Easy Kill (28 page)

Daniel Bradley was one nervous man, but McNab was used to honest citizens taking fright when faced with an enquiry from the law. Bradley had brought up the database on the screen and was doing a search with trembling hands.

‘Look. He’s not there. He should be under the “G”s.’

There was no ‘Gordon’.

‘Who put him on the system?’

‘I did it myself, when he booked yard space to work on his boat.’

‘Could Gordon have had access to the database himself?’

Bradley looked suitably affronted. ‘The office is strictly off limits to anyone except staff.’

McNab brought out the Atlantic City photograph.

‘Is this Gordon?’

Mr Bradley took a quick glance and shook his head.

‘It’s not him?’

Bradley avoided looking again. ‘No, that’s not him.’ A nerve twitched at the corner of his mouth.

McNab decided to go for the jugular.

‘Mr Gordon is wanted in connection with the Necropolis murders.’

All the blood drained from Bradley’s face. If he hadn’t been sitting, he’d have fallen down.

‘Murder. I thought . . .’

‘You thought what?’

Bradley chewed on his lip.

‘This is very serious. I shouldn’t have to remind you . . .’

‘He gave me photographs,’ Bradley mumbled, ‘and some DVDs.’

‘Porn?’

Bradley nodded.

‘You wiped his name from the system?’

‘I thought it was about the photographs. I didn’t want to get involved.’

McNab indicated the picture again. ‘Take a good look. Is that Mark Gordon?’

This time Bradley did look. ‘It might be.’

‘What do you mean, might be?’ McNab’s tone was icy.

‘I told you, I don’t want to get involved. I’ve got a wife and two kids.’

‘And pornographic material from a murder suspect.’

Bradley’s face went white.

McNab was getting pissed off. ‘Protecting the identity of a murder suspect . . .’

‘Okay. Okay. The photo could be Gordon, but he looks different now.’

‘How different?’

‘He’s smarter dressed and his hair’s shorter.’

McNab went in search of Chrissy and found her suited figure at the hull of a wooden yacht.

‘This the one?’

She lowered her mask. ‘It is.’

McNab admired the sleek lines.

‘Got what you need?’

Chrissy nodded. ‘Enough to be going on with. How about you?’

‘The photo is Mark Gordon, even if he has changed his hair style.’

‘So where is he?’

‘Bradley wiped his file, or thought he did. Seems Gordon was supplying him with porn and Bradley took fright at our interest. I’m taking the computer to Tech. Let’s hope Gordon gave a valid contact address when he joined the yacht club.’

‘And if he didn’t?’

‘We’re no nearer picking him up.’

‘
NO LUCK IN
locating either Irvine or Forbes,’ said Janice. ‘Lothian and Borders are watching Forbes’ work and home. Apparently he hasn’t been seen in either place for the last couple of days.’

‘And Irvine?’ Bill asked.

‘According to a neighbour, he’s gone on holiday. At least that’s what he told her.’

‘Where?’

‘Somewhere hot and sunny, away from the rain.’

‘They know we’re on to them.’

‘Looks like it, sir.’

The leads were shutting down as quickly as they opened up. McNab had already called in from Rhu Marina with the Bradley story. He was on his way back with the confiscated computer from the repair yard, and the one holding the yacht club members’ list. The CCU would have no problem recovering Gordon’s deleted details, but there was no guarantee he’d given a true address and phone number anyway. Chrissy had taken some samples from the yacht and a team would descend on it tomorrow. McNab had voiced his concern about Rhona’s whereabouts during the call.

‘Chrissy checked with the lab,’ McNab had told Bill. ‘Rhona’s not there and her mobile’s switching to voice-mail.’

It was after six. Rhona might have gone home or to the Jazz Club. Bill decided to check both places before he panicked. There was no answer from her flat, so he rang the club. The barman answered and immediately handed Bill over to Sean.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing, so far. I wanted to check up on Rhona. Is she with you?’

‘I haven’t seen her since she left for work this morning.’

‘Okay, I’ll put a call out for her car. She was at the cathedral with DS McNab earlier on, but no one’s spoken to her since.’

‘She showed me the photo on her mobile. If that bastard Magnus harms her . . .’

Bill cut him off. ‘We have no reason to believe she’s in any danger. And certainly not from Magnus.’

‘That’s what she said last night. I didn’t believe her then and I don’t believe you now.’

Superintendent Sutherland was incandescent with rage.

‘Why wasn’t I shown this before?’

‘Rhona received it by phone late last night. I haven’t been able to get hold of you until now.’

‘The girl’s alive in this.’

‘Yes, but it could have been taken up to twenty-four hours ago. CCU believe that’s an underground stream
in the background. McNab and Rhona were checking the Molendinar culvert this afternoon, but eventually had to abandon because of high water levels. The council is identifying points of access, but according to them, there could be buried manholes under a number of buildings, predominantly north of the Necropolis.’ Bill didn’t add that it was like potholing without a map during a flood.

‘You checked the phone’s location?’

‘It was definitely Magnus’s phone, and came from the Glasgow Green area. The mobile hasn’t been used since.’

‘Who else knows about it?’

‘Myself, McNab and Rhona.’ Bill decided not to mention Sean.

‘Keep it like that until we find Professor Pirie and hear his explanation.’

Bill didn’t believe for a moment that Sutherland thought finding Magnus was a forgone conclusion. The Super had ordered Magnus not to involve himself with the online auction, but Magnus had chosen to ignore the command and made contact with the killer, with some stupid notion he could play him at his own game. Bill didn’t like to have his theories on involving Magnus proved right. But textbook psychology wasn’t real life – you couldn’t understand a killer’s mind just because you’d read the right books. Solid policing was the only way to catch him. Solid policing, forensics and luck.

Bill outlined the developments on Mark Gordon. The prospect of a suspect went some way to mollifying
Sutherland. The Super would have questions to answer on this one, just like Bill.

‘He’s the one?’

‘Looks like it.’

Sutherland allowed himself a nod of approbation.

An hour later, the report came in that Rhona’s car had been located in Duke Street, not far from where Cathy’s body had been discovered. There had been no sign of Rhona.

‘A CSO came into the main culvert from the east, close to where we found Cathy,’ McNab said.

‘A CSO?’

‘Combined sewer outlet. Where the sewer overflows into the burn, if its capacity is reached. Rhona took a look but it was encrusted and impossible to search. She thought the injuries on Cathy’s body might have been caused by the encrustation.’

‘Rhona wouldn’t have gone back in alone?’

‘I wouldn’t have thought so. Not without proper equipment.’

McNab’s expression didn’t mirror his words. Rhona’s car had been found near the culvert. If she wasn’t planning another look, why would she go back there?

Bill went to the wall map. The route of the underground burn had been highlighted in blue, running from west to east, north of Alexandra Parade. Culvert 5A was tucked in the triangle between Millbank Street and the Parade. Then a big gap before manhole 6, where the Parade met Wishart Street. The council hadn’t been able to locate any manholes between 5A
and 6 and thought they were probably buried under buildings or covered by tar.

After 6 the burn ran southwards under Wishart Street, west of the Necropolis, the line of manholes down the centre of the road. Then the manhole McNab and Rhona had used, near the boundary of the Necropolis. That was believed to be the last one before the burn emerged above ground. But was it?

Minty had said he left Cathy standing outside the Great Eastern. They had forensic evidence to show she’d been in Cardross, but her killer had brought her back to Glasgow. They’d searched the Great Eastern and found nothing. Rhona had been concerned about the CSO coming from the east, the direction of the old hotel. What if they had missed something in the building, like an opening on the culvert? The hotel had been an old cotton mill in the time when the burn was used to supply a variety of works. It would be logical to assume it had some access to the water. Maybe Rhona went in there to take a look for herself?

‘Okay. We hit the Great Eastern again,’ Bill told McNab. ‘This time we make sure there’s no access to the culvert from the basement.’

HE’D TOLD HER
she would be dead soon, but she wasn’t dead yet.

Rhona dragged herself into a sitting position, feeling the ground wet beneath her and knowing it was blood from the sharp, metallic smell. She felt the chilly weight of manacles and followed their chains to the wall. Someone had already died in this place. Trussed up and tortured.

A wave of nausea hit her as she tried to move away from the wall. When he’d shoved her down the manhole, she’d slipped on the wall irons and fallen heavily, her right leg twisted beneath her. He’d jumped down behind, spitting curses through the mask, calling her a ‘stupid fucking bitch’. Rhona was glad she’d pissed him off, despite the searing pain.

She reached down, feeling the extent of the swelling. She had no chance of straightening the leg without help. Rhona rolled onto her front and attempted to crawl towards the sound of running water. The CSO was her best chance of getting out before her tormentor returned. He hadn’t restrained her, thinking she wasn’t going anywhere with a broken leg. She would prove the bastard wrong.

She was almost at the water when she realised he was back. Her ragged, laboured breathing must have covered his approach. A footfall brought her to an abrupt halt. She lay perfectly still, her eyes probing the darkness, her heart hammering in her chest.

‘Going somewhere, Dr MacLeod?’

She could smell him, a musky mix of oil and sweat. Magnus had said a serial killer fed off the scent of his victim’s fear. She would deny the bastard that, at least.

Rhona waited, sensing his slow walk around her. If he still held the gun, she didn’t stand a chance. But if she was going to die, she would go out like Cathy, fighting and kicking.

Rhona felt a slight movement of air and made her move, reaching out and grabbing his leg. The speed of her attack caught him unawares. He tripped and fell, screaming curses.

But his recovery was too swift to roll out of the way. Rhona let out a howl of pain and protest as his body pinned hers to the ground. Then his hands were around her throat.

Rhona clawed at the air, trying to inflict damage on him before the darkness took her.

‘Say you’re fucking sorry, Dr MacLeod.’

He tightened his grip.

‘Say it.’

Rhona drew in her last breath and spat in his face.

When she came to, her brain buzzed with light and sound. She knew where she was, what was happening to her, yet no longer seemed to care.

Pain had been replaced by pleasure. Ripples of it ran across her body, like a lover’s fingers. Rhona tried to pull her mind back, anchor it in reality, but this
was
reality, this strange mix of pain and joy.

The rules of torture. Hurt the victim, then give them pleasure. Then bring back the pain. For now she felt only peace.

An arc light held her in its heat and glare. In her drugged state she imagined it to be the eye of God, watching her. Every nerve in her body tingled. An all-body orgasm, that’s how addicts tried to describe the effects of crystal meth. Somewhere inside the haze, Rhona’s rational brain told her that was what coursed through her body.

Then a face loomed over her. A voice breathed her name.

‘It’s time, Rhona. Time to teach you what I like.’

Searing agony broke through the pleasure as her right leg was moved roughly and placed at an unbearable angle. Rhona imagined her body being split apart, bone prised from bone. She blacked out again.

MEN WERE SPREAD
out in a line across the waste ground, their torch beams reflecting the steady fall of rain. A small team of firemen, wearing breathing apparatus, had already been led up the culvert by a thrilled Kenny to check the CSO Rhona had been concerned about.

Inside the building, Bill had split his force. A team was working from the top level down. He and McNab had stayed with the second team, moving from ground level to basement. The discovery of Rhona’s mobile beneath an old sink in the back laundry had been the moment of truth.

When McNab had handed him the phone, he’d found his number on the screen. Rhona had been about to call him when something had happened to make her drop the phone.

Bill left McNab searching the laundry and went further in. Above him, the building resounded with noise. There was no way they could search the place quietly, so he’d made the decision not to try, hoping that if the killer heard them, he would try to escape. If Rhona and Magnus were still alive, maybe that would help them stay that way.

They were in the basement now. Bill remembered it well. The first team had been over it with a fine-toothed comb, looking for anything that might be linked to Cathy’s death. What they hadn’t considered was the possibility of a level beneath this one. Nothing in the plans of the building had suggested it. They’d checked every floor visible from the outside. But not the dunny, if it existed.

The team in the culvert were sending a crawler along the floor of the CSO. A guy from CCTV Surveying was already working this floor, attempting to pick up the whereabouts of the crawler by a sonar detector. He’d already explained the crawler wasn’t good over rough surfaces, a problem if the floor of the CSO was badly encrusted.