors. Twice, a window opened upstairs in the house, and the intruders at the garage froze for a while.
A small Fiat was parked alongside Cameron’s new Jaguar. The garage was spacious and had shelf units and cupboards around the back and both sides.
Jake said, “Shall we stack them at the back behind the car?”
“Oh no,” Rachel said, looking around at the variety of
containers and cavities in the place. “You keep your ears open, mate. Leave this to me.” She checked her watch and nodded. They were on the schedule she envisaged for completing the job.
Sam and Eddie spent an hour at the B & B murder scene. It was long enough to convince Sam, his theories were accurate. One peculiarity was the lack of any personal photos in the place. The detectives stopped for a decent coffee on the way back to Glasgow.
When they arrived at the Royal Infirmary, they found a uniformed policeman at the door of Smith’s room.
“Hi Gavin,” Eddie said. “All quiet mate?”
“Nothing to report, Sarge, and I’ve been on shift since breakfast. The duty officer wants somebody on shift twenty-four hours a day.”
Sam said, “You’re here to watch out for the psychopathic nurse he was screaming about?” He laughed. “I take it she’s not been seen?”
“No, Sir. The visitors allowed are the doctors and nurses we recognise or yourselves.”
“Okay mate,” Sam said. “Take a break, and get yourself a brew. We’ll be here for about twenty minutes.” The uniformed constable didn’t need any second bidding.
The two men entered the room.
“There’s a copper outside the door.” Smith’s eyes darted back and forth between the detectives. “Recognised doctors and nurses are allowed in here, and nobody else.”
Sam and Eddie exchanged a look, and in unison produced small black leather wallets containing their ID.
Sam leant forward. “And senior police officers, Mr Smith ....”
Sam moved to a chair, and lifted a clear bag, which contained the outer dressing removed, and kept for the police. Eddie stood at the foot of the bed, inspecting the pulley supporting Smith’s foot.
Smith said, “Have you come to find out about the bogus nurse who visited me?”
“No we haven’t,” Sam said. “Do you know what it says on this dressing?”
“No, I couldn’t move my bloody leg, and nobody would tell me.”