Smokeheads (13 page)

They headed up the path as far as Luke’s body and turned to stare at the inferno. Flames were already licking the roof, flicking through huge clouds of acrid smoke pummelling up into the moonlit sky. One of the walls looked close to collapsing, and parts of the wooden roof were beginning to crack and fall into the raging fire beneath.

As they watched, a noise rose above the whoosh and crackle of the flaming barn, the nasal whine of an engine. Suddenly a large speedboat with police insignia spurted round the headland in a spray of water.

‘Shit,’ Molly hissed, ‘help me with this.’

Adam took the opposite end of the barrel from Molly and they scurried behind the outcrop of rocks, Roddy slumping down next to Luke’s body. They sat there for a while before Adam crept up to peek over the top.

The speedboat had docked in the tiny bay below the headland, and half a dozen men in dark uniform were scrambling up towards the barn in a fluster. Adam instinctively lowered his head, but they were a long way from the barn in the dark. There was no way they’d see him, surely.

The men reached the barn and were instantly rebuffed by the flames and heat bursting out the entrance. One of them did a quick circuit of the building while another bustled over to the police car, peered through the window then checked the driver’s door, which was locked.

Adam saw a third man, arm held in front of his face as he stood looking at the collapsed entrance to the burning still. He lifted a police radio out of his belt and spoke into it. After a moment he looked at the radio as if it was malfunctioning. The other three men started a slow, methodical sweep around the immediate vicinity of the barn, searching with torches. One walked past the police car and began up the path towards them, making Adam duck back down next to Molly and Roddy.

‘Shit,’ he said. ‘They’re searching the area.’

They sat with their hearts thumping, not daring to move, Adam suddenly aware of the sound of his lungs pumping air. The cop was close enough now that they could hear the scrunch of his footsteps on the path and his laboured breathing as he headed up the slope. They were hidden from the lower part of the road, but they could tell from the noise that he’d stopped almost level with them. If he kept up the slope a few more yards and looked right, they’d be in plain view. They saw a torch beam sweep over the snow beyond them and held their breaths. In the torchlight, Adam was relieved to see the police car’s tracks had flattened the snow cover enough that they hadn’t left footprints. He felt a wash of relief that they’d carried Luke’s body, and that they’d lifted the barrel up the path and behind the rocks – Molly had made the right decision every time.

He looked at her now and she stared back at him, eyes wide. She moved her shoulders a fraction, a signal he couldn’t decode. Then his gaze fell on her hands, and he realised she was holding Joe’s pistol. He frowned at her and she frowned back, giving a kind of desperate shrug. They sat like that for what seemed an eternity as the beam from the torch played over the surrounding snowscape.

Eventually they heard footsteps again, this time moving back down the hill, getting quieter with every footfall until finally they were out of earshot.

Molly peered round the side of the rock. She didn’t move or speak for a long time. After a while she turned round.

‘He’s back down with the others,’ she said.

‘You were going to shoot him?’ said Adam.

‘I don’t know what the hell I was going to do, OK?’ Molly glared at him. ‘I’m just trying to stay alive here.’

‘Sorry.’

Adam closed his eyes and tried to get his pulse to slow down. He opened his eyes again and looked at Roddy, whose gaze seemed to be going in and out of focus.

‘You OK?’

Roddy blinked and smiled. ‘Fucking dandy. What’s the latest?’

Adam poked his head back up.

The men were standing arguing next to the burning building. There was a lot of gesticulating, towards the barn, then the police car, then the boat. Adam tried to second-guess what they might do, but didn’t know where to start. The conversation went on for several minutes, lots of shaking heads and hand gestures, then eventually they seemed to take a vote, four of the six men putting their hands up.

They headed towards the police car. The man in front pulled out his baton and nonchalantly smashed in the driver’s window, then opened the door and leaned in while the others started pushing. The car began to crawl down the gentle slope, gradually picking up speed as it passed the barn, the men jogging alongside or still shoving from behind. It was heading for the edge of a short drop, the tiny natural harbour of the bay below, the speedboat anchored safely off to one side.

As they approached the edge the man guiding the steering wheel let go and moved out of the way, the rest of them giving up on pushing as the car gently freewheeled over the edge and bounced boot over bonnet into the water with a resigned splash.

The men stood at the edge of the bay, gazing at the water as the car slipped under the surface. It must be deeper than it looked because soon all trace of the car was gone, just a spreading moonlit ripple on the inky surface of the sea.

The men turned back to look at the barn, which was shapeless now, a giant funeral pyre raging into the night sky. As they watched there was an almighty explosion from within it, making them and Adam jump as pieces of burning wreckage shot outwards and upwards from the inferno, flames stretching up with the force of the blast.

‘What the fuck was that?’ hissed Roddy from behind the rock.

Adam turned and shrugged. ‘Explosion.’

‘Probably the second still going,’ said Molly. ‘I turned all the dials on it full up before we left. Figured it wouldn’t hurt.’

Adam smiled and looked at the gang of coppers, who were now heading back to the speedboat, eager to get the hell out of there and away from the incriminating evidence.

Another small explosion made them all flinch, then stop and stare, before scurrying and clambering into the boat which lurched round and away from the bay in a flurry of white surf and revs.

Molly joined Adam to watch as the boat sped round the headland and out of sight. They stood looking at the burning still and the undulating water for a while.

Adam turned to her. ‘You know, I didn’t even know Scottish police had speedboats.’

Molly smiled. ‘Just like
Miami Vice
, huh?’

‘What now?’ he said.

Molly looked behind them at Luke’s body and the empty barrel. Roddy was sat next to it, eyes closed, his face set in a grimace, clutching at his bloody shoulder. She walked over to the barrel and stood it on its end.

‘Help me get him inside, then,’ she said, indicating Luke.

Adam sighed then joined her, taking Luke’s legs as she heaved under his armpits.

Roddy’s eyes flickered open. ‘What the fuck are you two doing?’

Adam lugged the legs up and over the rim of the cask and began sliding them in, moving his hands up Luke’s body to help Molly lift the other end high enough. ‘Isn’t it bloody obvious?’

‘OK, but why?’

Molly gave a grunt of exertion as she got her body weight under Luke’s back. ‘He’s too heavy to carry, and we have to take him with us.’

She and Adam were slowly shuffling the corpse into the barrel in fits and starts.

‘In a fucking barrel?’ said Roddy.

‘Yes,’ said Molly. ‘In a barrel.’

The body slumped over the edge and fell into the cask. They tucked his arms in and Molly gently eased his shoulders and neck until his head was completely inside.

‘It’s a snug fit,’ said Adam, getting his breath back.

‘Probably just as well, don’t want him rattling around in there, or falling out.’

Roddy looked at them breathing heavily next to the barrel. ‘You two are priceless.’

Adam just stared at him as his breath returned to normal.

‘Right,’ said Molly, rubbing her hands together to warm them up. ‘Time to head back to the car and get ourselves saved.’

It was incredibly slow going. They had to stop every fifty yards so that Roddy could rest and try to get some energy back. Each time he would take a hit of coke, fuelling him with bullshit strength to carry on for a few minutes more. Molly and Adam were glad of each rest stop anyway. They were rolling the barrel along together, and although it was ten times easier than carrying the body had been, it was still a hard slog. The terrain was the biggest problem. When they had some semblance of a path it was fine, but they frequently had to negotiate rocks, scrub and deep shingle, where they would have to lift or jostle the barrel over or around the obstacle before ploughing grimly on.

It was dark again, the moon crowded out by gangs of clouds. Roddy was in front with the torch, splaying the beam over the land and trying to find the best way to take the barrel. The torch and Joe’s handgun were the only things they’d brought with them from the still apart from the barrel. The plan was to throw all three items into the sea once they got to the car. The last thing they needed was to have police paraphernalia or anything linked to the still on them when they were rescued.

Roddy staggered across the land, getting slower and slower. They were stopping more frequently now, every few yards, exhausted from the trek and everything that had gone before. Adam felt the cold settling into his bones again after the heat of the still, his soaking feet numb, his hands stiffening. The adrenalin from escaping Joe had dissipated and he was left with a miserable empty feeling, exacerbated by catching occasional glimpses of the crown of Luke’s head bobbing at the open end of the cask. He resorted to putting one foot in front of the other like a machine, trying not to think of anything except getting out of this situation in one piece.

Suddenly they heard a nasal whine. It grew louder, encroached on the thick silence of the night around them. They stopped and looked at each other.

‘Torch,’ Molly hissed, glaring at Roddy.

He flicked it off just as the police speedboat from earlier fizzed round the headland, close to the shore. It had a large searchlight mounted on the front, sweeping its beam along the coastline, back and forth over rocks and cliffs. The three of them stood for a second, frozen, then darted behind the cask. Adam was confused – had they had that searchlight before, just not used it? He couldn’t remember seeing it, but that didn’t mean anything, his mind was worn out with it all.

The three of them and the barrel were quite far inland, a spread of jagged boulders between them and the sea, maybe far enough away that they wouldn’t be spotted. The searchlight arced past them higher up the slope, then swept back lower down, rippling over the rocks below, then moving further on. Adam could hear himself breathe heavily as the sound of the boat’s engine receded, then it was gone past the next headland.

‘Why are they looking for us?’ said Adam. ‘I thought we’d left no trace.’

‘Calm down,’ said Molly. ‘We don’t know they’re looking for us specifically, do we?’

‘Then what the fuck are they searching the coast for?’ said Roddy.

‘Maybe just making sure,’ said Molly. ‘If you were a cop and you were running a big bootlegging operation that went tits up, wouldn’t you want to make sure there were no potential witnesses in the area?’

‘But why would they think there were any witnesses?’ said Adam.

‘I don’t know, OK?’ Molly snapped. ‘Like I just said, maybe they don’t know anything. One thing’s for sure, if they see us we’re screwed, so let’s just be extra careful from now on.’

They trudged on, nervy and exhausted, Adam swithering between numb desolation and flurried panic attacks, unable to stop his mind churning over events, everything that had happened, all the potential pitfalls that still waited for them round every corner.

Finally, drained of all emotion and energy, they reached the headland before the crashed car. They scuffed round in silence, Molly and Adam still heaving the cask in front of them with worn-out shoves, Roddy staggering uncertainly with every step. They stopped when they caught sight of the Audi. It was almost submerged in water, just the wheels and undercarriage poking up through the waves.

Adam tried to think about tides. There were two a day, right? How long had they been away? What time was it now anyway? He thought he could detect a lightening in the sky in the east, the black grading to purple at the edge of the horizon, and distant clouds brightening a little.

They picked up the pace, urged on by the sight of the car, still casting nervous glances out to sea. There was no sign of the police boat, just the slick undulations of the vast expanse of water stretching to infinity.

They finally slumped exhausted just uphill from the car, Roddy easing himself down to lie flat out on the snow-covered grass, Molly and Adam heaving the barrel onto its end next to Ethan’s body. The sight of Ethan brought everything back to Adam, the sick feeling in his gut, the terrible guilt. He felt rage bubble up inside him, but was too weak to do anything about it.

He slumped down onto the ground next to Roddy and put his head on the cold land. The clouds above him seemed to whirl round in a complicated dance, and he felt sick and disoriented looking at them.

He tried to take deliberate breaths, stop the nausea, but he felt bile rise in his gut. He sat up just in time to puke, angling his head to the side but still dribbling down his clothes. The vomit left a taste of bitter moonshine in his mouth, reminding him of the still and everything that had happened there. He sat panting and spitting for a while, then grabbed a handful of snow and washed his mouth out with it.

He looked up at the cliff towering over them. It was insane to think they had driven off that ledge and crumpled underneath less than twenty-four hours ago. This time yesterday he’d been sitting in Molly’s flat in Port Ellen drinking her thirty-year-old and talking quietly, sharing that one clumsy, tender kiss. He couldn’t imagine ever kissing her again.

She was gazing at the Audi, playing with the torch Roddy had dumped, deep in her own thoughts. In one way he felt closer to her than anyone else in the world now, but the shared experience was a barrier as well – they would always remind each other of this nightmare.

And anyway, it wasn’t over yet, not by a long way.

He looked at the car. The tide was receding; there was more of the undercarriage showing and now part of the boot as well. He was distracted by Roddy coughing violently, his body convulsing with the force of it. He put a hand on Roddy’s chest and felt his breath rattling. His whole right side was soaked in blood, his face totally white now, ghostly.

‘We need to get help soon,’ said Molly, looking at Roddy.

‘Roddy?’ said Adam.

Roddy opened his eyes and a faint smile appeared on his blue lips. He winked slowly.

‘I wouldn’t go to sleep if I were you,’ said Adam. ‘You might not wake up again.’

Roddy coughed.

‘Fuck you,’ he croaked. ‘You’re not getting rid of me that easily.’

‘So,’ said Adam, turning to Molly. ‘It feels like I’m always saying this, but what do we do now?’

She sighed, got up, walked over to the barrel and put one hand on the rim.

‘The bullet in Luke’s head. We have to get it out.’

‘Jesus.’

‘Yeah.’ She carefully tipped the barrel over onto its side and sat down, bracing her legs against the rim. ‘Help me get him out, then.’

Adam sat next to her and took one of Luke’s arms as she took the other. They both pulled, leaning back, pushing their legs against the barrel to prise him free. A handful of heaves and he was out.

They rolled him onto his back, then peered into the mess at the side of his head, Adam feeling his stomach clench at the sight. There was a mash of skull fragments, brains, blood and matted hair.

‘Are we sure the bullet’s definitely still in there?’ said Adam, turning away.

‘That’s what Joe thought, anyway.’

‘Maybe it worked its way out on the trip back here.’

Molly smiled a joyless smile. ‘Wishful thinking.’

‘So what do we do?’

Molly dragged her hands down her face in a tired movement and looked at him. ‘Get it out.’

‘How?’

‘How do you think?’

Adam stared at her. ‘You’ve got to be kidding.’

Molly raised her eyebrows and shrugged.

‘We can’t leave the bullet in there,’ she said. ‘It ties us to Joe, Grant and the still. You know that.’

Eventually Adam nodded. ‘I know.’

‘One of us has to get in there and get the bullet out.’

Adam stared at Molly, then glanced at the mess of Luke’s head. He looked away as he felt his mouth start to sweat. Luke was his friend. It was his fault they were in this mess, his fault Luke was dead. It was his responsibility.