Body Politic (24 page)

Davie looked up from his hide and examined Katharine. He didn't make any comment.

“What happened to your beard?” she asked quietly. “I can hardly tell you're an auxiliary.”

He shook his head with what looked like disbelief and turned to the front again. “He's inside – fast asleep if he's got any sense. I saw him against the bedroom light not long before he switched it off.” He looked down at his notebook. “At twelve eleven.” He stood up and stretched his legs. “I'll be back at 0800. Good hunting.”

Katharine watched him move away stealthily. “I'll take the first watch, if you like.” She patted her thigh. “You can put your head here.”

I tried not to accept the offer with too much alacrity. “Wake me if you see anyone go in or come out.”

“Yes, citizen.”

I was only going to doze but I'd forgotten what the road to hell is paved with. Besides, my pillow was unusually soft.

Birdsong started up like a battery of tuneful road-drills. The virtual disappearance of vehicles from Edinburgh's streets has led to a massive increase in the number of birds and that morning it seemed like they were all gathered on the branches directly above me. For a moment I thought the ceiling had been removed from my bedroom. Then I remembered where I was.

My head was resting on a shoulder bag. Sitting up quickly, I caught sight of Katharine. She was watching the windows of Billy's flat, her back against the trunk of a rhododendron.

I looked at my watch. “Bloody hell, six thirty. You should have woken me hours ago.”

She turned and smiled. “Good morning to you too.” She stretched her arms, wincing as the bandage on her burn moved. “You were sleeping so sweetly that I decided to leave you to it.”

“Well, I did have a tiring evening.”

“As I remember, you never got off your backside.”

I had a look through the binoculars. The curtains were still drawn across Billy's bedroom window. The Toyota was exactly where it had been. “I take it you saw nothing?”

“No one went in or came out.”

“Good.” I touched her knee. “You should get some rest.”

“I'm all right. There'll be plenty of time for rest when this is all finished.”

“Don't hold your breath. It might take weeks.”

The pounding feet of an early morning jogger came towards us. We both froze and waited for them to pass, but they slowed down. Looking through the foliage, I saw legs in a maroon track suit and auxiliary-issue running shoes. I reached into my pocket for my “ask no questions”.

“Raise your hands and come out slowly. You have five seconds to comply.”

Katharine licked her lips but remained where she was. The auxiliary came nearer.

“Fuck you, Davie,” I said in disgust. “Get down before you're spotted.”

He joined us in the small clearing, removing the scarf he'd wrapped round his face. He had a Thermos of coffee and a loaf of barracks bread.

“What are you doing here so early?” I demanded.

“Just out on my morning run.” Davie grinned. “I reckoned you'd been in the bushes long enough with this female citizen.”

Katharine looked at him sharply. “I thought guardsmen were supposed to be above that kind of innuendo.”

“Pardon me,” Davie said ironically. “I forgot you were a lady of high moral standing.”

“Shut up, you two,” I said. “We're supposed to be a team.”

“Is that right?” asked Davie. “I'm glad someone told me.”

Katharine stood up and glanced around. “I'm going for a pee. Keep some coffee for me.”

“What's the matter with you, Davie?” I pulled out my mobile. “I want to keep an eye on her. The killer might have seen her.” A thought struck me. “You looked at her file that time I left it in the Land-Rover, didn't you? That's why you're down on her.”

“She was a dissident, for Christ's sake.” He looked guiltier than a kid who's been caught with his telescope trained on the neighbour's bedroom. “Sorry.”

“Forget it.” I made a couple of calls.

“What was all that about?” Davie asked when I finished.

“Katharine's in the clear. I put a sentry at each end of the street overnight – just in case she tried to wander off.” I kept my eyes lowered.

“What a way to treat a member of the team.”

“Thank you, guardsman. Now piss off back to Hume and get changed. There's something else I have to check up on.”

When Davie came back, Katharine and I left in a guard vehicle. She didn't seem too bothered when I told the driver to take us to the castle. When we got there, I asked her to wait in Hamilton's outer office. I didn't want her to see the file I needed yet.

The public order guardian's reaction when he saw me was strangely muted. He listened to what I had to say about Katharine with about as much interest as an atheist forced to have dinner with the Pope.

“I suppose you know what you're doing, using a convicted dissident,” he said dully. He looked anaemic, his movements sluggish. Remembering the suspicions I had about him, I suddenly felt like an idiot. On the other hand, maybe he was guilty about something. He didn't object when I asked to see Alex Irvine's file.

The first page got me going. He was a big man, six feet two in height, and he took a size eleven boot. That was near enough the murderer's. I ran through the record of his interrogation. Under the strongarm methods of one of Hamilton's expert headbangers, Irvine had admitted killing three auxiliaries, one with a knife and two with a length of rope. Better and better. My suspicion that he'd somehow escaped the execution squad and come back to take his revenge against the city was getting out of hand. Then I came to the death certificate. There was a close-up photograph of a face with the entry wounds from three bullets. But I had to be sure.

I went to the outer office. “Katharine, come in for a minute, will you?” I tried to keep my voice level. I was not having a good time.

She looked briefly at the guardian, her face impassive. Then looked even more briefly at the photo I showed her. And closed her eyes once, long enough for me to make out moistness at the corners.

“It is Alex Irvine, isn't it?” I prompted, touching her arm.

She pulled away like I was a leper. “I suppose you're going to tell me you had to be sure he was dead.” She didn't wait for me to confirm that. “It's Alex,” she said as she headed for the door. “The first photo I've ever seen of him.”

The phone on Hamilton's desk rang. His expression livened up after a few seconds. “Something strange, Dalrymple,” he said, his hand over the receiver. I saw Katharine stop in the doorway. “It's your father. Apparently he's disappeared.”

We followed the guardian's Land-Rover down to Trinity. Katharine sat beside me, her face blank. It was almost as if she'd forgotten what I'd done to her in the castle. Or perhaps finding her brother was all that mattered and I was her best option on that score.

The resident nurse in the retirement home was convinced that Hector had wandered off with a book to enjoy the spring morning. It wouldn't have been the first time. But regulations required her to report any absentee immediately and as my father was a former guardian, the local barracks commander had informed Hamilton. I was surprised the guardian had come down himself – he never got on with the old man. Then I thought of the top-secret missing persons file. Surely he didn't think Hector had any connection with the forty-eight young people? I suddenly felt uneasy.

I went up to the third floor. Hector's room looked the same as it had the day before, apart from his desk. The books on Juvenal that he was working on had all been tidied away. The bed was as neatly made as ever. My father insisted on making it himself. He'd always been an early riser and he might have let himself out before the main door was unbolted. But someone would have seen him.

The nurse, Simpson 172, shook her head impatiently when I asked her. “No, I've already checked with all the residents. And the door was bolted too.”

“How about the back door?”

“That too.”

“And all the windows were locked?”

“Of course.”

I lost my patience with the woman. She was the kind of lazy and unimaginative auxiliary that somehow slips through the selection net. “That only leaves one possibility, then,” I said, giving her a rancid smile. “Unless you do conjuring tricks in your spare time.”

“That'll do, Dalrymple,” Hamilton said from behind me. “What is this possibility you're talking about?”

“It's obvious. Somebody let my father out, then bolted the door after him.”

It didn't take me long to find the guilty party. The only resident Hector spent any time with was an old guy called Joe Bell. He was in the lounge, playing dominoes. He got up when he saw me and came over, his back bent from years working on the roads.

“Hello, son. I was wondering when you'd turn up.” His rheumy eyes opened wide as Hamilton came over.

“It's all right,” I said. “Come into the office.”

The nurse was sitting stiff-necked at her desk. She stood up when she saw the guardian, then cast a disapproving eye over Joe Bell and Katharine.

“Joe, you can tell us what you know,” I said, nodding at him. “We have to be sure that Hector's disappearing hasn't got anything to do with the killer we're looking for.”

“Jesus Christ,” the old man said.

“What kind of language is that, citizen?”

“Do you mind?” I asked acidly. I remembered my father saying that Simpson 172 was called Florence Nightingale behind her back.

Joe Bell smiled at the nurse's affronted look. “Well, I suppose it's all right. Hector wouldnae mind me telling you, son . . .” He paused, licking his chapped lips.

“Well, go on then, man,” said the guardian impatiently.

Joe Bell looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

I got the message. “Is there anything you'd like in return for this information?” I asked with a grin.

Hamilton looked like he was about to do an impression of Mussolini with a hangover. I waved a finger at him.

“Well . . .” Joe pointed shakily at the nurse. “She doesn't give us our whisky ration. Says it's bad for us . . .”

“Which it is,” the auxiliary said primly. “I always have to clean up afterwards.”

“Perhaps you could make an exception today,” I said. It wasn't a request.

Simpson 172 pursed her lips then nodded.

“Thanks very much, son,” said citizen Bell, his face a picture of bliss an icon painter would have been canonised for.

“So you let Hector out and closed up after him this morning?”

“Aye.”

“He didn't say where he was going?”

Joe shook his head, then glanced at the guardian. “Just before I shut the door I looked out. I saw a vehicle at the end of the road. Hector seemed to be going to it.”

“What kind of vehicle?” Hamilton asked.

Joe found the question very amusing. He laughed until he began to choke. “What kind?” he repeated. “It was one of your lot's. It was a bloody guard Land-Rover.”

Considering Hector's feeling about the guard, I couldn't see him asking for a lift.

“Did you see him get in?” the guardian demanded.

Joe shook his head. “Florence here finally woke up and started down the stairs. I had to close the door sharpish.”

“It's a pity you didn't come on duty when you should have,” Hamilton said scathingly to the nurse.

“Will you check if there were any patrols around here at that time?” I asked him.

He nodded. “I've already circulated an instruction to all barracks to look out for your father.”

My mobile buzzed. I turned away.

“There's movement here,” Davie said. “Subject's coming out. I'm off to the van. Out.”

Hamilton was curious. “What's going on?”

“I'll keep you posted.” I beckoned to Katharine and we moved off.

“Dalrymple,” the guardian called. “I'm sorry about all this. We'll find Hector.”

I was surprised by how sincere he sounded.

A middle-aged female auxiliary with sad eyes drove us down Inverleith Row.

“So, another one goes missing,” Katharine said. “I can't see what your father's got to do with the murders. Or with Adam.”

“Join the club.” I shook my head, unwilling to talk in front of the driver. Then my mobile rang again. It was one of my mother's assistants requiring my presence immediately at Moray Place.

“Shit,” I said under my breath, then redirected the driver. “You'll have to contact Davie and find out where he's heading,” I said to Katharine. “I can't get out of this.”

She nodded and reached for the Land-Rover's mobile.

“Aren't you exhausted?” I asked. “You hardly slept.”

“I'm fine.” She smiled bitterly. “I'm used to all-night performances.”

I couldn't think of an answer to that. At the Darnaway Street barrier I jumped down.

“I'll catch up with you as soon as I can.” In the second it took the auxiliary to engage first gear, I looked at Katharine. I was letting her loose on the investigation without any supervision. When she'd gone, I put in a call to make sure Davie kept an eye on her, but his mobile was engaged.

They were on their own.

“Mother, what's happened to you?” I stood on the landing outside her study and stared.

She walked towards me with no awkwardness, the pain apparently gone from her joints. “I feel twenty years younger,” she said, her voice strong and unwavering.

I walked around her. She allowed me to examine her, an almost coquettish smile on her lips. Although her hair was still devastated, her face was no longer so moon-shaped and her skin had fewer blemishes. She led me into the room, stepping out like a model on a catwalk. The sudden change in her character was about as likely as the existence of teetotallers in the House of Commons before independence.