The Blood Tree (38 page)

“You're on, Quint,” Hyslop said, nudging me and smiling with slightly more warmth than she usually managed. “Don't forget – use my mobile to call us in as soon as you find anything conclusive. Good luck.”

I nodded and climbed out.

Haggs leaned across. “No shooting the suspects, okay, Embra shite?”

I gave him the finger and ran down the street at medium pace, wondering what the hell I was doing. The Major Crime Squad sets up a series of major crimes then sits back and lets me do the dirty work. Even Edinburgh guardians wouldn't come up with something that devious.

I looked cautiously round the corner and down the main road. The petrol tanker had done a massive amount of damage to the security fence and its nose was crushed against the Rennie's wall about twenty yards away from the main entrance. The driver had clambered out and was talking animatedly to a couple of the institute's staff. He'd be telling them that he had a full load of petrol and that his safety monitor was flashing “Danger” in capital red letters. In reality the tank had been fully vented and filled with water, but no one was likely to check that out in the near future. If everything went according to plan, the institute would be evacuated and I would have a free run for the next few hours.

I turned to the left. There was a double red flash from a torch in an area of darkness where the fence curved away. I ran towards the light.

“Okay, everything's ready for you.” A guy wearing black clothes and a balaclava shone a narrow beam on the ladder that had been set up against the fence. “We cut the power here the second the wire was taken out,” he said. “The cameras are down and one of my team is waiting for you at the window over . . .” he flashed the light once through the fence, illuminating a crouching figure “. . . there. Go, go, go.”

I went, went, went. Up the ladder, on to the ground and straight across the grass before I lost my bearing on the special forces operative.

“Here,” came a loud whisper as I collided with the wall. It was a woman. “I've forced the window. The alarm didn't engage. You're okay.” She pulled the window open.

“Wrong,” I muttered. “You're okay. I'm on my own.” I caught a glimpse of her eyes as she shone her torch on the window-frame. They looked sympathetic. I was sure that, unlike Hyslop and Haggs, she'd have come along if I'd asked for her help. I resisted the urge. This was definitely a job for me alone.

“Remember the set-up?” she said, handing me a torch. “We'll be waiting in the bushes beyond the fence if you run into trouble. Three flashes if all's clear, two if you've got unwelcome company.”

I nodded, hoping that Davie and Katharine would steer clear of that area. If things went as planned I'd be walking nonchalantly out the front door, but it's as well to have a fallback option. I climbed through the window into the room. It was pitch dark so I risked a flash of light. No sign of anyone. I turned the torch on full beam. The place seemed to be a storage depot, the walls lined with shelves which were stacked with boxes and bottles. Hyslop had tried to find a general layout of the building but – surprise, surprise – the archive copy had disappeared, so I was going to have to follow my nose. At least I'd been provided with a smart swipe card that was supposed to open every door in the place. Now was the time to test that out.

I located the security panel and ran the card down it. The door clicked and swung open. I stuck my head out gingerly. A long corridor with plenty of doors leading off it, dim overhead lights glowing – an emergency generator must have kicked in – and no people tramping up and down. I took a deep breath and slipped out on to the cork-tiled floor. There was a chemical smell in the air, a cross between formaldehyde and something worse. That didn't make me feel any happier. In the distance I could hear a piercing, repeated alarm siren but down here it had been completely disabled. I hoped I wasn't about to run into any staff with impaired hearing.

Moving down the passageway, I checked the panels on each door. Most of them weren't interesting – Maintenance Office, Staff Toilet, Boiler Room, that kind of thing. What I was after was the Rennie's archive, but I'd take a look at anything to do with research or that might explain the Baby Factory nickname.

There was a muffled thud further down the corridor and I flattened myself against the wall, feeling in my pocket for the Ladykiller. The prospect of waving that at a potential assailant wasn't helping my heart-rate. I waited, the sweat trickling down my arms. Nothing. I couldn't see very far in the dull light, but it seemed that whoever made the noise had headed in the other direction.

I continued past the door. To the left was a notice saying “Doctors' Rest Room”; there was a window set into the wall by that door and I risked a flash of the torch. Chairs, a couple of beds with the covers thrown back, a table with an electric kettle. The usual chaos left by medics. But what were doctors doing in a research institute? Looking after babies?

I went on. The next door on the right stopped me in my tracks. Red and white striped tape ran all round the upper panel and the sign said “Secure Unit – Entry Only With Authorised Security Personnel In Attendance”. That really got me going. Then I read the smaller writing underneath. “Danger – Unstable Subjects – In Case of Security Breach Apply Code A+++”, it proclaimed. Christ, what did that mean? There was only one way to find out.

I took the Ladykiller in my left hand and moved the smart card towards the electronic panel. Then I realised that the door was half an inch ajar. So much for Code alpha triple plus. I pushed gently and the door swung open further. Total darkness. I stepped in, tried to get control of my breathing and switched on my torch.

I didn't see anyone in the restricted beam but I heard a movement, a sudden scurrying like a frightened animal diving for cover. And a low moaning sound that made the hairs on my neck rise. Jesus, what was in the room with me? I moved the torch round and revealed chairs and tables. Then arrested the movement of my arm. There were straps hanging down from the chairs, shackles like those on the prisoner's chair in Hyslop's office. I remembered the security warning and looked back towards the line of light at the door. That was when I was taken out.

I landed on the floor with a thud and tried to disentangle myself from the heavy weight that had landed on me. The torch had flown off to my left and the beam was rolling to and fro. It disclosed a figure in white robes and a flash on the upper part of the body gave a bit more away – large, bald head and a slack, wet mouth. Then the light moved down again and I pushed hard. Forget it. I might as well have been buried beneath a ton of potatoes.

“Get off,” I gasped. “I'm not armed.” Lying is always a good option when you're up against it.

“Doctor? You one of the doctors?” came a voice that was a curious blend of gentle and threatening.

“No, I'm not one of the fucking doctors.” It had occurred to me that this guy might have a major antipathy to the people treating him. “Let me up and I'll tell you who I am.”

My attacker thought about it and, after what seemed like an eternity, relaxed his grip on my arms. He pulled away from me and I heard the breath scratching in his throat. Then the torchbeam rolled back over his face and I saw a sight that I'd been fervently hoping I wouldn't encounter again. Like the murder victims there was an eye in the middle of the forehead, but this time it was much worse. This time there was only one eye. And this time its owner was very much alive.

After a few seconds the overhead light came on.

“That's better.” A heavily built figure was standing by the door. He didn't seem to be interested that it was open. “Now I can see you.” His large round face broke into a smile that was almost benevolent. “And you can see me.”

I got to my feet, rubbing my limbs, and tried not to stare at him. The white T-shirt he was wearing bore large red stencilled letters that said “Inmate”. That didn't reassure me much. Strangely the soft face did, despite the malformation of its upper part.

“It's all right,” he said. “You can look. I'm used to people looking.”

It was hard not to. I realised he was young, probably in his early twenties, though the complete lack of hair made it difficult to be sure. The single eye was regarding me unwaveringly, the dark brown iris standing out against the pallid skin around it. I had the feeling that this individual hadn't seen the light of day for a very long time.

“Cyclops,” he said with another smile, this one briefer. “That's what they call me.”

“Oh aye?” I said, unsure whether he was making conversation or looking for a reaction.

He nodded. “The doctors and the scientists, I mean. My friends in here just call me Big Eye.” He smiled again and I convinced myself that he wasn't harbouring violent intentions towards me. “I'm a rarity, you know,” he said proudly. “Cyclopian malformation leading to a single median eye is very uncommon.”

“Em, yes, you're right there,” I said, glancing around the room. It was large and the far end was taken up by half a dozen beds. “Are you on your own in here?” I asked, looking back at the inmate. “What do you want me to call you?”

“You can call me Big Eye,” he said. “You're a friend, aren't you?” He shook his head. “There used to be more but now there are only two others. Byron and Selkie. They took them away before you got here.” He inclined an ear to the distant alarm. “Is there a fire?” The prospect seemed to excite him.

“No, we're all right.” I was thinking about the names. “Byron. Does he have a club-foot?” Big Eye nodded enthusiastically. “And Selkie – what about him? Or is it a female?”

He shook his head. “Male. There are no women in here, at least not any real ones. Don't you know the old folk tales? A selkie's a man on land and a seal in the water.”

I looked at him blankly.

“Selkie's got a condition called phocomelia.” Big Eye pronounced the word carefully. “He doesn't have much in the way of arms and legs. His hands and feet are attached to his body like flippers.”

I felt my jaw drop. Then I remembered Leadbelly and his references to the “poor, tortured fuckers”. He worked in the Rennie – he might have seen these guys.

“Don't worry,” Big Eye said. “He doesn't mind. He doesn't know anything different.”

I scratched my cheek as I tried to find an inoffensive way to extract information from him. I needn't have bothered.

“We're the results of genetic modification, you know.” The young man wasn't embarrassed. If anything, he was pleased. “The scientists here tried all sorts of things with us.” He gave me a conspiratorial wink. “I'm a true hermaphrodite, you know. I have an ovary as well as testicles.”

I didn't know what to say to that. Fortunately, he didn't seem to be expecting congratulations.

“And they've made me indifferent to pain,” he continued. “Look.” Before I could stop him he'd closed the door on his little finger. The smile never left his face.

“Jesus,” I said under my breath. So this was what went on in the Rennie. But what did the research have to do with the murders? I was bloody sure it was connected, that the third eye mutilation was some kind of link to this poor soul, but I needed harder evidence. I glanced at my watch. We were twenty-five minutes into Operation Aardvark. Time to get a move on.

“I've got to go, Big Eye,” I said, moving towards the door and hoping that my smart card would open it.

“I'll come with you,” he said cheerfully. “I can show you around.”

I stared at him. “Aren't you locked up in here all the time?”

“Oh no,” he replied. “They take us to the laboratories and the exercise rooms almost every day.” He smiled at me. “I keep myself very fit. I can do two hundred press-ups without stopping. And hit the punchball for ten minutes.” He gave a hoarse laugh. “That's why they didn't try to take me on when they came for the others. Here, we can look for them, can't we?”

I nodded slowly. “All right then.” He was between me and the door and I didn't fancy taking him on either. I headed over there, offered up a prayer to the god I'd never believed in and ran the card down the panel. There was a click and Sesame opened. It seemed that security code A+++ didn't run to a more complex locking system.

“Where would you like to start?” Big Eye asked, sounding like an unusually user-friendly tourist guide.

“Is there an archive room?” I asked. There was no reaction from him. “You know, somewhere the records are kept? The files?”

He shrugged then stared at his feet. They were bare and the nails were long and horny. “Don't know.” His face had darkened. It looked like I'd caught him out. I didn't like the way he'd gone from happy to resentful in two seconds. Change of subject required.

“Never mind. How about the labs? Where are they?”

His expression lightened. “There are a lot of those. I'll take you to the ones I know best.” He headed off down the corridor at a quick pace.

I followed more cautiously, looking round corners and through glass panels. There was no sign of anyone. We passed a door marked “Record Room – Security Code A+”. I'd revisit that later.

Finally, at the end of a corridor, we came to a heavy door. This time there was no identifying panel and, instead of a card swipe, a digital pad protruded from the wall.

“Oh shit,” I said.

“Don't worry,” Big Eye said. “I know all the doctors' code numbers. He tapped out four digits.

We were in.

The door slammed behind us and I breathed in the antiseptic air of a seriously high-tech lab. The lights were blazing – presumably this area had its own emergency generator. Instruments and machines stretched away like an Edinburgh computer warehouse in pre-Enlightenment times, before the mob took exception to the rip-off prices and firebombed them. No evidence of fire damage here, nor of lab staff. In the middle of the area was a glass-enclosed section with a high bed in it. With a clench in my gut I saw that there was someone lying on it. Then a figure in a white coat rose from behind a control panel to the right.