‘Why can’t I come?’ Davie demanded as we turned on to Heriot Row, still one of the most exclusive streets in the New Town.
‘You know he doesn’t like you.’
‘And he likes you? How many times has he tried to terminate you with plenty of prejudice.’
‘Just the once.’
‘You’re being generous.’
‘Look, I’ve known him since we were kids. That still means something.’
‘I hope so. Do you want me to wait?’
‘No, go back to the castle and see if anything’s turned up.’
‘Shall I put out an all-barracks alert for a young blonde with a – quote – “fine pair of lungs”?’
I thought about that. With Edinburgh full of tourists from rich states around the world, several of them well populated by blondes, that would be the opposite of discreet. And with the locals now allowed to dye their hair, there was no shortage of unnatural blondes.
‘No, it isn’t enough to go on.’
‘All right, Quint. You know best.’
‘Irony doesn’t become you, guardsman.’
‘Your irony’s too ironic for me.’
‘Good night, idiot.’ I got out of the vehicle and walked down the street. The trees in the park on the right blocked out most of the noise from the bars and clubs on North Castle Street. The dark stone of the well-kept houses on my left was grim, a reminder that the New Town had always been full of disquieting secrets. The man I was about to visit was privy to most of the contemporary ones, I was sure.
I rang the bell and mugged at the camera above the door. Only guardians and the most senior auxiliaries merit that level of security. There was a buzz and the door swung open.
‘Well, well, the great Quintilian Dalrymple,’ said the crumpled figure in the wheelchair a few yards away in the ornate entrance hall. ‘I had a feeling you might turn up tonight. Though you might have rung ahead.’
‘Though you might have not been at home, Billy.’
His laugh was a cackle the weird sisters would have been proud of.
‘You do me an injustice.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Not for the first time.’
I shook my head. ‘Everything that happened to you was caused by your own actions.’
‘You think?’ Billy Geddes, former deputy finance guardian and demoted auxiliary – the latter a distinction we had in common – studied me for longer than I was comfortable with, then spun round and rolled away across the tiled floor. I followed him into a large, well-appointed room. The paintings on the walls were from the City Gallery, one of them a Degas that I’ve always been fond of.
‘I heard you’d wormed your way back into favour, but I didn’t realize how much. Even guardians only get the loan of a work of art.’
‘Everything’s changing, Quint, and for the better.’
I looked at his wizened face, the thin beard he favoured doing little to obscure the results of the injuries he’d sustained in 2020.
‘And guess who’s got a finger in every pie.’
More cackling. ‘What’s good for the city is good for me, Quint. Do you want a drink?’ He was already pouring a large measure of a dark malt. I took it, but didn’t drink – the bouquet was glorious but, as ever with anything to do with Billy, there was an underlying hint of corruption.
‘What did you do to get this? Sell off the museum?’
‘Come on,’ he scoffed. ‘You’re an ignoramus when it comes to the modern world. Let me educate you.’
I leaned back in the red leather armchair. Billy’s lectures were informative but there was more to them than that. It was only after giving them that he would open up. Sometimes.
‘So, you know that Europe isn’t in as much chaos as it has been?’
I shrugged. ‘There are tourists from Provence and Aquitaine.’
‘Well done,’ he said with a mocking grin. ‘They’re examples of states that have finally done what we did – beaten off the drugs gangs. Of course, they also had the Muslim fundamentalists to deal with. Now their borders are secure and they’ve started trading again – wine, mainly, but they’ve got heavy industry going, even shipbuilding.’
‘Who buys ships these days?’
‘Good question. For decades world trade has been shafted by well-equipped raiders, thanks to what used to be the Russian Federation and is now back to Serf Central. Don’t you just love oligarchs?’
‘Not the ones who’re in charge here.’
‘The guardians aren’t that kind of oligarch, you moron. They’re a benevolent dictatorship.’
‘Benevolent to you, maybe.’
Billy glared at me. ‘You helped set the Council up, Quint. You like to play at being an ordinary citizen working for your peers, but you’re still at the guardians’ beck and call.’
I didn’t rise to that. ‘So who buys ships?’ I repeated.
‘People who want to move goods around the world. You see, there’s one thing that survives nuclear and any other kind of meltdown.’
‘Cockroaches?’
‘I’m talking about trade, buying and selling—’
‘Turning a profit.’
‘You’re not as dumb as you look, Quint.’
‘But unregulated capitalism and feral banking were what landed us in the shit at the beginning of the century, weren’t they?’
‘Those and a large number of major criminals and ruthless religious lunatics. But my point is, trade still went on. It wasn’t long after the last election that the Council realized the city needed tourist income to survive.’
‘And now things are better around the world?’
‘In some parts. States are still a lot smaller than they were – the last count I saw had fifty-seven of them in what used to be Canada, while the former USA has over a hundred, many of them hermetically sealed against outsiders for religious reasons. I heard that southern Florida and Cuba merged last year – main products, orange-flavoured rum and teenage-thigh-rolled cigars, choose your gender.’
‘But with China and Russia in ruins, where are the big markets?’
‘Australia, for a start. Or rather, ex-Australia. There are twenty-three states now, four of them for Aborigines only; Indonesia, finally rid of fundamentalists and very keen on exporting its natural resources; Japan, though the northern islands have been occupied by Russians escaping from the remains of their homeland. And South America – Brazil, Argentina and Chile are flying high, while Venezuela’s still making the most of its oil.’
‘Speaking of black gold, what about the Middle East? You don’t see many Arab tourists these days.’
‘Gone up in flames, mostly. The jihadists were only recently eradicated. Turkey’s the regional superpower, though it’s smaller than it used to be thanks to the Kurds setting up their own state.’ He leaned forward, unable to contain his excitement. ‘The potential is huge and we can be in at the start. Not just as a tourist attraction, but as the capital of a reunited Scotland. You wouldn’t believe the resources this country has.’
‘Oil in the Hebrides,’ I said, hoping to take the wind from his sails.
‘That, but there’s been amazing progress in wave and wind-power technology in Inverness and Aberdeen. Those cities have taken over a lot of the neighbouring territories and erected ultra-efficient wind turbines on the high ground. They’re ready to start exporting energy to Denmark and the German Federation. And that’s not all. There’s fishing, minerals, agriculture … this country is a gold mine.’
‘We were always taught Scotland was a harsh land, that there was nothing without heavy industry. Except sheep.’
‘That’s bullshit now. For a start, we’re decades ahead of most other countries, plus we’ve got some of the best-trained people in the world.’
‘In Aberdeen and Inverness.’
‘And Glasgow. Since the original Silicon Valley in California was carpet-bombed by Christian fundamentalists five years ago, the west of Scotland has become a world leader in digital processing and programming. Of course, Dundee is still an anarcho-syndicalist state and Stirling is run by ultra-feminists, but we can live without them.’
‘I take it you’ll be voting “yes” in the referendum.’
‘Anyone with a brain cell will be doing that.’ He groaned. ‘Don’t tell me, Quint. You’re still loyal to the Enlightenment ideal of an independent Edinburgh after all you’ve been through. You’re a DM, remember?’
I looked at the faded stamp on my right hand. Demoted citizens were rehabilitated a year ago, but there’s still a stigma, at least among auxiliaries. That had made me want to get the letters re-inked in one of the many parlours that have opened since the Council made tattoos legal – thirty per cent of profits going to the Finance Directorate, of course. In the end I hadn’t, partly because the Council’s actions have been less objectionable recently.
‘All right,’ I said. ‘Global capitalism is starting up again and everything’s wonderful. Where’s the catch?’
Billy looked puzzled. ‘There is no catch.’
‘You know what I’m investigating.’
‘So?’
‘Why are the senior guardian and the finance guardian so spooked by it, and don’t tell me they’re worried about the city’s image. It goes deeper than that.’
‘Why do you think I know?’
‘Because you know everything that goes on in Edinburgh, Billy. What’s your title now? Éminence Grise of the Finance Directorate? Extremely Private and Highly Rewarded Secretary to Jack MacLean? The Power Behind the Throne?’
‘I’m a SPADE – Special Advisor, Executive. The only throne I know is the one I drag myself on to when I need to shit.’
‘At least the great global leap forward doesn’t seem to involve hereditary monarchies.’
He raised a twisted hand. ‘Not in what used to be the UK, no. The Windsors who survived the break-up run a llama farm somewhere in South America. But some of the successful African states have got kings again. The ones that had in effect been colonized by the Chinese for their minerals are now home free, selling to the highest bidder. Haven’t you noticed black tourists in the city? A lot of them are businessmen.’
I waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. Time to play hard football.
‘You were there, weren’t you?’
He glared at me. ‘Talk sense, man.’
‘This afternoon, when the senior and finance guardians met.’
He looked away, suddenly fascinated by the Degas nude.
‘Billy, you need to be straight with me.’ I knew that was a hope too far, but even tricky people are open to appeals for honesty – usually because it gives them the opportunity to be even trickier. But that’s the kind of thing I can spot.
‘All right. Yes, I was there.’ He took a pull of whisky. ‘In fact, it was on my insistence that you were assigned the case.’
‘Am I supposed to say “thanks”?’
‘Only if you feel like it.’
I didn’t.
‘You knew I’d come here, didn’t you? Tell me what’s going on.’ I put my glass down on the Georgian side table with a thud. ‘Or I’m hitting the road.’
‘No … no, stay where you are, Quint.’ He smiled, never a pretty sight. ‘What’s going on? That’s what you’re supposed to discover.’
I stood up.
‘No … oh, for fuck’s sake, sit down. I’ll tell you what I know.’
‘That’ll make me swoon with joy’
‘Arsehole. This human heart stunt. It isn’t the first time it’s happened.’
‘What? In Edinburgh?’
‘No, in Glasgow. And Inverness.’
‘Wonderful. When?’
‘A week ago at Celtic Park and three days ago at wherever Inverness Caley Thistle play – any idea?’
‘Search me. When was I going to be told?’
‘I just told you, didn’t I? Jack and Fergus decided they wouldn’t inform the rest of the Council. If you hadn’t agreed to the public order guardian’s summons, I’d have called you.’
‘Why the hyper-secrecy? Besides, decisions to call up non-auxiliaries are supposed to be taken with full Council agreement.’
‘You were at the meeting, weren’t you? The guardians know you’ve been taken on.’
‘But they don’t know the full background. Is even Guardian Doris up to speed?’
‘No, and you’re not to tell her. Or your oversized guardsman friend.’
I let him think I agreed.
‘What did the authorities in the other cities discover?’
‘Nothing. No leads, no evidence – apart from healthy young male hearts – and no witnesses.’
‘No one saw someone deposit a heart on the centre circle of the cities’ main football clubs?’
‘That’s the same here, isn’t it?’
I wasn’t going to correct his assumption.
‘Have they got any idea about motive?’
‘Apparently not. And they haven’t found anyone missing a heart either.’
I took out my mobile and called Davie.
‘Get undercover surveillance teams into Easter Road and all the other football grounds in the city.’
‘You think there could be more hearts?’ he asked, the background noise of the command centre audible.
‘No point in taking the chance.’
I cut the connection.
‘Good move, Quint,’ Billy said with a grin. ‘You’ve still got it.’
‘I could have done that nearly twelve hours ago if your bosses had bothered to tell me immediately.’ I had a thought. ‘How did they know about the hearts in the other cities?’
‘How do you think? Jack and Fergus talk to their counterparts all the time.’
That was the second time he’d prioritized his boss’s name over the senior guardian’s name. Departmental loyalty or something more?
‘How cosy. Shame it’s against City Regulations about contact with the outside world.’
‘I told you, Quint. Everything’s changing.’
‘To the extent that your guardian pals spend hours on the phone to non-locals before talking to their colleagues – and then not telling them the whole story? There are bound to be guardians who are against reunification.’
‘Not for long.’
I gave him a heavy stare. ‘What else do you know, Billy?’
‘Nothing that’s germane to this. Oh, and you’re forbidden to make contact with the Glasgow and Inverness investigators.’
‘How would I do that?’
‘Carrier pigeon? In case you’re interested, Hel Hyslop’s in charge of the Glasgow police now.’
Another specimen I couldn’t trust further than I could throw her, though that wouldn’t be far.
‘One more thing,’ I said. ‘Why’s the heart business so important?’
He made the best of raising his shoulders. ‘Someone’s putting the screws on three of Scotland’s major cities in the lead up to the referendum.’
‘Hang on, are they voting on re-unification too?’
‘Yes. There are different concepts of democracy, of course. I don’t think the Lord of the Isles will be accepting “no” votes.’
‘So this isn’t just about Edinburgh.’
‘No. Everything’s connected now, Quint.’
That was all I got.
I left the house and walked home through a heavy drizzle, hoping to make some sense of what I’d learned. Waste of time.
I put together my files of missing people. There were only five, though two were young men whose hearts could have fitted the specification. I eventually got to sleep after listening to the blues on my decrepit headphones. The last song was the Reverend Gary Davis’s ‘Death Don’t Have No Mercy’, which may have been why my dreams weren’t exactly sweet. I was haunted by the women I’d loved, their faces and bodies tantalizingly close, but disappearing as soon as I stretched out my arms. Caro, my first love, her eyes wide and unseeing as the rope tightened round her neck and squeezed her life away – she was killed on a drugs-gang raid I planned and led in 2015, and I got there just as she kicked out for the last time. Caro. Later I killed the bastard who throttled her and gave up on the Enlightenment. She wouldn’t have liked that – we’d been strong supporters of the party since it started – but I hope that remembering her, even in my dreams, meant something to her soul, wherever it was wandering. Then Katharine, her green eyes and full lips almost taunting me. We’d been together, on and off, for ten years, but she never fully opened up. She’d suffered terribly at the hands of drugs-gang members outside the city and coped with that by being even more spiky and contrarian than I was. She had secrets, the last of which were the preparations she’d made to cross the city line. It wasn’t the first time she’d done that – her feelings for the Council were antagonistic, and more recently she’d been working with people she thought had been let down by the system. Something had obviously driven her to desert them as well as me. We’d been distant for months before, but we still spent the night together occasionally. It wasn’t enough and I knew it, but Katharine wouldn’t let me closer. Maybe she thought Caro still meant more to me. She’d been angry about my original dalliance with Sophia, though it had started when Katharine was out of the city and hadn’t picked up again till after she left, whatever she might have imagined.
Then another figure came out of the mist – a younger woman. Her hair was long and blonde, and in her hands she was carrying a human heart covered in blood. As she got closer, I saw it was still beating …
The pounding on the door was a welcome release.