I followed them, my own footsteps silenced by the deep layer of dust across the floor, the disturbed motes dancing in the light. We should sweep the room first, make sure it was clear, just to be safe, but my eyes were caught on those boot prints, and I had to see where they went. The tread seemed common, unremarkable, though Fletcher stooped to snap a picture of one just in case we could learn something off it, and each one seemed about my size.
They led to one of the computer terminals about halfway down the room. It was the only device not coated in more dust, and there was a clean swipe across the screen, the corners and edges still clouded and dirty. A red light winked at the corner of the monitor, waiting to be woken up, so I hit the spacebar and waited.
The computer thought about it, a fan groaning to life at the back of the hard drive connected to the monitor, puffing dust through the air, and then a green cursor winked to life just off the centre of the screen. It began to move on its own.
“Hello, DI Callum MacBain.”
“What the hell?” I said, taking a step back from the computer like it was a living thing about to attack me.
“I think there’s a floppy disc in there,” Fletcher said, pointing to the way the flap on the disc slot was stuck halfway open. “Maybe it’s some kind of program.”
“Or maybe they’re watching us right now,” I countered.
She gave me a flat look. “Stop being so paranoid.”
“Stop being paranoid?” I repeated and swung my arms around the room. “Look where we are! My name is on that screen! I think I have every right to be paranoid.”
The cursor had continued to move as we spoke, dealing out more sickly green letters.
“Our message is simple: back off. Cease your investigations, forget about the Kraken, allow these tunnels to be boarded over. There are some things better left in the dark. You would not wish to go the same way as your father.
“We will continue to watch the woman for a little while as collateral. She will not be harmed unless you continue to pursue us. We will be keeping an eye on you as well, DI MacBain. Farewell.”
And the cursor froze. I stared at it, expecting, willing it to come to life again, but whatever force that had been animating it had gone dead.
“What woman?” Fletcher wondered.
“We should get out of here,” I said. I didn’t like the way the shadows flickered around the edges of the room, didn’t like the several dozen hiding spots lying in wait between the tables, didn’t like how much distance we’d placed between ourselves and the doors. It would slam shut and lock at any second, I was sure, and then the lab would begin to fill with cold, dark water.
Fletcher nodded, and we hurried for the exit as quickly as we could without actually running. I shut the door behind us, sealing the dead lab in with its dust and ghostly computer programs.
As we hightailed it back up the tunnel towards daylight and the comfort of the open sky, my fists flexed by my side. There was no way in hell I was going to back off, and these people, whoever they were, were fools if they thought a single spooky message would be enough to deter me. And they should have realized that threats would only make me angry.
I would come for them, and I would come for them hard.
And I wouldn’t stop until I had dragged every single one of their secretive arses out of the shadows and into the light.
Epilogue
“You’re killing me with these cliff hangers!” the guitar player crowed. At the break, he’d told me his name was Sean, and that his parents had been blown away when he mentioned that he had met me.
I shrugged. “I guess I have a flair for the dramatic.”
The Gellions had mostly emptied out by this point, since it was actually past closing time, but the barman had agreed to let us all stay just long enough for me to finish my tale. He was fully invested as well. I could tell by the way he eyed our group from behind the bar as he polished glasses and got to work on his closing list.
“This means you have to come back, right?” one of the fiddle players asked. “Because you can’t leave us hanging like that.”
“Sure, though I can’t promise when that will be.”
A few of the musicians grumbled at that, but I thought they liked the uncertainty, the mystery of it all. I was starting to turn into a sort of enigma myself--the grizzled old inspector who would turn up out of nowhere with his wild tales of adventure and murder.
I stayed sitting as the others packed up their instruments and began to file out of the pub, thanking me for the story on the way out. A few minutes later, only the barkeep, Mark, and I remained, and I was working up the energy to heave myself from the stool when Mark shifted to face me, a serious expression on his wrinkled face.
“I have something for you,” he said.
I thought he meant some kind of gift for my time, and I shook him off. “Thanks, but there’s no need.”
But he shook his head. “Not like that.”
His expression was grim, grimmer than I’d ever seen in the short amount of time I’d known the man, and I cocked my head to the side as I waited for him to continue. He hadn’t put his concertina away yet, and he reached into the battered case and pulled out a slip of paper. “I’ve got a lot of friends in the music scene all across Scotland, Ireland, and England, and I thought I’d do a little digging for you.”
“Digging,” I repeated slowly. I didn’t take the paper even though he held it out to me.
“I think I’ve got an address for your Lena. I don’t know how recent it is, but it’s a place to start, eh?”
“How did you get this?” I asked. The paper seemed blindingly white in the pub’s dim lighting.
“A friend of a friend remembered maybe booking a gig for a group with a bodhran player named Lena a couple of years ago. Said it stuck with him because it was so good.”
I slowly took the folded note. I didn’t open it. It was a little unnerving finally holding a clue in my hand after so long visiting this pub, waiting and hoping that maybe she would, too. “Thank you, Mark,” I said. “Really.”
He nodded and gathered the last of his things, trundling out into the night with one last wave to the barman. I remained where I was for a while longer, staring at Mark’s offering. Hope slowly blossomed in my chest. Maybe now, I could keep the promise that I had broken so long ago.
The Hidden Eye Page 31