Trail of Greed: Fighting Fraud and Corruption... A Dangerous Game (26 page)

When I had recovered some sanity I gazed at him, gasping for breath.

“Look, I dug into AIM’s affairs because a suspicious investor asked me to. That’s all. I guessed Dewar was blackmailing Purdy but I couldn’t care less about that. That wasn’t my business. Anyway, I read he had got himself killed up in the mountains, so I don’t see what difference it makes now. And I visited AIM the other day simply to explain to them what I knew about Purdy’s fraud. I don’t know anything else and that’s the truth.”

“Let’s assume that is the truth and that is all you know,” said Reid, walking over to the iron and picking it up. “You still haven’t told me what you might have guessed or suspected. That is very important to me.”

He walked over towards me with the iron in his hand. He held it about six inches from my face. I could feel the intense heat emanating from it. Suddenly he thrust it against my arm. I wrenched myself away from it so hard that the chair fell over. With the pain and the shock I had blacked out for a few seconds. Reid dropped the iron and hauled me back up into a sitting position and left me there like a rag doll. He strolled over to the table to pour himself another glass of whisky. He took a satisfying sip and looked over at me and let out a sigh.

It was then that I heard the noise of a car on the gravel outside and steps coming into the house. The door opened and someone entered. The footsteps came over towards my chair. I couldn’t turn round to see who it was but I was pretty sure I knew.

“OK , Gavin, that’s enough for the moment,” said a voice with its distinctive accent and a familiar figure materialised in front of me.

The newcomer flashed a questioning look at Reid.

“What does he know?” he asked. “He’s only admitted to what is obvious but he hasn’t yet confessed to what he might have guessed. Neither has he told us if he has talked to anyone else.”

“That’s what’s critical. Even if he has guessed we can simply get rid of him and nobody will be any the wiser. If he has voiced his suspicions to anyone else we have a real problem on our hands.”

I looked up and tried to focus on the face of the man standing in front of me – the man I had last seen on the sixteenth tee of the golf course.

He was standing in front of me glowering. He lent forward, grabbed a handful of my hair and shook my head.

“Are you listening to me, Bob? Can you hear me?” There was controlled anger in his voice. I knew this man and I knew that it wouldn’t take much for him to lose that control. And he had his insane lieutenant to carry out whatever he was asked to do. I shuddered.

He took a step back and put his hands on his hips. His jaw was thrust out towards me and he proceeded to explain.

“You have got yourself in one hell of a mess and it’s entirely your own fault.” He practically spat the words at me.

“By sticking your nose into AIM and that petty little prick Purdy’s cash machine you’ve mucked up a much bigger operation. That idiot Dewar, who I had eating out of my hand, panicked, with the net result that I’ve had to get rid of him and now I have to reconstruct something to replace him. It’s going to set me back five years and I can’t afford that.”

His voice was getting louder. He was almost shouting. I needed to calm him down. If I could buy any time there was always hope.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” I managed to mumble.

“I think you do,” he said. “You may be a pretty crummy golfer, but you aren’t stupid. You know that Dewar was getting paid by AIM.”

I nodded, “Sure,” I managed to get out. “He was blackmailing Purdy.”

“Like hell he was,” he retorted. “It was me who was blackmailing Purdy. And he was paying Dewar on my behalf. You maybe didn’t know that at the beginning but you worked it out later, didn’t you?”

It wasn’t going to do me any good to deny it. I figured I might as well admit that I had worked it out and see what it was he wanted from me.

I looked at him with disgust. I discovered afterwards that McDowell’s seemingly highly successful business was in severe financial trouble. He had borrowed up to the hilt and his only escape was to accelerate his growth to generate funds to reduce his debt burden. He had been on the danger of collapse and was willing to take desperate measures to survive.

I spoke slowly, trying to spin out the conversation as long as possible. I forced myself to ignore the pain in my legs and arm, which wasn’t easy. They were burning like hell.

“Yes, I worked it out. Dewar held a key position in the planning permission process and you were paying him to accelerate approvals for new supermarkets. You’re sitting on about twenty chunks of land that you have accumulated over the last few years and you need planning permission pushed through to build new stores.”

“You’re bloody right I do,” he fired back at me. “And you’ve buggered the whole thing up. I had to get rid of Dewar and now it’ll take me years to get them through thanks to all these bloody anti-supermarket groups floating around all over the place.

“Well, I’m afraid you’re going to have to pay for your stupidity.”

“What do you mean?” McDowell had walked over to the table by the wall and poured himself a whisky. He knocked it back in one gulp and slammed the glass down on the wooden surface. Reid was still standing off on one side watching. The other two hadn’t stirred from their chairs.

He swung round to face me. “Who else have you told? Who else knows? The new guy at AIM?”

Here was his problem. He could presumably rely on the other three to keep their mouths shut. If I had told nobody then he simply had to dispose of me and he was safe. If I had shared my information with anybody else he was in a mess.

“Nobody,” I replied, which, unfortunately, was the truth.

“I’m afraid I don’t believe you,” he said. “Here’s the bottom line. I need to be completely convinced that nobody else could suspect a relationship between me and Dewar and you’re the only person who can do that. As far as I’m concerned the only other people who could are here in this room. So far you haven’t convinced me.”

I reiterated my denial. “I’ve told absolutely nobody. I couldn’t, because until now it was only a theory. I had no proof.” I tried to sound as convincing as I could. “For God’s sake let me out of this chair and we can discuss this sensibly.”

“No. I’m afraid you’re going to have to stay there and go through a lot more pain. Once Mr Reid here is finished with you and you still stick to your story I might start to believe you. But until then, the jury’s out.”

I struggled again at my bonds. I yelled at him. “It won’t do any good. I can’t tell you something that’s not true. No matter what he does the answer’s always going to be the same. I’ve told nobody.”

All I got as a reply was, “We’ll see.” I collapsed back into the chair and watched with dread as he nodded at Reid and stepped back. Reid went for the poker again and the blowtorch. He picked up the blowtorch first and set it alight adjusting the flame to its fullest. He was about to bend down for the poker when the front window exploded inwards.

Not only did the window explode but Reid uttered a shriek and collapsed to the floor. All hell was let loose.

A split second after the explosion two masked figures in combat gear burst in through the window, followed a second or two later by a third.

They were fully armed. It was like a scene from a television SWAT team film. The first figure went straight for Firkin and MacLean in the corner and put them out of action with two swift blows to the head with what looked like a cosh.

The second man went straight for Keith McDowell and dropped him gasping to the ground with a thundering blow to the gut, just under the breast bone. He collapsed to the floor, retching and gasping for breath.

The third man went for Reid. But there was less need of speed in his case. He was writhing on the floor screaming. The explosion of the window must have been caused by a bullet because he was clutching his shattered right arm and there was blood all over his fingers. The blowtorch had fallen out of his hand and he had landed on top of it. The man hauled him off it to reveal his scorched shirt and chest. Reid was totally out of action trying to clutch his injured arm and his burnt chest at the same time and screaming in pain.

The whole episode must have taken no more than about ten seconds.

The three men then produced rolls of masking tape and proceeded to bind, gag and blindfold all four of their victims. There had been no speech between them. Without a word being spoken twenty seconds later my four tormentors had been totally immobilized.

I could only watch in amazement. It looked as if, against all the odds, I had been rescued. Waiting for someone to come over and cut me loose I heard the sound of the door opening and I tried to crane my neck round. I couldn’t. It hurt too much.

Someone came in quickly through the door and stepped round to the front of my chair. He crouched down and looked earnestly into my face. His eyes wandered over the sorry state of my legs. “Bob, are you OK?”

It was Pierre, concern showing on his welcome face. Never had I been more relieved in my life. I nodded speechlessly.

“Listen, we’ve not got much time,” he said quickly. “You’ll be fine now. We have to leave immediately. These guys can’t touch you anymore but I have to leave you as you are. The police will be here in about two minutes. We’ve got to get out before they arrive.”

I nodded dumbly. “I’ll explain later,” said Pierre. “Come on guys we’ve got to go.”

I could hear the sound of police sirens in the distance, but approaching quickly.

“OK, off you go.” I could see why they wanted to be gone before the police arrived.

The last words from Pierre were, “You don’t know what happened. You don’t know who rescued you. They were just three masked men. OK? If you plead total ignorance they’ll never find out. See you.”

And the four of them disappeared out of the window and off into the shadows of the gathering dusk.

I was left alone surrounded by four immobilized bodies who, just a few minutes before, had been intending to put me through unimaginable torture.

Two minutes later two police cars screeched to a halt in front of the house. I could see the blue flashing lights reflected against the remains of the front windows and within seconds six uniformed officers pounded into the room.

I recognised the man in charge immediately – Chief Inspector Bob Davis from St Andrews. I had played golf a couple of times with him in competitions.

He stopped, aghast at the sight in front of him. He looked at me, the four bodies and the shattered window.

“Jesus! Bob Bruce! What the hell’s been going on here?” “If you could just cut me free I’ll tell you – and I suggest you handcuff all these guys and take them into custody.”

He cut me loose as quickly as he could, looking with despair at my burns. He helped me to my feet but I couldn’t stand. I collapsed back into the chair.

“You need to get to the hospital as soon as possible,” he said, and called over two of his men. Before they helped me up I gave Bill a very quick explanation of what had happened, but not why.

“These two over there kidnapped me and brought me here. That one,” pointing to Reid, “has been torturing me. I think he has been shot and also burned. He’ll need medical care but, please, not at the same hospital as me!”

“And I think you know who that is” I added, pointing to Keith McDowell.

“I certainly do.” “Well, believe it or not he was the boss behind the whole business. He is accessory to torture and murder and I think you’ll find that one of these three will give you the evidence you need. Can you hold them all overnight?”

“Sure. But who tied them all up?” “I was rescued by three masked men in combat gear. They came in through the window, neutralised them all and then scarpered when they heard your sirens. God knows who they were but they’ve gone.

“Listen, could you get me to the hospital in Cupar please? And, if you come round tomorrow and I’m up to it, I’ll tell you the whole story. If you want to take photos of all this before your guys take me off, go ahead. I can hang on for a few minutes.”

Bill confirmed he would hold them all overnight and come and see me the next afternoon. He took photos of the scene, including my wounds and his two officers helped me out to the car and took me off to the hospital.

On the car journey to hospital there was no conversation. I couldn’t have talked if I tried. I surrendered to the intense relief of being safe. I could bear the pain much more easily now that I knew there would be no more and that soon it would all heal and disappear. My wounds would leave a few scars but I honestly didn’t care.

The policemen arranged for me to be taken care of as soon as we arrived. My wounds were cleaned and dressed and, with a healthy dose of painkillers, I was installed in a private room and took no more than a few minutes to crash out.

I had been assured by Dr Bishan that they would all heal but that I was liable to have to stay in for four days. I hoped that the hospital bed crisis that we kept on hearing about would oblige them to let me home earlier. I managed to get one of the nurses to promise me that she would contact Fernie Castle and pass on my news to Pierre.

I awoke late the next morning bathed in sun streaming in through the curtainless, east-facing window of my room. I felt rested although uncomfortable. They had rigged up a cage across my legs to keep the weight of the blankets off my wounded thighs. My left arm was bandaged and strapped to my side.

My immediate reaction was a desire to get up and out of here, but as soon as I tried to move my legs or arm I changed my mind. That wasn’t going to be possible. The painkillers had worn off and any movement was excruciating agony. I gave in and accepted that I wasn’t going to be playing golf for a few days yet.

Breakfast was brought in to me by a cheerful nurse who helped me butter my toast as I only had one arm operational. I munched my way through three slices of toast and marmalade (I’d asked for an extra one!) and I reflected back on the previous evening’s events. I’d been damned lucky. Keith McDowell was a ruthless bastard. I had suspected that but I hadn’t realised how much of an issue I had created for him. I was convinced that he would have had no compunction in getting rid of me permanently. Gavin Reid was clearly round the bend. There’s probably some crazy title for his condition – post-adolescent mental pyromania disorder or some such cock-eyed term. As far as I was concerned he was just plain nuts and needed to be locked up. And I’m quite sure that anyone who had gone through what I had would agree with me.