We were out in the open, as the person or persons who’d left the organ on the centre spot would have been. The rain had probably obscured the view from the buildings around, but someone could have seen what happened.
‘We can’t ask questions,’ Davie said after a pair of crime-scene technicians, also disguised as groundsmen, had removed the heart and the turf below. ‘Council orders. They’re worried about publicity.’
‘What if someone talks to the media?’ There were quasi-free newspapers and radio stations in the city now.
‘They’re being monitored.’
‘Of course.’ There would be undercover auxiliaries in every news outlet.
‘Who found it?’
‘A groundsman, surprise, surprise. He was in before anyone else – the place didn’t open till midday today – and he did the right thing.’
‘Called the Guard. How do you know he didn’t tell his boss first?’
‘Because he’s terrified. I’ve got him up in the castle. The recreation guardian’s honorary chairman of the club – of all the clubs in the Edinburgh Premier League, of course – which helps.’
‘It didn’t occur to anyone to take the heart for examination?’
Davie grinned. ‘We’re not that useless without you. The medical guardian’s had a look. Taking into account the ambient temperature, she couldn’t be specific about how long it’s been there or when it was removed from its host body. She recommended that it be left in situ for you.’
‘Did she?’ Sophia, the medical guardian, and I were on-off lovers, more on than off in the year since my long-term partner Katharine Kirkwood had illicitly left the city. ‘Well, she knows how I work. It’s still full of holes, and I don’t mean the heart, jackass. Who had access to the stadium? Who witnessed the heart being left? Where’s the body it came from? We need to talk to people.’
‘The guardian’s worried about drawing attention. As for witnesses, the feeling is that anyone who saw it being put on the centre circle will call it in.’ Davie headed quickly back to the stand before I could point out how unlikely that was. Citizens still didn’t trust the authorities. I looked around as I walked. There were several buildings whose top storeys overlooked the pitch. Were we being observed now?
‘So why I am involved?’ I asked, brushing water from my scalp.
‘Come on, Quint. The city’s opening up, tourism’s back to the numbers we had before the Chinese crash, Edinburgh may become the capital of Scotland again. This is the last thing the Council needs.’
‘And I’m the first thing?’
‘Unlikely though that might seem. So where to?’
‘Your place of work, I suppose, since I can’t knock on doors here.’
‘Your supposition is my command.’
Back in the 4×4, I turned to Davie. ‘Is there anything you aren’t telling me?’
‘Yes. The medical directorate’s recently started doing heart transplants.’
‘Ha-ha.’ The likelihood of the resource-starved infirmary being able to provide such complex surgery to the citizen body was minimal. Besides, Sophia would have told me. Or would she? ‘You are joking?’
Davie glanced at me. ‘Er, yes.’
‘On second thoughts, let’s go and see the medical guardian. It wouldn’t be the first time people in the infirmary were up to no good.’
‘No, it wouldn’t,’ Davie said ruefully, hitting the accelerator hard.
The infirmary is a Victorian building in what had been the university area in the southern centre of the city. Its towers and vanes give it a Gothic air, especially with the stone walls darkened by the rain. There are some more modern parts, not least a steel chimney pointing skywards like that of a first-generation steamship long run aground. There were crowds of citizens in the waiting areas even though it was early evening. Appointments were made until 9 p.m., meaning that riots by those needing treatment were avoided – and that the doctors and nurses were permanently exhausted. That went for the medical guardian too.
‘Hello, Sophia McIlvanney,’ I said as we were ushered into her office. I never miss an opportunity to use auxiliaries’ surnames because I know how much it irritates them; they prefer the titles that make clear their superiority.
‘Hello, Quint,’ she replied, brushing back a strand of white-blonde hair. There was a time she’d been known as the Ice Queen, but she’d lost that quality for me. Among other things, sex is a great leveller. ‘You’re here on an affair of the heart.’
‘I should be so lucky. But yes, if you want to put it that way.’ I tried to avoid looking at the scar beneath her right eye. She caught me out, of course, and I felt my cheeks redden.
‘Come on. I’ve got the pathologists waiting.’
Soon we were all gowned and masked up, even for the single organ. I was happy enough as the air in the morgue is always pungent.
‘Go ahead,’ Sophia said to her subordinates.
They leaned over the organ, which had been washed of blood either by the person who had cut it out or by the rain, and started speaking. I let the words flow over me – aorta, anterior interventricular branch, pulmonary veins, coronary sinus – waiting to pounce when something struck me. For a time nothing did. Then I heard ‘serrated edge’ and raised a hand.
‘So a serrated blade was used to cut the arteries and so on?’
‘That’s right,’ said the taller of the masked figures. ‘Strange. Any professional would use a straight edge.’
‘Though the cuts display a reasonable degree of medical knowledge,’ said his short colleague.
‘Reasonable meaning what?’ I asked. ‘City Guard medical orderly level?’ Like all auxiliaries, they’re issued with knives that have serrated blades.
Davie was looking at the ceiling, while Sophia’s eyes narrowed.
‘As far as I know, medical orderlies are not trained to remove hearts,’ she said. ‘Kindly suppress your customary suspicion of auxiliaries, citizen.’
‘The person or persons who removed this heart were careful not to cut or otherwise damage the exterior,’ the taller of the pathologists said. ‘That suggests medical knowledge.’
‘Did it come from a male or a female?’ I asked, after they’d measured the organ.
‘Male,’ they said in unison.
‘Fully developed,’ put in Sophia. ‘It’s about twenty-five per cent larger than a female’s.’
‘Also, there’s no evidence, at least externally, of aortic or venous disease,’ said the shorter pathologist. ‘So we’re probably dealing with a young, healthy male, though that’s subject to what we find when we open the organ up.’
After more talking to the microphone that hung above the table, the men looked at Sophia and she nodded.
‘Cutting across aorta and aortic valve cusps,’ the tall pathologist said.
I let the words roll over me again. This time nothing made me intervene.
‘Subject to tissue and other tests, this heart belonged to a young man in good physical condition,’ said the shorter doctor.
‘Are there any tests that will show how long since it was removed?’ I asked.
‘To within a period of hours, yes,’ Sophia said.
The tall pathologist raised a hand. ‘My working hypothesis would be that it was removed within the last twenty-four hours, taking into account the freshness.’
‘It couldn’t have been frozen?’
He looked at me as if surprised by the question and then shook his head. ‘The texture of the tissue suggests not.’
‘Anything else we should know?’ I said.
There wasn’t. The donor had been young and healthy, which somehow made what had happened to him even more of a disgrace.
‘Can you give me a lift to the Council meeting, commander?’
‘Of course, guardian,’ Davie said.
‘Citizen Dalrymple’s presence is required there as well,’ Sophia continued.
‘Brilliant,’ I mumbled.
We went out into the infirmary yard, the rain having miraculously let up.
‘What are you complaining about?’ Davie said, under his breath. ‘You’ll find out more about what’s going on.’
I laughed. ‘That isn’t the way it works, my friend. I’m usually the one whose lemon gets squeezed.’
Sophia gave me a curious look. Her knowledge of the blues was minimal and sexual innuendo wasn’t her strong point.
We drove down to what had been the Scottish Parliament for four years spanning the millennium – before public anger at the greed and fecklessness of politicians brought the system down. Edinburgh was lucky. Most parliaments in Europe, including Westminster, were blown up or burned down. Organized crime had been taken over by its disorganized but extremely violent sibling and drugs wars erupted across Europe and the USA. Edinburgh got the Enlightenment and then the Council of City Guardians. There was little crime but even less joy.
‘What do you think, Sophia?’ I said as we approached the weather-stained relic of democracy near the ruins of Holyrood Palace. The monarchy had been a major target of the mob. Prince Charles should never have married that Colombian drugs heiress. ‘Is Edinburgh going to be part of Scotland again?’
‘That’s up to the citizens,’ she said, keeping her eyes off mine.
‘Right. No tampering with the ballot boxes by the Council next year.’
‘That’s an outrageous thing to say, Quint.’ Now I got the full benefit of her Medusa-stare. ‘I could have the commander here lock you up.’
I laughed. ‘Then what would your colleagues do about the heart at Heart of Midlothian?’
‘Don’t imagine you’re indispensable, citizen.’ She opened her door and got out. She might have been winding me up, but I couldn’t be sure.
‘What age are you?’ Davie demanded.
‘Too old to rock and roll, that’s for sure.’
‘Arsehole. Show guardians some fucking respect.’
‘That, big man, is a two-way street.’
I left him behind and went into the building. It could do with some serious maintenance, but the Council claims it’s directing all the resources it can to citizen facilities. But what about the Market District? No expense was being spared there. Still, Davie was right. My life would be much easier if I kowtowed to our lords and mistresses. Then again, someone had to stand guard over the guardians.
A guardswomen in full dress uniform opened the door to the main chamber for me. The fifteen guardians were in their seats in the semicircle, looking down at me.
‘Citizen Dalrymple,’ said the senior guardian, a gung-ho sociologist in his early forties, who was in charge of the Supply Directorate as well as being this year’s numero uno. ‘Welcome back.’
‘Thanks, Fergus,’ I said, taking in the disapproving faces above. ‘Call me Quint.’
That was unlikely to happen, at least in Council. In theory everyone in the city can now be addressed by their first name, but you took your life in your hands if you called guardians what their parents had. The city’s leaders still call each other by their titles, at least when there are citizens around.
Fergus Calder’s smile took a hit, but he persevered. ‘You have some thoughts to share?’
I shook my head. ‘I was the last to know about this case, so I’ll speak last. Tell me everything you know.’
There was a wave of tutting and harrumphing, then the public order guardian stood up. She was wearing the standard tweed jacket, but had gone native with a kilt in her clan tartan. Unfortunately the Barclays wear a yellow weave that blinds and nauseates in equal measure.
‘Citizen Quint’s involvement in this case has been ordered because it is potentially highly problematic.’
‘How do you make that out, Guardian Doris?’
She did me the honour of ignoring that.
‘Not only is the city expanding its international profile, but there must be no threat to the Scotland referendum next spring.’
Her colleagues nodded, their expressions serious.
The guardian gave me a glance that did not bode well. ‘Although the senior guardian was made aware of the case from the start, this meeting is the first opportunity I have to brief you in full.’
Here we go, I thought. When things get tough, guardians keep information to themselves for as long as it takes to build bulwarks around their backsides.
‘At eleven forty-five this morning I received a call on my personal mobile from a number that cannot be traced. The voice was muffled and I could not make out any accent, or even if it was male or female.’
I sat down on the chair that had belatedly been brought for me. I was going to let the guardian talk herself into a hole until I made any comment. That way she’d be desperate for help, and desperate guardians can be useful. Then again, they can also bite your head off.
‘The caller said, “Tynecastle, the centre circle, there’s a gift for you. Be discreet. I’m watching.”’
‘Is there a recording of the call?’ the recreation guardian asked. Peter Stewart had been a fine athlete in his youth and was popular among citizens because he’d brought football back. His face was unusually pale and his hands were trembling.
Guardian Doris looked sheepish. ‘I’m afraid not. It was over before I could react. But I sent Guard personnel disguised as ground staff immediately and the heart was found. The medical guardian visited and advised that the organ should be covered until the citizen here saw it. As subsequently happened.’
‘One moment,’ said the education guardian, a desiccated man in his fifties who was notorious for nitpicking. ‘As I understand, the citizen didn’t arrive at the football ground until after five p.m. What happened in the intervening period?’
Now the public order guardian looked bilious. ‘I was in meetings with the senior guardian and the finance guardian,’ she said. ‘We had to make various decisions.’
‘What decisions?’ asked the education guardian, barely disguising his anger. ‘An emergency Council meeting should have been called.’
‘Calm down, Brian,’ said the finance guardian, giving up on titles. He was wearing a grey suit that had definitely not been made in Edinburgh and a silk version of the black-and-white tie that only Council members are entitled to.
‘Don’t take that tone with me, Jack MacLean,’ the education guardian barked.
‘Colleagues,’ the senior guardian said. ‘There’s an ordinary citizen present.’
I wondered how heated the debate would have got if I hadn’t been there. MacLean was the thrusting type who brooked no opposition. He fancied himself as a captain of industry rather than a bureaucrat, which must have been frustrating for him considering how little industry there was in Edinburgh. Coal mines to keep the population warm, farms to feed the citizens and foreigners, tourism’s great rewards – they were all controlled by other directorates. He was just a number-cruncher. Then again, frustration can be a hell of a motivator.
‘Initial investigations in certain areas had to be instigated,’ Guardian Doris said, speaking the stilted language her rank has always favoured.
‘We checked the infirmary and all the city’s clinics for the donor corpse,’ Sophia put in.
The public order guardian gave her a grateful look. ‘And the Guard has been put on full alert.’
‘Discreetly,’ said Jack MacLean.
‘Indeed.’
‘And has any such body been located?’ said the education guardian, sticking to his guns.
‘No.’
‘I still don’t understand why the finance guardian was involved.’
‘Brian,’ said the senior guardian, ‘leave it, please. Anything that might affect the city’s income is within Jack’s purview. A human heart in the middle of a football pitch is unlikely to do the city’s image much good, not least since, as of the season that’s about to begin, tourists will be able to attend matches.’ He caught Sophia’s eye. ‘The medical guardian has the floor.’
She ran through what the pathologists had found, then sat down.
The senior guardian’s eyes were on me. ‘Well, citizen, you’ve heard the whole story now. What have you to say?’
I leaned back in the chair and crossed my legs. ‘It’s the biggest cock-up I’ve come across in years, Fergus. The call wasn’t recorded, I wasn’t told about it till now and I wasn’t involved with the case from the start. Plus it’s been decided that potential witnesses aren’t to be located.’
‘Discretion, citizen,’ Jack MacLean said.
‘Sticking your heads in the sand, more like. So what if the bastard or bastards finds out there were witnesses? Are their hearts going to be cut out too?’
‘Anything’s possible,’ said the senior guardian. ‘We’ll have to risk that.’
‘Uh-huh. It’s all about the city’s image, eh?’
‘Do you have anything positive to contribute?’
‘How about this? Are you checking for missing persons? I’ve got several on my books we can start with.’
The public order guardian grabbed that like a drowning woman. ‘We’ll get on to that with you, citizen.’
‘Any reports of unusual activities, particularly in the suburbs?’ I asked.
‘There are always plenty of those,’ Guardian Doris said.
‘Are you checking any premises where screams were heard or people seen being dragged in unconscious or struggling? I know the gangs do that all the time, but whoever’s behind this could be using gang activity as cover. Or could even be in a gang.’
There was general shock and horror. Gangs were one of the city’s enduring problems, but they’d never done anything as extreme as this.
The finance guardian gave me a disparaging look. ‘Gang members are drunk or stoned most of the time. They couldn’t cut a heart out without damaging it, never mind get it to Tynecastle unobserved.’
I smiled. ‘Who said they were unobserved? And if you think gangs aren’t capable of cutting out people’s internal organs, ask your colleague Doris.’
‘There was a wave of that about a year back,’ she confirmed. ‘We caught the citizens involved.’
‘Eventually,’ I said. ‘Are they still locked up or have they been given a pat on the head and told to behave themselves?’
‘Two are still in the castle dungeons.’
‘Good. I’ll be talking to them.’
‘Anything you need, citizen?’ the senior guardian asked.
‘A mobile phone.’ Only guardians and senior auxiliaries were provided with those. ‘With all your and senior auxiliaries’ numbers pre-loaded.’
‘Of course.’
‘A Council authorization giving me authority to question anyone, including guardians, and access to all premises in the city.’
He didn’t look happy but he nodded.
‘I also want City Guard Commander Bell 03, a.k.a. Davie Oliphant, to be seconded to me for the duration of the investigation.’
Guardian Doris gave that one the nod, though there was a second or two of reluctance.
‘One last thing,’ I said, looking at Jack MacLean. ‘You’re in charge of negotiating with representatives from other Scottish states and cities, aren’t you?’
He looked anxious briefly, then rallied. ‘That’s correct, citizen.’
‘I want access to them when they’re in the city if I deem that necessary. Kindly provide me with a full list of scheduled visits.’
MacLean glanced at Fergus Calder. ‘Very well.’
‘Send it to the public order guardian.’ I stood up.
‘One moment, citizen,’ the senior guardian said. ‘The authorization we give you does not mean you can operate outside the City Regulations.’
‘Of course not,’ I replied dutifully.
If they believed that, they were fully paid up members of the Loch Ness Monster Is Alive and Well Society. Then again, maybe Nessie had made an appearance in the last three decades. How would we have known?