TEN

‘Quint? Where are you?’

‘On the way to Yellow Jacko’s barbecue, Davie. You?’

‘I’ll see you there.’ He cut the connection, which irritated me. Then again, he might have had Madman Lamont in proximity.

The guardsman dropped me at the gates of Warriston crematorium. The low brick building was in better condition than I remembered. The Council must have decided that allowing citizens to see off their relatives and friends in civilized surroundings was a good way to gain support. Shame about the decades of grot that were stamped on older people’s memories.

The short guardswoman I’d seen in the morning came up. I could see a couple of 4×4s in the background, far enough away not to annoy the grieving mass but still a solid statement of intent – anyone wanting a fight, we’re ready.

‘Raeburn 362,’ I said. ‘Or rather, Catriona. Call me Quint.’

‘I’d rather not,’ she said abruptly.

‘Fair enough. Anything to report?’

‘I sent vehicles after some of the faces at Muckle Tony’s funeral that we haven’t seen before.’ She gave a tight smile. ‘Now we’ve got the Pish, we need to take the Leith Lancers down too.’

‘How come there wasn’t any trouble?’

‘The Lancers have got smart in the past year or so. Muckle Tony realized that keeping a low profile was a good idea. Plus, now he’s dead, there’ll be fighting over who takes his place. They’ll do that in private.’

A Guard 4×4 drove swiftly through the gate and pulled up on the asphalt beside us. I looked in the back window – nobody cuffed and gagged.

Davie got out. ‘The bastard got away. My people are still after him, but he’s in the Leith back streets now.’

‘Really?’ I said. ‘The Pish and the Lancers hate each other’s guts, hearts and heads.’

‘Aye,’ said Davie, grinning at the guardswoman, who was nodding at him. ‘Hiya, Cat. How are you doing?’

I suspected they’d have inserted their tongues into each other’s mouths if I hadn’t been there. Davie has more partners than I have blues cassettes.

‘Why did you come?’ I said, tugging him away. ‘I mean, catching Madman is more important than the funeral.’

‘Not necessarily. I got a message from the guardian. She told me that Madman’s girlfriend, Lucy MacGill, will be here – she’s Yellow Jacko’s niece. She wants her brought in after the service.’

So that’s how Doris wanted to play – deal with my sidekick rather than me. Bad move.

People were beginning to arrive, most of them by bike. The older and younger ones would have walked from the bus stop on Ferry Road.

A thin, bald man with yellow skin hurried up to me. ‘Good afternoon, Citizen Dalrymple,’ he said, looking around anxiously.

‘Douglas Haigh.’ The creepy caretaker didn’t get to call me Quint. ‘Aren’t you past retirement age?’

‘Oh, yes.’ He smiled in a way that made my skin crawl. ‘But you know how much I love my work.’

I did, having had more contact with him than I wanted over the years.

‘Would it be possible for that Guard vehicle to be moved from the forecourt?’ he asked, rubbing his hands together. They rasped like an unbandaged mummy’s.

Davie was already back in the driver’s seat. He moved slowly through the burgeoning crowd and behind the crematorium.

Catriona and I stepped back to let the people past. We got plenty of harsh looks.

‘Don’t worry,’ the guardswoman said in a low voice. ‘My photographer’s up the tree behind us. Don’t look.’

‘I wasn’t born yesterday.’

‘No, you’re almost as old as the ghoul.’

‘Thanks.’

We watched as Haigh skilfully shepherded the crowd inside. His wide smile was about as inviting as an evening with the head of Prostitution Services, who’s as old as he is.

‘The rest of my people are stationed around the place,’ Catriona said. ‘Bet you can’t spot them.’

‘I don’t bet.’

‘Yes, you do,’ Davie protested, having returned.

‘Only with suckers – I mean, you.’

‘All right,’ he said, ‘I bet you a bottle of outsider whisky that you can’t see any Guard personnel.’

‘Apart from the one up the tree behind us,’ Catriona added.

I looked around as the last of the mourners arrived.

‘Never mind,’ she said, taking a photo from a sheaf. ‘This is Lucy MacGill. We’ll pick her up afterwards.

‘Wait a minute.’ Davie moved forward quickly. ‘That woman over there is Madman Lamont.’

I took in a figure in a long brown dress and a distinctly not matching hat. There was a large bag over the right shoulder.

‘Halt!’ Davie yelled.

The figure broke into a run.

Davie raised his Hyper-Stun and fired.

The man-woman collapsed to the asphalt. Then there was a blinding flash and a blast that threw us to the ground. I rolled quickly on to my front. Shrapnel and pieces of asphalt rained down on us.

My ears were ringing, but I could still hear something – muted screaming from inside the building, frantic gasps from Catriona by my side, the clatter of Guard boots breaking cover … I sat up, wiping my eyes on my sleeve and saw – a splatter of blood and flesh on and around the crematorium doors … and a body further back … Davie. I got to my feet and staggered over. By the time I got there, I saw movement, his legs kicking. I remembered Caro’s last frantic struggle for life.

‘Davie!’ I yelled, my voice sounding distant. I kneeled by him. He was at least five yards to the rear of where he’d been when the explosion happened, his head away from the building. Had he done a somersault when the wave of displaced air hit him? Or two? What would that have done to his internal and external organs?

I heard a gaggle of voices and looked up to see citizens rushing out of the shattered doors, trying to avoid the spattered remains of Madman Lamont. Some were clutching wounds, but most seemed unhurt, at least physically. Davie had stunned the head-banger before he got close enough to wipe out the families inside. Maybe he really was crazy – if there was to be no Portobello Pish, then nobody was to survive.

‘Wha—’ Davie sat up.

‘Jesus, you’re alive.’

‘Wha—’

‘Can … you … hear … me?’ I shouted.

‘Yes!’ he shouted back, then shook his head. ‘Sort of.’ There was blood all over his face and a piece of asphalt was embedded above his left eye. He looked around.

‘Cat!’ He got to his feet and stumbled over to the guardswoman, pushing past the fleeing citizens.

I went after him. By the time I got there, he was kneeling over the motionless body. When he moved back I saw a short shaft of metal protruding from her chest. I was pretty sure it had pierced her heart.

Paramedics were soon on the scene, uniformed personnel swarming around the walking wounded. Douglas Haigh, untouched, was wandering around rubbing his hands – no doubt lamenting the lack of even more customers. A young medical auxiliary had led Davie to an ambulance and was working on his face and the backs of his hands. The public order and medical guardians weren’t long in making their appearances.

‘What was it, Quint?’ Sophia asked.

I could hear pretty well now. ‘Some kind of grenade. I think the crazy bastard was planning to throw it into the packed crematorium and take as many of the former gang families out as he could. Including his girlfriend.’

‘Let me see that hand,’ Sophia said. There were dots of blood all over my fading DM stamp. She pulled on surgical gloves and swabbed the skin, making me wince.

‘There are bits of foreign matter in here,’ she said. ‘You need to come to the infirmary.’

‘Not yet.’

‘Suit yourself,’ she said brusquely. ‘But if they get infected …’

Guardian Doris came up.

‘Sorry about the guardswoman,’ I said. ‘But Davie deserves a medal.’

‘There’ll be time for that later,’ she said, looking at the sparse remains of Madman, now covered with a blanket. ‘Will this spark off a gang war?’

‘Not with the Portobello Pish in ruins. I wouldn’t recommend a clamp-down on the Lancers for the time being.’

She frowned. ‘That hadn’t crossed my mind. Does this get us any further with the … other incidents?’

I blinked, my eyes still gritty. ‘It doesn’t answer any questions definitively, does it? Brown may have had links with the smugglers who supplied the Pish and, yes, the Lancers may have killed him. But it doesn’t have anything obvious to do with the Tyneside organ.’

She understood that reference to the heart at the Hearts ground immediately, but it took Sophia a few seconds longer.

‘Could the whole thing be tied to the football clubs?’ Guardian Doris asked. ‘Their managers aren’t exactly as pure as the driven—’

‘Cliché. No, they’re not. They’re also deadly rivals, especially the ones in charge of Hearts and Hibs. Why don’t you haul them all in for a cup of coffee and a beating? Apart from the missing Alec Ferries, of course.’

She frowned at me, then turned away and walked quickly to her 4×4, apparently energized by my suggestion.

Davie walked slowly towards us, staples on his face and a dressing where the asphalt asteroid had hit his forehead.

‘Bastard,’ he grunted. ‘I never thought he’d be carrying a bomb.’

‘Me neither,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry about Catriona.’

He scowled. ‘She was a good Guard. Someone’s going to pay.’

‘Her killer’s in small pieces,’ Sophia said.

Davie turned his head, favouring his right ear. ‘I want to know who the Pish were working for.’

I nodded. ‘Me too. But don’t you think you should lie down for a few hours?’

‘Yes,’ said Sophia. ‘You should. That’s an order.’ She looked at me. ‘You too, Quint. In fact, you’re both coming to the infirmary. I want to run checks on your hearing and get you cleaned up properly.’

‘I’m coming to the Council meeting,’ I said firmly.

She sighed. ‘If I give you the all-clear. And, commander? You’re not driving. Both of you in the back of my vehicle. Now!’

Suddenly weary, we did as we were told.

The feeling of the experts was that both my and Davie’s hearing wasn’t permanently damaged and would return to normal soon. Our wounds were given a proper seeing to and then we were taken to a double-bedded doctors’ room and locked in. Sophia’s a great one for trust, like all her rank.

We gave up trying to converse because it got boring saying ‘What?’ all the time. My sleep was deep and surprisingly undisturbed – until Sophia shook me awake.

‘Come on, Quint,’ she said with a rare smile. ‘The Council’s slavering to see you.’

‘That’ll be right.’ I looked across to the other bed. Davie was fast asleep. ‘Let’s leave the commander. Locked in?’

‘Why not?’

Sophia drove us to the Council chamber herself. I guessed that meant she had something private to impart, but she was silent until we were halfway down the Royal Mile.

‘Come to my place tonight, Quint.’

I only just heard the words. They weren’t unwelcome.

‘Maisie wants to see you.’

I felt like a bucket of sea water had been thrown over me, even though I liked the wee girl a lot. Then I realized she was laughing.

‘The look on your face. Like a child that’s had a sweetie taken from its open mouth.’

‘I’ll give you open mouth,’ I said, moving towards her.

‘No!’ she squealed. ‘I’ll run a tourist down and then where will we be?’

She had a point. I let her alone on condition that she let me stay after Maisie was asleep.

We arrived at the former – and maybe future – Scottish parliament building shaken and fairly stirred. Then I remembered the stern faces waiting for me.

‘Citizen Dalrymple,’ the education guardian said after I’d told them most of what I’d discovered, ‘you seem to be chasing this investigation rather than applying order to it.’

I looked at the desiccated old professor, then at Guardian Doris.

Eventually she rose to the occasion. ‘To be fair, this is a complex set of incidents. There’s any number of tangents. For instance, the city’s premier-league football managers have been brought in for questioning.’

‘Why’s that?’ Jack MacLean asked, glancing at the recreation guardian. The latter looked uncomfortable.

‘Because, finance guardian, the gang known as the Portobello Pish had at least two players who were members.’

‘That hardly seems reason to bring in all the other team bosses,’ the senior guardian said.

I smelled a rodent with large yellow teeth. Both slick Jack, Billy Geddes’s boss, and Fergus Calder, head of the Supply Directorate that had supposedly been providing the Pish with drugs, had evinced support for the other EPL managers. That needed looking into. As did Peter Stewart’s failure to object.

‘They’ll be released when they satisfy my investigators,’ the public order guardian said, eyeing them both with what looked like distrust. Nice one, Doris.

‘What about this head on the New Tolbooth?’ asked the tourism guardian, a middle-aged woman who declined to do anything about her grey hair. I admired her for that, if little else.

‘It’ll be taken down tonight,’ Doris said.

‘We’ll confirm if it’s Grant Brown’s,’ Sophia put in.

‘You realize the historical significance of the head on the spike?’ the education guardian said.

‘No,’ said Calder, ‘but do enlighten us.’ He sat back, cupping his chin in his hands and closing his eyes.

‘Only the heads of criminals were exposed in that way,’ Cowan said. ‘Criminals under the laws in force at the time, of course.’ He looked at me and then the public order guardian. ‘Have you considered that this Grant Brown was punished by people who wish to see the City Regulations upheld? He was, after all, a drug-trafficker, not that you did anything to stop him, Doris.’

That was a smart thought, and he was quickly paid back in kind.

‘You wouldn’t be familiar with a vigilante group, would you, Brian?’

He smiled, a little too easily, I thought. ‘Me? I run the city’s schools and colleges. What do I know of such things?’

‘Indeed,’ said the senior guardian. ‘Citizen Dalrymple, what do you recommend we do now? Wait for another heart or head to appear?’

I delayed my answer, not least because I was undecided. If in doubt, put the fear of extinction up them.

‘I gather the governors of Orkney and Shetland are arriving tomorrow,’ I said, my eyes on Fergus Calder.

Suddenly he looked like there was a two-eyed snake in his underwear.

‘They are. Why is that of interest to you?’

‘You mean apart from the fact that regulations explicitly state that outsiders are not allowed access to the city?’

Jack MacLean gave a hollow laugh. ‘Don’t be absurd, Quint. The regulations have been amended. With the referendum coming up, we need to see our counterparts regularly.’

‘My copy doesn’t contain any such amendment.’

There was a pause while they all – even Sophia – gave me the evil eye.

‘Citizen,’ the senior guardian said, ‘not all amendments are made available to people of your rank.’

‘Oh, I see. You can do what you like while ordinary citizens are left to believe that their rulers abide by the published regulations.’

‘That’s enough. What is your interest in our guests?’

I’d made my point. ‘Are they arriving at the City Airport?’

MacLean nodded.

‘I suggest you do a careful sweep of the buildings there and station more Guard personnel than usual on the road into the city.’

‘You have evidence that there’s a threat?’ said Calder, aghast.

I shook my head. ‘We have a heart and a head. The owner of the latter had connections with outsiders. That makes me think that outsiders may be the key to this.’ I ran my eyes around the semicircle of faces above me. ‘Because no cases of heart removal or decapitation have been recorded in the perfect city for over ten years, have they? While who knows what they get up to in the wild north and west?’

That got them chattering nervously. I had no reason to suspect the governors of Orkney and Shetland, but the Lord of the Isles, due the day after tomorrow, was another kettle of herring altogether; as was Andrew Duart of Glasgow, arriving on Saturday – Glasgow, where a heart had been found at Celtic Park. There was no harm in rousing the guardians before kick-off.

Then I had another thought, one I didn’t intend to share. After the meeting, I arranged with Sophia that I’d come to her quarters at 10 p.m. That gave me plenty of time to have a chat with Cecilia of Corstorphine, Grant Brown’s grieving other half.