The Blood Tree Page 32

  I felt a shudder through the whole of my body. It wasn’t only because of the clammy chill out on the water. I wondered how Aurora was coping. The poor lass might never have been on a boat before, never mind one crewed by murderous lunatics.

  “What about your friend’s car?” I asked Katharine.

  “Ewan won’t mind. The yard manager’s going to let him know. I told Ewan and Peter earlier that it was a matter of life or death.” She smiled at me encouragingly. “Snap out of it, Quint. We’ll nail Macbeth. The wee girl will be fine.”

  “Come below,” Hel said, eyeing Katharine uncertainly. “I’m told there’s coffee and sandwiches.”

  We followed her down to a surprisingly comfortable mess-room where food and drink had been laid out. There was a bottle of good-quality whisky on the table but I steered clear of it. Davie got stuck in – not that a couple of heavy slugs would have any effect on his performance.

  A sailor came down the gangway and pointed to the bunks lining the cabin walls. “You can bed down there if you want. We’ll all be on watch.”

  Katharine and Hel stretched out, still regarding each other without much enthusiasm, while Davie and I stayed at the table.

  “Are you all right, big man?” I asked. “You’re the only one who can read that contraption, so it’s no shut-eye for you.”

  He nodded. “I’ll go up to the bridge and keep the skipper on the ball. I’ll let you know if anything exciting happens.”

  “Make sure he keeps his distance.”

  “Aye,” Davie said, screwing his eyes up at me. “You should get some kip, Quint. Or is there something you need to get off your chest?”

  I was tempted to share the load with him but I couldn’t. He was as close a friend as I had and he’d never let me down. But things were different with Aurora. She came from another time, a time before I knew Davie or Katharine. Keeping quiet about her was the only way I could feel close to her – and, through her, close to Caro. After eleven years I thought I’d finally managed to cope with the death of my first great love, but now I knew that was a delusion.

  I sat back after Davie went up. I was stretching and yawning but I didn’t think sleep would come. Then, under the table, I spotted the black hold-all I’d brought in from the Llama. I picked it up and opened the zip carefully, trying not to wake the women. Both of them had apparently passed out seconds after their heads hit the grubby pillows. I took the heavy pistol out and checked the clip before slipping it under my belt. There were still three rounds in it.

  Then I had a look at the files Broadsword had dropped. There were eight of them; eight names that rang several bells. They belonged to the four men and four women who’d been murdered and mutilated in Glasgow. I felt my jaw go slack. What the hell were files about them doing in the Baby Factory? I flicked back to the covers of the cardboard folders. Each was headed “Rennie Institute”, with a second line reading “Director – Professor D. J. Rennie MA, MSc, PhD” – the bent scientist obviously liked seeing his name in print all the time. It was the third line that really caught my eye. It contained the words “Personnel Department”.

  I spent a long time reading the contents of those files.

  I went up to the bridge later on when I heard the revs being cut. I was immediately soaked by the haar which Edinburgh is famous for. The chill sea mist had rolled across the Forth with a promise of winter.

  “Where are we?” I asked the captain.

  He glanced round from the wheel. “We’re shooting the supports of the old rail bridge.”

  “Where’s Macbeth’s boat?” I asked Davie as I looked out to my right. This time I could see nothing of Britannia.

  “About a mile ahead,” he replied, eyes locked on the monitor. “Fortunately it seems to be even more of a rust-bucket than this one—”

  “Here, watch it,” the sailor complained.

  “– so we made up some of the distance.” Davie turned to me. “Get any sleep? You look a bit less wiped out.”

  “Looks can be deceptive, my friend.” I was feeling exhausted and I was still very nervous about Aurora, but I had also begun to feel the rush that I always get when a case builds towards its climax.

  “Fucking haar,” the skipper said, eyes on his radar. At least the ramshackle boat was kitted out with reasonable equipment. “The one good thing about it is that it’s keeping the head-banging Embra boats in port.”

  I nodded, looking ruefully at Davie. The Fisheries Guard tended to ram first and ask questions afterwards. We were within the Edinburgh mobile phone system’s range now, but I wasn’t planning on giving the City Guard any advance warning yet.

  The next hour dragged by. They were enlivened only by breakfast, when Katharine and Hel tried to win awards for the most vicious look and the most snide comment. Overnight they seemed to have taken an inordinate dislike to each other. Davie and I went back up top, shaking our heads. I took the black hold-all with me.

  Then Davie leaned forward over the bug monitor. “He’s changing course,” he said after a few more seconds. “Yep, he’s on a bearing of 160. He’ll hit the shoreline pretty soon.”

  “How far are we behind him?” I asked.

  “Twelve hundred yards,” the skipper said after checking his instruments.

  “Shit,” I said, gripping the chart table. “If he beaches, we’ll be stuck out here while he gets clear.”

  Davie was looking at me. “Not only that. The border guards on the shore might spot them and pin them down.”

  I felt a razor-sharp blade run through my heart. Jesus. The border guards are one of the few units issued with guns in Edinburgh. I remembered Macbeth’s heavy automatic. The idea that Aurora might be caught in an exchange of fire was making my heart pound.

  “Give me your mobile, Davie.”

  Katharine and Hel had just climbed up to the wheelhouse.

  “What is it, Quint?” Katharine asked.

  I didn’t reply. I was too busy trying to raise the public order guardian on his mobile. The old bugger must have been asleep. Eventually he answered.

  “Lewis, it’s Dalrymple.”

  “Good God, man, where the bloody—”

  “Never mind that. This is an emergency. Tell the border patrols on the shore to the west of Granton to withdraw immediately. There’s a landing party on its way in and it’s essential you allow them free passage. We’re about ten minutes behind them.”

  “Landing party? Free passage?” the guardian spluttered. “What on earth—”

  “Do it, Lewis! Now!” I shouted. “I’ll get back to you soon. Out.”

  “He’s almost hit dry land,” Davie said, looking up from the monitor. “It’s sand there so he’s probably going right in to the shore.”

  Hyslop stepped up to me. “What’s going on, Quint? Who were you talking to?”

  I looked at her. “Someone you never want to meet. If you think Duart’s bad . . .” I let the words trail away and turned to the skipper. “Can you get us ashore a safe distance from the target boat?”

  He nodded. “Oh aye. I’ve landed people often enough around here. The guards are more miss than hit in this midden of a city.”

  Davie looked like he was about to take the Glaswegian out, but Katharine just laughed. The sight of Hel and Davie in simultaneous high dudgeon had made her day before sunrise.

  The tide was on the ebb so we had a long trudge across the sodden sands in the early morning light. The boat disappeared into the mist, which was clearing but still sufficient to soak our hair and clothes. There was no sign of the craft that had delivered our quarry. They were probably smugglers whose extortionate rates would have been no problem for Macbeth. The northern suburbs of Edinburgh gradually took shape in front of us, looking about as welcoming as a town full of hungry ghosts. I had a quick flash of the necropolis in Glasgow and that made me think of Macbeth and his cult. The way my home city was going he’d probably get fifty thousand members on the spot if he staged a performance – not that he could do that wi
thout finding a way of keeping it secret from the Council and the guard.

  “Where do you think they’ll go?” Davie said from my left, sinking up to his laces in the muddy sand. Katharine was beyond him while Hel was sticking close to me on the right.

  I shrugged. “That isn’t our problem. We can track them on the monitor easily enough. The problem is, how do we get the girl away?”

  “Wait a second,” Katharine said. “How are they going to get around the city? Surely they won’t have transport.”

  “Remember the missing Labour Directorate van,” I said, glancing at Davie. “Where are they now?”

  He held the monitor to his face. “In the middle of Muirhouse. They’re moving slowly so they’re obviously on foot.” He looked closer. “Not any more they’re not. They’re going faster now, heading towards Ferry Road.”

  I looked at my watch. “Six-thirty. The workers’ buses have started. They may have taken one of them. We need transport ourselves.”

  “I’m on to it,” Davie said, pulling out his mobile and calling the command centre.

  We reached the top of the shore and started stamping our feet on the road that runs alongside. It wasn’t particularly cold, but the damp had seeped into my boots and buggered up the circulation in my toes. Fortunately my brain seemed to be unaffected.

  “Broadsword,” I said under my breath.

  “What about him?” Hel asked, her face wet from the haar but her eyes as unwavering as ever.

  “The last time I saw him he was wearing his mask and medieval costume. He might get away with that in the central tourist zone but not in the citizen areas.”

  “Wouldn’t they just think he was off to work in some performance?” Katharine asked.

  “There’s a Raeburn Barracks Land-Rover on its way,” Davie said. He grimaced. “The public order guardian’s heading down here as well.”

  “Oh shit,” I said, turning to Hel. “You’re about to be nailed.”

  “Why?” she demanded, eyes wide open. “I haven’t done anything illegal.”

  “Yes, you have,” Davie said, raising his arm as a guard vehicle came round the corner, lights blazing. “This is a closed city. You need a Council authorisation to cross the borders.” He grinned at her. “In my experience, one of those has never been granted to a member of the Glasgow police.”

  A smile appeared on Katharine’s lips again. Time for me to step in and promote some togetherness.

  “Don’t worry, Hel. Lewis Hamilton is putty in my hands.”

  Davie and Katharine both laughed as the guard Land-Rover pulled up.

  “This time he is,” I said, picking up the hold-all. “This time he’s going to do everything I say or he’ll be spending the night in one of his own dungeons.”

  That put a stop to their levity.

  Hamilton appeared a few minutes later, his Jeep turning on to Pennywell Road as we were about to turn out of it. I would have kept going, but the auxiliary driver stopped obediently when he saw the guardian’s agitated hand signals.

  Lewis got out and made for us. “Dalrymple?” he said, his face lowering over the windscreen like a bearded full moon. “What the bloody hell’s going on?”

  I smiled at Hyslop and got out, motioning to the rest of them to stay put. “I’m very pleased to see you too, guardian,” I said, taking his arm and leading him down the pavement. A couple of male citizens in blue overalls and donkey jackets stared at us with the contemptuous indifference that’s generally applied to guard personnel in the suburbs.

  “Well?” the guardian demanded. “Where have you been, man? What’s all this about a hostage?”

  I told him the basics then wound myself up for the punchline. “I’m taking charge of this operation,” I said. “And you’re going to do everything I say.”

  That had the predictable effect of making his cheeks redden and his chest puff out like a seabird’s during the mating season. “Have you lost your—”

  “You’re in very deep shit, Lewis,” I said, cutting his question off before it turned into a diatribe. “I know that this city’s been doing genetic engineering deals with Glasgow.”

  That deflated him instantly. The small doubt I’d had that the secret committee he and Sophia were on was not involved with Rennie’s activities disappeared. He looked as guilty as a cat with cream-covered whiskers.

  I raised my hand. “I don’t care about the reasons, Lewis. The Glasgow executive’s tearing the research facility over there apart as I speak. It’s finished. All that matters is saving a girl who’s been taken hostage.”

  “Have you been in Glasgow?” he asked in disbelief. He looked round at the Land-Rover. “Who’s that female? Is she from—”

  “I told you, I’m in charge. She’s with me. And another thing. There’s to be no question of Hume 253 being demoted. Got that? If you argue, I’ll tell the Council about the secret set-up you and Sophia are running with the science and energy guardian and Billy Geddes.” I stared at him. “Billy is in on it, isn’t he?”

  Hamilton nodded slowly. “He’s been handling the financial side.” He looked at me. “We didn’t do it for monetary gain. You do believe that, don’t you, Dalrymple? The birth-rate’s dropped horrifically; we need the benefits of modern science.”

  I shook my head at him. “I don’t care about that now. You can convince me later. The girl is all that counts now. The fucker who’s got her is a madman. He and his followers were behind the murders of the auxiliaries.”

  That made Hamilton pull himself together. “Very well,” he said. “What do you need?”

  “Nothing for the time being,” I said, turning on my heel. “Go back to the castle and make sure I get everything I ask for the second I ask for it.”

  “All right,” he agreed reluctantly. “And Dalrymple?” he called after me. “It’s . . . it’s good to have you back.”

  I almost fainted. I didn’t think the old hardnose had it in him. Things must have got really bad since I’d been gone.

  We headed up to Queensferry Road and then into the city centre. The targets were on foot again and had left the east end of Princes Street.

  “They’re moving round the lower slopes of the Calton Hill,” Davie said, his eyes on the monitor.

  “Get over there,” I said to the driver. I could have sent other guard personnel closer, but there was no need. Anyway, I didn’t trust the guardian enough to be sure he wouldn’t try a full-scale intervention if his people were involved. Then it struck me. “Shit, he’s heading for Royal Terrace,” I said, glancing at Katharine. “The superannuated scientist.”

  She nodded. “Doctor Godwin and his extremely strange pet.”

  Hel was staring at us. “What are you talking about?”

  I told her about the animal geneticist who had supposedly been retired. I reckoned that was horseshit – the old bastard was probably still hard at work on a daily basis. The question was, where? A lab conducting illegal experiments could hardly be located in a standard Science and Energy Directorate facility.

  The Land-Rover jerked to a halt at the traffic lights at the foot of the Mound. The tourist tat shops on Princes Street were open but deserted at this early hour, citizen workers tramping through the drizzle with their shouders hunched and the collars of their thin Supply Directorate coats up. The city’s visitors would still be in their beds, brains numbed by the booze dispensed in the clubs and genitalia worn out by Tourism Directorate hookers. There wasn’t a single child to be seen. My heart seized up for a few seconds as I thought of Aurora being dragged along by Macbeth. I could only hope that she was being smart and doing everything he told her.

  “They’ve stopped,” Davie said, bent over the monitor. “Towards the far end of Royal Terrace.”

  I nodded. “That’ll be the retirement home. I have a feeling they won’t be there for long.” I turned to the driver. “Go down to the Playhouse Leisure Centre and pull up there. We’ll wait for them to get on the move again.”

  He did so. We s
at wiping the windows of the vehicle as they clouded up with the steam rising from our still sodden clothes and footwear. After a few minutes Hel, who was in the back, stretched her arms and legs then leaned towards us. I felt Katharine shy away.

  “What’s in those files, Quint?” she asked, pointing at the bag at my feet. “Can I have a look at them?” There was a slight edge to her voice.

  “Nothing interesting,” I said nonchalantly. “Who knows what Broadsword wanted with them?”

  “Can I have a look at them?” the inspector repeated.

  “Movement!” Davie said. “Faster than pedestrians. They’ve found a vehicle and they’re heading eastwards round Royal Terrace.”

  I grabbed the Land-Rover’s mobile and got the retirement home’s number from the central switchboard. The effete auxiliary in charge remembered me and tried to pass the time of day. I threatened him with the mines and was told that Dr Godwin had gone off in a taxi with a thin-faced, bearded man. And yes, there was a girl – a very pretty, shy one – with him. But he’d seen no sign of anyone else in the cab.

  The target vehicle had swung round on to Regent Terrace and was heading west. I told the driver to go up to the top of Leith Walk and wait for them there. The fact that they were in a taxi showed that Godwin still had high-level clearance – only serving senior auxiliaries and tourists are allowed to use cabs.

  “All right, let’s move,” I said as the taxi went past us and down Princes Street. “And keep your bloody distance!” Guard drivers aren’t much use at tailing as there are so few vehicles in Edinburgh. I caught a glimpse of Macbeth’s head but no one else was visible. He was obviously making sure that Aurora didn’t get a chance to attract attention.

  “Where’s Broadsword got to?” Davie asked.

  “I reckon he’s keeping his head down in the taxi,” I said.

  “Trying not to scare the locals,” Katharine said grimly.

  “Or he might not have been with Macbeth in the first place,” Hel pointed out from behind us. “We’re only assuming he joined up with his leader on the way out of Glasgow.”