The Blood Tree (44 page)

There was no one around outside the red stone structure of the main building. A battered sign outside the entrance proclaimed that it was part of the Supply Directorate. I continued on to a rectangular structure from the 1970s. It was notable for the complete absence of windows in the numerous metal frames – obviously a use had been found for them elsewhere. Perhaps a deliberate attempt had been made to give the place a desolate air as well. I reckoned Godwin's lab was in the depths. The fact that this facility was only a few minutes' walk from Sophia's base in the infirmary improved the odds.

I stopped and listened. Not a sound nearby. Further away I could hear the rumble of trucks and buses at Tollcross, but the building in front of me was a mausoleum in brick and discoloured mortar. I made sure Broadsword's heavy pistol was lodged firmly out of sight under my jacket and moved inside carefully. The outer door was missing. A more unlikely way into a lab at the cutting edge of genetic research I couldn't imagine. That's why I was almost sure that I was heading in the right direction. No one covers their tracks like guardians pulling a fast one on their fellow Council members.

The floor was uneven and filthy. That was a big help. I dropped to my knees and examined the surface – scuffed marks suggesting unsteadiness from the aged scientist, the elaborate prints from the soles of a child's trainers and larger ones from Macbeth's heavy boots. No sign of Broadsword's larger feet, which made me breathe a sigh of relief then wonder where he'd got to.

I followed the tracks to the end of the corridor and lost them in the gloom. I risked a flash from my torch and saw a handrail leading down to the basement. There were more of the same footprints on the worn steps. I paused and tried to work out the safest course of action. Davie hadn't called so the bug was still in the same location, but how could I get closer without being spotted? I wasn't able to come up with an answer to that so I went on cautiously, hoping for a lucky break.

At the bottom of the stairs I got one. Light was shining out from an open door half-way down the passageway. I moved slowly and quietly towards the illuminated section, feeling the breath rasp in my throat and my heart slam in my chest. Christ, what next? How was I going to get Aurora out? When I reached the edge of the lit-up patch of floor, I stopped and tried to get my breathing under control. I cocked an ear and listened into the room beyond. Dead quiet, not even the hum of computers. The reek of chemicals permeated the air. I waited, steeled myself then squatted down and risked a look round the door-frame.

The first things I saw from my low position were desks, drawers and shelves full of files, computer disks and bottles of various sizes. I looked higher and saw an array of computer equipment that was more high-tech than anything I'd ever come across in Edinburgh. This project certainly wasn't short of funding. That made me think of Billy Geddes – he'd obviously been hard at work. I tried to see how big the place was. The aisle between the desks stretched away and I couldn't be sure that there weren't dozens of scientists working away in the nether regions. It was too quiet though. I scurried forward and took cover behind the first desk. Still no sign of anyone. I began to get a bad feeling.

Then I glanced round the desk and saw the body. Shit. I recognised Gavin Godwin's head immediately, the thin grey hair plastered across the scalp with whatever grease he used. He was flat out on his back about five yards away from me, his arms outstretched in the space between the desks. One wrist was bent up against a bottom drawer, the fingers curled round loosely. I listened, then moved closer.

That was when the noise started. The high-pitched growl made the hairs on my neck spring to attention. I looked to the right and saw Godwin's pet rat-catcher in the leg-space of the desk next to the body. Cerberus was standing on the tips of all four paws, showing his heavy, saliva-drenched teeth to me. Jesus. If there was anyone in the vicinity, my cover was well and truly blown. I moved back but the animal didn't give up. If anything the growl became even more manic. In desperation I pulled out the automatic and pointed it at the genetically modified creature. That shut it up.

I stood up slowly and looked around the cavernous laboratory. Plenty of equipment, but no people operating it – the mad doctor must have given them the day off. There was no sign of Macbeth or Aurora either. When I approached Godwin, gun still aimed at Cerberus, I saw something that made me freeze. Carefully positioned on the scientist's pallid forehead, its metallic sheen glowing in the artificial light, was the tracker bug.

I sank to my knees and started cursing under my breath. Then cursed some more at full volume. Then I pulled out the mobile and rang Davie. “Macbeth and the girl have gone,” I said. “Get in here.” I gave him directions. I could have told him to advise the command centre but I didn't want some glory-hunting auxiliary to have a go – let alone Hamilton to stick his aged oar in.

While I waited for the others, I examined Godwin's body. Cerberus had sat down now, his jaws still drawn back over his yellow fangs but his appetite for a fight or a meal apparently under control. The animal was eyeing my weapon uneasily and I soon saw why. His master had been taken out with a single, large-calibre gunshot to the chest. I thought about that and reckoned that I would have heard a shot – so it looked like Macbeth or whoever killed him had a silencer. Great.

There was a clatter of nailed boots on the stairs and Davie shot through the door. Katharine and Hel followed at a slightly more restrained pace.

“What happened?” Davie demanded, looking at the body and then frowning when he saw Cerberus. “What the hell's that?”

“Name's Cerberus,” I said. I pointed to the corpse's forehead. “Macbeth found the bug.”

“Oh no,” Katharine said.

I nodded slowly, looking around the lab. There was a door at the far end. “That was probably his way out.” Then I took in the desk beyond the body. It had been ransacked, the drawers pulled out. The computer and screen on top had been knocked over.

“What went on here?” Hel asked, stepping forward.

I rubbed the stubble on my jaw. “Macbeth brought the scientist here for a reason,” I replied. “Looks like he was after something. Godwin probably had something he wanted. Something worth a lot of money on the global market, I'd guess.”

Katharine was squatting down by the animal and making soothing noises at it. To my amazement it stopped growling and let her touch the top of its head.

“Good boy,” she said.

I turned to Hel. “What do you think? Will Macbeth be on his way back to Glasgow now?”

She shrugged. “You tell me. The Rennie Institute's not exactly a going concern any more. If he's taken a programme or data from here, he could be headed anywhere to sell it.”

“What do you want us to do, Quint?” Davie asked. “Shall I put out an all-barracks alert?”

“No way,” I said. Aurora's beautiful, terrified features had risen up before me. “We're going to have to sort this one out ourselves.” I had a pretty good idea of the next move. “Let's go and see your boss. It's about time I put the squeeze on the public order guardian.”

Davie looked at me in horror. The idea of having a go at his superior had always been a difficult one for him to grasp. Time for me to give him the latest in a long series of lessons.

Lewis Hamilton was in his quarters in the castle. I stormed into them ahead of the others, leaving the grey-suited female auxiliary in the outer office with her mouth open wide. I'd considered bringing Cerberus but decided it was better to pack him off to the zoo.

“What is it, Dalrymple?” the guardian demanded from behind the perfectly aligned piles of folders on his desk.

“What it is, Lewis, is the end of the road for you.” I heard Davie's sharp intake of breath to my rear.

The guardian's cheeks above his beard were almost as pale as the murdered scientist's. “What do you mean?” he asked hoarsely, peering at Hel and Katharine.

“The fugitive from Glasgow is still loose in Edinburgh. As well as the girl he's taken hostage, he's in possession of an automatic pistol and silencer. He recently used those to kill Doctor Gavin Godwin.”

Hamilton's eyes sprang wide open. “What?” he gasped.

“So talk!” I yelled, bringing my fist down hard on his desk. The pencils and rubbers jumped up and scattered across the polished surface. “Tell me everything about your illegal bloody committee. Who else is involved?”

“You already know who else is involved, don't you, Quint?”

I turned round rapidly at the sound of Sophia's voice. She was wearing the usual guardian's tweed jacket and dark trousers, her abdomen swelling out under the white blouse. She glanced disparagingly at Katharine and then subjected Hel Hyslop to prolonged scutiny.

“She's with me,” I said. “And no, I don't know everyone who's involved, Sophia.” I took a step towards her. “Lately I've had other things on my mind. But I have found some worrying links with a research institute in Glasgow . . .” I broke off and glared at her “. . . as well as with the murders of the two auxiliaries in Edinburgh.”

The medical guardian looked briefly at Hamilton. “I see no reason to divulge details of the committee to outsiders. Especially not outsiders from democratic states.” She frowned at Hel. “Do you have to wear that uniform here?”

The inspector looked down at her green jacket. “Rather this than the old man's stuff you've got on.”

“Women talking about fashion. What a surprise.” The sardonic voice from the door made everyone look round again.

“Billy,” I said, taking in the wizened, wheelchair-bound figure. “Just the man I wanted to see.”

My former friend grunted. “You wanting to see me, Quint? What kind of shitty joke is that? You've been ignoring me for years.” He shook his misshapen arms and legs. “Ever since you put me in this contraption, in fact.”

“Look, you self-serving little shit,” I said, moving over to him. “Your money-grabbing schemes have led to the death of at least four Edinburgh citizens. They've also put an innocent child at risk.” I stood watching as my vehement tone made him jerk back. Suddenly it struck me that he might be the weak link in the chain. “You know the Rennies, don't you, Billy? Derek, the one who plays at being Macbeth, is on the run in Edinburgh. Have you got any idea where he is? Tell me or I'll nail you to your chair.”

“Quint.” I felt Davie's hand on my shoulder. “Give him a chance to talk.”

I nodded, taking in the concern on his face. Maybe I'd been a bit hard on Billy. He was looking away from me, his gaze on the floor.

“Tell him,” Hamilton said. “Tell him what you know, Geddes. Otherwise he'll tell the Council about the committee.”

A worried look appeared on Sophia's face. She moved towards Billy. “Do you have any idea of Rennie's whereabouts?” she demanded. “Has he been in touch with you?”

The wheelchair shuddered as Billy tried to reverse towards the door. I stood behind him to block his way. That made him laugh, but it was a broken, feeble sound about as far from humour as it could go. “Always get your man, don't you, Quint?” he said in a cracked voice.

“You slimeball,” I said in a low voice. “You've spoken to him, haven't you? Where is he?”

More empty laughter. “Fuck you. I'm not telling you anything.”

I knew how stubborn Billy could be. When he was a trainee auxiliary, he once did thirty days on the border rather than own up to stealing the commander's malt whisky. And a few years back, he concocted a vicious plot to snare me because of what I'd done to him. Breaking him down would tax the most experienced guard interrogator, as the Council's arm-twisters and ball-squeezers are officially known. But I had to find a way to do it – I had to, for Aurora's sake. That was it. Aurora. She was the answer.

“Come on,” I said, grabbing the handles of his chair. “We're going for a little trip.” I nodded to Davie, Katharine and Hel. “As for you, guardians – stay here and hope that I find out what I need. Otherwise you'll be demoted by tonight.”

Sophia had her hand resting on her convex midriff. I felt a pang of guilt for what I was putting her and her unborn child through. Then I thought of Aurora again and pushed Billy out of the room.

We got the citizen formerly known as Heriot 07 out of the Land-Rover in Gilmore Place, leaving his wheelchair in the guard vehicle. Davie carried him up to my flat in a fireman's lift, the rest of us keeping our distance to avoid his passenger's ill-directed kicks.

“Dump him on the sofa, Davie,” I said, heading for the bedroom. I stuck my hand into the top drawer of the chest of drawers and found what I wanted. Hel and Katharine were standing as far apart from each other as the confines of the main room allowed. Hel was taking in the decor. It didn't look like she was too impressed.

“So, Billy,” I said, sitting down next to him. “You've got a grievance against me.”

“Several,” he croaked.

I shrugged. “Fair enough. You think I've been a shit to you on several occasions. Well, here's the good news. As far as I'm concerned, this can be the last time we ever see each other.”

“Good,” Billy muttered, his head away from me. “You fucking smartarse. Why can't you leave me alone?” It wasn't the first time I'd buggered up one of his deals, but that wasn't my problem.

I twisted his head round and stuck the small, framed photo in front of him. “What about her? Have you got a grievance against her?”

There were a few moments of silence. I was aware of the other three gathering around us, craning to see the photo.

“A grievance against Caro?” Billy said, his irritation turning to an unlikely tenderness. “No, of course not. She was . . . she was my friend when we were young.” He looked at me in bewilderment. “What's Caro got to do with this, Quint?”