Raeburn 124 had been known during her short time at the top of the Public Order Directorate as ‘the Mist’, though she was far too heavy to be suspended in air even after losing a fair amount of her previous heft. Life on the city line will do that.
‘Citizen Dalrymple,’ she said with a mixture of surprise and distaste. She must have been in her late fifties by now, her mousy hair thinning and the skin slack on her face.
I nodded to her, tempted to use the old nickname. It had come about because she’d appeared out of the blue in the senior echelons of the directorate – as I later discovered, because she was a supporter of a disgraced senior guardian – and because she put a major dampener on things within seconds of entering a room. She had probably appealed to the former guardian’s sense of rectitude – inasmuch as he had one – though I had no idea why Guardian Doris had reconfirmed her posting, as all new guardians had to with senior personnel. Maybe, as with Jimmy Taggart’s order, she’d signed it without paying attention. She really should have got a deputy guardian in place by now.
‘How long have you been here, commander?’ I asked as she led us into her office. The Guard combat tunic and trousers didn’t do her any favours from any direction.
‘Five years in October,’ she said, looking over her shoulder. ‘Though why that should concern you …’
I smiled. ‘Just making polite conversation. Fill her in, Davie.’
He told her about the builders who might have been heading her way and then asked about Hume 481. I listened as she spouted the standard line about regretting his death and that he had been a valuable member of her team.
‘He crossed the line on his own,’ I said, ‘without authorization.’
The Mist looked like I’d thrown a bucket of fish guts in her face.
‘It’s in his service record,’ Davie said, ‘which you signed off on. He said he’d gone to pick brambles.’
Raeburn 124 twitched her head. ‘Ah, yes, I remember. He came back with a huge load. We all partook.’
I eyed her dubiously. ‘Was he searched?’
‘I imagine so.’
‘He wasn’t,’ Davie said, showing remarkable recall of the records. Then again, the guardsman without a heart had been a member of his barracks and that made him even more conscientious. ‘Which, of course, is also contrary to regulations.’
The Mist sat down and looked at the files on her desk.
I stepped closer. ‘Are you familiar with a group of Glaswegian smugglers who call themselves the Dead Men?’
Her eyes were on mine immediately. ‘Of course, citizen. My people often chase them off towards the border. We’ve caught some of their Edinburgh contacts, but the Glaswegians always manage to elude us.’
‘Unfortunate.’ I stuck out my hand. ‘The names of the Edinburgh citizens, please?’
She produced a list with remarkable speed. Davie and I looked at it. None of the names were familiar and the dates of arrest weren’t recent.
‘The last of these was sent to the castle over a year ago.’
‘That’s right.’
‘And he’ll be long out of rehab by now. What’s been going on? Have the Dead Men given up and gone home?’
‘I doubt it,’ the commander said, her voice low.
‘Grant Brown.’
‘What? Who?’
I repeated the name.
‘Oh, the citizen whose headless body was found in the canal?’
‘Glad to see you’re keeping up with directorate reports.’
She glared at me.
‘Ever see him around here?’
‘I think not.’ She turned on a decrepit computer. After a few minutes she said, ‘No, we never apprehended him.’
‘Not officially.’
She looked puzzled, but also curious. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I was wondering if he and Hume 481 were friends.’
Raeburn 124 stood up, her face twisted. ‘You know very well that friendship between auxiliaries and ordinary citizens is prohibited.’
I glanced at Davie. ‘Oh, dear.’
He took the baton skilfully. ‘So if we go round all your personnel and ask if Hume 481 knew Grant Brown, they’ll say no?’
The Mist was silent – even damp.
I gave her a flash of my authorization to gee her up. ‘I answer to the Council. Any untruth or misdirection will be reported to that body.’ Dropping into the bureaucratic language favoured by senior auxiliaries seemed to get to her.
‘I … I did hear that Hume 481 was meeting a male citizen. You know how it is out here. Guard personnel serve for a month without break. It’s common practice to allow them contact with … citizens offering services.’
I glanced at Davie.
‘Amateur hookers who’re paid with Guard rations and alcohol,’ he said brusquely. ‘I know. But there are two things wrong with your story.’
Raeburn 124 sat down again.
‘First, such contacts must be reported to the command centre on a weekly basis. I’ve seen none from this location. And second, Hume 481 was registered hetero.’
‘Maybe … maybe he was experimenting …’ the Mist said lamely.
‘And Grant Brown was engaged.’
I didn’t hear the sound of deflation but I could see that was happening to the commander.
‘You’re lucky the guardian hasn’t had you demoted already,’ Davie continued. ‘Don’t worry, it won’t be long.’
‘Wait,’ she said, waving a finger about wildly. ‘There was talk of Hume 481 and Brown being in contact with outsiders. I … I was monitoring the situation in advance of laying an ambush.’
I laughed. ‘Is that the best you can do?’
‘I … I can tell you where they went,’ the Mist said desperately.
‘How do you know where they went?’ I demanded.
‘Because I … I asked Hume 481. I saw them once with my binoculars on their way out.’
Davie loomed over her desk. ‘Did you keep any record of this? Did you tell any of your subordinates?’
‘I … no.’ Raeburn 124 seemed to have shrunk.
I sat in a chair that almost gave way, secure in the knowledge that we’d got her. I didn’t think she was involved in smuggling – she would never have opened herself up to such a serious charge – but she was just the kind of slippery operator who would have tried to improve her standing by pulling off a coup catching Glaswegian or other outsider smugglers. Still, there was no harm in setting the hook deeper.
‘Did you ask Hume 481 and his friend what they came back with?’
The Mist was now fading fast, her mouth opening and closing emitting a sound.
‘You did, didn’t you?’ said Davie.
‘I … yes, I did. It was … cigarettes and tobacco.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘That’s what he said.’
‘You didn’t see the goods?’
She shook her head.
‘Never mind,’ I said cheerfully. ‘The solution’s at hand.’
‘What?’ she said faintly.
‘Well, it’s obvious that you’ll have sent out another guardsman or woman with Grant Brown before he lost his head. Barracks number, please. And what have you got on him or her?’
Raeburn 124 looked like she was going to be sick. I handed her the waste-paper bin, but she managed to keep her lunch down. ‘Wilkie 455,’ she said, lowering her head. ‘I told … I told him he’d be here for five years if he didn’t obey my orders and keep them to himself.’
Davie was shaking his head. ‘You’re supposed to look after your subordinates, not threaten them to further your pathetic career. Jesus!’
‘Disgraceful,’ I agreed, enjoying every second of the scene. ‘Don’t worry, a solution is in sight. You set up the ambush you’ve no doubt got carefully planned and we take the credit. You get to stay out here till you retire. How’s that?’
‘No good, citizen,’ the Mist said, her voice faint. ‘The guardsman’s been missing since yesterday midday.’
Davie and I left the commander’s office, locking her in. She’d admitted that no search party had been dispatched.
‘We can’t send a squad out in the dark,’ I said. ‘Smugglers are always armed.’
‘First light tomorrow,’ he said. ‘I’ll supervise the watch for the builders and catch whatever sleep I can. You go back to the centre.’
I thought about that. It was after nine o’clock. The main reason to return now would be to meet Sophia. It was tempting, but I managed to hold myself back. I remembered the look on John Lecky’s face as he came forward with the hacksaw. I badly wanted to catch that animal, so I stayed at Bonaly watch tower.
Throughout the evening Davie kept in touch with the Guard squads that were combing the southern suburbs. There were no sightings of the runaways, though the pouring rain didn’t help. They’d have gone to ground somewhere. Then again, if they wanted to go over the line, night was the time to do it. There’s a double layer of twelve-foot-high fencing, topped with razor wire, all the way from the coast north of the airport in the west to Musselburgh in the east. The first Council planned to electrify it, but there was never enough power available. So people cut through it to get in and out, no matter how quickly Guard personnel send in repair teams. The professional line-crossers have even learnt how to replace the wire without making it obvious. There are also tunnels under it – as soon as one is found, another is nearing completion. There’s been talk about bringing the city line nearer to the centre, but the Tourism Directorate has resisted, worried that the city’s legitimate visitors might be at risk. The fact is, they’re in danger from Edinburgh natives if they walk more than half a mile from the central zone. That’s why there are so many checkpoints around it.
And that was the problem. Because there were so many Guard personnel in the city centre, there was a shortage for both the city line and the border further out. The latter was originally wired, but now there are gaps all across it and the undermanned posts every mile struggle to maintain even marginally effective patrols. The smugglers have given up attacking them because there’s no point. Slipping past in the dark and the rain is easier than opening a can of Supply Directorate vegetable stew.
Davie sent foot patrols out in the Bonaly sector. Not long after eleven, one called in to say that the wire had been cut 400 yards to the west. Soon afterwards, another said that there was a gap 550 yards to the east.
‘Standard tactics,’ Davie said. ‘Organized operators cut the wire in more than one place so we miss where they really go through.’ He shook his head. ‘There aren’t enough people to cover all the wire, even with the majority of them out at night. Not to mention, check for tunnels. That happens during daylight, but Guard personnel have to sleep sometime.’
‘Fancy a stroll.’
He gave a hollow laugh. ‘Yeah, your authorization will really put the shits up them, Quint. This is the Wild South.’
‘So what do we do?’
‘You get some sleep.’ He raised a finger. ‘But go and confiscate the Mist’s phone. Her direct line’s been cut off.’
Shit. That might have been a bad oversight. I’d assumed Raeburn 124 was working for herself, but she might well have been recruited, either by smugglers or by the people who were leaving bodies and bits of bodies around the city.
I went up to her door quietly and listened. She was snoring. I unlocked it and barged in, bringing her back to consciousness with a bang. She rubbed her eyes as I took the mobile from her desk. The poor quality devices that even senior auxiliaries are supplied with don’t register the numbers that have been called, but at least she wouldn’t be getting in touch with anyone else. The computer enabled her access to the Guard command centre. If some of the personnel manning it were bent, we were well and truly shafted.
‘What’s going on, citizen?’ she asked.
‘Nothing you need know about. Anything you want to tell me?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘If it transpires that you’ve been keeping things to yourself, your head will end up on the New Tolbooth.’
She shivered.
‘Now get some more sleep. You’ll be stretching your legs in the morning.’
I left her to it and went to the male dormitory. There was even more snoring in it, but I dropped into an unoccupied bunk and a deep and dreamless sleep.
I woke to find Davie crashed out in the bunk opposite. It was six in the morning and the rain coming down outside the armoured window wasn’t as heavy as it might have been.
I carried out my ablutions in facilities that would have put the old prison on Cramond Island to shame. The Mist ran a very smelly ship. By the time I was finished, Davie was awake.
I waited for him, then we went to the operations room. None of the personnel on duty was bothered by Raeburn 124’s absence. Besides, who would stand up to Davie?
‘Report,’ he ordered.
‘Signs of a tunnel having been used two hundred yards to the east.’
‘Bastards,’ Davie said. ‘They go through within screaming distance of the tower.’
‘It isn’t the first time, commander,’ said a tall, thin guardswoman. ‘At least we can block that tunnel.’
Davie grunted. ‘The line’s a rabbit warren. We need proper surveillance gear.’
There was a burst of uncontrolled laughter from his subordinates.
‘We could do with more personnel, better weapons, more whisky and better rations,’ said a young guardsman with a deep scar on his forehead. ‘Oh, and a cleaner.’
‘But we aren’t going to get them,’ said the guardswoman, Adam 392. Out here auxiliaries don’t wear name panels.
‘Probably not,’ Davie said. ‘Then again, the citizen here’s in direct contact with the Council and he’s a particular friend of our guardian.’
Thanks a lot, big man. Several pairs of eyes were trained on me.
‘The commander exaggerates,’ I said. ‘It’s a particular talent of his. But I’ll pass on your concerns. This facility is a fucking disgrace.’
That got me a round of applause, but I didn’t let it go to my head. They were about to receive some less than pleasant orders.
‘Right,’ said Davie. ‘We know people crossed the line last night.’
‘In both directions,’ said Adam 392. ‘But there aren’t significant tracks on the sodden grass.’
Davie nodded. ‘Any reports from the neighbouring towers?’
‘Quieter than here,’ she replied, ‘but crossings were made.’
‘It’s like Piccadilly Circus,’ I said.
They all looked at me blankly. The Education Directorate’s policy of no reference to what had been the UK was obviously bearing fruit.
‘Whatever that is, citizen,’ Davie said, playing dumb to side with his comrades – or maybe he really didn’t know about Eros’s erstwhile location. ‘Never mind where they went inside the line. What we’ve got to do is go in the other direction.’
That raised a few eyebrows.
‘What?’ Davie demanded. ‘Don’t you make weekly patrols over there?’
‘Er, no,’ said the scarred guardsman. ‘The Mi— Raeburn 124 stopped them about six months ago.’
I looked at Davie.
‘Why?’ he demanded.
‘She didn’t give a reason,’ said Adam 392, dropping her gaze.
‘You’re her second in command,’ Davie said. ‘Why didn’t you ask for clarification?’
‘I did,’ she said. ‘According to her, it was an order from the command centre.’
‘It bloody was not!’ Davie roared.
Now they were all studying the splintered wood floor.
‘What do you know about Hume 481’s activities?’ I said, taking advantage of the awkward silence.
They looked up and then at each other.
‘Why don’t you speak for your colleagues?’ I said to the tall guardswoman. Her fair hair was pulled back tightly and her eyes were bloodshot.
‘Hume 481?’
‘Don’t pretend you didn’t know him!’ Davie thundered.
‘I … no, I knew him. We all did. Except Ferguson 569 over there, who only joined us last week.’
‘Go on,’ I said, before Davie could fire another broadside.
‘Well, he used to go over the line frequently.’
That was more than we’d heard, not least from the Mist.
‘Brambles?’
She smiled tightly. ‘That was his cover, at least the last couple of times.’
‘They were good,’ said a sturdy guardsman, only to be given a stony look by Davie.
‘What was he doing on these frequent trips?’
‘You’d have to ask Raeburn 124,’ said Adam 392.
‘Oh, we will,’ Davie put in. ‘But what did you think?’
‘I … I presumed he had a girlfriend on one of the farms.’
‘Did you fuck!’ yelled Davie.
The guardswoman looked down again. ‘I didn’t like to think anything, commander.’
‘Well, that’s pretty spineless.’ Davie grinned malevolently. ‘Never mind, you can make up for that now.’ He turned to me. ‘Time the Mist came down.’
That raised some sniggers. I went to get her.
‘I’ve discovered that Hume 481 crossed the line frequently. Last chance to tell me what he was doing.’
‘Carrying out orders,’ Raeburn 124 said defiantly.
‘Whose?’
‘Mine.’
‘Ah, of course. He was laying the ground for that ambush you were planning so carefully.’
‘That’s right.’ A night of slumber had obviously restored her spirits. I saw the remains of fruit and sandwiches in her rubbish bin.
‘I see you’ve already had breakfast. That’s good, because you’re going to need all the energy you’ve got.’
‘But …’
‘That word isn’t permitted in the City Guard,’ I said.
Which is why I use it as much as I can.