Impolitic Corpses Page 28

  ‘Comrades, let me through!’ yelled Rory. It took some time, but the fighters complied. I followed. The noise started to die down, then stopped altogether.

  ‘Anyone who takes another step will lose his balls,’ Davie shouted.

  That got to the Dundonians and an uneasy silence continued. Rory and I made it to the door. One of his men had a bloody face.

  ‘What is it?’ Penny said. ‘You big men aren’t frightened of us, are you?’

  The twins stood in the middle of the room, both with belligerent expressions. Their arms were raised and fists clenched.

  There was muttering from the fighters, but no one answered.

  ‘Never seen conjoined twins before?’ Penny went on. ‘Think we’re freaks? Monsters?’ She grimaced. ‘You ignorant cowards. There’s more in our heads than all yours put together. And get this – without us, you’re all going to die horribly. You need us!’

  I wondered what she meant and nodded to Davie. With Rory, he herded the fighters out of the room. The sitting room was secured and an armchair pushed against the broken door to close it.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ said Rory to the twins and the Lady of the Isles. The latter looked terrified; Katharine was comforting her. ‘They heard there were women in the house and couldn’t contain their curiosity.’

  ‘I hope they’re satisfied,’ said Penny.

  Amber laughed. ‘They looked like kids who saw the bogeyman … women.’

  I went over and asked them to sit down, then handed them glasses of water from the table.

  ‘What was that you said about the fighters needing you?’ I asked Penny.

  She gave me a glacial look. ‘None of your business.’

  Amber’s eyes widened. ‘Dearest, don’t be like that. Quintilian was on our side.’

  ‘And I’ll continue to be, but you have to help me.’ I outlined the situation as I’d heard it from Lachie. ‘I know the armed men at the Binns were local hired hands. Were there any other South Africans apart from the terat— from Sebastian? Are there any others in Scotland?’

  ‘You’ve forgotten the salient point, Dalrymple,’ said Penny. ‘You killed our father and we’re going to make you pay.’

  I felt tingling in the stump of my right forefinger.

  ‘Come on, Pen,’ said Amber. ‘There might be war. We could be killed.’

  Penny turned on her. ‘You’re always like this, Amber – soft and stupid. You made eyes at that scheming surgeon who wanted to separate us. Do you really think he had feelings for you?’

  Amber’s cheeks reddened. ‘He said he did. In fact, sister dear, that was why he wanted us to be apart.’

  ‘You think he’d have been turned on by a woman with one arm, one leg, one breast and one buttock?’

  ‘No, he’d have been turned on by a woman with one head.’

  ‘Hold on,’ I said. ‘Amber’s right. War is definitely on the cards.’ I leaned closer. ‘And your country supplied the Scottish Defence Force with a secret weapon.’

  ‘What is it?’ asked Penny brusquely.

  ‘I don’t know. Are there any of your fellow countrymen or women in Scotland who would be able to tell us?’

  ‘How should we know?’ said Penny, dropping her gaze.

  Amber looked past the back of her sister’s head and smiled at me shyly. ‘Well, there’s always Jack.’

  I knew it. We should have done more to locate Jack Nicol. There was more to the attempt on his life than rivalry between the Bosch cults. Where was he and who was the tree-fish?

  Penny sniffed. ‘Jack Nicol’s nothing but a pawn.’

  Amber was shaking her head at me. ‘He’s been to our country. He’s in charge. Ah!’

  I grabbed Penny’s arm, which was surprisingly muscular. She’d punched Amber on the chin and her sister’s head was lolling back on the sofa.

  Amber blinked and came back to herself. ‘Just for that,’ she said, rubbing her jaw, ‘I’m going to tell Quintilian exactly what Jack does.’

  ‘Don’t you dare!’ Spittle sprayed from Penny’s lips. ‘He killed our father!’

  ‘I don’t care. We both know our father was a pig. Do you think our mother would have approved of all your plotting?’ Amber turned to me. ‘Jack’s a smart operator. He’s been South Africa’s man in Edinburgh for three years. He knows everything there is to know about our government’s plans.’

  ‘More than we do,’ said Penny, with a harsh laugh.

  ‘Find him, Quintilian,’ said Amber. ‘I don’t want a war. Not even my sister really wants that. Find Jack and stop him.’

  I turned to Davie. He was ready to roll.

  ‘I don’t suppose you have any idea where he might be?’ I asked.

  ‘No!’ screamed Penny, trying desperately to free her arm from my grasp. ‘Don’t say another word!’

  Amber shook her head sadly. ‘Honestly, Pen, you have more of our father in you than is healthy.’ She looked at me. ‘He has a base where his men gather and store their arms. I don’t know exactly where it is, but I’ve heard him call it the Destructor.’

  Davie raised a clenched fist and grinned.

  I called Rory and arranged with him for people to stop Penny and her sister fighting, whatever form that might take. Then, at speed, we gathered a squad of ten armed men and women and put them in the two vans that had chains on their wheels.

  ‘Good news,’ said Rory. ‘The snow’s stopped in the south and Knee Bothwell’s people are on the move.’

  ‘Send them to Powderhall as well,’ I said. ‘Who knows how many we’ll be up against.’

  ‘I’d come with you,’ said Rory, ‘but Lachie’s ordered me to sit on the Dundonians. Don’t you want them with you too?’

  I shook my head. ‘They’re our tactical reserve. Have them ready to move at a moment’s notice. No more booze.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘You’ve got Lady Margaret to look after too,’ said Katharine, sliding a magazine into an automatic rifle she’d found somewhere. ‘I’m coming with you, Quint.’

  ‘Great,’ moaned Davie, as he got behind the wheel of the front van.

  ‘Just like old times,’ I said, opening the other door for her.

  She didn’t reply – just gave me one of the enigmatic smiles she’d been practising over her years in Stirling.

  So we headed for the Destructor. It wasn’t hard to see how the place could live up to its name.

  The snow had almost stopped in the western suburbs. We took the road along the shore and through Pilton to avoid ScotPol patrols. We were well enough armed to fend off unwelcome attention in the housing scheme. As it happened, there wasn’t any. Maybe the gunfight with Morrie the Nut’s people had done serious damage – not that the locals would be quiet for long. It was as we turned on to Goldenacre that we ran into trouble.

  ‘Told you we should have gone the back way to Powderhall,’ muttered Davie, smiling at the ScotPol officer standing in front of the barrier that had been erected across the road.

  ‘Fob him off,’ I said, under my breath.

  He grunted and wound down the window of the ancient van.

  ‘Is that you, Detective Leader?’ said the middle-aged man in a yellow high-visibility suit.

  This was the crunch. If Hel Hyslop had put Davie’s name on a watch list – never mind mine – then we were in deep dung. The ScotPol squad were equipped with rifles and pistols, which was a mark of how serious the situation was. The last thing I wanted was a bloodbath – but that would happen to the nth degree if the South Africans’ surrogates, the Nor-English, invaded Scotland. Our only lead was what Amber told us about Jack Nicol’s base at the Destructor and we had to get there.

  ‘Hold on, will you, sir?’ said the officer, taking out his radio.

  Tension rose in the front of the van, Katharine gripping a pistol she’d removed from her pocket. I nudged her, but she gave me a furious look. She wasn’t taking orders from a man, neither a ScotPol officer nor me.

  The man fi
nished speaking and looked back at Davie. ‘There’s a wee problem, Detective Leader.’

  I felt Katharine’s body tighten.

  ‘The director wants you at HQ right away. I’m to take you up myself.’

  Davie swore loudly. ‘I’m on an urgent operation.’

  ‘I thought you might be,’ said the officer, looking at the van more closely.

  ‘Go with him,’ I whispered to Davie. ‘It’s our only way through.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘But I’ll manage. Now bugger off. And leave that machine pistol behind.’

  He mumbled something uncomplimentary and got out.

  I waited till the officer moved away before taking the driving seat.

  The barrier was raised and we were off, the snow chains gripping the snow effectively. I kept my speed down, unlike the guy who was driving Davie – he’d disappeared down the road at ridiculous speed, lights flashing and siren blaring.

  ‘What do you think will happen to Thunderboots?’ Katharine said.

  ‘Don’t call him that. He’s heavily outnumbered and could be about to have the collected works of Hel Hyslop flung in his face.’

  Katharine laughed. ‘He’ll manage.’ She looked ahead. ‘The question is, will we?’

  ‘Thanks for the vote of confidence,’ I said, keeping my foot off the brake as the van slithered across the road.

  ‘You think you’re in charge now?’

  I let that go. It didn’t matter if she wanted to handle tactics on the ground. I was wondering what we were up against and cursing myself for not having followed up Jack Nicol days ago. Lachie’s congratulations sounded decidedly hollow right now.

  We crossed the Water of Leith and went through Canonmills. Then I turned left on to Broughton Road. The Powderhall Destructor was only a few minutes ahead.

  FIFTEEN

  I stopped about a hundred metres before the rubbish disposal site. I knew it was surrounded by high fencing, so we’d have to find a way in. I got out of the van and, with Katharine, went to the vehicle behind.

  ‘Andy Bothwell’s people are about half an hour away,’ said the middle-aged woman at the wheel. ‘It would be sensible to wait.’

  I asked her name.

  ‘Linda,’ she said. ‘I was in the Guard, Citizen.’ She grinned after she used my old designation.

  ‘Were you now? All right, let’s hold on. I don’t know how many people are in there. I’m going to scout the area. I’ll take one of the guys in the front van with me – you’ve all got radios, haven’t you?’

  She nodded. ‘What do you want us to do if any vehicles or people exit the compound?’

  ‘Stop them if you can – though putting this heap in front of a bin lorry might not be a great idea.’

  ‘We’d be able to keep up with it all right, though.’

  ‘True. OK, hold fast.’

  ‘I’m coming with you,’ said Katharine, before we reached the front van.

  ‘Knock me down with a wren’s feather.’ I thumped on the back door and asked for a radio. There was no point in putting more than two of us in danger.

  We set off past the tenements towards what had been an incinerator till the mid-1980s, when it had been shut down. I knew about it because my parents had lived nearby when they were recently married, and they often mentioned the stinking smoke clouds it had pumped out. After the Enlightenment, when landfill sites outside the city were no longer accessible, the plant had been recommissioned. There were better filters on the chimney now, but the place still reeked. It had the full range of destruction gear now, including a car crusher. Some attempts at recycling were made, but a private company ran the plant and the media had reported that it wasn’t exactly fastidious. Not the municipality’s finest hour, but the convenors had a lot on their respective plates.

  There were lights on inside the compound and the sound of grinding increased as we approached. There was no one around outside: everybody was trying to keep warm – except us.

  I looked at the gate. Oddly, it was less solid than the fencing. There was a metal bar across the inside of the steel struts, but I reckoned one of the vans could break through.

  ‘Shall we call them in?’ Katharine asked, having reached the same conclusion.

  ‘Let’s hang on a bit.’

  ‘Haven’t your testicles got frostbite yet?’

  ‘I didn’t think you cared.’

  ‘Neither did I.’

  We knelt down, trying to make ourselves as small as possible. That was just as well, because three figures in high-vis suits and helmets suddenly emerged from the main building. I tracked them as they moved towards a large black rubbish collection vehicle.

  ‘That’s Jack Nicol in the middle,’ I said. ‘Give me the radio.’

  Katharine paid no attention. She checked the channel and then pressed the transmit button. ‘Suspect about to board bin lorry. Stand by.’

  ‘Suspect? You’re talking to rebels, not ScotPol.’

  ‘That woman Linda was in the Guard.’

  She had me there.

  We watched as the engine started with a roar and moved towards the gate. It must have been electronically controlled as it opened without anyone nearby.

  ‘Van One, you have authority to ram,’ said Katharine. ‘Ram! Ram!’

  ‘What authority?’ I protested, too late. The front van was already in motion, whoever was driving having placed a heavy boot on the accelerator.

  The bin lorry was only halfway out of the gate when the driver, who wasn’t Nicol, saw what was approaching. He hit the brake and the van slowed, eventually stopping a few millimetres in front of the lorry’s bumper. Linda had driven up behind the first van to double the weight. That would make it harder for the larger vehicle to shove them back. Unless it reversed and took a run at them, which is what started to happen.

  I grabbed the radio. ‘Follow them in!’ I yelled. ‘Don’t let them open up a gap.’

  The van wheels span in the slush but they quickly got a grip and enabled the vehicles to pass through the gate.

  ‘Here we go,’ I said, as the driver of the bin lorry jumped down, a machine pistol in his right hand. ‘One firefight coming right up.’

  I turned my head, but Katharine had already gone. She fired as she went through the gate, making the guy with the machine pistol dive to the ground. The rebels piled out of the vans and brought their own arms to bear on people who ran out of the buildings.

  ‘I want Nicol alive,’ I shouted despairingly, as I ran through the gate.

  It was a close-run thing. The guys in the high-vis suits weren’t rubbish collectors; they were fully trained and/or experienced headbangers. Two rebels hit the snow and didn’t get up, while at least another three were wounded, though that didn’t stop them fighting. Katharine had a new parting in her hair above her left ear, blood dripping on to her shoulder. The man who fired that shot didn’t stay on his feet for long. I could see Jack Nicol battling hard, a look on his face that was much more vicious than we’d seen before. He was obviously a chameleon and he’d fooled me completely, which made me even more determined to nail him. I ran towards him and was promptly put on my arse in the gritty snow by a guy with a tyre iron. A rebel knocked him out with the butt of his rifle. I got up and staggered on, waving my pistol like a drunken clown. Then Nicol saw me. He grinned like a devil distinctly not sick of sin and came at me, brandishing a long, thin bayonet-like blade. I slithered to a stop.

  There was a blast on a horn. I looked round, to see Andy Bothwell lead a group of armed rebels from vans that had just arrived behind the others. Then Nicol was on me, smashing me to the ground and bringing the bayonet up to my throat.

  ‘They’ve … disowned you,’ I managed to say.

  His brow furrowed. ‘What?’

  At least he hadn’t moved his weapon closer, though his weight made it hard for me to breathe.

  ‘Penny and Amber. How … do you think … I found you?’

  ‘Fucking bitches,’ he said
, then shook his head. ‘Even more reason to put holes in your face.’ The point of the bayonet went into my right cheek. I screamed.

  Then the weight rolled off me. I had my hand on my face, blood trickling between the fingers, but I could see Katharine. She had one foot on Nicol’s chest and was blowing on her knuckles.

  ‘A right to the jaw,’ she said, between breaths. ‘He must have had a glass one.’

  I sat up and looked around. Bothwell’s arrival had been better timed than the arrival of Blucher on the field of Waterloo. The men in high-vis suits were on the ground, some kneeling, more flat out. I picked up the bayonet and got to my feet, less than steadily.

  ‘All right, son?’ said Andy, who must have been younger than me.

  ‘Aye,’ I mumbled. ‘Tie that bastard up. We need to talk to him. Take the others too.’

  ‘There are still some in the plant,’ he said. A burst of gunfire confirmed that. ‘Shall we get after them?’

  ‘I wouldn’t waste any more—’

  The air seemed to compress and then a deafening blast sent us all flying. A mass of flame rose from the back of the facility’s main building, then bits of metal – most small but some as large as my head – came raining down. I wrapped my arms round my cranium and found myself on the Somme. I could hear only a high whining. Gradually, the aerial bombardment lessened and then stopped. Clouds of smoke roiled across the compound, rebels covered in ash and dust stumbling around.

  I took my arms away and looked for Katharine. She nodded from not far away to confirm that she was unhurt. Knee Bothwell danced up, a crazy smile on his lips. His mouth opened and closed, but I couldn’t make out the words. Then I found I could lip-read.

  ‘The Destructor self-destructs!’ he was saying, over and over.

  I shook my head. Destructors, whether human or mechanical, never really disappeared. At best we had some temporary relief. But experience had taught me that plotters, profiteers and monsters didn’t stay away for long, especially from the fair city of Embra.

  The explosion brought plenty of interested parties to Powderhall: fire engines, ambulances and police vehicles first and journalists soon after. I caught sight of Charlotte Thomson on the other side of the fence. She waved at me, but I didn’t want to talk to her, at least not yet. My hearing was only slowly coming back and my cheek hurt as if a Bosch demon had skewered it. I saw a grim-faced Hel Hyslop get out of a dark-blue Volvo and wondered what had happened to Davie. As yet there was no sign of him. It would be just like Hel to lock him up and use him to twist my arm. Then again, we’d reached the end of the endgame. Her priority would be to shore up what remained of her position. No doubt Andrew Duart was spinning all sorts of yarns to do the same for himself in parliament.