The Blood Tree Read online

  While Duart gave me a detailed description of Glasgow’s trading links with the wine merchants in the parts of France that had shaken off fundamentalist Muslim rule, I looked at Hyslop. She was a lot less fierce in her evening outfit, her brown curls and small nose making me think of an innocent schoolgirl. Then I remembered where she’d had her hand.

  The meal passed quickly. Despite having filled my belly earlier on, I found that the lobster tails and prime-quality beef were irresistible. As I ate, I kept encountering curious looks from the ward representatives. It seemed I was an object of fascination to them, an alien from a pariah state that didn’t allow its citizens to vote. The man with the gaunt face who’d found out my name was at the far end, but he favoured me with several long stares – in between helping his heavy American friend to the best of the food.

  After coffee – better than anything even the VIP tourists get in Edinburgh – and more top-quality malt, Duart got to his feet and led me away from the table. Hel Hyslop was close behind.

  “Let’s retire to the conservatory,” the first secretary said. “We’ll be able to talk more freely there.”

  We went into the great domed glasshouse. A semi-circle of wicker chairs had been set up at the far end, facing an open expanse of grass that was lit up brighter than a blaze in a distillery. I could make out men in green parkas patrolling, automatic pistols in holsters hanging from their belts.

  “I see you need to protect yourselves from the ordinary citizens,” I said after the waiter had brought a tray with a selection of whiskies.

  Duart gave an unconcerned shrug. “Standard security procedures.” He glanced at Hyslop. “Isn’t that so, Hel?”

  She nodded. “We have criminal elements like every other city.”

  “And you use guns to keep them at bay?” I said, shaking my head. “Welcome to the Wild West of Scotland.”

  Duart was smiling as usual. “The police are issued with firearms, yes. But citizens may also carry them if they so desire.”

  I looked at him in disbelief. “That’s your idea of democracy, is it? Don’t you remember the massacres that tore the US apart after the millennium?”

  Duart didn’t rise to that. “The Americans had severe problems with religious extremists and ethnic supremacists. We do not.”

  I was thinking about the Macbeth cult I’d seen earlier, one of the many apparently permitted to function in Glasgow. As I poured myself a slug of an island malt that I hadn’t seen for decades, I wondered if Duart knew what he was talking about.

  “And besides,” the man with the goatee continued, “this city observes the rule of law. Unlike Edinburgh, we have an independent judiciary.”

  I gave him a guffaw Tam Haggs would have been impressed by. “The rule of law? That includes kidnapping people from other states, does it?”

  “A full and proper warrant was made out for your—” Duart broke off and cleared his throat. “For your admission to Glasgow.”

  “So I keep hearing. And who wrote the law empowering you to sanction abduction? Some minion in your so-called independent judiciary, no doubt.” I glared at the pair of them. “Have you told the ward representatives how I came to be here?”

  Duart laughed. “They know all they need to know.”

  The Council’s top-heavy regime back home had made me extremely suspicious of anyone who wields power. “Who elected you anyway? How come you haven’t got a golden necklace to wear?”

  Hel Hyslop was giving me the eye but this time she couldn’t reach my groin.

  “I and all the members of my executive office were elected by the ward representatives,” Duart said.

  “Oh, very cosy,” I said ironically. “So as long as you feed the representatives well, you’ve got a free hand.”

  “We don’t have to listen to this,” Hyslop said, sitting forward and taking a mobile phone from her pocket. “I’m taking this piece of Edinburgh crap to the squadroom.”

  Andrew Duart raised his hand. “Hold on, Hel. Quint is entitled to know why he’s here.”

  I’d had enough of first names and of being given the run-around. “Look, Duart, I don’t give a fuck why you kidnapped me. I’m needed in Edinburgh.” Hector’s wizened face had flashed in front of me, but I decided against telling them about the state of the old man’s health. There was no point in giving them even more of a hold over me. “I’ve got pressing business.”

  “Pressing business?” Hel Hyslop asked intently. “What are you working on at the moment?”

  “That’s classified,” I replied. “Just do what you have to do and let me get back home.” I was flying a kite here. For all I knew my ticket to Glasgow was stamped “one way only”.

  Duart was studying me, one hand supporting his chin. “Listen to me carefully, Quint. Whatever you’ve heard in Edinburgh, Glasgow has been a major success story over the last five years. Our software industry is at the cutting edge, engineering is coming back on stream, our clothes designers and manufacturers have a worldwide reputation.” He smiled encouragingly. “Remember what used to be referred to as the Asian tiger economies when we were young? We’re the northern European equivalent.”

  “Didn’t the tiger economies go down the toilet faster than a deep-fried haggis around the millennium?”

  Duart’s expression didn’t change. “We’re in much better shape than any of them ever was.”

  “Well, good for you, Andy. What’s any of this got to do with me?”

  “The name’s Andrew,” Duart said, his tone harsher. He leaned forward and poked a finger into my thigh. I wished Glaswegians would leave the lower half of my anatomy alone. “We’ve got a good thing going here, Quint,” he said. “I’m not going to let anyone screw it up.” He jabbed his forefinger in hard. “Especially not a sick, murdering bastard from your home town.”

  Now he had my full attention.

  Hel Hyslop must have felt left out in the cold. She leaned forward too, her eyes locking on to mine. “And that sick, murdering bastard will only talk to you, Quint,” she said. “Meaning that, for the time being at least, you’re very important to us.” She glanced at her boss. “If you co-operate, you might see Arthur’s Seat and the castle again. If you don’t . . .”

  She didn’t finish that sentence, but I got her drift.

  Shortly afterwards a soberly dressed young man came to attend Andrew Duart. The first secretary rose and offered me his hand.

  “Inspector Hyslop will look after you, Quint,” he said, nodding to her. “No doubt I’ll see you tomorrow. Good luck with your investigation.” He strode away.

  “Investigation?” I said as Hel led me towards the exit. “What investigation?”

  “Not now,” she said, skirting the long dinner table. Many of the ward representatives were still there, their faces sweaty and their voices loud. A heavy cloud of cigarette and cigar smoke was hanging over them.

  “I see people are encouraged to look after their lungs in Glasgow,” I observed.

  Hel Hyslop shot me an angry glance. “Unlike in Edinburgh, people are given the freedom to choose.” He voice was even more sarcastic than mine. “If they want to damage their health by smoking, that’s their decision. Marijuana and hashish are freely available too, which removes the incentive for smuggling soft drugs.”

  “Very enlightened,” I said under my breath.

  In the entrance hall the inspector collected her pistol belt and strapped it round her waist. I could see plenty more firearms in the cloakroom.

  “Does everyone in this city have a gun?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “A lot of people do. Most citizens are trained how to use them. There are very few accidental deaths.”

  “How about incidents of people taking the law into their own hands?” I asked as we went out into the night air. The evening temperature in the west seemed to be a few degrees higher than in Edinburgh at this time of year.

  “Stop finding fault, you tosser,” Hyslop said acidly.

  I grinned at her as we ap
proached the Llama. “You’re the ones who’ve got a sick, murdering bastard on your hands, not me.” Then, as I got in, I remembered the mutilations I’d recently seen in Edinburgh and realised how inaccurate that statement was.

  “Where exactly are we heading?” I asked as we drove back into the city centre. The streets were still busy, people going in and out of the numerous up-market bars and restaurants. There was no sign of any misbehaviour, even though I could see the tell-tale bump of firearms under some jackets. Maybe they were just fashion accessories.

  Hel Hyslop’s mouth was pursed. “Wait and see.”

  I was glad I’d wound her up, but it was about time she started filling me in. “Come on, Hel. If you want me in on a case, you’ll need to trust me.”

  She ran her tongue along her lips then nodded reluctantly. “All right.” She gave me a hostile glance. “But I want you to know that this was the committee’s idea, not mine.”

  “The committee being Duart’s baby?”

  Hyslop shook her head. “The executive committee is nobody’s baby. It has collective responsibility to run the city’s centralised departments so, in effect, it runs the whole city – even though local power rests with the wards.”

  She pulled up in a restricted parking area in George Square.

  “That used to be the City Chambers, didn’t it?” I said, angling my head towards the vast Victorian pile that took up the whole of the wide square’s eastern end. The domes on its corners and the tall central tower were brightly lit.

  “Still is,” the inspector said. “That’s where the committee’s offices are. And the Major Crime Squad’s.”

  I followed her across the square. The tarmac on the roads around the paved area was green and yellow – the colours of the city. It was damp underfoot, a group of cleaners removing every speck of dirt. I wondered if the wards could afford to look after their neighbourhoods so fastidiously. I had the feeling that the wards weren’t as much in control as their representatives might imagine. Duart’s executive committee reminded me of what the Council had done in Edinburgh: get yourselves installed in power, find a striking building and concentrate all departments including the law enforcement agencies in it. Then do what you like.

  Hyslop pushed open one of the high doors and flashed ID at a sentry who was clutching a machine-pistol. “He’s with me,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “If you see him anywhere on his own, cuff him.”

  I gave the young heavy a provocative smile and walked into the main hall. There was marble all around, as well as granite, mosaic floors and enough pillars to equip a Hellenistic new town. It didn’t look like the executive committee had done much to publicise its occupancy though – apart from a direction board covered in impenetrable abbreviations and numbers. A defining characteristic of bureaucratic structures is “Confuse The Public”. Not that many ordinary Glaswegians would get past lover boy on the door, I reckoned.

  Hel Hyslop led me to a lift and hit the button for the fourth floor.

  “I fancied walking,” I protested. “This place is spectacular.” I also fancied having a nose round.

  She gave me a brief smile. “If you think I’m letting you stroll about the committee’s offices, forget it.”

  “You never know, I might pick up some good ideas to take back home.”

  The inspector shook her head slowly and stared at me with unwavering eyes. “A lot has to happen before you see Edinburgh again.”

  I felt my stomach somersault. It may have been the movement of the lift that got to me, but the smart money was on Hel Hyslop. When she wanted to, she could scare the shit out of me effortlessly.

  Tam Haggs stood up like he was on parade as soon as we walked into the Major Crime squadroom. It was a large open-plan area with dozens of desks and dozens of state-of-the-art computers. Well, I guessed they were state of the art. Compared with them, the Public Order Directorate gear back home was neolithic.

  “Hiya, Tam,” the inspector said. The informality wasn’t particularly convincing. “Anything new?”

  He shook his head. “The prisoner’s in your office.” He grinned. “Shackled, of course.”

  “Right,” Hel said. “Let’s see how pleased he is to see his friend here.”

  Haggs went over to a door in the corner and unlocked it. I felt my heart begin to pound in my chest. “His friend”? Who the hell was insisting on my presence before he would talk? And who was so significant to the Glasgow authorities that they ran the risk of crossing the Edinburgh border to abduct me?

  The sergeant stepped back and stood by the open door.

  “Go on then,” his superior said tersely, opening her eyes wide at me. I caught a curious glint in them. I reckoned she was a lot more interested in my reaction to the mysterious captive than she wanted to let on.

  I stepped forward into the room. The only light was a shaded one over the desk so there wasn’t much to see. A window at the far end looked out over the wide street to another office block. I could see some poor sod pounding away at his keyboard. I hoped they had overtime in Glasgow.

  Then the overhead light flashed a couple of times and came on. I became aware of a figure slumped in a chair to my right. He was wearing a bright yellow boiler suit and his arms and legs were chained to rings set in the floor. I couldn’t see his face but his skull was shaved. The skin was discoloured by bruises and there were spots of dried blood on it.

  “Wake up, ya shite!” Haggs yelled, leaning over the prisoner and slapping his face. “Wake up!”

  The form in the chair slowly came to life. He raised his head with difficulty and glared up at the sergeant.

  “Suck . . . my cock . . . Weegie dogfucker,” the prisoner said with a series of gasps.

  I caught Tam’s arm before he gave the helpless man another belt. “Do you want me to talk to him or not? He’s no good to you unconscious, is he?”

  “Unconscious? That bastard’ll be praying for oblivion soon.”

  “All right, sergeant,” Hyslop put in. “Let Quint talk to him.”

  At the mention of my name, the bound man twitched and slowly raised his head.

  That’s when I recognised him. The voice had already got me going and the ravaged face was the clincher.

  “Jesus,” I said, bending over the guy and lifting his chin higher. “Is that you, Leadbelly?”

  He batted his eyelids a couple of times then opened his mouth in an attempt at a grin. There was only one tooth visible. “My saviour,” he said with a hoarse laugh.

  Then he passed out.

  Hyslop sent Haggs to get water.

  “What have you been doing to the poor bugger?” I demanded.

  “So you do know him?” she said, ignoring my question.

  “Yeah, I know him.” Until I found out what was going on, I wasn’t going to tell her that Leadbelly had been a member of one of the most savage drugs gangs that ever plagued Edinburgh. We caught him back in 2015 and I’d used him a couple of times in big cases. After the second one, I got him released from the prison on Cramond Island. It was about four years since I’d last seen him.

  Hel Hyslop gave me an infuriated stare. “Well? Did he have a record? Was he a known killer?”

  “Yes” was the answer to both those questions but, again, I kept that to myself.

  “Inspector,” I said, as Tam Haggs reappeared with a bucket, “you owe me information first.”

  Leadbelly shook and came round as the contents of the bucket landed on him, then on the tiled floor.

  Hel bit her lip then nodded. “Very well. Sergeant, dry him down and give him something hot to drink. We’ll begin the interrogation in five minutes.” She moved away to the far side of the squadroom.

  “What I’m about to tell you is completely confidential,” she said when I caught up with her.

  “Who am I going to spill my guts to, for Christ’s sake? I don’t know anyone in this bloody city.”

  “No one except Leadbelly,” the inspector said with a tight smile.


  “So what’s he supposed to have done?” I asked impatiently.

  Hel Hyslop moved up close to me and started speaking in a low voice. “Over the last two months there’s been a string of horrific murders in the city. Eight people – four men and four women – were slaughtered in the same way. In the first seven cases their bodies were left at prominent road junctions in different wards.”

  “Anything to do with the firearms carried by every man, woman and dog around here?”

  She shook her head emphatically. “Absolutely not.”

  “What was the modus operandi then?”

  Hyslop stared at me, her mouth suddenly slack. “The victims were killed by heavy blows to the head with a blunt instrument.”

  I felt my own jaw begin to drop.

  “That’s not all,” she said. “In each case a hole was smashed in the forehead. One of the eyes was then torn out and rammed into it.”

  I tried to disguise my amazement. Fortunately the inspector had lowered her eyes.

  “Your friend Leadbelly was found unconscious at the scene of the eighth killing a week ago. There were the traces of a heavy heroin fix in his system.” Hel raised her eyes to mine again. “The victim was a nineteen-year-old woman, Quint. She was six months pregnant. When we got there, the psycho shitebag had passed out. He had a blood-stained mallet in his right hand and a chisel bearing fragments of bone and brain in his left hand.” She grabbed my wrist. “I’m going to see to it that the fucker’s executed but I need a confession. If you don’t get one from him, I’ll make sure you go the same way.”

  Jesus, Leadbelly, I thought. Whose nightmare have you dragged me into?

  Chapter Twelve

  The atmosphere in the corner office was getting seriously sweaty.

  “Come on then, you bastard,” Tam Haggs, said, bending over Leadbelly. “Fucking talk.”

  The prisoner looked up at him and shook his head. Drops of water spattered on to Haggs’s bristles. “No way, pig. I told you. I’m only talking to Quint.”