Wilderness (Arbogast trilogy)

 

 

 

 

Wilderness

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, either living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Copyright © Campbell Hart 2014

All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form without the prior permission of the publisher.

Web:
Campbellhart.co.uk

Cover design: Tim Byrne

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Contents

Part 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Part 2

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Part 3

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Epilogue

About the author

 

 

 

Part 1

 

 

1

 

 

 

 

February 15
th
2010, 2:00am

The engine was still running but the coach was going nowhere. The services’ last passenger was resigned to sitting out a long, cold night. Under the faint light from the cubicle at the back of the bottom deck the woman could see her skin was already turning blue.
‘I hope they come soon,’
she thought,
‘surely the girl will be fine?’
Curled up in a ball with the metal toilet bowl pressed against her skin she stopped shivering and focused her attention on the engine as it purred away reassuringly in the background, this lonely tourist’s constant companion these last few hours. Suddenly the noise stopped and the coach shuddered violently into silence. She was alone now, lost in the wilderness.

 

June 25
th
1985

It was quiet and the silence carried its own warning. It was impossible to say how long it had been – alone in the darkness she had lost track of the time. She knew what she was expected to do and was always keen to please, given the alternative. There was no-one to miss her at home, where she was mostly ignored, and when her father came there was little to do but obey. It hurt if she resisted and so she had learned to accept it and now did what she was told. All that she had for comfort was a bed of cushions from a discarded couch and an old, sodden mattress which carried the now familiar smell of decay and parental dereliction. After several hours the hatch opened and he appeared like a fallen angel, with the stars sparkling behind him. She could feel his breath as the cold night air breezed through the room, expelling old air and bringing an end to her long wait. Mary could see his smile and soon she knew that she would taste his fury.

 

February 14
th
2010

It had already been a long day for Mary Clark. The journey from Scotland to Hull had taken 14 hours. Mary met Kovan at the ferry – she seemed safe and well on arrival which had been a relief given the circumstances. Kovan had been shy at first, the way that 5 year olds can be, and at first she didn’t seem to want to talk and had hid behind her guardian. But slowly she came round. They talked for a long time. Mary gave the child her phone to play with which seemed to win her over. Within an hour Kovan was laughing and looking ahead to the long promised family reunion. The train would get them back at Glasgow Central for five, leaving plenty of time to put her mind at rest. The road back was uneventful. Her little girl had arrived, and that was the most important thing.

***

Onur Kocack was looking forward to seeing his daughter. They had been apart for a long time and there were things she needed to know about how their new life would be. Onur had come to the UK from Turkey on a sponsored Visa. He had been working as an engineer in Istanbul on the new Metro system when the trouble started. He had told his wife that it had all been down to debt, but there was more to it than that.

Onur had landed on his feet and had found a job with the Madoch Group, a fledgling Scottish firm with a growing international reach and which was badly in need of his expertise. The firm had paid to have him flown over to Britain and he was now making more money than he had ever dreamt of back home. Onur had been taken under the wing of Eric Sanderson who seemed to be a bit of an outsider but his help and guidance had been invaluable in those first few weeks. Onur’s background meant that he had been the ideal candidate for the role. He dealt with the drilling and blasting needed for this current project to overcome foundation problems for the wind farm which was being thrown-up on moorland outside the city. The granite bedrock below the surface meant there was a lot to do but it was rewarding work for which he was well suited. Although Sanderson was much older it was good to work with someone that he really felt he knew, and that was going to make all the difference.

 

***

Mary and Kovan made the connecting bus in Glasgow by 6:30 that night. The train had been delayed and the weather was changing with a forecast for heavy snow, although there was still little sign of it. It wasn’t long, though, before the blizzard whispered into life and slowly but surely enveloped the west coast. The bus was busy. They were heading to the end of the line at Shotts, midway between Glasgow and Edinburgh, which traditionally bore the brunt of the weather in every season because it lay on higher ground. As they settled down in the top deck the driver’s voice crackled over the tannoy to announce his name was Stevie and that the weather meant their bus being diverted. Stevie explained that the motorway was now a no-go area – it hadn’t been properly gritted and the company couldn’t vouch for their safety
. ‘Fair enough,’
Mary thought. Commuters in their wisdom, Stevie continued, had all rushed to beat the traffic but had only managed to create a jam. The express bus was cancelled so we’d be getting treated to a rerouted service that ran parallel to the motorway taking in Rutherglen, Hamilton, Motherwell, Wishaw and Newmains before they’d reach home. At roughly four times the normal travel time this was not good news but at least they could still travel and the snow could not be helped – all the same, though, it was going to take a long time.

Mary smiled at Kovan, kissing her gently on the head as she slept, exhausted. Five miles out from the city centre the traffic had slowed to a crawl. At Buchanan Bus Station the coach had been full but the numbers had gradually fallen away as the coach snaked-on through the night. Given the amount of time they were spending onboard Mary was glad this was a luxury touring coach and not a basic local bus which would have been uncomfortable and a worse way to end what had already been a taxing day. The information sign on the inside of the bus above the drivers head said this was a Van Hool double-decker. She passed the time trying to remember what it looked like from the outside. It had white livery with ‘Dales Travel’ on the side, tinted black windows while the rear part of the bottom deck was covered over for reasons of luggage and comfort, giving the bus the strange look of being an oversized single-decker. Outside Mary noticed a man struggling along the pavement bent into the freezing wind while his white haired terrier battled along against the elements barely visible in the snow.

 

***

John J Arbogast was in the mood for celebrating and had a big night planned with Sandy Stirrit – an old friend with a shared history. When they were both married they met socially as a foursome, making the most of the night life but these days, with less in the way of domestic responsibility, they tended to stick to Glasgow’s fine array of hostelries. Tonight it was Rab's in the Merchant City, part of town which had been transformed from a forgotten sea of broken down warehouses to emerge as one of the more fashionable parts of town. Looking around as he made his way to the pub Arbogast thought it might be going too far to call the area sophisticated but when compared to the free for all drunken brawls he had dealt with as a police officer on Sauchiehall Street this was a much better bet if he was looking for a quiet life. Tonight he was. Rab’s was fine for a February evening. A roaring fire, fine food, and a good mix of people meant there was never any hassle and his line of work was never a problem with the people he met.

Friends from childhood, Sandy Stirrit had gone into journalism while Arbogast had focused his talents on police work. While their careers hadn’t crossed early on, in more recent years their friendship had become mutually beneficial on both a professional and personal level. Not that they remained friends simply for the added value but it helped. It was Valentines night tonight and John realised they might be the only non-couple in the place. He hadn’t even thought about Valentines. Tonight Arbogast was celebrating something far more important than love – it was his last night of freedom. He had been promoted to the Major Crime and Anti Terrorism Unit at Strathclyde Police. MCTU operated across the Strathclyde force area, which was by far the biggest in the country. He would join the ranks of around a dozen people who had been picked out to travel to hotspots across the area. For him though it was a prime chance to escape Glasgow’s murder merry-go-round and get his teeth into something more interesting. After 14 years on the force he needed something different. Lost in his thought he noticed Sandy standing beside him at the bar and pushed across the first pint of the night.

 

***

By the time they had gone through Newmains they were the only ones left on the bus and the weather had deteriorated badly. Kovan was happy enough playing games on her newly acquired phone, but Mary was starting to get worried. They had passed a large number of abandoned cars and the snow was lying deep by the side of the road. Mary had taken the time to ask the driver if he thought they would still get through to Harthill and he seemed confident they would make it, although he couldn’t say how long it would take. This wasn’t good. If they didn’t get home on time there would be a lot of questions to answer and a lot of unhappy people. They were all there for Kovan. The bus juddered after losing traction on the road and moved to the side, sliding as the brakes struggled to keep the vehicle from spinning out of control. Kovan screamed. Mary thought the coach might topple over like a scene from a bad disaster movie. She tried to look ahead, to figure out what was going on but as she faced forward the world spun round making her feel nauseous, terrified.

After what seemed like an age the bus finally found the verge of the road and got lodged in drifting snow. The only sounds she heard were the gentle purring of the engine and her own breathing. Then from the bottom deck Mary heard the doors opening with the gentle swoosh announcing the arrival of winter into their air conditioned sanctuary. She watched as the driver went out in the road looking for damage before disappearing from sight. About ten minutes passed and with each passing second the coach became colder. Mary felt the coach lurch slightly to the left as someone came on board on the bottom deck. From below she heard a determined stamping as snow was shed from footwear. When the driver appeared Mary felt uneasy although she couldn’t say why and this was something Kovan seemed to sense too, her tiny hand gripping tightly around Mary’s. The driver, stooped to accommodate the low roof, rested an arm each on the top of the empty chairs on either side of the aisle in front of them.

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