The deaths of Henry Brown and his henchman Dudley. . the question, What the fuck is a hench? ran, uncontrollably and unanswered, through his mind, making him realise that he was not very far away from hysteria. . had left him with what had become already an indelible memory, yet another that he would carry to the grave, unless Alzheimer’s or some other affliction erased it first.
Martin was shaken by his own weakness. Although he knew that he was regarded as a hard guy, as international-class rugby flank forwards invariably are, he did have a soft side and he was quietly proud of it. Nonetheless his CID career had developed under Skinner’s tutelage, which tended to work on what he called Billy Ocean principles; as the song went, when the going got tough, the tough got going.
For sure, something had knocked him off kilter, and he knew what it was. There were two people in the world that he loved totally, simply and without complications, and their names were Danielle and Robert Martin, a toddler and an infant. For all that he was presenting the break-up of his marriage as an agreement to part by two mature intelligent people facing up to the truth, and for all his talk of having been an absentee father all along, he had been keen to lead his friends in their pursuit of Henry Brown simply because it postponed the moment when he would have to go back to his empty house in Edinburgh, knowing that in Perth his daughter would be asking why he wasn’t in his appointed place at her bedtime, talking to her and reading her a chapter from her chosen book. And when he did go home, what a picture he would be taking with him, in his head. .
He glanced at the dashboard clock; it was showing five minutes after midnight. The household would be quiet, Robert permitting. He smiled at the thought but felt his eyes moisten. ‘Go back, Andy,’ he whispered in the darkness, but he knew that there was no way. There were too many obstacles between him and Karen.
And then there was the job. It had all happened very quickly; vacancy circulated, applications invited, and then, before he had even completed the form, a direct approach. He had accepted on the spot, but after one day in his new office he found himself wondering whether his enthusiasm had been based in part on its fortuitous timing, and the opportunity it had given to put up a smokescreen to conceal from the world the truth about his break-up. But that notion had gone as quickly as it had arrived. He had never taken a job without one hundred per cent certainty that it was right for him, and the SCDEA post was the destination for which his entire career had been headed.
The sharp bend took him by surprise: he jerked the wheel violently to stay on the narrow drive. ‘Focus, man,’ he said aloud, chiding himself.
The road straightened, he crested a rise, and there it was, in view, silhouetted against the sky, the farmhouse, a substantial stone building with two storeys and an attic floor above. If it had been for sale, an estate agent would probably have described it as a mansion. And it was in use. On either side of the main entrance there were two huge bay windows. They both seemed to be in darkness, but as he eased closer, Martin could see that the curtains in the one on the left were drawn. They were heavy, but a slit of light was showing. He looked up; in two of the four windows set into the roof, there were signals of occupation.
The drive opened out into a garden, and forked. He took the branch to the right; and parked, in sight of the house, but well to the side, engine ticking over, but lights off. He reached out for his mobile, which was set in a dashboard socket, found Skinner’s number and called it.
‘Andy.’ The chief constable’s voice filled the car through the Bluetooth speakers.
‘Bob,’ he told him, ‘this place is not empty. Is Rod sure Grandpa’s tucked up?’
‘Hold on.’ He heard muffled voices. ‘Yes,’ Skinner told him as he came back on line. ‘They did another check twenty minutes ago. He’s watching TV and having a beer.’
‘I don’t know whether that’s a relief or not. Do you reckon there’s any chance the shooter’s holed up here?’
‘And advertising the fact?’
‘Maybe not.’
‘Do any obvious alternatives occur?’
‘Ah,’ Martin exclaimed. ‘What did Goldie say? “Our Cameron goes there sometimes.” I’ll bet she wasn’t talking about her brother; she meant her niece.’
‘I’m not with you.’
‘There are two Cameron McCulloughs. That’s why the first is called Grandpa. The other one is Inez’s daughter; she was named after him, and she’s the apple of his eye, his only soft spot. It’s probably her. I’ll go and check.’
‘Don’t do that,’ said Skinner sharply. ‘Yes, you’re probably right, but it’s not impossible that we could both be wrong and there is a man with a gun in there. The memory of Stevie Steele is still fresh in my mind. I’m not having you knocking the wrong door unprepared. Hold on while I send Doreen’s team round to join you.’
‘Fucking hell, Bob, don’t babysit me. I can take whoever’s in there.’
‘Andy, I don’t know if I can give you orders any more, but this is one anyway. Do not move out of that car until back-up gets there. We’re going to be hosing brains off the roof of this barn. I don’t want the same to happen to you.’
Before Martin could reply, the fist grabbed his stomach again, without warning, squeezing the adventure out of him. His mind was filled with a vision of the nightmare in the barn, and he started to tremble. ‘OK,’ he whispered, ‘I’m convinced; we’ll do it your way.’
‘Are you all right?’ his friend asked.
‘Yeah. It’s just that I can’t shake this daft question from my head.’
‘Google it while you wait. I’ll send them now. You let Doreen ring that bell.’
The mobile went dead. Martin sat in the dark, feeling unmanned by his weakness. Still thinking of the horrors, he threw his head back and looked at the grey roof lining, but he seemed to see the two ravaged forms there, as if it were a cinema screen. He closed his eyes, but it made no difference. He thought about calling Karen; he reached for the phone once more, but when he opened his contact list and saw the first name and number that came up, he went no further. He pressed the call button and waited as the car was filled with the two-tone sound.
‘Andy,’ said a sleep-filled voice, ‘d’you know what time it is?’
‘Yes, sorry. Are you alone?’
‘Of course I’m bloody alone.’
‘Sorry, I meant, can you talk?’
‘I’m not sure I want to. I was dreaming about Granada. I’ve just read a book that’s set there and so I’ve booked to go. It was a good dream.’
‘Sorry again. Mine was a nightmare. I won’t tell you what was in it. Alex, what the fuck is a hench?’
‘A what?’
‘You know. A hench, as in henchman. What the fuck can it be? I can’t get the question out of my head and it’s driving me crazy.’
‘Andy. Are you all right?’
‘You’re the second Skinner to ask me that in the last five minutes.’
‘I hope you gave my dad a proper answer.’
‘No. The truth is I think I’ve lost my bottle. I’m just a wee bit confused. I’m not saying I don’t know who I am any more, but I don’t think I’m quite the same guy.’
‘Are you drunk?’
‘Hell, no.’
‘Where are you?’
‘Sat in my car in Perthshire, waiting for a woman with a gun to make me safe.’
‘You’re not making a lot of sense.’
‘Not even to me, kid.’
‘Have you been in a stressful situation?’
‘You could say that. So has your old man, but he’s like a rock, while I’ve got the shakes. That’s never happened to me before.’
‘Welcome to the human race, love.’
‘What did you call me?’
‘Slip of the tongue. Let me tell you about my dad. Whatever it is you’ve seen that’s shaken you up, if he’s seen the same thing, then at some point over the next couple of days, he will get quietly hammered. It won’t be too noticeable, for he’s got hollow legs for the drink, as you know, but he will. The next morning, he’ll either go for a run or he’ll go to the gym and he’ll knock ten bells out of himself. That’s his way; but you’ve never lived with him so you’re not to know that. As for the Glimmer Twins, I spoke to Paula the other day; she told me that when Mario came home last Thursday, from that fire scene, he drank two bottles of Albarino then started to cry. I’m glad you’ve got the heebies, Andy. To tell you the truth I used to be slightly scared that you never did before.’ She waited, filling the car with the sound of her breathing. ‘And you miss your babies,’ she added, finally.